Help
Sign In
qar
October 2009 
where do you feel most safe?
Posted on Jun 30th, 2009
by 
Siona
Siona
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for June 30, 2009:
This is hard for me to admit, but I so rarely feel safe. I used to think I did, and then tasted, once, and fleetingly, what it was really like to feel utterly secure and at home and relaxed.
I remember nearly crying at how foreign the sensation was, how alien and strange, and at how foolish I’d been to blithely preach my imagined belief in the basic trustworthiness of the world. I realized my regular state is more akin to a child, just given to hold the most delicately ethereal bubble, worried that a forceful breath or unskilled jolt would burst it. This is what the world feels like to me–so beautiful, and so transient, and so gently and briefly entrusted to us, or rather to our briefly-lived experiences. And even though the lack of safety I feel is not some deep insecurity, even though it’s more a breathless anticipatory tension about a certain inevitable loss, it’s still hard.
There are moments, though. I feel safe when I’m held; I have an almost troublesome need for physical human contact, and an equally troublesome inability to relax into embrace. I feel safe when I’m writing; I have an inescapable need to put into words the beauty I see around me, and a parallel worry about my attempts to share being rejected or just misunderstood. I feel safe when I’m present, but this, sometimes, is the hardest thing in this world to be.
I remember nearly crying at how foreign the sensation was, how alien and strange, and at how foolish I’d been to blithely preach my imagined belief in the basic trustworthiness of the world. I realized my regular state is more akin to a child, just given to hold the most delicately ethereal bubble, worried that a forceful breath or unskilled jolt would burst it. This is what the world feels like to me–so beautiful, and so transient, and so gently and briefly entrusted to us, or rather to our briefly-lived experiences. And even though the lack of safety I feel is not some deep insecurity, even though it’s more a breathless anticipatory tension about a certain inevitable loss, it’s still hard.
There are moments, though. I feel safe when I’m held; I have an almost troublesome need for physical human contact, and an equally troublesome inability to relax into embrace. I feel safe when I’m writing; I have an inescapable need to put into words the beauty I see around me, and a parallel worry about my attempts to share being rejected or just misunderstood. I feel safe when I’m present, but this, sometimes, is the hardest thing in this world to be.
Access: Public
Siona - that was beautifully expressed. “I have an inescapable need to put into words the beauty I see around me …” You are a writer.
You are always present … it is just your thoughts that tend to escape and meander about. It is probably why you feel safe when you are writing – there you are on the page letting your fingertips kiss the wonderful words you are.
ah, precious Siona! you're amazing to me! i mean, whodda thunk anything like this was rumbling through that glorious being that is you! (btw, Laurie, you're so right! this is brilliantly written!)
please know ~ these faint stumblings you're putting yourself through are invisible to us who love you! should you ever feel the need to call upon support in your stumblings (which are truly you expanding into all of you!), i make a fairly good pair of temporary crutches and i know many, many others here will step up as well! we all love you, precious one! you're never, ever alone!!
Siona,
I understand how you feel. I frequently catch myself peering into the future and stewing over possible negative outcomes. I remember as a child for a while my parents had a tough time with their relationship. Then to boot my father lost his business and we ended up loosing our home.
For me during that time the toughest thing was watching how hard it was on my parents. I remember just hoping that something would work out for them because they tried so hard. For years after that I couldn't knock that constant dull ache inside. Most of the time it was there for no reason at all.
(my mind was constantly looking into the future ever vigilant to avoid problems)
About three years ago I started going to a psychologist that just happened to be a Buddhist priest as well. She opened up a whole new world to me, my wife, and my family.
Siona, I can tell you are a loving sensitive individual. Things will get better for you. Just continue being a part of the beauty around you.
Siona I believe our strength comes from our ability to be vulnerable and express our vulnerability - without wanting. Just observing. This is what I feel when I read your beautiful words. You observing. Now here is me observing you observing. My chest aches with familiarity and trust in your strength - our strength.
Oh my. Thank you for sharing so intimately. Thank you for such profound love for existence.
The feelings you articulated are typical of those folks whose souls/spirits are from the Angelic Realm of existence, the way they feel toward this world.
I pray that you allow the expansion of your awareness to the point you truly can relax and feel completely safe. I fervently pray that for all of us, including myself !!!!
You've helped to create a community of people in which you are far less likely than “out there” to be rejected or misunderstood, and have extended that benefit to so many others; I speak the unspoken gratitude of us all.
Most people are grossly deprived of optimal amounts of human touch; I think it's entirely possible your “need” is perfectly normal, and should be indulged in every appropriate way !!! :))
That once-only fleeting sense of being secure, at home and relaxed: I am observing it is creeping into the collective human consciousness to be present more of the time in more people. It's going to change the world. One of our greatest challenges is to accept and allow that feeling, that experiential reality. It ain't as easy as one might think. There are plenty of “reasons” for rejecting that sense, reasons based in past experiences.
