As I was meditating this morning I was struck (okay maybe striking wasn't involved, noticing perhaps), that there's a quality to the discomfort I feel that is always the same, it doesn't seem to change. It's like when I peel back all the other dynamic stuff, there's this base of softness and it's the same. Am I doing the right thing? Will I be loved the way I want to be loved? Will I ever get it together? Am I fulfilling my life's purpose?
And for awhile, and probably for a really long time, I thought there would be answers to those questions, like I'd finally do enough internal research and the answers would appear, guidance would be given, and I would be confidently on my way. The fact that the answers weren't popping out at me just meant I had to work harder, purify more, do more practice, and THEN maybe the answers would show up. Like somehow I just haven't been doing things right and that when I do start behaving properly like a good yoga teacher should, the answers will just be there. The suffering will stop. The pain won't be there anymore.
After allowing the teachings of the past weekend at Omega to sink in and through taking a new peek at this stuff, this morning I'm left with a feeling like those questions are just there. That fear is just there. It's part of my internal landscape, it's part of my being human. There's nothing wrong with me that they're there. I'm not deficient in practice or in internal inquiry. I can allow those questions to be there knowing some days they'll be answered, most days they won't. Having those questions and that underlying discomfort smacks of being human.
One of the topics covered this weekend was about how to overcome that doubt and move into a place of doubtlessness. How to pick ourselves up and trust that the ground of fearlessness is fear itself. The fact that fear or that underlying discomfort is present makes it possible to stand on it and rise up out of it. It's good that it's there. It's useful.