For the past week or so, tension has been building in my nervous system. I colored with crayons the other day and instead of easy doodling, I scribbled with so much force, one of my crayons broke. Later in the week, my chiropractor touched my spine and without any conversation or prompting said, “When you go home you need to break some plates.” Just by touching my spine, she could sense the tension thrumming through me. I didn’t break any plates (who’s going to clean those up?) but I did punch some pillows and indulge in silent screaming.
It didn’t help.
Instead, the tension remains like a brand on my body. I keep trying to dissipate it, to go back to feeling peaceful, but maybe I’m not supposed to feel that way. In his book The 12 Stages of Healing, Donald Epstein writes, “When we have become disconnected from, or have denied the reality of, our internal power – or if we have not expressed our innate potential – we often become angry … [however, as healing progresses] the initial irritation, upset, or anger is gradually replaced by a deep sense of self-respect and the desire to truly honor who we are.”
We are all seedlings. Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash
I’m not past the anger, I’m still getting in touch with what all this tension is about, but I resonate with Epstein’s message about truly honoring who we are. As we enter into a new year according to the Jewish calendar, I feel the energy of change. I’m being transformed. Some might say I’m like a piece of coal being turned into a diamond, but that’s a myth. Diamonds are related to coal, but they’re the purer cousin so no, if you squeeze coal really, really hard, it will not become a diamond. When discussing this with a friend, she said a more apt metaphor is that of a seed.
To become a full-fledged plant, a seed exerts force in two directions. It pushes roots down into the ground but it also shoots up into the air. The force to push through a hard-shell casing is tremendous. It’s also miraculous, which I’m witnessing firsthand and in real time. I’m growing basil, cilantro, sage, and parsley from seeds. I planted these seeds, watered them daily, and then literally overnight, boom. Seedlings. While the process may have been gradual, for me as an observer of the process, it wasn’t that way at all.
I’ve written numerous times about feeling like a seed buried in dark, fertile soil, meaning life felt slow, quiet, perhaps even confusing. Right now, anyway, that’s no longer true. Instead, I identify with the seedling, bursting forth and experiencing something new. Because of the timing of all this tension, I wonder if it’s related to the novel writing class I’m taking. Meaning, I wonder if like the seeds, now that I’m giving myself the metaphorical nutrients to support the novel I’m working on, the magic and life force within me are busting out. I’m transforming. I want change to be easy, meaning less intense, but as I take my cues from nature, I realize transformation is the opposite.
This post is about me, but it’s also about everyone. Whether you celebrate the Jewish New Year or not, whether you’re experiencing a change of season temperature-wise or not, things are changing. It’s undeniable. And if you’re also feeling tense, I wonder if you can view it as a sign you, too, are transforming.
I dream of a world where we recognize change requires pressure and force. A world where we understand not all tension is bad. A world where we honor the cycles of our lives and support ourselves as we birth something new like the metaphorical seedlings we are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Twice this week I read a discourse by my spiritual teacher called, “There is Oil in the Sesame.” Not necessarily because the discourse is profound, but rather because I couldn’t be bothered to pick a different reading for our special gathering on Thanksgiving. But as I’ve written about before, there are no coincidences so. . .
The passage quotes sages of yesteryear who said, “God lies hidden in everything, like oil in sesame seeds, like ghee in curd, like water in stream beds, like fire in wood. Only those who adhere strictly to benevolent truthfulness, and perform spiritual practices, can churn the mind and realize the Supreme entity out of it.”
Even the smallest thing may be transformed. Photo by Percy Pham on Unsplash.
The quote stuck with me because I’m reminded through force and friction, something new may emerge. We often say through pressure coal becomes a diamond, but that’s a myth. Diamonds are related to coal, but they’re like the more pure cousin so no, if I squeeze coal really, really hard, it will not become diamond. The metaphor still holds, but with a more mundane example, such as extracting oil from sesame, or fire from wood. From looking at a little sesame seed, you wouldn’t know it contains oil. From looking at a piece of wood, you wouldn’t know rubbing it together creates fire. In both cases though, it’s true.
The context of the sesame quote is a spiritual one – my teacher uses it to goad us to practice meditation, to remind us intense spiritual effort is what allows us to realize the divinity within us, but for this blogpost, and my life, I’m thinking about the quote more in the terms of personal hardship.
I want life to be easy. I want to glide through everything without any effort. If I could be comfortable all the time, that would be great. This quote about sesame seeds reminds me I’m not experiencing difficulties for kicks. It’s not because some dude in the sky said, “I need a laugh today. Let’s make life miserable for Rebekah.” No, it’s happening for my transformation.
I don’t know many things, but one thing I know for sure, without a doubt, is life is synonymous with transformation. Even if I had the easiest life, if someone hand-fed me everyday and carried me from place to place so as to never sully my feet, I would still age. My body would still degenerate and eventually I would die. That is inevitable. Nothing stays the same. Nothing. And if life is about transformation, if it will happen regardless of my input, I’m again wondering if every trial I endure is in service of making me into something greater. Of transforming me into someone I otherwise would not have been. Sesame seeds do not secrete oil without pressure, wood wouldn’t burn without friction, and maybe I wouldn’t be who I am without hardship. Maybe every difficult experience I endure, maybe every hurdle in my path, is an opportunity to change me into someone better. Magic and divinity lie latent within me and it seems pressure is the way to force it out.
Do I like it? Of course not, but these days I’m holding the belief these things happen for my transformation, even if I don’t get to see the consequences immediately. And I’d like to believe that’s true for everyone.
I dream of a world where we realize there is more to us than we likely know. A world where we understand difficulties transform us, often into someone greater than we would have expected. A world where we realize everything that happens to us is in service of transformation. A world where we remember we are like sesame seeds and we have the capacity to become oil.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.