A few days ago, I woke up with a feeling of deep heaviness and dread. Nothing challenging or unwanted had happened. The circumstances of my life were exactly as they had been when I went to sleep the night before.
And yet, as I lay in bed that morning, long before the sun made its appearance in the sky, I felt off—an icky combination of sad, anxious, and overwhelmed. My mind was solemn and deflated.
There was a pressure behind my eyes and in both temples. A lump in my throat suggested an old habitual feeling of "wanting to cry," and there was a heaviness in my chest that felt like one of those lead coats the dentist puts on you before x-rays are taken.
A storm had descended. Just like that. No warning. And no sign of when it might lift.
For a little while after I began my day, I noticed my mind doing precisely what all normal, healthy human minds do: it tried to think of ways to get through the storm more quickly. It tried to imagine what caused the storm so it could reverse-engineer a way to never do that thing again.
And in my adorable mind's futile attempts to push the storm away and find a small patch of sunshine, the storm remained. Of course it did.
You see, storms are remarkably predictable and cyclical. Just like the turning of the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tide, and the phases of the moon, storms arise and dissolve in their own perfect timing (not the preferred timing of our adorable minds).
Just as winter always succumbs to spring, and the full moon always gives way to the waning gibbous, storms always yield to sunshine. It's their nature to do so, all on their own—no assistance needed. And the timing is 100% trustworthy, despite the mind's preferences and judgments.
But when we are IN a storm, we tend to forget everything we have ever learned about nature. We innocently believe that storms are a problem to solve rather than a PERFECT and OPTIMAL part of nature's organic cycle.
In the forgetting, we scratch and claw to get out of the very thing that is here in service of us—in service of the waking up to our true, infinite Self.
A few of years ago, I began to notice the predictable nature of these internal human storms. I saw how, without fail, every time there was a storm, it was followed by a greater capacity to hold human experiences with more peace and grace.
I began to write prolifically about "Trusting the Crashes." Several people even asked if I would make T-shirts with the phrase, "Trust the Crashes" because it was so helpful to be reminded that storms are amazing portals. They are opportunities to be shown a greater truth and reality. Storms—however uncomfortable and scary they may seem to the mind—are never here to harm us. They are here as part of a greater awakening; an expansion of consciousness that can be ultimately experienced as freedom and ease.
So, back to my storm of a few days ago...
At some point, by grace (because none of this is on me to do), there was a remembering. An opening. It became viscerally clear that the only sane thing to do was to be IN the storm fully. To trust it. Surrender to it. Immerse in it. Even give thanks for it (even as the mind continued to diligently fight and resist it).
In the remembering, I returned to three note cards that I made for myself years ago when I began to see that internal storms were not meant to be figured out or fought. They were meant to be trusted.
The first card says, "Where is God in this storm?" (And that is not meant to be answered. It's meant to draw attention away from thoughts and back into the open, awake space of witnessing).
The second card says, "This too shall pass. No Storm lasts. Trust this crash."
And the third says, "What raw internal experience does my mind hate right now? THAT is the experience that is in greatest service of my waking-up in this moment. I welcome it, even if my mind does not."
Storms always pass. It's their nature to do so. It is not on us to move them along, figure them out, or hold them at bay. In fact, the less we buy into the mind's incessant demands and preferences for sunny days, the more ease and peace we tend to experience IN the midst of the storms.
As we venture into 2025 together, may the internal storms that will most assuredly pass through each of us be seen for the portals to grace and growth that they truly are.
I welcome you to make your own note cards with simple reminders for when the inevitable internal storms veil your remembering of what is natural and optimal. Please share them with me (here in the blog comments) or with me via email (missymaiorano2@gmail.com) if you're so inclined.
If you'd like to listen to a short video I made on the same topic, click here.
With love and grace,
Missy
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