What happens when we feel like a talentless waste of space, a no hoper, a useless failure? Maybe we like to develop the theme further with stories about our worthlessness, our self-delusion—that we’re ineffective, unproductive, that everyone else is so much more talented than we are; or else we seek out excuses and justifications—if only we had more time, if only we had more money, if our job were different, if the kids were older, if we lived in a different country, in a different time in history, if if if . . .
But there is another possibility, the path less travelled: to go beyond the realm of thought and its stories, and come directly into the rawness of the moment—the visceral world of sensation, of aliveness; to feel the high voltage of our anxiety and frustration—its tense, edgy, nervy, restlessness—to welcome it, to honour it in all its intensity; for the hard shell of the insufficient ‘me’ to split wide open and be immersed in the fear of uncertainty, of vulnerability, of being utterly laid bare; to abandon oneself completely to the exhilarating aliveness of it all.
It’s then that the great synthesis can unfold and, like a shaft of sunlight pouring through a gap in the clouds, the joy of being floods in, penetrating life with its wavelengths of truth.
And what does this cosmic X-ray reveal? Everything is made of atoms of love! Jiggling and vibrating away in their merry dance of sweet perfection.
