The conversation with my husband the other day went kinda like this:
“Honey, ever since I’ve known you … My God, woman! You are never fulfilled! When I met you it was college and art consciousness stuff and then it was rituals on ridges and then it was the apothecary and a tea shop and babies we squeezed in there and then it was writing or workshops and now its Vajrayana and …?! You are always searching! You are never full!” All this was said with great exasperation.
A few years ago, I would have felt defensive and argued with Himself. I would have been embarrassed and seen the idea of never being full as a sign of weakness. Because you know, often when we aren’t full we start pouring anything in there we can. Sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, maybe a donut or two (or three or four). Whether it’s meaningful or not, whether it’s worthy of us or not. Full is good. Not Full is bad. Who knows what could get in there, right? Not being full is a slippery slope, but people who are full sit at the top of that Mountain of Life resting on their success.
And so our sound-bite culture makes it very clear every day that you need to be full; it implies whole, complete. Done, but in a “good” way. To not be full means you are… empty. What other feelings does that word conjure up? Hungry. Lonely. Starving. Vacant. Void. Vulnerable.
But this can also be the sign of a mystic. One who seeks union with God, Goddess, or Source, the Beloved, whatever you name it: the Great Mystery. Those of us out there who feel there is a deeper awareness to bear witness to, just beyond what is known. Those of us who struggle to let go of this “known” and make room for All That Is. Those of us (you too, maybe?) who want to be empty enough, vulnerable enough to feel & experience life as deeply as we can.
You ever notice when you’re really frustrated and you’re at the end of your rope, the words that come out? I’m full up! I’ve had enough! That’s because once we are full, we can’t take in anymore. Not just the bad stuff, but the really awesome, hot fudge sundae, bike on Christmas morning, take your breath away moments of life, too. That Cosmic Goodness that comes in all shapes and sizes and flavors. The mystic knows that if they are full, there just isn’t any room for the Awesome Cosmic Goodness Party when it finally does show up. And they are willing to try anything and everything in order to create space — searching not to be full, but to empty themselves.
I want to always be open and empty enough — just enough — to allow that Cosmic Goodness to have room to flow through me.
This awareness hit me deep in the gut, really hard as my husband rattled off my endless pursuits over the last 17 years. Dayummmmmn; I’m empty. A lot. All the time, in fact.
The answer came out of my mouth before I realized I was saying it out loud.
Emphatic. Clear as a bell.
“That’s right. I am never full. I am a seeker, sweetheart. And I always will be.”
I said it. I meant it. And it felt good.
Fulfillment is a trap. A promise that consumerism cherishes as an excellent strategy. I hope I am never full, never packed so tight that I don’t have room for whatever life throws at me, mystery or no. Ecstasy, union with the Divine, hard work or yes, even the struggle and heartache. Technicolor Life.
If you aren’t busy looking to get full, there’s a whole world out there waiting for you to drink it down deep. Make way, make room. Try it all. The more you expand the more space within arises. I don’t want to be full when I die, but utterly empty.
May you always have enough (room for more, that is!).