The nondual teaching tells us that only a small percentage of our sense of separation lodges in our thoughts and belief systems; the largest bulk resides as stored emotion. Our thought patterns and beliefs are generally above ground, and the easiest to address. Feelings–lodged and caked in the body for decades, the very root bed of the tree of separation—can take a long time to excavate.

When I was a child, each year I was given a wind-up balsa wood airplane with a red propeller and small wheels attached by wire to the fuselage. A sturdy rubber band powered the craft. I wound the propeller until the rubber band was taut, and then let the plane loose. It launched with crazy velocity and careened through the sky. Mine often crash-landed, got lost in tall grass, or hung up high out of reach in a tree. I don’t think my planes ever landed on their hopeful little red wheels.

In a similar way, the unwinding of feelings stored in the body can be a wild ride. At best, it’s unpredictable; at worst, it can be temporarily ravaging. Nonetheless, these feelings need to surface and be greeted with love, and when I fully welcome them, there is often an unforeseen tidal wave of relief—and the red wheels safely touch down on the ground.

The nondual teaching tells us that only a small percentage of our sense of separation lodges in our thoughts and belief systems; the largest bulk resides as stored emotion. Our thought patterns and beliefs are generally above ground, and the easiest to address. Feelings–lodged and caked in the body for decades, the very root bed of the tree of separation—can take a long time to excavate.
–>© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
sleek streeker photo credit (the exact model I used to fly!)