A baby doesn’t try, a bird doesn’t try, so why, oh why do I? Trying is often applauded in our society. We give someone accolades who tries hard and finally succeeds and we often feel entitled to a result if we put in a lot of effort. We feel sympathy for someone who tries hard, especially if they do not get the desired result. We push ourselves or urge others to try harder. |
Children’s books often sanction and glorify trying as in the classic story of The Little Engine that Could that was trying so hard to climb the mountain.
“I think I can. . . I think I can" . . . Once over the top . . . "I knew I could, I knew I could!"
Trying usually means that we are aiming for a certain result or goal.
Wanting a result means that we must have a picture of what we want to achieve. So where does this picture come from? Is it coming from within, or have we taken it on from something outside of ourselves, such as an idea of what we should do to tick a box? Or are we trying to look like someone else or copy what they do?
If we have a picture then we are likely to be moved by our desire to manifest that picture. This means therefore that we are moved by the energy of the desire. Where does that desire come from?
A good test is to feel if we are moving according to our own rhythm or being moved by a projection towards a result that will seemingly make things better or prevent something getting worse.
I notice this especially if I am running late or have a deadline: I have in mind the cut-off time and a picture of what I want to achieve in that time, or the destination I want to reach. The picture is often blurred by memories of times when I have not made it, comments from people, and consequences. Everything I do is focused towards that point in time which squeezes me into a contracted version of myself; feeling pressured, stressed, anxious and finding it hard to relax or settle.
The desire to get there on time becomes the focal point and I become like a steamroller crushing everything in my path. The car door bangs as I get in, the engine does not have its normal smooth flow, nor do my movements as my driving is faster and more reckless than usual increasing the tension in my body. It’s as if something has taken us over – the car and I are certainly not in our usual rhythm. We are caught in time and being pushed to get there on time.
Before I realise that I am running late I often notice that I have been trying to fit too much in. I hang the washing up or go into tidy-up mode and as I do this, I get a rising tension in me knowing that this activity is cutting it fine and that it is going to push me to rush, yet a dogged persistence comes in to get it done which sets me up to be late.
I notice too that the main times that I do this is when I am going to do something that I enjoy such as a healing session or a walk with a friend. It’s as if I am a child having to do all the chores before I get a reward.
If I arrive late, I feel apologetic or guilty which makes me feel less. If I do arrive on time, it takes a while for the momentum to settle. Either way, the trying and the rushing takes me away from my body making it harder for me to connect to the enjoyment which would be deepened and confirmed by the healing session or the walk.
Trying sabotages the possibility of deepening into the place within where joy, stillness, and settlement reside. It hardens the body which masks our delicacy and reduces our awareness.
It’s almost as if there is something behind the scenes that does not want us to connect to our stillness, our joy, our sacredness. It’s as if a picture is dangled in front of us enticing us to want it and when we take the bait we are hooked and our movements are then dictated by the fisherman.
Trying is a strategy set up to catch us and it is our wants that entangle us in the net. These wants often come from unresolved hurts which cause us to want something that will make us feel better. The irony is that it takes us away from the only thing that can give us true fulfilment.
Trying projects us out of our body towards something outside ourselves. It hinders the possibility of connecting and deepening into the body, the only place where we can feel true joy, harmony, stillness and sacredness. It sabotages the return to who we truly are, reducing us and compromising the reflection that can be given to others.
Trying often happens before I know it. I am on a momentum projecting just ahead of the moment yet actually way behind the present. I am not present. I am not in sync with my body. I am working towards a picture of what I want to achieve. In such a state the thoughts I am fed will easily override any messages from my body.
So, what is the alternative?
It’s almost too simple: The key is to listen to my body . . . and respond to the message.
If I feel thirsty, I get a drink. If I’m tired, I take a break.
My fondest moments are when I am totally with my body. There is absolutely no trying, no wanting anything, no need for recognition or identification. I know who I am and what I bring – I am enough. In fact, way more than enough. In truth there is no comparison, no more than or less than – I just am. I am not an ‘I’.
