I should not rent my office. I’m sitting in my office in the late afternoon, A little bit of coffee is buzzing through my blood, mixing with a good level of hydration. A feeling I like. I sit here and am filled with not being sure. Fear of not making a living. Maybe I chose the wrong thing in renting this downtown office.
I should not rent my office? Is that true?
A teacher just talked about how sometimes when he drops into ‘is it true?’ His frightened mind, monkey mind, will try to find the right answer. Try to figure it out. That is what the mind does, and that is not the Work. So, my mind is doing that right now. I’m going to sit here a minute and see if I can drop in deeper into stillness and silence and let the truth bubble up.
I should not rent my office. Is that true? To really be ready for the answer, to really listen beyond the mind, I have to be ready for ANY answer. I mean, I have to really get comfortable with ‘I don’t know’. After all, that is why I’m asking the question. My mind hasn’t been able to figure it out. Its only been able to worry and obsess over it and keep me up at night and keep all my cells one micron ahead of themselves, ready, waiting for the scary future. What if every single cell in my body downshifted into now? What would that feel like? Heaven, I presume.
Try it now! Why not? Ask yourself, What if every single cell in my body downshifted into now? What would that feel like? And let that question just float in your body. Let those cells of yours answer.
OK, I digress. I should not rent my office. Is that true?
Ah Ha! I sat with that awhile and the question that sits squarely with me appeared: I should not keep my office. It is subtly different, but nails the angst I feel more squarely on the head. It frames how I’m worried about action in the future.
I should not keep my office. Is that true?
No. A feeling of peace comes over me, and I can smell things again. Little things. No, I can feel a peace about the future. I feel a coziness of the winter, a sense of lots of time spent here in good work. Peaceful good work.
How do I react, why happens when fully I believe that I should not keep my office?
Oh shit. I’ve really messed up and I have to fix it now. I have to figure out how to exit. I see all the furniture, its heavy. I see the shame of talking to my building mates and the landlord. There is a falling though all the cells in my body. An inner waterfall of draining energy. Dread. I’m tired. I don’t even want to keep typing this out. I feel like a little girl that’s done something bad and I’m just finding out about that now. A realization of my badness, and now is suffocating me. I feel like crying and collapsing.
How do I treat other people when I am in the gripe of the world this thought creates?
I want to hide. I’m ashamed, and I want to get out of this building, out of the rental as quick as I can. I treat them like they are so much better than me. They will judge me and see how stupid and unintuitive I am. They always knew better than me.
How does the thought that ‘I should not keep my office’ keep me safe?
It’s preemptive. I get to end this rental before it gets bad and other people can say I told you so. No risk. I get to get out.
Who or what am I without the thought ‘I should not keep my office.’
I take a deep, manual breath into my belly and open my mind to this question.
Oooh, I love my office. I love the curves of the ceiling above the dormer window. It’s sweet in here, like a child’s bedroom in the 1800s. I love it. I hear the traffic outside on State Street and it puts me at ease, hearing people going about their lives while I sit in contemplative quiet. I felt this way as a child during afternoon naps. The patterns of the sun though old glass panes reflected on the ceiling. Still, quiet, present. Somehow augmented by the brief blare of a radio calling up though the open window of a passing car.
I feel unbelievably grateful that this is my office. How did I get such a peaceful beautiful space just for me? I feel energy in my body expanding up and out towards a good future. A future of quiet deep work with people, as well as with myself. My center drops down onto the chair easily in this place.
I absolutely love it in here and am happily expanding towards being in here often. It feels good. I feel like I did when I was a little girl. Happy, contained in myself, happy to be here on the planet while life unfolds around me.
I should keep my office.
Yes, it feels so freaking good when I’m without the thought. Maybe its here on it’s own path to be with me as we do this Work together. Maybe it has it’s own path that includes me being here. Mmmm, I love the way this feels. Can a space want to do something with me? Wow, yes. I look around with this question alive inside of me, and the room is alive, sparkling, brimming with aliveness. Brimming with Now.
I’m going to ask it. Ready for this readers? Here goes. Do you want to be here with me? Are you in on this collaboration? And I sit and listen, listen to the room, because that is where the answer is. Wow, it just feels like the room IS me. A very old old ancient me. One I remember as a feeling, as from a dream, a dream from long long ago. There is so much beautiful stillness and silence through and though this room, it is astounding. I feel like I am resting in a nest of stillness high above the streets, a quiet pocket of presence afloat on the skyline of Ithaca.
There is a distinct feeling that the room has waited a very long time for me. The Velveteen Rabbit.
I should not get rid of my office.
No, not out of fear. Not when the impulse is so rooted in fear. I don’t want my life decisions to come from the trenches of fear.
I should not get rid of my office because I don’t even really know it yet. I want to get to know this office. Really get to know it.
I should not get rid of my office because I feel so much stillness and presence here. The silence can ring deep hear when I really listen, and that is not something to get rid of out of fear.
I should not keep my thinking about my office.
No, I should not. The thinking feels rote, boring, unoriginal. I’ve heard theses tones of fear before, they go on and on and terrify me, but they are utterly predictable. The thinking does not bring anything fresh to me. It does not see in the Now. It is conditioned, a thick layer of sludgy tarmac coating over the Now.
I should not keep my thinking about my office because it hurts. It just doesn’t feel good.
I should not keep my thinking about my office because I am ready to move beyond thinking. I have the capacity to dive inward and listen to what is beyond my mind. Why not do that instead?! And the world flowers forth in unbelievable beauty when I do.