Chris

Not much of life happens in the middle.

Now, I know that if you reference Buddhism, for example, that it’s about non-attachment, and Zen is almost entirely about the “middle way.” So there’s an argument to be made, but stop and think about this for a second, ’cause Universe doesn’t really operate in the middle. It does all its cool shit at the extremes.

In nature, all growth happens at the boundaries. Trees don’t grow from the middle, they grow at the skinny twigs, desperately grasping at whatever they can to survive, to become more than they were a minute ago.

The cool part of black hole is the edge of it, the fantastic stretchy moment where it distorts the hell out of whatever is struggling to stay between worlds.

The start of a new relationship pushes us to bring our best (a boundary of sorts). And the end of a relationship shows truth, and if we’re open to learning, teaches us lessons we’ll never get sitting in the happy middle of “attachment.”

All growth happens at the boundary.

Ok, cool. So where’s the paradox, Chris? So glad you asked…

I’m going to answer this personally, not universally. At this point in my life, I need to be free to explore and learn and understand the world around me, to see the edges and boundaries. To dive deeper than is considered “normal” and also excel at the heights. AND, desperately want connection with a partner to travel that with me. AND absolutely want to avoid attachment where I feel enmeshed, confined, and restricted. It’s probably fair to say that’s a paradox (or just a little messed up).

Now let me be clear…I don’t say any of this as a commentary or narrative to any relationship I’ve ever been in. I say this because of how powerfully clear I am of this current reality. This isn’t about anyone, it’s just about where I’m at today. I imagine it will shift, or I’ll find a very special person who can navigate those boundaries with me, but I digress.

I want to push every damn boundary I can find. AND, I want to sleep in (mostly because I don’t sleep well). I want to not work so hard. I want to watch Netflix. I want to browse Facebook. I want to share stupid memes with friends. At the same time, I want to build an amazing business with my partners, learn other languages, understand dive physiology way better, travel essentially the whole world, read a stack of books and learn a new programming language. I want to order in for food, not make my bed and let my laundry pile up. AND I want to cook great meals, am meticulous about my stuff, and get pissed off at dry cleaners that use PERC (it’s a fucking carcinogen, for god’s sake).

What’s my point? It all exists. We are constantly torn apart by paradox and it’s gorgeous.

The “middle way,” the stillness of meditation, is an extreme. It’s the extreme opposite of our packed, frantic, fucking lives. It’s just a different extreme, and one I like (I meditate at least once a day).

So when you’re looking at your life, relax. Step back from the “balanced life,” because 1) you’re not gonna have it, and 2) at the end of the day, why would you want that?!

Allow paradox. There is chaos, and stillness in your day. There is deep compassion and total impatience in your day. There is kindness and a complete and utter disregard for others (or yourself) in your day. There is profoundly good judgement, and complete fuck-ups in your day. There is sensuality and passion, and totally flat stand-off-ish-ness in your day.

It’s all there. Instead of trying to (uselessly) eradicate any of it, try allowing it. Try noticing it. Try savouring and embracing it.

Paradox isn’t just your friend, it’s the truth.

Night falls and peace staggers; it fails to hold its course.

In darkness, demons step forward to take their vigil,
forcing thoughts of beauty to cower in their holes.
Shrinking dreams and wasting visions see no choice but
to end themselves, choking on the fear that seeps from
growing weakness. The stillness of uselessness prevails.

Darkness. Scampering rats of thought. Every glimpse of every
failed moment. Each wrong word ever spoken. Darkness holds
them all.

There is no daybreak. There is no bright tomorrow. There is no
courageous hope. There’s only the profound fatigue that far
outweighs the exhaustion of a sleepless body and battered heart.

So feels darkness.

But light threatens; it threatens to show its face. Quietly at first,
with whimpers and whispers; then with more insistence; then
with the defiance of a grand fuck you.

It starts to glow, even behind dark clouds and the soak of rain
that’s drenched our reason. It won’t be denied. It raises its voice,
and reaches out with fists of flame, the primordial power of
universe, and splits clouds, and burns away the edges of fear.

