Finding our way along the journey of self-actualization and personal mastery, we eventually come to the realization that everything is a practice. Whereas the early stages of our journey may have put us on the path to setting time aside each day for a dedicated mindfulness, contemplation, or meditation practice, we soon come to find out that our dedicated practice begins to spill out into the everyday experiences of our lives. Soon, everything becomes grist for the mill as we work to heal all within us that separates us from our original nature as love, while continuing to love the pieces that are not yet healed.
For me, this “everything practice” showed up in one extremely subtle and another powerfully obvious way.
I’ll begin with the extremely subtle: I’ve been noticing in my daily practice an almost undetectable sorrow. It showed itself as a sorrow I could not initially name, but felt very deep and infinitely small. When I reached toward this sorrow, I perceived it as a tiny dot, no bigger than the end of a pencil. As it my practice, I’ve spent this week “working” on that dot of sorrow. Going toward it (instead of away). Pointing to it and “sending” healing. Holding the sorrow and asking what it had to say to me or teach me. The goal of this practice is to simply show up to that sorrow. In my experience, the fruits of this kind of practice eventually lead to healing and release, or alternatively, the revelation of something hiding behind the sorrow that seeks to be known. I’m still working on this piece, but I have gotten a glimpse of the original wound of separation that is just beyond this sorrow. That glimpse nearly gave me a panic attack, but I know that the only way to continue healing that wound is to stay with it.
The powerfully obvious way that everything presented itself as practice arose in a fit of rage. Without boring you with the gory details, suffice it to say that the rage was in the form of ranting resentment over a need for which I had requested support. The support was denied. To be honest, as I write this, I’m still pissed. First – because I rarely ask for help. Second because I should have known better.
What I do know, however, is that beyond the ranting and raving (which are appropriate inner responses to our needs not being met) is an old wound showing itself for another layer of healing – the wound of unmet needs. This is a pretty universal wound in that most people can share stories, experiences, conditioning, etc. in which their needs have gone unmet, or been flat-out rejected. Every time we have the courage to ask for help, and it is denied, a part of us feels like it has died. Heap up a lifetime of rejected and unmet needs, and the wound becomes a gaping hole. For myself personally, this is a wound I’ve given much time and attention to in the form of transformational practices. And, just like most everyone else, it’s a wound that still needs love. First, we have to work on healing the wound of rejection. Next, we tackle the wound of unmet needs. Finally, we do the work of meeting our own needs while setting appropriate boundaries around those who, due due to their own unhealed wounds (likely), are unable to be a reciprocal source of support for others.
From the very subtle to the greatest of charged emotions, everything is our self asking to be seen, known, and loved. This love, ultimately, is what our practice is all about.
Lauri Ann Lumby 