The Milkweed Answer: Faith, Stillness, and the Space Between

Milkweed seeds surrounded by their delicate, silky floss emerge unexpectedly, ready to be carried by the wind.

Do you ever find yourself stuck in a series of thoughts that revolve around an unsolved problem that seems to have no solution whatsoever? You’re smart; you know that. You’ve been here before; you know that, too. And yet, the more you think, the more stuck you feel.

I am currently facing a big conundrum that normally would have me in knots in my belly and in a constant state of anxiety. I can feel that my adrenals are in overdrive, but what I am extremely thankful for is that the chatter in my mind is not nearly as distracting as what I would expect.

You see, I absolutely believe that the answer is in plain sight, though subtle. It’s not like an object that I can see with my eyes or notice while running around doing all the things I do in a day. No, it is thin and wispy; it is quiet, elusive, indistinct. I know that I can only see it, or recognize it, if I step back from the chaos of fear and worry – step back and wait.

Waiting. That’s so hard!

And I don’t mean to wait in the sense that I can’t or shouldn’t do anything to solve this problem; I mean that it’s clear to me that the jittery action upon action upon more action that is our human default response to worry is clearly NOT going to work this time, and so “wait” means to settle down so I can see clearly. I know that all the things I have ever done or tried in the past in similar situations are not the answer – this time the answer is something that I can’t conjure up with more thought and more strategizing. When I say “wait”, I mean that the action to take is a mindful pause so that I am in a state to be able to see the answer when it appears. And I absolutely know that the answer will appear when I am ready – not when I THINK I’m ready. Oh, I think I’m ready right now because the problem is demanding a solution RIGHT NOW. I am ready in the sense that this time, I am ready to learn the lesson that is mine to learn. And I know that takes time. To learn the lesson requires time that I do not want to spend. And so, I must wait so that I can allow for the time required to learn. I must wait for all the parts to the lesson, and I cannot rush the teacher.

The teacher is the grand, all omnipotent Divine teacher.

And yes, I’m ready to learn.  

And so, it is clear to me that until the ANSWER is clear, I need to get out of my own way. I need to trust the Teacher; I must get quiet so that I can hear when the spirit guides speak.

Finding serenity by surrendering the fight and receiving the buoyancy of the river's flow.

Fighting the problem with stress, worry, anxiety and fear is a frenzied fight I cannot win. Those thoughts and emotions engage the problem, multiplying its strength while depleting mine. I recall a time when I was caught up in the current of a rushing river and of course, I panicked. As the waters turned me and plunged me into the river’s depths, I knew that my life was in danger. My arms flailed, my voice screamed out, I pushed against the force, all the while being tossed around, pulled down, shot back up for a quick breath and pulled back under. Then suddenly, something came over me and I gave in to this force of nature. I stopped fighting. I laid back and immediately, felt a peaceful silence consume me. Though I was still being tossed around, the threatening force subsided, and I realized I was floating above the raging undercurrent. In that state of calm, I was finally able to swim to toward the edge, finding my feet again on the ground, and able to propel myself to the shore and climb out of the water.

This memory is the analogy that works for me in my current conundrum. I must step back from the chaos of fear and worry – step back and wait. Wait so that my feet can again find solid ground, and the skills and strategies that I have will propel me out of the conundrum.

The answer to this problem will arrive like the wispy, translucent fluff of milkweed floss, and I will only be able to see it if I remain calm and in a state of faith.

Hold the pause, allow the sparkles of blessings come into view. And then, receive.

Faith says to me that this problem is not here to hurt me. Of course, my human instinct is to protect myself, and the truth is that this current problem has the potential to destroy me, just like that river could have killed me.  And, like the story of the dangers of the river, it isn’t that I’ve done anything wrong to cause this, it is simply a natural misfortune that has come to me. Period. In the human body, our first instinct is fear in the face of danger. Our heart races and all our senses become alert. And then our intelligent minds come running with thoughts and strategies, a rush of urgency that exacerbates the fear. Our higher self knows better, though. Our higher self exists in the energies of the angels and the spirit guides who are here for us. If we can go deeper than our physical existence and tap into our spiritual instincts, our “sixth sense” (and we have billions of senses on that level) we find the buoyancy of calm faith.

This is where I am right now: I am fully aware of the raging undercurrent just below the surface of my daily routines and interactions. And I am more certain than ever that somehow, I will be OK, and I will overcome this. And so, I am willing to wait – to sit under the hot summer sun and stare into the vastness of what seems like nothing so that I will notice that milkweed floss that carries the solution when it floats into my vision. The thing to DO is to be keenly present in this faith – to tune in and express gratitude when there is a lull in the spinning of waters below me, and to feel the completion of a breath each time I notice the lull.

As I wait for the solution, I am learning about the profound depth of the power of faith.