The Truth Sets Us Free

My pursuit of presence

Over the last couple of years, I’ve really dived into mindfulness. I’ve read several books, listened to numerous meditations, practiced all the body scan variations and Dan Siegel’s Wheel of Awareness practice. At work, I developed a mindfulness group curriculum for parents of children with autism and spoke at a conference for mental health providers on “The Gift of Presence.” 

I prioritized staying in the present moment and practiced quickly refocusing my attention anytime it wandered into the past or future. I chose not to entertain thoughts of the past as best I could because I rarely liked where they went. There were too many cycles of rumination and judgmental thinking, which I tried to let go of without giving too much thought. Over time, my pursuit of presence strengthened the muscle of my attention and grounded me in the here and how. I am grateful for this.

Recently, I’ve learned, however, that engaging in these practices alone only takes me so far. Refocusing without honest reflection won’t change the cycle. 

Until I unravel the confusion, insecurities, and fears, rather than just noticing them, I miss the roots, only scratching the surface. I  feel the fire without putting it out.  

Getting to the roots

Now, I am beginning to go back. I am venturing into some of my earliest memories, recollections, and feelings that continue to shape me. I’m digging down deep into the roots, and seeing how the structure of these roots shape everything above ground. When the soil is nurtured, aerated, and moist, plants thrive.

But when there’s root rot,the whole plant withers. 

I recently started working with a brilliant coach who is walking me through this process. I am calling out negative patterns that have shaped me over the course of my life. Patterns that go back, way back,  from generations before me. I do this not to shame or feed bitterness, but to better understand and make sense of it all. To not let historical trauma define my present experience.

I am learning to tell the full truth about my life, including where I came from,  and the stories, messages, and people who have shaped me in all the ways.

For the first time in my life, I’m naming my pain and why it’s there. 

I’m unraveling the old narratives, calling out lies, and naming sin.

I’m making sense of my past in order to free my present. 

I’m learning to see it all. The beauty and goodness and mess.

Many of us don’t tell ourselves the truth because we don’t want to face what’s  there. We don’t want to sound judgemental or disgraceful. We don’t want to face our fears or the harsh reality of the situation. We want to be kind, loving and grateful, and sometimes the truth hurts.

But when we tell ourselves the truth, the truth sets us free. It helps us make a better sense of our story, including our reactions under stress and why we behave like we do. It teaches us more about our pain and our resilience. 

And so lately, I have taken my mindfulness practice a step further. Instead of training my mind to stay strictly in the present, I let it go into the past and explore what’s really there. I unravel the messages and where I first heard them. I tell the truth about it all and face the facts, welcoming new insight into the origins of my insecurities, doubts, and fears. 

It’s as if truth is the scalpel and awareness is the hand, both of which work together to chisel away the cloud of confusing mental mess. What’s left is more peace, freedom, and clarity.

Sometimes though, the chiseling hurts. It does not come without discomfort. Truth-telling gets hard when you scrape up against toxic people and narratives that have defined you. But it’s always freeing in the end.

The garden of my life

In my garden, there are forces that tear down, and build up. As it is with my life. 

So this is what I do:  I name the weeds and pull them up. I pick off the caterpillars, spray the aphids, and drown the squash beetles. 

I nurture the soil with compost, water the new seedlings, and support the fruiting cucumber vines. I choose to nurture goodness and growth, and diligently pick out all that destroys, steals, and kills life. I put on my thick gloves, and I do the hard work of digging up the thorny weeds at their roots.

Now, I no longer simply notice the weeds and leave them there.

In the end my fruits will be that much bigger and life-giving because of the laborious root-seeking, weed-picking, chiseling journey I am venturing on.