For all the wise words from our elders that ‘life is change’ and that ‘without change there would be no growth’, change remains a rather awkward and uncomfortable experience. Change can be unexpected and dramatic – in those instances, it seems only natural to fear change and want to reject the whole thing through denial, or desperate and futile attempts to rewrite the story to ease the pain. The attempts are futile not because of some inescapable fateful omen, but because what has happened has indeed happened, and it has shaped the present we face now and here. We cannot change the ‘facts’ of the past but we are free to create our experiences in the present moment. That is why there are gifts hidden even in excruciating experiences – although it may take a long time to consciously figure out what the gift is in this instance. Obviously this does not justify deliberate harmful actions; these fall under the scope of our moral responsibility and the free will of embodied beings – to be discussed another time. What is suggested here, rather, is that emotionally or physically tough experiences are what they are, and they indeed change things a lot, whether we want it or not. But our will is intact when it comes to engaging with the experience consciously, and finding in it the nugget of wisdom that lies hidden – for there is always one if we look for long enough.
Even the most exciting prospects of change – i.e. those times when we contemplate a boring, uninspiring or draining present and we can glimpse a different future just around the corner – do not escape a certain frisson, a drop of anxiety because we do not actually know the full story of what we move towards. How we respond to this (compulsory?) invitation depends a great deal on our personality (alongside contextual factors), with two extremes being to overreact (with dread or with daredevil excitation) or to freeze into apathy.
Change is good (often enough…) and it is fuel to develop new skills and find new resources within ourselves which we did not know we had. As such, it truly is a rite of passage, one that carries the gift of psychic energy ready to be integrated and turned alchemically into new insights, new knowledge, new resources. But there is no denying that change – even good or positive change – elicits fear, and that it takes time to turn that fear into a thrill.
Picture yourself in the shoes of Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade, standing precariously on a tiny rocky edge overlooking a seemingly bottomless pit. You know that the way forward is to reach the other side, but the rift is far too wide for you to jump. If you walk back, you will miss out on something important life had in store for you. There are no obvious tools or gimmicks that can help you cross over, no obvious detours available. The way you usually approach such situations and all of your hard-earned knowledge do not seem of any help in this situation: it appears you have to take a chance, to change how you deal with the reality that presents itself to you in that form in order to move forward, but you have no real clue as to how.
What are the alternatives? You cannot remain stuck on the edge forever – although some of us turn such precariousness into a lifestyle, but it rarely is satisfying or soulful. Turning back would mean giving up on the needs of the soul, and is too high a price to pay – although we are very skilled at rationalising that price and thus muting the inner voice who is demanding more space and more care. So stepping forward is the only option, but it comes with a major risk: something will change, something will have to give in, some things I will have to give up and something else I will have to make room for and welcome. There is no guarantee I will enjoy the process, there is no definite guidance as to what awaits me. I may crash and break my bones at this point, and I am asked to trust that somehow that possibility is part of the path (but how can I be sure that is indeed the path? Of course I cannot…). I may also find unexpected support as I step forward, but until I actually move my foot and launch myself here and there, I will not know. No certainties, except that change has to take place, that something else, something different is to be welcomed.
In the movie, this process was beautifully named ‘the leap of faith’: when the hero (in a rich archetypal sense) realises that neither his intellect, his wit, his strength nor his charm will help him this time around, he slips his book back inside his pocket, he places his hand on his heart to calm his mind, to centre his breath, to clear his heart and allow the wisdom of his soul to guide him from then on. And as he steps forward, the solution presents itself: he is supported (in the scene, this is a literal support, a hidden rocky bridge), he is able to integrate the experience and continue his journey with that new richness, with that new insight.
What he had to give up – his rational approach to life and to problem-solving – lead to a transformative growth through a change of pace and a shift in his ‘beingness’. Next time a challenge arises, he will know that he has the resources for a rational plan of action and that he can also tap into the richness of his soul, his faith in something greater than his mind which contains many more mysteries, wonders and tools. This is a great gift indeed. But in the very moment of realising that the bottomless pit is the only way, and in the very moment of lifting one foot and shifting our weight forward, there is fear. It is only natural, it is human, it is normal. It is healthy, as long as it does not define us. Then, right after Life has lifted the veil of the unknown and revealed her way of supporting us, the fear of change becomes thrill: we are excited, gosh we are even elated! We have caught a sight of a divine realm where limitations are of our own making, where the rules of matter, physics, biology, hard sciences and even so-called soft sciences are not an end-in-itself. We have touched upon the understanding that we can be soulful beings because we are effectively, fundamentally, a soul experiencing aspects of Life. All it takes is an openness to change, a leap of faith and an ability to welcome the experience for what it is.
Inner work really helps prepare our mind and our bodies for this. With all the bountiful resources that change unveils in us, it is not to say that all is rosy and all ends happily always. At times, we make mistakes because we are not ready to face what our soul demands. At times, our so-called leaps of faith are more acts of blind faith towards a mind-made authority which we entrust instead of developing our own voice. Blind faith is dangerous, and it is not the same as acting out of faith in the wisdom of our soul. The difference is subtle to the rational mind, and it is a difficult one to express in words. But the difference in feeling is profound: blind faith feels uniform and detached (even if it can lead to fiery actions, let alone destructive ones), whereas faith in our soul feels like a burgeoning fire sparkling up and down, right and left, all the while grounding our being into a transcending loving Light. In other words, blind faith actually feeds separation and annihilation of the rich wholesomeness of our being; on the other hand, soulful faith is life-giving, it strengthens and expands our beingness in ways we did not know were possible. Soulful faith brings light and lightness, but it does not seek to conceal our human turmoils nor our inner contradictions. It just shows there is another level of manifestation whereby the soul can guide our actions in the most natural, peaceful manner. That is the aim, that is as close to ‘enlightenment’ as we can get in this material world. When we have the chance to experience this, then we become thankful for the whimsical way change infuses life back into our being. And so, we can breathe again and let a smile form on our lips, amused and amazed at this Intelligence that knows us so well.
Consider your spontaneous attitude to change: what form does it take? What feelings arise? What thoughts form? What sensations and images emerge? Stay with it for a moment, consciously present, but avoid being drawn into the intensity of the experience – just observe and note what is there.
Now observe how you usually respond to this spontaneous attitude to a change: what parts of yourself do you activate? How and for what? What is the guiding strategy that is at play here? What is the purpose of this process? And where does it leave you? What happens to the initial energy (that of the spontaneous attitude)? How do you experience that?
And then what are you left with in your consciousness? What is there to respond to life’s invitation to shift something within you? What do you do? Can you – through reflection and withholding judgement – approach a state of soulful faith and notice how this feels? Have you ever experienced that? What do you do now to serve the soul?