Rhetoric Race and Religion
I woke up at 3am this morning f***ing terrified. God knows why, but as I lay there, trying to breathe into it, all I could feel was this tightness somewhere in my solar plexus. Like a rock. Every ten minutes or so, whenever one of the trains that pass my house rattled by the window – my whole body would begin to silently scream. Mind racing: maybe I need to leave New York, maybe I need to do more yoga, maybe I need to surrender more deeply, maybe I need to call my sister…
Most things feel better by the light of day, but the morning brought with it a still greater awareness that – despite all the changes I have made in my life these three years – there is more to be done. My body is telling me that the rearranging is not over.
The truth is, I’m longing for silence but I don’t know how to get it. And – if I’m really honest – I’m also still resisting it. A mentor of mine recently pointed out that longing and resistance are close partners. Longing is actually a sweet, even beautiful feeling, and the resistance allows us to draw out the period of longing that proceeds surrender.
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