Tend the Sparks Consulting

So far, this year has asked me, without subtlety, to look unflinchingly — at myself, others, certain situations, the state of the world. Based on the stories I keep hearing from friends and clients, one could argue that we’re all being asked to look unflinchingly at one thing or another. For those who follow and consider such things, this is very Year of the Fire Horse. That energy doesn’t let up and invites dissolution, growth, and rebuilding in rapid succession, though not without the sharpness of truth and discomfort in the midst of change.¹

It’s the most natural thing in the world to look away from things that hurt us. To an extent, it helps us survive by protecting us from constant states of distress; it’s also often unconscious.² Our minds and egos cleverly protect themselves and are attached to stories we tell about our identities. We do lots of mental gymnastics to defend and maintain our perceptions of self image. Our own shortcomings, betrayal, ugliness in the world, fear of change that’s already upon us, these are all things we often turn away from because seeing them plainly and feeling them wholly scares us.

It takes energy to tell ourselves the stories involved in avoidance. Humans have created entire industries designed to help us avoid that pain and discomfort by escaping, numbing, denying, and otherwise putting off those feelings. We can only outrun the pain and discomfort for so long before circumstance forces us to turn and face it. Or before the numbing becomes something we don’t know how to live without. In my experience, lingering in numbness eventually costs me things I consider essential—spirit, self respect, true connection with other humans, to name a few.

When it comes down to it, I’d rather be brought to my knees repeatedly by the truth of something that hurts than live without access to those things. In those moments, it feels like I might splinter under the sensation of a feeling, a story, life. The tension that’s central to being a human never fails to stagger: the heart-swelley goodness of people and being alive and the devastating brutality of people and being alive. Who allowed all this at once and invites us to accept it?!

Ha, that was definitely rhetorical. God, whoever/however one might sense them, has plenty to do with it. When I need levity on this topic, I often turn to Anne Lamott. “Life just gets so much lifier than I was prepared for” about sums it up, re: the universe pulling no punches and lacking subtlety. Though I maintain that it has a sense of humor if we’re willing to laugh at ourselves often, even if it hurts like hell first.

When something breaks, including us, it means we cannot carry on exactly as we have before. It’s a shitty initiation into resilience, but it’s effective, should we choose to make something of it. What comes to mind are Hegel’s words: The truth is whole.³ And what John O’Donohue said, partly inspired by studying his work: To become wholesome, we need living connection with the whole.⁴

To look without flinching is to accept the full weight of something, its wholeness. To break oneself upon the shore of what is hard and true and still ultimately choose openheartedness and wholeheartedness. That’s the stuff of integrity and resilience.

Y’all have heard me say that culture and outcomes emerge from how we are together. Add to that the threads of who and what we’re from, and that tangle informs the stories we tell about who we are, individually and collectively. Learning how to hold the truth whole is one of the ways we become more adept at navigating all of this. The times we’re in are asking so much of us…the sheer velocity of change, the things we sense are at stake, the versions of futures we’re being forced to no longer take for granted.

I was at a literal and metaphorical edge a few weeks ago, covered in salmonberry thorn scratches, staring out at the Pacific. After I don’t know how long sitting in the wet sand getting soaked through, I had to laugh. What if I didn’t try so hard to reconcile the truth? The giant, messy wholeness of it. What if I just let myself grieve, get my arms around as much of it as I can, and stagger on with faith that my legs will grow steadier with time? There has been relief in the surrender, acceptance, and agency of that.

The truth is whole….We sometimes think we can’t carry that, but we can. I have. I have watched people I know and love do it. I’ve watched people I don’t know, but love for doing it. What matters is choosing to stand again in the face of what we see, when we’re ready, and taking the next step. I find that heartening.

-Cheyenne

photo: the aforementioned wet sand

1. Some previous mentors and teachers of mine would say, “Truth” with a capital T. The kind that is felt and known without intellectualization or explanation. ↩︎
2. I consider trauma and trauma responses separate from the thoughts I’m sharing on this ↩︎
3. Translated by John O’Donohue; “Das wahre ist das ganze.” From Phenomenology of Spirit ↩︎
4. John O’Donohue, Walking In Wonder ↩︎