I was even about to write that in my status line: I am beginning to contemplate the possibility that it's safe to feel safe.
Interesting coincidence this topic shows up in Q&R. I almost got that new status line done yesterday !!!!!!
Your words are exquisite in form as well as content. Thank you for the beauty you bring to the world, Siona.
Love,
OM Bastet
Laurie. Thank you. And yes, I think I'd die if I could not write.
barbara: Yes, exactly, and that final line was sheer poetry.
soulmandala: Welcome again, and oh, I may very well take you up on that. It would not be the first time, and you've been so lovely before. Thank you.
R George Merrill: It's funny, but I don't often stew or fret; in fact, I think perhaps if I thought beyond the bursting of that metaphorical bubble I'd be fine. But I digress. Thank you for sharing that story; I've had the same deep and strange transformation occur via therapists (trained and otherwise) and it's beautiful to see what magic they can work.
Terrill and OM… I want to hold both your hands, one in each of mine, and smile a yes.
brave and beautiful sharing, Siona. I guess no one feels safe in the depths of their being until they're enlightened. Sometimes we're lulled into a sense of 'comfort' - then we stagnate and start bumping our heads against a whole bunch of things as a wake up call. Maybe this is what keeps propelling us along our path - longing for what some call 'home'
love
Hi Siona, For some reason, your blog about safety (or vulnerability as the case may be), and how writing make you feel “safe” brought to mind a spider's web, which in turn reminded me of Charlotte's Web.
“' Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?'
'Oh, no,' said Dr Dorian. 'I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.' ”
As we become increasingly aware of the miracle of life, we also become aware of it's transcient nature, and hence making us feel more vulnerable. Just a thought. I really appreciated your words today.
HummingBird: Oh, that's brilliant. Yes, I suppose you're right. I'm glad I'm not enlightened, then, irresponsible and selfish as that might sound. I like the struggle and flavor and the play. Perhaps I'll get tired of it one day, and wake up, but for now I'm glad to be muddling about with the rest of you.
otter: That was one of my favorite books when I was little. And thank you. I remember Charlotte's words easily–RADIANT and HUMBLE among them; what a wise spider she was–but I'd forgotten completely about the everyday miracle of the story…
That's it, Siona, we create our reality. Enlightenment isn't something out there, evasive, or something wishing to ensnare us - it happens when we are it
love
Siona, do you have a boyfriend? Is there anyone in your life that you can rely upon to hold and love you, body and soul, as much as you have ever wanted? I'd think that would not be much of a problem for you.
ummm… Dale, i'm sorry, but i disagree. when we go outside ourselves for that which sustains us, we belie the depth of our souls and the fact that our souls are all one. the best way to find a life long partner is to be whole and complete within oneself, not hoping that someone else will provide that which we erroneously believe we're lacking…
Siona, my precious friend, you are phenomenal and wondrous in and of yourself. you are loved and held every moment of every day by a host of beings, incarnate and in spirit. we all love you. by the same token, it's always great to get a hug, so go to it! ;D
Beautifully expressed Siona. It is our unfulfilled expectations that make us so vulnerable, it helps as we mature to drop those in favour of loving without expectation - being pleasantly surprised, accepting the gifts and the mystery too. I have had some wonderful gifts in packages I would rather avoid, but when we work through it we find a pearl. Like you still workimg through it all. With no expectations, here's a big hug for you, we all love you as we all are, here and human. I came accross this today and it has the ring of truth for me - Being disillusioned is not the same as being disappointed or discouraged. It is a reconnection with what is true, free of illusion. And “dispassionate” does not mean indifference or lack of vital energy for living. Rather, it is the mind of great openness and equanimity, free of grasping.
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((Siona))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
HummingBird: Exactly. :)
Dale: I have the most incredible fiance ever. So yes, and thank you. It's funny–the world feels full of beings with wide-open arms, but I sometimes have a hard time relaxing into them. And I share a bit of soulmandala's approach; I think it's only really possibly to feel loved, body and soul, by another when you first feel love for yourself. That said, it's such an intricate and complex circle–which one comes first?
Sweet Zephyr: Thank you. That hug was gratefully received.
Siona, your sincerity and honesty are very appreciated. When we meet, I will embrace you with the limitless depths of my being. And I know you shall do the same for me.
I often find myself presenting the energy of or saying I am comfortable and feel safe only to look a little deeper, a little closer, to see that i am merely projecting those things for others to believe. Why is it that I feel the need to make others see this as being the case when truly, under the facade, I am like any other (scared, sad, tired, vulnerable, or have a lake of true love and respect for my own self)? This I shall ponder and possibly write more about. Thank you for sharing Sweet Siona.