For many years I struggled to differentiate between acceptance and resignation. I’ve lost count of the times I allowed myself to be swallowed up by situations under the guise of acceptance, when really all I was doing was resigning myself to shitty circumstances and whole-heartedly believing in my powerlessness to effect change. Learned helplessness is my default setting after all, so the pretence of acceptance tessellated neatly into this trauma initiated then self-perpetuated role as the emotionally impotent victim of circumstances.
The journey from the head to the heart is truly the longest, but once its made, our truth can be fully embodied and an eruption of spaciousness for forward motion is initiated. As plumes of ink swell gratifyingly, hypnotically on absorbent pieces of paper.
We often resist true acceptance because we’re afraid of what lies beneath. We’re often afraid of our own power and suctioned by self-doubt into an abyss of uncertainty. But what if it’s non-acceptance that breaks our fragile hearts and immerses us head to toe in thick black tar, and it’s in the acceptance of things we don’t want to be true that actually begins to reconstruct our shattered parts?
Prior to opening the aperture for acceptance we must first recognise what is not working. Transformation cannot happen without recognition first. With willingness and wonder we pay attention. We see the patterns and the habits where we are stuck, the mechanisms we use to deaden our discomfort.
Recognition has truly illuminative power. Recognition ruptures our cocoon of darkness and denial. We emerge into the glare of truth and we see what previously we couldn’t or wouldn’t see.