Thought-stream on the silent wisdom of the heart

Our minds talk. A lot. Often more than we think. (- Which is an interesting, slightly contradictory statement my own mind just came up with.) Well, MY mind sometimes talks a lot. I get those times of stillness, too. Times of pure silence, where I just sit in sweet surrender of the present moment without any doubt that I am in the flow, perfectly aligned with life, and that I do have the perfect right to enjoy exactly this. And yet the universe is created on balance, the Yin and the Yang and so are we, so am I. (And maybe this nothing but a constant manifestation of my own belief systems again.) Shiva meeting Shakti, the love making of creation followed by separation, destruction and chaos, the breaking down of things, just to meet again, create again, love again and then - universal silence. Stillness followed by chaos. And chaos by stillness. Not chaos in a negative way, but as something that describes the opposite of stillness because it is loud, confusing and can potentially be filled by everything (at once). Especially thoughts.

At times it is just one negative thought, one simple unconscious fear that is played out by an emotion stuck in the physical body. And that emotion plays adversely into all my other systems, including my mental capacity to think positive or at least neutral. That wouldn't be bad if there was at least some part inside of me that was able to just observe and know that this too shall pass, but sometimes not even this part is awake and chaos cumulates into an amount of stress in my physical body that actually only leaves going straight back to bed as a solution. Why? Because I find that anything else simply perpetuates the negative vibration around me and leads to even more highly residue amount of toxic stress in my system. What is worse is when I start writing about it. Then, I complain about myself, and the circumstances that I consciously or subconsciously created for my life to be chaotic.

And then I am just still. I sit in the chaos and I observe it. Going back to bed hasn't really been the solution for the last years, not since I consciously learned how to use the tools I've been given to observe and sit with the pain. To just let it happen. And in the midst of the chaos one question arises: What do I want?

My mind's freedom is infinite, and yet my growing wish for stable consistency has narrowed it down to a point where I don't feel free at all, but rather caught and almost stuck in the process. Who thought that I would feel wedged and trapped in a world that guarantees me unlimited options and possibilities? My guidance has always been my heart but is it that I am either disconnected from that inner voice of wisdom, or that I have rationalized my feelings to an extend that I don't believe in them anymore?

Do I trust my heart?

Yesterday my close friend reminded to me again that our choices are not really up to the mind but to the heart. And that, if we did not connect with what the heart truly wanted, if we didn't truly listen, the consequence would be a silent frustration that holds us back from being happy at all. And he asked me again: 'Do you trust your heart?' A question, which I was able to easily and wholeheartedly answer with a 'full-body yes' in the recent years.

This time, I found, I couldn't answer the question. I followed my heart around the globe for the past 6 years. I followed my passion, my guidance, inner voices, that very beat that keeps me alive. For most of the time I have been on a constant move, a constant journey. I don't regret it. It has brought me to a point where I feel independent and strong - at least about what I don't want from life. The flipside, the "chaos", remains the divergent multitude of options wrapping silent wings around me, scattering my brain wanting to find out what I actually want.

Settle. Yes. Where? I don't know. Partnership. Yes? I don't know, cause it comes back to the question of where to settle. By now I know that weather affects me even though from a spiritual point of view, it shouldn't. Yet, it does.

The next thing would be: Job? Yes, but only what makes my heart sing. Thus, purpose. This crazy little word amongst the immeasurable amount of other words - "purpose" is a silent word because it directly connects to "being still and listen". My sense of purpose connects to a sense of service for others and being needed, to giving, to holding space, to teaching Yoga and being present. I call those silent longings because they don't connect to the world of business - busy-ness - and money, the world of advertisement and sales because it is hard, if not impossible to market this offer. "Hey, I could just listen to you, give you back the feeling that you are loved and accepted, that you are worthy and deserve all the blessings in this life. Can you pay me for that, please?" I would probably have to market myself as the badass coach that has a nice little assembly of awesome tools and set ups to help you realign your sense of being alive and passionate about what you do. Well, not too bad. Maybe I just do exactly that.

Still, what makes me mistrust my heart?

My heart made me take decisions that I did not precisely bemoaned afterwards, but which I would probably take back if I had considered the possible outcomes a bit better. Really?

Well now, if I really welcome stillness into the chaos, into the pain, I realize that the discomfort is actually coming from NOT listening properly. That my heart knows when I say 'yes', but actually mean 'no',  and if I follow through with a decision that I knew, right from the beginning, that it wasn't the right one. Years ago, it would take me ages to sit in the discomfort of doing something that I didn't actually wanted to do. Today, the frustration becomes so big so quickly (together with the value I put on every single moment of life) that I can hardly bear the pain for long anymore without knowing that I waste my precious time.

So, what actually happens is that I sit in random chaos and take the first and most obvious step out of it - I find quick solutions in a world that has conditioned me not to like dis-ease and therefore to quick-fix it or avoid it in total. But if I had sat patiently for an unknown amount of time with the chaos of feeling uncertain and "in between", not home here, not home there, not arrived or fully connected, not really grounded in or familiar with new circumstances, just like quiet not myself - there would have been the famous light at the end of the tunnel. Thus, in those unmapped lands of the unknown chaos when the multitude of possibilities become a weight, just sit and be still for as long as it is needed before taking the next step. My heart knows, and yes, I trust it. I do not always listen properly but I learn to listen better with each lesson life provides. Sit and listen. There always is a silent voice amongst the overwhelming mass of heavy-weighing chaotic thoughts, that knows the way out. It only needs the light of one little candle to brighten a whole room full of darkness. And this little flame is eternally present. In silence.