The Delicate Art of Falling Apart
The last few years have been a journey of strange and compelling inner transfiguration for me, one that I would not necessarily have otherwise. It has been a process of both distillation and maturation, sometimes punctuated by the palpable presence of grief, regret, and nostalgia, other times coupled with the hope and deep trust that the current of life is holding me, cradling me, and working knowingly and lovingly through me.
What happens when we are called by some strange, ineffable, yet palpably visceral call to change? When the structures and associations that have been supporting us begin to dissolve, and we are invited to turn to new horizons? Do we heed the call? Do we resist it? Do we grapple with the pros and cons, or relinquish the grip and allow ourselves to be drawn away from that which is familiar but which may have arrived at a form of subtle, inner conclusion? Do we choose to stay in a context or situation that looks outwardly idyllic but within which we feel somehow inexplicably compressed or harnessed?
Navigating the delicate arts of choice and orientation, the oscillating force between holding on and letting go, has been a journey of deep personal inquiry of late, to rather an intense degree. This nuanced process, much like traversing a porous and unfamiliar landscape, has revealed over time the relatively ungraspable essence of discernment.
Between the anchorage of persistence and the humility of release lies a rich and fertile terrain for recalibration and renewal. In the interstices of deep, uncomfortable, and disorienting experiences, I have had moments that have both heartened and humbled me. They have brought me to a deeper and broader sense of the sacred within the sometimes achingly difficult dance of life.
The tender and permeable practice of discerning when to harness discipline and when to let things dissolve is akin to nothing else. It asks of us a deep willingness to lean in and listen to the whispers and murmurs of deeper yearnings and longings that we may not yet be familiar with. This strange navigation is textured and mantled with gradations of clarity and obscurity, belonging and solitude. The journey is both potent and palpable, the mind often grappling with old strands of identity and finding it difficult to discern to what degree to let go and to what degree to distill.
And ironically, persistence and discipline, qualities often honed and esteemed in the apprenticeship of yoga, can sometimes obscure the need for release. Truly relinquishing insidious attachments and outdated imperatives requires a really refined sensitivity to discern what must be held close and what must be allowed to dissolve. It is an incarnation of both humility and trust.
The True Essence of Humiliation
In this journey, I have felt heartened, humbled, and even humiliated. But what is the etymology of "humiliation" really? Derived from the Latin word humilis, meaning "low" or "grounded," and the verb humiliare, "to humble," its roots offer a more vital tone. Humilis itself traces back to humus, the Latin word for "soil" or "earth." This connection highlights a vital, earthy tone to the concept of humiliation—it is not merely an experience of shame, but a return to our fundamental nature, a grounding in reality and humility.
Viewed through this lens, humiliation can be seen as a process of becoming more attuned to our true selves. It strips away the superficial layers, bringing us closer to the essence of who we are. It reminds us of our humanity, our connection to the earth, and our inherent need for humility and self-awareness.
The Tender Path of Self-Annihilation
As I soften deeper into this process, I recognize that the delicate art of discernment and letting go is perhaps also intertwined with the experience of a form of self-annihilation in the most tender and existential sense. Initiating this process within myself has allowed me to grow and evolve while simultaneously being bared and refined.
Self-annihilation, in this context, is not about actively destroying the ego or striving for some form of perfected mastery, but rather about opening to that which is even more vital and untamed in us. It is a tender process of letting go of who we think we are to become who we truly are. It is a journey of being stripped bare, vulnerable, and open to the transformative forces that shape us.
Embracing the Process of Denudation
This tender annihilation requires a willingness to stay present to the discomfort and discombobulation that often accompany this process, and noticing the often intense intrinsic urge to retreat or revert. But perhaps somewhere deep in the contours of our soul, there is a yearning for this denudation. As we are pared back and reconfigured, we are perhaps brought closer to the refined essence of our truer selves.
Moments of vertiginous emptying out, intermingled with others of curious trust, create a landscape where the process of undoing becomes strangely affirming and liberating, while remaining amorphous and elusive.
There have been times of complete dissolution of any form of tangible inner compass. At times, this process felt akin to cutting the umbilical cord. After years of inner disorientation and the dissolution of many known structures, references, and even rituals, my deep, omnidirectional compass has slowly started to make itself felt once again. This process is slow and tender, requiring moments of real honesty, humility, and transparency.
Befriending the Chapters of Undoing
How can we befriend these chapters of undoing and reorientation? How can we attune our inner compass to the deeper currents of life and soul? It is through this willingness to feel and lean into discomfort, to listen attentively to the whispers of our heart, that we find the strength to stay tender yet steady. When familiar reference points begin to dissolve and dismantle, our true selves—beneath all these layers of differentiated identity—emerge.
There is, of course, no finite conclusion to this journey, and thankfully so. No end to the sacred continuum of becoming, the subtle unfolding and reconfiguration of self, as we move through the ever-morphing landscapes of our lives. Perhaps we can offer ourselves up to this process, opening our hearts and minds wide to the palette of sensations, impressions, and experiences that it inevitably entails. Is this strange and beautiful process of discernment and annihilation not an invitation to become even more permeable and porous to the wondrous mystery of being human? Can this strange form of existential humiliation, in fact, be an ode to becoming more humane? Kinder, gentler, firmer, and more abiding?
And I wonder perhaps...isn't this indeed a wild and honest form of yoga?