It beams and boasts of something better, even in the midst of
whatever refuse happens to feel like home. It fuels, reminds, and
encourages.

Peace finds its stride.

-venn

It’s one thing to talk about change, and growth, and evolution; and it’s another to go through it, to be going through it, and to forecast a shitload more of it.

When I talk with clients or friends or whoever about evolving or just plain being better than you were a minute ago, I don’t do it lightly, because it ain’t pretty, and it ain’t easy.

I get that we all have “seasons of change.” Doesn’t that sound pretty? Fall is a season, and I like fall. But when we’re really growing, it’s more like calling it a happy little “season” of waterboarding, a season of gut-wrenching, tear-inducing, stabbing-of-all-things-sacred. That kinda “season.” It’s not easy, and so it begs the question…

How will we face it?

There are options available here. You can numb your pain – that’s good for a bit, but the side effects can really suck. You can hide your pain with productivity. Work is an awesome diversionary tactic that also has you looking skilful and thoughtful and dodging any social stigma (it’s a good one). We can ignore it and just cry when we’re alone in the fucking dark. Or we can heal.

Healing requires a decision. There’s a point where we make the decision to step up, or not step up and that decision seems to point to what the rest of our existence might look like. But there’s more, because it’s not just about deciding to “step up.” That part’s actually pretty easy.

The real decision is “how.” I can step up with anger. I can do it with surrender (I’m not really prone to that one). I can do it tentatively, or bravely, or softly, or in a hundred different ways. And that’s when some writing by Anita Krizzan showed up.

“Rip me out of my life and change me. Kiss my fears and love me back to existence.”

So here’s a fact: I’d rather not be ripped from my life, nor changed. And I’d rather have some love-of-my-life kiss my fears and love me back to existence. It’s just how it is for me. And that’s not going to happen. I have ripped myself from my life. I have caused dramatic change that is not without its traumas. And now it’s my job to kiss my own fucking fears, and love myself back to existence. I’m doing it. But for those of you who know me, when I seem off sometimes, odds are you’re getting me on a day when I don’t want to do any of that, but am doing it nonetheless.

And I hate it.

In general, survival shouldn’t be a goal – not in our little first-world bubble at least. But it’s too tempting to get into a habit of survival thinking and living – it’s a bit delusional. In Abundance, Dimiandis does a great job of comparing our “poor” to royalty of 100 years ago; we’re in good shape with riches that couldn’t even be imagined that short while ago.

Here’s the thing, however; way too many people that I’ve witnessed or know, live subsistence lives and it’s totally unnecessary. Think back to feudal days. Farmers would work land that was owned by their “lord” (code for slave master) and would provide the allotted, annual yield. They got to the keep the leftovers. They’d eke out a crappy little living, harvesting just enough to make it through the winter so that they could repeat the process the next year. What a shit way to live. And people still live that way.

When we have a subsistence mindset and approach to life, we do just enough to get us through the winter we’re experiencing, but that’s it. Sure it might seem hard and be a lot of work, but it’s a crap result that we repeat year after year, season after season.

I’m not hacking on people: I’ve lived this myself. I’ve done it in business, with my health, in my relationships and with my finances at different times in my life. I know what winter feels like (that, and I’m Canadian, so I REALLY know what winter feels like). But I’ve also glimpsed how a transcendent mindset feels. I know what can happen when we choose to free ourselves from the slavery of subsistence. It’s hard. It’s work. It can be painful. It has nothing to do with other people. It has nothing to do with circumstances. It has to do with the decision to transform.

Change is inevitable, but transformation is a decision, a pursuit, a willingness to step into the heat and pressure that defies dissipative systems.

We’re not here to survive or subsist. We’re not even necessary to Nature. We are here to transcend, to evolve, to develop and actualize the factory-installed gifts that are in every one of us. Let’s either act like it, or stop pretending we’re alive.