Chaos is a Good Thing.

Some of the best things I’ve ever written have come out of confronting conversations.

Conversations on letting go of a friendship, challenging the utilization of the word “tribe” and even questioning what we might owe each other.

A few days ago, another opportunity to take something uncomfortable and make it art presented itself.

I was lovingly challenged by a community member about my last writing - Division is Distraction. She wondered if looking past division so quickly really was the right choice.

She posited: was this seeking of transcendence into something less distracting and more unifying actually bypassing some of the deeper feeling and healing from these collective wounds which we are all a part of?

While I agreed with a great many of her points, my favorite was this: a reminder that the chaos can be sacred. The divisions that are ugly, and systemic, and challenging, are also rife with abundant possibility.

In her words: “we have the choice to look at all of this chaos and decide how we want to water and nurture it.”

Yes. Yes, we do.

Contemplating this time, and how we want to nurture it, I’m reminded of the words of the teacher Chogyam Trungpa Rompoche, who said simply, “chaos is a good thing.”

I’m reminded of Rumi’s quote, “the wound is where the light touches you.”

I’m reminded of the Sophia Code that calls the space of creation the dark womb of no-thing.

I’m reminded of Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work in quantum manifestation and his focus on the cosmic darkness that everything springs from.

I’m reminded of the saying, “never waste a good crisis.”

And I’m reminded of my own personal moments of darkness. How fertile and motivating they were. Full of potential energy. Full of tremendous teachings. Full, in hindsight at least, of gifts.

We all go through dark times. And while we don’t want to get lost in subconscious chaos spelunking, I do agree, that the first step is to recognize where we are, so we can understand where we need to go. We must grasp for that space of gentleness and tenderness in the dark unknown as we nourish the seeds we choose to sow. From there it is critical to create a growth plan that is full of water, and light, and nourishment.

We come to Earth School to learn and we learn through the gritty, messy, muddy, and challenging moments. The moments where we stand in the darkness and scream to get to the bottom of our rage. Or cry for days to put our tippy toes on the bottom of our grief. We don’t have to bypass or deny them.

But the key is to not get lost in them. To feel these things, but not attach. To look but not stare. To let the mess move through, without shaking your deepest roots. To come back again and again to the cosmic divine and your place and purpose in the order of things.

To let the chaos motivate you.

My own personal journey of awakening has included more darkness and chaos than I initially thought was needed.

Now I see how these times have been the most valuable spiritual trainings of my life. They have taught me the depth of my strength and the height of my faith. They have taught me that the only way is through - even when it doesn’t make sense.

Wherever you stand with these thoughts, please remember this: your joy is revolutionary. Your creativity is essential. Your commitment to creating peace within vibrates exponentially outward. But in order to get there, many of us must journey through our own dark womb of no-thing. We must walk (or crawl) through the chaos to find the light. And whatever road leads you to the light of your purpose is indeed the right way.

For me, this time of chaos has been deeply motivating. I’ve never taken my daily practice more seriously or checked-in with my intention and frequency more often. I am humbled to be a part of this much needed sea-change. And I am honored to be in it with you.

May you enjoy the dark cosmic womb of your own fertile chaos and creation. And may you do so with consciousness and a compassionate heart. Our world needs it more than ever.