In this week’s installment of ‘Shiny Sparks,’ I spoke with Meredith Myers (The Majestik Lioness). Meredith is a heart-based healer and teacher of metaphysical wisdom, meditation, and self-worth. I asked her how she maintains her connection to spirituality.
I want to talk about community.
The dictionary defines community as:
- a unified body of individuals
- a social state or condition
There is an implied consciousness behind it.
And the word togetherness:
- warm fellowship, as among members of a family
- the quality, state, or condition of being together
They are ideas that sound easy enough on paper, but I’ve found that actually creating community and togetherness takes tremendous inner transformation.
Sometimes in my enthusiasm, I come on strong in relationships. I go full force, straight forward with no pause to think if the other party needs or wants that amount of energy. Sometimes I make a mistake in thinking that because we have common interests or are members of the same community there is an automatic bond. I forget that things take time to build. The same applies to personal interests and challenges: it can be all-or-nothing.
People that I admire or look to as examples tell me to “let go.” Let things flow. Don’t try to always have the answers. (Insert a sigh, eye roll, or scream.) This is a challenge for me. The cycle of negative tape plays in my head, where I imagine the worst case scenarios of what will happen “if”…
My chest tightens, my energy gets small and trapped and I feel like I can’t breathe. My brain plays the common trick of convincing me that if I can control everything, I won’t have anything to worry about.
This approach doesn’t yield good results, so my focus in the past few months has been to take the hard advice: let go, let things flow, and don’t try to always have the answers. It requires constant vigilance. It’s baffling how quickly I slip back into trying to do everything myself and the chaos that often follows the decisions made in this state of mind. I have some challenges in my life that are so familiar: old patterns, old thinking, all of it the same old garbage that I can’t seem to break free of. I feel broken, helpless to change myself.
This is where I think community and togetherness come in. This is the energy behind the contemporary trend of crowd-sourcing: we can do it alone, but we’re so much stronger when we do it together. When we invest in something as part of a group of like-minded people, we want to contribute instead of expecting a return.
My life is crowd-sourced. People who love me more than I deserve at times contribute to my potential. They look past my flaws and over-sharing and child-like enthusiasm and see my light. My parents accept my out-of-the-box lifestyle and support me in more ways than I can write in an essay. Sometimes I’m so committed to my own point of view that I can’t even receive this love. People in my life show me their heart and I reject it. Or I twist it to fit into my own understanding of what it means to share and miss an opportunity to experience the growth that can only come from admitting that I don’t know.
As I write this I’m in the middle of a situation that has an open ending. I don’t know how some of the challenges will resolve. But in the past few weeks, I’ve had people step forward to offer a hand up in ways that I would have never imagined. And it seems to happen in the blink of an eye. Somehow, I’m in the right place at the right time and an opportunity is presented through people and places that surprise me. So far, the results have been far better than my original plans. I’m humbled by my small perspective. I limit my reality if left to my own devices.
My crowd-sourced life is a wonder. I am in awe of what we can accomplish when we set our egos aside and commit to a common goal. My relationships are stronger when I step back a bit and let things build organically. My fears of not being loved are replaced with the knowing that sometimes love shows up in minutia, but is no less grand. If I get out of the way, I don’t miss it.
My father came to visit one afternoon
he triumphantly presented
a small blue box with an appraisal
my grandmothers wedding ring
he said this is yours now
I don’t have a lot of experience with diamonds
I don’t wear bling
my wedding ring is a modest silver band
with a little message on the inside only I can see
I don’t have a lot of experience with diamonds
I don’t have a lot of experience with my grandmother
The diamonds on her ring
are not the pristine princess cuts of my prime
no, they’re an organized little cluster
that looks quickly encased
in a time more ragged and primitive
I think I’m a rough diamond
I imagine what my grandmothers ring
would feel like in my mouth
crystalline points cold against my tongue
little rocks scratching the thin layer of my inside cheeks
I hear the stones click against my teeth
Maybe if I swallow the gems
feel them travel down my trachea to land
cushioned in my gut
I will understand the allure
the diamonds could shine from my insides
and then I could shine
we could shine, she and I
I think my grandmother was a rough diamond too
undeveloped and battered
sometimes a diamond looks more like coal
I want to turn back our time
I want us to be diamonds
our ruffled tangled outside transformed
transparent and free from flaws
now precious stones, she and I