Unblock the River-Flow

I will start this brief post by pointing to this little tidbit I saw last month on Twitter:

And if there’s a Twitter glitch or some other error preventing you from seeing that at the moment, here it is in screenshot form:

I’ll write this out this time just so it’s had time to bake into your mind:

When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.

~ Rumi

Okay. Still with me? Good. (NOTE: I’m seeing different variations of this quote out there but they look to be all consistent in meaning, for what it’s worth.)

My point in sharing this is because I can attest first hand his true this statement is. It’s not just a metaphorical river Rumi speaks of here. Our souls move like waves in consistent, rhythmic form and, at times, are nothing less than choppy waters, depending on how we act and respond to situations and circumstances.

What I’ve learned, however, is that when I have written consistently — when I have filled pages of my notebook or written fiction daily despite my inner self resistance screaming at me to stop, giving me all justifiable reasons to do so, and when I ignore all of that and consistently write — I start to detect something happening within me. It’s a gradual sensation, building slowly, but it’s clear and noticeable. It feels literally like river of tranquility and joy has started to flow, a transition from those choppy rapids I spoke of earlier. But, if I stop those soul-based actions, if I falter on the consistency, the river flow becomes erratic, and the water becomes choppy again.

Did you ever create a storm bottle when you were a kid? There are different variations of this, but they’re all pretty great. Some include adding water and oil to a two-liter bottle, some with a smaller bottle filled with food coloring and glitter. The main idea is to shake the bottle up, then you start to see a “storm” within it, moving like a crashing hurricane or tornado, right in the palm of your hand. What’s interesting is what happens when you stop shaking the bottle and let it sit. The sand or shimmer starts to settle, and eventually moves to the bottom, the remaining “ocean” on top becoming illuminating and tranquil. This is what it looks like below the surface of our busy minds and in the core of our soul (the call of which I refer to frequently as “the deep-down hum” — it’s the sound of the soul that tells us what it is we’re here to do). And when consistently doing things from our souls, we start to see this tranquility, this flowing river.

That’s the main thing I want to emphasize: this river-flow only occurs when we do what our soul calls for regularly, consistently, rhythmically. When we find a way to get it done, find a way to weave it in to life’s responsibilities and distractions. And yes, I get it, time is valuable. I have a family, kids, day job, house, etc. but none of these things have caused me to sway from writing or running or doing anything else I truly love. These things are blessings, not speed bumps, and to suggest otherwise is nothing other than creative excuse making at its finest.

The only thing responsible for my lack of development in writing or running or meditating or being a generally good human is me. My fear. Succumbing to my own self-resistance. The only failure is non-action. Time is valuable, but even time can be an excuse. Time is an illusion. We create our lives as we see fit. There is time to write and run and meditate and read and maintain a blog and freelance on top of all of these things we refer to as “normal life.” The how part of this has been an evolving process for me and I’m still working out a lot of time-management kinks. But things are falling into place. And synchronicity is mounting.

The biggest thing is this: That river-flow, and related synchronicities only start to become a reality with consistent action. This is it, the key, the answer. Simple notion, difficult as hell to execute.

But it’s only difficult because we say it’s difficult.

So let’s move, shall we? Time to get the river flowing. And leave the oars, we won’t need them.