Tipping toe

October 27, 2017
Tipping toe

I’m back on Earth. God it feels good to feel the ground under my feet. Like my first ancestors who stood up and started walking, I can see much further away. I can glance at the horizon now. I get to see the infinite of possibilities offered to me.

It’s not easy at first. The multiplicity of choices is scary. However, one has to choose some path one day, in the hope of eventually getting there. I don’t actually know where that else where is, but I do know it exists, and I believe it is in fact much closer than I can imagine. No matter what it is, I have to move forward someway, somehow. At this point, staying at crossroads would be the only way to go wrong.

Choices are difficult though. The more I have to make them, the more I need to rely on something else than my brain power. So I’m leaving the 5% of my mind that is conscious to rest, and using the 95% left, the intuition, the heart, the gut, to guide me through this new path.

I can sense that some things are right and some things feel wrong, but sometimes I need to know more to make proper choices. That’s when I have to tip my toe in. I want to test the water before diving in.

I know some people prefer to jump without ever looking back, too scared that the water will be cold and that they are better off not knowing. They believe they can learn how to swim when they have no other choice but to in order to survive.

I’m not one of those people. I used to think I wanted to, that it was somehow cooler than being that chicken by the side of the pool. I feel now I know better, or at least I know myself well enough to understand I need something else. I need to get a sense of the body of water I’m about to learn to swim in. I’m all about the traditional trial and error approach. Except I wouldn’t call them errors. I don’t make mistakes. Mistakes make me, as Pitbull says.

So I go in tipping my toe in various kinds of ponds. At work, in my relationships, in life. Learning to manage transitions softly, with care, instead of rushing and hustling through them.

Following my intuition, I’m discovering new ways of living, new ways of practicing. Slowly leaving behind my old yoga studio, I’m getting that beginner’s mindset ready to feel and move in the new studio. Which oddly feels already known. Which oddly feels like home.

That’s what it’s all about in fact. Tipping your toe is the way to to get back to your essential self. The way to find home. Home. The place where one lives permanently, where one belongs.  The place of origin. When one is in harmony with the surroundings. 

I’m tipping my toe in stillness, calm, peace and harmony. I’m tipping my toe in a pound that feels expansive. Nothing seems to move, but the ripple effect is huge. That is the pond of healing. The water is cold, yet my body adjusts. The water is dark, yet the sun shines on it. The water is deep, yet I know how to come back to find air.

That’s the path I’m choosing. That’s the pond I’m diving in. My pond. Despite what some might say or think, my tipping tests don’t mean I was lost, nor scattered. I am not broken. I never was. I just needed to find the right body of water, and to do so, water testing was mandatory. Now I’m confident I can dive in. Dive into the shadow, through the dark and deep, to find the center of my soul. To curiously become aware of how it feels when you reach that mudgey bottom, to be with what is. And maybe, maybe, shed some light to it. Not to negate nor dismiss this thick layer of mud, more because bringing light to the shadow is the way I found to reconcile both. Accepting that both are part of who I am. You are only as strong as you are shameless, and shame hides in the mud like a vicious leech. Once we bring light to it, shame has no where else to go. Isn’t what we call liberation?

Dive into the deep. No need to be scared. After all, we are coming from and mostly made of water. That pond is you. That pond is your sacred space. The place to claim back your wholeness. You are not broken. You are home.

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