I’m Not the Church Lady | You are here

You can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you are

||| I’M NOT THE CHURCH LADY by ROSIE KUHN |||

You are here …

There’s something wonderfully obvious about it—and yet spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, we violate this principle constantly. We want to know: What should I do? Where should I go? What’s next? What’s my purpose? What does God want me to do? How do I get from here to there? But all of these questions assume we actually know what here is. And more often than not, we don’t.

We know where we think we are. We know where we’re supposed to be. We know where we wish we were. We know where somebody else thinks we should be. We know the story of how we got here. We may even know where we’re determined to get to.

But: Where am I? Right now?

If I take the time to be here—wherever here is—I get that “here” isn’t primarily geographical or circumstantial. It’s experiential.

Here’s an example. Clyde, who is 62, says to me, “I don’t want to be in my job anymore. But financially…; my wife…; people….; I should…”

I said to Clyde, “Wait. Stop. Let’s just stay with I don’t want to be in my job anymore. Let’s be with that before looking at the logical, rational, how-tos and results.”

Clyde looked dazed and confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I said: “I want you to stay present with your declaration: I don’t want to be in my job anymore. Don’t try to figure out what to do next. Just be with what is true for you now. What is it like for you when you say those word—I don’t want to be in my job anymore?” Again, Clyde’s expression suggested that he’s still not comprehending what I’m saying. Here’s why:

We are trained to problem-solve, fix, heal, convert—to get to a result or outcome. The moment we know what we don’t want, we assume we’re supposed to figure out what we do want, or what’s ours to do. Truth is, we can’t figure it out as long as our head is cluttered with all of the shoulds and shouldn’ts. We can’t know know until we know. And we can’t know unless we know where we are now. Here.

Where am I in relationship to what is?

It’s like in yoga or Pilates, where the practice is to bring your attention to a particular muscle—to notice whether it’s engaged or not engaged. Or bringing your attention to your baby toe and moving just that baby toe. This is what I want for Clyde: to stay present and focused on this one truth, bringing his full attention to what is here now— “I don’t want to be in my job anymore.

What am I Experiencing
Here are the questions I want Clyde to be with: When I’m here now, what am I experiencing. Am I experiencing fear? Am I experiencing holding back? Am I ignoring how I feel? Am I pretending I’m fine? Am I grieving something I haven’t admitted is over? Am I trying to make something happen? Am I still attempting to get somewhere I decided ten years ago I was supposed to go? Am I living from an identity that no longer fits? Am I actually quite content—but unwilling to admit it because contentment looks suspiciously like I’ve stopped striving?

Yep. I’m asking Clyde to consider that, any or all of that may be what’s here with him now.

You might say, “well, Rosie, what’s that going to get Clyde? Or, what’s that going to get me?” Truth is, you can’t know until you experiment with being here now, regardless of how uncomfortable it may be. Regardless of how it might feel insane, or empty of sense-making.

And, you might discover as I have that… Perhaps we don’t actually need to know where we are going nearly as much as we think we do. Before a map can tell me how to get somewhere, it needs that little pin that says: YOU ARE HERE. Without that, my map is useless.

I may not particularly like where I am. That doesn’t change my location.If I’m lost in the woods and insist, “Well, I shouldn’t be here. I was supposed to be two miles back at the trailhead,” it doesn’t change the fact that I am here. The only useful information is: Where am I now?

Here Is Where I Am.
Again, this for me has been a very valuable practice. Experiencing what is here, now. It allows me to let go of everything else and just be. It allows acceptance. Not resignation, not complacency, not “I guess this is as good as it gets.” Acceptance as accurate location.

This is where I am.

Now, with acceptance comes allowance. Allowing what is to be, and allowing what wants to be to be. I’m present—not passive. I’m participating differently—not from my need to try to control, but my desire to know myself differently.

When I truly locate myself in what is, I may discover that the desperate need to know where I’m going begins to loosen.

I know where I am. I’m here.

And from here, the next step will certainly reveal itself. No need to know! Fun!!! Right?