Creating The Webbd Wheel: To Allow
In which we give permission for life to be as it is ...
A dominant theme in the Webbd Wheel series, as I’ve said before, is that of allowance.
Several years ago I made a big life change; I moved halfway across the country to Maine, where I’d never been before and knew no one. My personal odyssey was triggered by my study of emotional intelligence. For more about that journey, see my blog, Harvesting Stones.
One of the most important things I learned during that time was how relentlessly and ubiquitously I argued with what was during the whole of my previous life. Being able to see it in myself allowed me to notice it in others, and I quickly realized it’s everywhere. I’m staggered by the power of human denial, of the refusal to accept so much of our experience, and our refusal to accept ourselves and others for what we and they are.
Traditional selchie stories address the heart of this tendency to argue with what is. Love, real love, true love, is unconditional and accepts the totality of who we really are. If we can’t love the good, the bad, and the ugly in ourselves and others, if we can’t allow what is to be, our lives will be littered with broken and fractured relationships and we will not be happy in our own skin.
I believe one of the greatest strengths we can foster in ourselves and others is the ability to see life clearly and allow it to be what it is.
This is a practice, not a destination. Many times a day I’m hard on myself, judgmental of others, apologetic about my needs and experience, and second-guessing my choices and intuition. The best I can do is be present enough to catch myself repeating these toxic behaviors and slowly substitute healthier patterns. It’s not easy, but when I am able to allow an experience, a feeling, or another to simply be what they are without criticism, interference, fixing, or taking it on, I feel the strength and power of it, particularly if the situation feels negative to me.
The space of allowance is not exciting. It doesn’t look or feel like action. It’s a pause, a feeling of being stuck. It’s discomfort, blockage, the compulsion to move forward but being unable to. It brings up uncomfortable feelings we’d rather not feel. It’s bewildering, exhausting, fearful, and invites us to pity ourselves or feel victimized. We look for someone or something to blame. To allow is to go out on a limb, to take risks, to let go of our need to control or even understand. It requires we set others and ourselves free of expectations. Sometimes it requires we experience loss. Often, it requires we take care of ourselves in uncomfortable ways, like setting boundaries and refusing to tolerate toxic behavior from others.
To allow is to say, “However this needs to be, it’s okay with me,” and mean it.
In post #32, the end of the Yule turn of the wheel, all the characters feel the itch to go forward, move on, figure out what comes next. In their various ways, with the help of story, dreams, and each other, they intuit how to proceed. The wheel turns. Change comes. Some people separate while others come together.
If you want to transform your life, learn to allow. Use your personal power to work for the change you believe in and address your needs, and look life in the eye. See others as clearly and objectively as you can. Love yourself for everything you are. Learn to recognize the places where you have power and the places you don’t, and let go. Let those places and people be. They’re not yours. You do you. The rest is not your business.
Life is what it is whether we look at it or bury our heads in the sand. It doesn’t care about our denial and ideology, about what we decide to believe and disbelieve. Life goes right on being itself. People are who they are. We are who we are. We might as well learn to go with the flow and enjoy the scenery.
(This essay was published with post #32 of The Hanged Man.)