I think I know things...
And I do...
And I don’t.
There is a very fine line between intuition and fear. And I feel as though I have lived my life balancing on that line.
I feel things deeply.
And I think things deeply.
My mind an active, fertile place where truths are come to be known, and imaginary things dwell as reality.
It is off-putting. It is disconcerting. This living on that line where I am never really sure, if I am sensing something real, perceiving it before it is actually here, or whether, fear has just overridden all my senses and caused me to reach an illogical and not likely conclusion. I am never fucking sure.
I would like to think that all this living I have done gives me a better understanding of people: our hearts, our minds. And it does, and it doesn’t. I want to know what only Divinity knows, which is arrogant and impossible.
I get these flashes, these moments of clarity that are so intuitive that they border on clairvoyance. But then, often, I am just dead fucking wrong.
It is one of these things that woke me up at 12:36 am today. And I have yet to fall back asleep. My mind taking hold of a thought and refusing to let it go. I have prayed about it, then taken it back. I have worked it all the way through and arrived at the conclusion I am powerless over the outcomes. This one and many, many others. I have only agency over myself. I have only me that I can really know, and even that sometimes feels like I am a stranger to myself. So much changing I do, have done, and I suppose, will continue to do...
I have questions that I am afraid to ask. I have answers that I am afraid to hear. I find temporary solace in belief that this too will play out exactly as it is supposed to...and there is really nothing I can do to change it. I could make it worse or better, but fundamentally alter the course, no. I lack that kind of power.
I have been at this place, many times. Many times. And I have known things that were not yet knowable. And I have been absolutely right. I have also thought that I knew things that were wholly wrong, just fear appearing real, when really it was only fear disguised as something plausible.
What I find myself most obsessed with this morning is that I think I can figure it out. My mind latching onto different courses of actions, that all lead me to crazy town. I know what to do...surrender.
Surrender to the idea that it is not my time to know these things yet, be they fears, or be they ugly realities that shall come with a definitive punch in the gut. I am not sure really which one I fear most...being right or being wrong.
And this would be a precarious ledge to exist upon...which is why I have to climb down willingly, lest I spend my entire existence right there.
This morning I am grateful for spiritual principles that remind me that I am not in the knowing business. I am in the believing business. I must have faith that everything that has happened to me thus far, has happened for my higher good and purpose. And that whatever this is or isn’t is going to cut that way too.
One of the benefits of getting and staying sober, is that it is never hard for me to decipher what God’s will is for me. I know, beyond all doubt, that I am meant to be here, sober, living this life, trying to give back that which was freely given to me. I know that if God really had it in for me, I would have been left to live that drinking death life that I was living before. And every day after that has been a bonus.
I am sober. I am alive. I am healthy. And I can claim some relative sanity for myself...even with my insomniac mind that likes to wake me from slumber and talk to me incessantly about people, situations and things I cannot control.
It is hard for me, it is likely hard for everyone, to accept this human fragility of powerlessness. My only agency is over me and sometimes, I cannot even reign myself.
So I pray to a God that I very much believe in because there is evidence all around my life that demonstrates an existence of love that I do not deserve, accolades that I did not really earn, and a grace that has blessed my life way more than any one person could ever hope for...
Prayer is the only thing that works when I find myself walking the tight rope of my own intuition and fear. I can only ask God to remove it, to show me where I am stuck, where I am afraid, where I lack faith. And then be willing to move forward in spite of the fear or the consequences foretold by my own intuition. I mean I really wish I was up intuiting that I was going to win the Powerball tonight. But that is not ever what my intuition tells me. No, for me anyway, intuition is always about people and relationships.
I feel like I was handed a Rubik’s cube of relationshiping at birth and I have been trying to solve that mother fucker ever since. And I get so close to solving it, but then get distracted by something else, and then I forget where I am and have to start over again. This is me in relationships. I keep trying, but always feel like I come up short in solution.
And I am there again, perplexed and confused by my own thoughts about things that I cannot control. Deeply believing that prayer is the only real tool I have to wrestle the idea that I have power that I do not actually have to the ground.
Living is a brave act. I mean this seriously. Like looking at yourself and living your life, calling yourself out on all your shit and craziness. This takes heart and gut and a lot of fucking fortitude. To be honest, first with yourself, about yourself while always leaving room for the possibility that even your truths will be revealed as lies one day.
So my head is messy this morning. I am confused, most importantly by myself, straddling the line between that which I fear and that which I believe. And at least for now, I do not get to have the peace I seek. For now, I just have to accept that I am here and there is some future value in my current suffering.
I think that I know things and this is the root of all my suffering...always. So it really matters not at all whether I am just fear mongering or intuiting. I suffer either way. So I do the only thing that I know to do, write it all out, lock the words down on screen in some sort of effort to hold them back, keep them at bay.
This is what writing is for me, a virtual prison for the wordy bricks that thud in my head. I lock them up here, with you, where they tend to do less damage and sometimes provide perspective and even a little grace. Writing provides me a distance that I seem to need between you and me, and me and me. A place to put all the things that bump and grind me, a release valve that allows the pressures of my thoughts to de-escalate.
I will not know until some future date whether the thing I fear is truth or fiction. Only then will I come to know whether I was just caught up in another fear spiral or whether I actually did intuit correctly the situation at hand. It is little comfort to know that I will know, but not now.
I fall back finally on the knowledge that I can always rely upon, that all that is meant for me will come and all that is not, will not. I cannot make something meant for me go away anymore than I can make something not meant for me stay. I lack power and that has always been my issue. Not that I lack it, but that I lack acceptance for this human quality of my being...
I know things...but right now I do not know if those things that I know are real or imagined. And if they be real, what to do about it. And if they are imagined, why my head is so hell bent on harming me this way.
So I return to this moment. This place in time where I am ok, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Where I can trust that while God’s will is often painful, it is usually nothing compared to my will’s pain. And my hardest task always is living between the two worlds...
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