A Reminder of The Warrior Path Continued
Like a jagged stone that landed fresh into the river millennia ago, I am in for a ride that will smooth my life.
I left off last week about losing my phone in the river, which you can read here.
The panic attack and breakdown were so immense that it lasted 4+ hours. I recorded myself in the panic after getting in my car, collecting my thoughts, and realizing on my laptop was at least some contact info if I needed it. At that moment, I realized I needed only one number, my Father’s. Everything else, I decided, had to be let go at that moment.
A metaphor for the Warrior on a journey. One must release all that is important. Later I realized that my Father’s number wasn’t important in the journey. However, my Father would argue that it was because parents want to know we’re okay.
I wondered if I should drive to a main city or continue on my path to Mt. Shasta. Mt. Shasta is one of the most important mountains in my life. I made yearly pilgrimages there, not on purpose, but because the mountain kept drawing me in. I could feel her pulling me again. So, I leaped on faith again and began the drive without GPS towards the mountain.
Luckily, Northern California and Southern Oregon are familiar stomping grounds of mine. I had a road atlas, and I’m very equipped with using one. My parents drilled using an atlas during my road trip studies (aka before homeschooling became a thing) from a young age.
While driving, I’m recording my panic attack and breakdown, and then I see the mountain. She shows up over the horizon, and the tears flow even more as I’m having a Golum from Lord of the Rings moment, “I am a failure,” to which I respond,” No, you’re not. You are trusting the path.”
Have you ever felt like trusting the path was letting every part of you die away, and your left looking from the outside in at the hysteria, but there is nothing you can do to change the moment?
Entrenched in the panic, the fear, and simultaneously, a surreal deep inner knowing that everything will be okay because what I’m freaking out about, I’ve learned time and time again, is only a lesson.
The mountain looms over me with her majestic snow-topped peak begging me to release all my sorrow on her. I roll into town and find the most interesting character who allows me to borrow their phone. I call my Father and begin crying. I tell him I’m a failure, and he agrees. Then he says, “Yes, you’re a failure, but what will you do tomorrow? You’ll get back up and keep moving forward because there is nothing else to do. You are learning, you are growing, and you are alive. Aren’t you happy that you’re following your passion?”
I agree, and this brings more tears to my eyes. It clicks in my body, mind, and soul at that moment. Surrender. Let go of the struggle. There is nothing to struggle for. You got this, and you know how to exist without a phone. Why are you a failure?
In my mind, I’m thinking about all the tasks and responsibilities I had created. The people who supposedly want to see what I’m doing on social media, the lack of engagement that might relate to the lack of people who want to work with me.
And I realize it’s all false anyway.
Every person who has worked with me has done so because they feel the calling. Like I felt the mountain moving me closer to her peak, the people in my sphere find their way from an internal compass.
The moment of surrender was so sweet. At that moment, with every fiber of my being, I knew I was meant to live a surrendered life. I’ve been fighting the path of the warrior for too long now. I’ve been fighting being polarizing. I’ve been fighting against my nature.
Why? Because society keeps making me feel guilty or trying to shame me for wanting to do less, surrender more, and let go.
Society keeps pushing me toward progress, perfection, and production. I knew this to be the case, but I was allowing that to steep into how I presented myself to the world. My personal tea was steeped with blooms from a mechanistic time. It was time to empty my teapot and begin with fresh blooms collected from a surrendered place.
These moments are why integration is so important because these are all things I’ve known with my mind, partially with my heart, and with my actions. Yet, there is more to surrender, and taking time to process and fortify the lesson with my body is imperative.
The major lesson in this moment of the phone journey was to surrender, let go, trust, and listen to my internal compass.
Next week, I’ll get into how being at Spirit Weavers and MAPS taught me another lesson about not having a phone and is percolating every aspect of my life.
Journal Prompts:
What happens to you when you surrender?
Is there shame or guilt around being in joy, relaxation, or surrender?
What fears and voices come up when you surrender to life?