Divine Fullness

One of my go-to books on self-growth is The Self-Forgiveness Handbook, A Practical and Empowering Guide, by Thom Rutledge. Thom discusses the concept of divine emptiness; the state of being which follows the clearing out of long-standing, negative, toxic habits and thought patterns through the process of self-forgiveness.  It is the “I don’t know” space. 

“I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know what to do now that I am ready to stop beating myself up and holding myself back. I don’t know who I will be when I finally let go of these unforgiving beliefs about myself. I don’t know and I am afraid.” (Rutledge, p. 91).

To help us, Thom provides a starting point – using the easily visualized concept of an empty room.

“Think of the empty space that you have created by separating your true identity from interpretations, beliefs and directives that are toxic to you, as a big empty room – your big empty room.

“You have cleared the space of all its previous furnishings in order to make room for the furnishings (beliefs) of your choice. This is your space and you have worked hard to create this emptiness. Resist the temptation to fill the space immediately, even when the openness, the not knowing, scares you.” (Id., p. 92).

I love Thom’s counsel:

“Remain steadfast. Protect your emptiness from toxic beliefs that will try to reenter the space. Remain alert and aware. Watch for the beliefs that you want and invite them into your space. Think your new thoughts. Practice your new beliefs, even before you believe them. Act according to your new thoughts. Behave towards yourself with love and respect—make this your daily practice, you daily commitment.” (Id., p. 94, emphasis mine).

My toxic beliefs can rage.  Some of them may be familiar to you: You are a mistake. You aren’t good enough. This is all your fault. You’ve ruined your children, you know. There’s no hope for a better you.

My counselor handed me Thom's book and reminded me that I was the one person who could rid myself of these ear-worms.  Tired of hearing that crap in my head, I read the book. I followed Thom’s  guidelines of self-forgiveness and worked hard to clear my soul of beliefs that had sheltered there, hunkered down, lurking away from the light of my true self. I routed those bastards. Sent them home, packing.

Except for fear. That lingering malinger. He shows up with his leering grin. He likes to disguise himself as a multitude of other things.  He loves it when he can thrive on a personal crisis. He is the imp that starts the negativity that stifles my joy.

In April 2016, my uterine fibroids had grown so large that they were impeding my body’s basic functions. I couldn’t urinate.  It was painful to move my bowels.  The fibroids caused bleeding; random and voluminous.  What had been harmless for years was now a source of ill health. My family history of reproductive cancers left me with one viable choice. Remove all the reproductive organs, including the ovaries. Because of the family history, the doctor would prescribe only a minimal dose of estrogen and for a very limited time.   So I would be thrown into menopause at  age 49.  A “full yank” with a hormone rollercoaster thrown in for fun.

In June, just before surgery, I was ending a hot yoga class, one hand on my belly, feeling my pulse there, a steady throbbing.  My blood, coursing, to feed the fibroids. I was furious. How many times in my life would my energy feed that which drains me and gives me nothing back? 

As the fury faded, I talked to myself.  “What this emptiness will mean to me?  Will I have more energy?  Will I feel better?  Or will I age more quickly? Will I be less sexy? Will I be less feminine? What will replace this void?“  

There was no answer. My heartbeat continued to emphasize that my energy was nourishing this toxicity in my self. Fear showed his ugly self with answers, growing stronger with his words: “Gray hair. Fat. Asexuality. Leaky bladder and Depends! Jowls!”

Like I said, I know this guy, Fear, and I am no slouch when it comes to fighting him.  I countered the thoughts and as the tears of battle dripped down the side of my face,  I reassured my self that past learnings would guide me as I shed these toxic tumors.  I would choose to replace them with a new healthy life. Not right that second, though.  Slowly. Through a practice of steadfast, alert and aware choices. Deciding what I wanted and inviting it into this new, empty space.    Slowly, quietly, my God self emerged and my fears subsided.  

Days later, I woke up from surgery. I knew immediately the fibroids were gone, there was no heaviness in my abdomen where they used to be. I was lighter. I exclaimed to the nurse attending me, “They’re gone! I can tell! Right away, I can tell!” She laughed. “Yes, they’re gone.” “Thank you, thank you!” She gave me one long, eyebrow-raised nod.  She thought it was the drugs.

I believe we realize, in our core, when our life-joy is threatened by the toxic. The problem is it started out small and unassuming and we've lived with it for so long.  We’ve grown accustomed to it and even nurtured it and leaned on it as a crutch.  We didn’t realize it was getting big and powerful. Then, one day, we wake up because the toxicity has spread and denial of its stench is impossible.  We decide do the work to expel it.

I also believe that it’s not the hard work of getting rid of the poisonous that keeps us stymied, it’s the fear of the emptiness.  The emptiness in my gut was real and it scared me.   Emptiness seems threatening - will it swallow us?  

On the yoga mat that day, I chose to think of the emptiness as divine. I created it by my wise and life-affirming choice to expel that which was no longer healthy to me. From there, thinking of it as a sacred place waiting to be filled, I committed the space to be a home to my life’s purpose, I invited the severed nerves to feel a promise to be staunch in the pursuit of kindness, I tasked the dead-end blood vessels with the stubbornness to expel anything that hindered me from achieving why I was put here on this earth. I chose, and am choosing, to be steadfast and to work, using strength of faith and will and providence, to slowly and surely replace the empty spaces, in my gut and otherwise, with Divine Fullness.

The toxic could be that cocktail we have every night, or maybe the condescension we have in our voice with our spouse, or maybe allowing someone to take us for granted, or being a doormat for someone to wipe their feet upon.   Maybe it's how someone you love gaslights you, and you allow it.  There's many forms of tumors and toxicity which start small and grow. 

I hope we don’t fear the emptiness so much that we continue to embrace those poisons.  I hope we can expel the toxic a​nd reflect the joy of Divine Fullness.
​
“I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have called you and you are mine.” Jeremiah 31:3; Isaiah 43:1.

Edited March 2019; May 2019.