I attended a sweat lodge ceremony this weekend, closing a circle of women who've been meeting together for years now, and marking the one year anniversary of our friend and teacher's passing. There was weeping and hollering and singing and silence; there was teaching and reminding and expressions of joy. 

One of the teaching moments had to do with the concept of bardo. Technically, in Buddhism, bardo is the state between death and one's re-birth. It can also apply to ourselves feeling in-between, that idea of letting go of one way of being without having fully grasped the next. An article by Pema Khandro Rinpoche (7/15/17 - see link below), speaks to the capacity for growth that is inherent in uncertainty. It is when we "lose the illusion of control [that] we can discover the creative potential of our lives." The author writes of the heart wrenching that comes with the death of a loved one, and the sense that nothing is the same, because nothing is. But there are other places, too, that can feel empty, the exhale that feels like letting go, which, depending on the degree, can leave me feeling untethered. Not necessarily a bad thing, but a thing that takes some getting used to. 

It seemed fortuitous that "bardo" was addressed during the sweat. Though she was speaking about the death of our friend, I'd gone in to the day feeling like the ground is shifting beneath my feet: I've recently submitted a writing project for consideration of publication, which means what I do now is wait, an in-between if there ever was one. And, I'm now 20 months from retirement, which is too far out to actually do much other than continue to show up, and wait, while doing what is in front of me to do. While neither is monumental in the grand scheme of things, I grew up learning to see around corners - it is hard to both anticipate and relax. 

We have friends who are relocating across country soon, just because they want to, which both intrigues and frightens me. I'm a stay-put kind of gal, though I recognize that my spiritual task is to balance my seemingly innate desire for stability with my soul's urge to grow, along with the deep understanding that nothing ever really stays the same. How do I allow that open spaciousness, or more to the point, how do I infuse the day-to-day with creative energy rather than seeing “creativity” as something separate? How do I truly live with a beginner's mind, an open palm?

When I entered recovery, I was faced with the exciting and terrifying challenge of creating a sober life. At different points along the way, I’ve needed to envision myself as a writer, a single person, a wife, a sponsor, a student, a supervisor, a grieving daughter, a step-mother. All required thinking of myself in ways that I hadn’t before. All involved a period of in-between, of not-knowingness, of “what in the heck do I do now?”  Today, I can draw on my own experience, and the experience of countless others. The beauty of our program is that there is always someone around who has gone through what I’m experiencing. And as a tail-end baby boomer, there isn’t much I feel that is different and unique, much to my chagrin. We are more alike than we are different. Remembering that helps me to navigate what, for me, seems like uncharted waters. I am not alone. That could be the rallying cry of recovery: I AM NOT ALONE.

And so, today, I will relax into the in-between, trusting that I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it. Where do you feel the creative potential of change in your life, whether that is internal or external? What helps you remember to surrender, to let go?

https://www.lionsroar.com/four-points-for-letting-go-bardo/