On Being Fluid (Part 2): The Principle of Now

This is probably going to sound a little weird to you, but when I was growing up, I really struggled with the idea of heaven. All the Sunday school teachers in my life ever said to describe it was that it was a lovely place with streets of gold, clouds and pearly gates. All I could think to my pre-teen self was that that didn't sound better than earth. Actually, in my most honest moments, I wondered if heaven was a really boring place with clouds and gold streets (for whatever reason). I felt very guilty about this feeling for a very long time, until I looked around at beautiful earth, I experienced God so well in the beauty of earth, and I became convinced that heaven could not be a supernatural place in the sky where gold streets, clouds and passed-on people went if they were good. I decided at some point that heaven had to have more spectacular waterfalls than Iguazu, that there were probably more beautiful sights than the Maracas Lookout, and that there must be social interactions, only they would be missing the clumsy fumbles of our humanity (no misinterpretations, misunderstandings or mis-speech). This helped me so much to think of heaven as a place with more perfect versions of things I understand (like scenery and relationships) because I honestly wondered what we would be doing in a place that has no manifestation other than the spiritual, save some precious metal and stone.

Perhaps the biggest selling point of heaven is that we have an undiluted experience of God. THAT is heavenly to me, but I was unresolved about an ETERNITY without an occupation. Perhaps my clumsy, foolish and uninformed mind cannot conceptualise the true presence of God, and how my spiritual self would be very satisfied to just sit at His feet, but I'd like to think there's more to it than that. I'd like to think that the same way on earth, I have skills and value that only I bring (just like you!), that would also be true in heaven. Recently, I was listening to some men talk about "Now" as a principle, and the idea that in heaven, there is no real concept of time - we would finally experience God in realtime (right here, right now). It's not that we can't experience God here on earth, but it's almost as though we're talking to God on chat, so sometimes what is relayed is not what we receive. Sometimes we wish we could have a tangible indication that this is the right choice/decision/person/job but all we have to go on are our notions, which are part God, part self, part parents and part <insert endless other influences here>. 

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Several months ago, I wrote a post on being more flexible to the elements of life, where the external stressors and personal pressures we put on ourselves become like the temperature, or other condition that causes us to change states - we can be fluid (able to move quickly), frozen (rigid, tightly packed and immovable) or gaseous (widely dispersed). This is in response to a natural tendency of mine to become compulsive in my use, adherence and dependence on perfect planning. I think I'm a lot better about this now, but I'm still learning how little I can really, truly know, and hence plan for. I thought about those men saying that there is no concept of time in heaven and I once again, using my human principles of time and occupation and my flaw of compulsive planning,became very anxious about this heaven picture I originally saw. What on EARTH are we going to do with an eternity? The compulsive planner in me became fatigued. Then, I considered the concept of NOW. If all that exists was now then there would be nothing to plan for. In a timeless heaven a compulsive me would not be endlessly looking forward to when my plans were actualised because I'd be experiencing God in my own perfect state. I'd be experiencing God in every moment, and I wouldn't be waiting.

I experienced much liberation in this, because I thought to myself "I could use joy like that in this earthly life." I thought to myself that if I could look for opportunities to experience God in every moment, if I could mimic the heaven experience then I'd probably get more out of my earthly life. I'm not saying you shouldn't write a will or save your money, but I am saying that there's a special pleasure in NOW. I'm saying that we probably shouldn't wait around for life to get good. I'm saying that life is good RIGHT NOW, and our job is to find out how. 

Rumbly in My Tumbly: The Blessing of Restlessness

Does your tummy rumble? While Winnie the Pooh up there is interested in some honey, I'm thinking about a slightly different sustenance. Last post I talked about being brave enough to stop doing what you're doing long enough to hear yourself think and feel. Ever since I could remember, I've just kind of encountered these bouts of restlessness as I walked through my life. I'd be on my path, doing what I needed to do when my hunger pangs for something more would make it impossible for me to stay the same. I wouldn't always know what exactly needed to change, but I'd become increasingly aware that there was more than this. 

Does that happen to you? You might call it an angsty and unfortunate thing, because it always means that at that moment, you're unhappy with your life (maybe not entirely but with some major aspect) and the result is this feeling that something has to give. You might think of it as a negative, but I don't.

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"Fire in my belly"

Someone once said that I had "fire in my belly," and I've been trying to figure out what that means ever since. I like it as a description I think, because it feels as out of control as I do in those moments of restlessness. Lately I've been thinking of that expression again, and wondering if there isn't something to that. I'm wondering if everyone doesn't have fire in their bellies?

Stay with me while I flesh this one out. What if the fire is there to keep us going, and if you don't put the right fuel in, you'll get some indication that your internal engine isn't running right? If you're familiar with me or this blog, you'll know that I'm fairly obsessed with purpose and finding your unique value to the world. Lately I've been doing the ants in my pants dance because a fresh bout of restlessness has hit. I have been trying to figure out what the benefit of those bouts is for me. I have realised that EVERY big move of my life has been preceded by bouts of unbearable restlessness, and I am so grateful for each one. Here's why:

1.) Unbearable restlessness is the kind of nagging feeling that propels you to make a change. 
If you're the kind of person who knows exactly what you want and where you're going then this feeling will either depress you (if it feels hopeless to change), or it'll push you over the edge to make a decision. If you're NOT the type of person that makes detailed plans and knows what you want to see happen next, then this will probably mean that your restlessness will show up in how you cope with what you're faced with. It'll either make you anxious (about the future), or it'll let you know that crunch time is here, and what you've been taking your pretty time with you need to move on.

2.) The right fuel makes the journey possible. 
If you put diesel in a gas running car or vice versa, you might get a mile before your engine starts running funny and making a lot of noise. Then, you'll need to tow your car to a place that can remove the wrong fuel and do damage control for you before putting in the right stuff. I think we humans are like that, too. If you are meant to be working with your hands and find yourself doing actuary projections at an insurance company, the chances are your internal engine will be screaming bloody murder. I'll be the first to admit to my secret, deep seated idealism, but let me say this next thing. I think that every person has all of these little portions of self that make up the whole fire. What I mean is that there's going to be a little rumbling for the artist in someone, the comedian, the mother, etc. This is a similar concept to the one I talked about in this post. If you're feeling uncomfortable in your own skin, one of the first questions I'll have for you is what are you running on?

3.) Asking questions gets us closer.
It's a theme of most, if not all of the posts at Rantings to continuously question, especially when it comes to what is going on in your head and heart. Do you know if you're restless? Or do you just have an inexplicable conflict with your partner? Or, are you just not sleeping well? Are you satisfied? How so? I'm not going to go on, but one really crucial principle that I'm learning in life is that EVERY question will never be answered, and I need to consider that very seriously as I navigate my life. I should never become so convinced that I fail to inquire. I should never presume to be categorically informed when all I've really done is interpreted.

I hope this post isn't too basic for you, but these are my three main celebrations where Restlessness is concerned. Without restlessness I wouldn't be motivated to change (and grow hopefully!), without restlessness I wouldn't pause to look at what I'm fueling myself with, and without examining my fuel, I won't be in a position to question what would drive me forward. So if you too have some ants in your pants or a rumbly in your tumbly, today's post is a challenge to see the restlessness as a blessing. It means that you're a fighter and you aren't just standing with your bowl wondering what life will put into it. Why not question what kind of engine you're running, and what fuel propels you, and has you running smoothly? Why not seriously consider what might make you feel more settled or satisfied? You absolutely deserve to go after those things, so don't let anyone tell you you can't. Find your good and go for it!