In such a space, ‘I…me…mine’ do not exist. I’m not a somebody, or a nobody … just a Being, being.
Sandra N.
Australia
If you enjoyed this article for further reading you may also like:
Trying 'Masks' our Innate Delicateness
“I think I can. . . I think I can" . . . Once over the top . . . "I knew I could, I knew I could!"
Trying usually means that we are aiming for a certain result or goal.
Wanting a result means that we must have a picture of what we want to achieve. So where does this picture come from? Is it coming from within, or have we taken it on from something outside of ourselves, such as an idea of what we should do to tick a box? Or are we trying to look like someone else or copy what they do?
If we have a picture then we are likely to be moved by our desire to manifest that picture. This means therefore that we are moved by the energy of the desire. Where does that desire come from?
A good test is to feel if we are moving according to our own rhythm or being moved by a projection towards a result that will seemingly make things better or prevent something getting worse.
I notice this especially if I am running late or have a deadline: I have in mind the cut-off time and a picture of what I want to achieve in that time, or the destination I want to reach. The picture is often blurred by memories of times when I have not made it, comments from people, and consequences. Everything I do is focused towards that point in time which squeezes me into a contracted version of myself; feeling pressured, stressed, anxious and finding it hard to relax or settle.
The desire to get there on time becomes the focal point and I become like a steamroller crushing everything in my path. The car door bangs as I get in, the engine does not have its normal smooth flow, nor do my movements as my driving is faster and more reckless than usual increasing the tension in my body. It’s as if something has taken us over – the car and I are certainly not in our usual rhythm. We are caught in time and being pushed to get there on time.
Before I realise that I am running late I often notice that I have been trying to fit too much in. I hang the washing up or go into tidy-up mode and as I do this, I get a rising tension in me knowing that this activity is cutting it fine and that it is going to push me to rush, yet a dogged persistence comes in to get it done which sets me up to be late.
I notice too that the main times that I do this is when I am going to do something that I enjoy such as a healing session or a walk with a friend. It’s as if I am a child having to do all the chores before I get a reward.
If I arrive late, I feel apologetic or guilty which makes me feel less. If I do arrive on time, it takes a while for the momentum to settle. Either way, the trying and the rushing takes me away from my body making it harder for me to connect to the enjoyment which would be deepened and confirmed by the healing session or the walk.
Trying sabotages the possibility of deepening into the place within where joy, stillness, and settlement reside. It hardens the body which masks our delicacy and reduces our awareness.
It’s almost as if there is something behind the scenes that does not want us to connect to our stillness, our joy, our sacredness. It’s as if a picture is dangled in front of us enticing us to want it and when we take the bait we are hooked and our movements are then dictated by the fisherman.
Trying is a strategy set up to catch us and it is our wants that entangle us in the net. These wants often come from unresolved hurts which cause us to want something that will make us feel better. The irony is that it takes us away from the only thing that can give us true fulfilment.
Trying projects us out of our body towards something outside ourselves. It hinders the possibility of connecting and deepening into the body, the only place where we can feel true joy, harmony, stillness and sacredness. It sabotages the return to who we truly are, reducing us and compromising the reflection that can be given to others.
Trying often happens before I know it. I am on a momentum projecting just ahead of the moment yet actually way behind the present. I am not present. I am not in sync with my body. I am working towards a picture of what I want to achieve. In such a state the thoughts I am fed will easily override any messages from my body.
So, what is the alternative?
It’s almost too simple: The key is to listen to my body . . . and respond to the message.
If I feel thirsty, I get a drink. If I’m tired, I take a break.
My fondest moments are when I am totally with my body. There is absolutely no trying, no wanting anything, no need for recognition or identification. I know who I am and what I bring – I am enough. In fact, way more than enough. In truth there is no comparison, no more than or less than – I just am. I am not an ‘I’.
In such a space, ‘I…me…mine’ do not exist. I’m not a somebody, or a nobody … just a Being, being.
Sandra N.
Australia
If you enjoyed this article for further reading you may also like:
Trying 'Masks' our Innate Delicateness