It’s easy to think we’re just not in the right place.
We’re stuck — like a rock, stationary, weighted down, while the world swirls around us, leaving us to watch and wonder, outside the passion of life.
Except that we’re *not* rocks. We aren’t immobile and unchanging (and actually, even rocks are constantly changing).
We’re rivers. We are continually in flow. Nutrients, water, and oxygen enter. Byproducts flow out. Cells are created, while other cells pass on — in fact, all the body’s cells are renewed every 7 to 10 years . . . so you literally aren’t physically what you were a decade ago. Only your sense of being an organism continues.
And that’s not constant either — you certainly aren’t what you were consciously as a child, or ten years ago, or even last year. Because you are constantly growing, changing, flowing. The real question, then, is *how* we are flowing — toward what we want? With a healthy inflow and outflow? Or are we flowing in stagnant, growing in distorted ways, causing swamps or floods?
When we understand we are rivers, not rocks, our decision process has to change. We don’t have a Comfort Zone, for example — there is no where for a flowing river to have one. That’s a luxury of rocks. For a river, “Comfort Zone” is a convenient fiction, a rationalization, a sweeping under of what we don’t want to face: that we need to grow. That we need to flow. That we can’t just flow everywhere without becoming a swamp . . . and eventually, just damp ground. But when we flow, with ease toward our greatest attraction, then we join larger and larger bodies of water, finally to reach the ocean.
Ever notice how much this process resembles the circulatory and nervous system? We too grow and merge into what we truly are meant to be. But as an earlier blog post pointed out, the problem is rarely what we think it is. That’s why we feel stuck. Because we’re not rocks. We’re rivers.
And that’s what energy work is about as well. Not zapping. Not forcing. Not breaking through rock. Flowing. Connecting those upper most trickles to those broad rolling waterways. All one, at different places on the same continuum.