We're not falling apart for the sake of falling apart – we're falling apart with the invitation to rebuild ourselves on the other side. We're already in the midst/mist of a sudden, radical awakening/rumble.
It started in March of 2020 and will continue for the next five or so years, smoothing out as it goes. The transition will not have nearly has obvious of an ending as it had a beginning. Such is how it goes with step changes.
This revolution is going at *lightning* speed, and the global consciousness couldn't possibly go any faster. If you’re wishing things were going faster consider that we can't all fall apart at the same time or we really would have ourselves in a pickle.
If you notice impatience (either in yourself or projected out at others) get going on your part.
Don't wait for people to get on the same page before you get start on your piece of the work, because it's never going to fully happen. There’s a grieving process required to accept that we’re not gonna ever see through someone else’s eyes and they’re never gonna see through ours 100 percent. The we–have–to-all-get-on-the-same-page demand is our inner control freak clawing for a guarantee that it’s all turning out ok and the risk is worth it.
That’s not how risk works. That’s not how turning-out-ok works.
The mist and the rumble have their own lessons to teach us – those of navigating with our other senses. I learned to drive by being able to look out the windshield and see what’s ahead 200 feet. When there’s fog, that visibility shrinks to 20 feet.
For the past 18 months, we’ve been socked in with mist so thick you can see only inches. At first, no one drives. We stay off the roads. Then months pass and people who have developed sensing technology strap that gear onto Honda Odysseys and Mazda Miatas and get back on the road. They feel a kinship with the other drivers out there, since we are few.
We are the rumblers.
I can’t say I know what comes beyond this, because this is the moment I find myself in presently. I’m out here in the mist knowing that it’s not gonna clear anytime soon. I beckon to others to strap on their new ways of navigating to get out here with us.
How? Do the thing that that scares you… not just anything, but that thing you know is yours to do.
There’s an uncanny resemblance between a black hole and a jelly donut. I wave and say “hiya Void, we love you!”
Yah, but how? Find a quiet spot and do this exercise. Lock yourself in a bathroom for five minutes if that’s the only place you can find peace. Note: running a mental simulation of what it would be like to do this isn’t nearly the same as doing it, not by a long shot.
Feel *through* the fear instead of resisting, dramatizing, or sweeping it under the carpet. The best way I can describe the visceral experience of this is flying through the center of a jelly donut. Weird, I know… bear with me.
Say out loud “I want to ‘blank’, but it scares me.” Figure out what goes in the blank, but not with your mind. Let the words float towards you like a paper boat on a silent sea.
Now say it again with the blank filled in. Feel where the reverberations are in your body. Repeat the statement until you can locate the exact physical location in your body where the intensity of sensation originates from. That’s the middle of the donut hole.
Then breathe oxygen and love into this spot until a wave of whatever’s been trapped comes washing up on shore. Keep breathing. Stay with this, reassuring yourself that you’re 100% safe to feel whatever physical sensations or emotions arise. You’ll have a sense of when you’ve crossed through this wave.
One the other side of this, you’ll find a spaciousness to do that thing – the thing you maybe even maybe didn’t even realize you wanted to do before you started this exercise. Whatever stopped you before doesn’t anymore.
When you do it – this things that previously scared you – then you’ll find your fellow rumblers.
This is the draft text of the Empty/Enough card. Want more from this dragon? Pick a card, any card at becomingdragon.com