does it ever really, end?

As I started my day out I could not stop thinking about the Atlanta episode I watched last night in which Black folks were able and encouraged to have reparations from the families of white people who owned their ancestors. It made me reflect on the realities that each of us carry in our bodies non-consensually, through our genetics, and in our memory. I remember that most of my life I believed that if I healed something I was working on it would for the most part be done with, that I would not need to be so aware of it anymore.

The more I have come into feeling my body and being with the habits of my mind I realize that really the energy just shifts into habits that keep me in a practice of awareness around the so-called issues themselves. I specifically think about the realization of relational trauma and how there is a constant awareness of what could go wrong, how I could mess up, or in what ways there is not technically enough time to give the relationship what it needs to truly flourish. I think about the theories offered that say how we should, could, and would behave or act if we were aware enough. I think about how every time a new theory is created my gut instinct is to check and see how much real life experience is guiding the behaviors that are so clear to the theorist.

I wonder if there will ever be an acceptance of the adaptability that life requires to truly be with it. It feels sometimes that as soon as I attune to life it has left me and then I try to catch up with it. It seems that as soon as I figure out who I am and feel sturdy in that decision I am changed by relationships of all kinds. I wonder if there will be spaciousness made for all who desire to be with what feels aligned, for all who have no choice but to trust in what is infant of them because it is all that they have.