Today, I want to make the case for burning bridges. The mere thought of this is, no doubt, making some of you cringe in your pantyhose. That's okay. This is happening, I suspect, because we've all been taught that burning bridges leads to regretful consequences. And yet, we've all been tempted, at least once in our lives, to douse that bridge with gasoline and light the match.
Why is that?
The root reason is genuinely human. You've likely reached a point where you've realized that it's time to move on. One of the laws of the universe is that destruction always precedes creation and this is your unconscious way of drawing attention to yourself by creating a dramatic exit from a situation that doesn't suit you anymore. Maybe it's from a job situation. Maybe it's from a relationship. Or it could be from something else, entirely, like getting away from the persona that you created. You know, the one that you thought would get you far in life when, in fact, it hasn't. You can see clearly, constantly, painfully now, how it's failed your aspirations.
You feel a pressure building. Is it the outside pressing on you or is it coming from the inside? It doesn't even seem to matter anymore where it's coming from. All you know, is that it builds more and more each day and it's just a matter of time before something's gonna give and you're going to burn that goddamn bridge down. And it's gonna feel so good watching it go up in flames. "Burn, Baby, burn," you'll say, egging on the flames.
Wait, who said that?
Your director (aka your higher self).
The truth is, Burning Down the Bridge is yet another drama that you orchestrated (the first one had you in the starring role as someone or something that you're not), thinking that it was going to get you that wildly successful (fill in the blank) that would make your career/life as a (fill in the blank) and admired by millions of (fill in the blank), when all it is, really, is another figment of your very fertile imagination. And that's okay, too. It happens. You're human. You're supposed to be wildly creative.
But burning bridges, being in the wrong movie - these are all scripts that you decided to buy into as your Story, while you sold out your true self. Being who you truly are? That's where the magic happens. And by magic, I mean finding that awesome job or your true calling, getting that big break, finding the right person, or whatever else has been residing in your heart of hearts, perhaps for lifetimes, waiting patiently for you to get your act together so that it could manifest. In. This. Lifetime.
Which is why when I saw this picture of a woman (snapped during Paris Fashion Week a few weeks ago), it caught my attention. She gets it. You see, the burning of bridges only serves us when we understand them as metaphors with which to illuminate our minds, as well as the path, to our authentic selves (and thereby what we really want out of life). I'm trying to communicate this through the written word, while she does so through her fierce look. Every garment, every accessory, seems to have been chosen deliberately in order to convey this very important message to her audience.
She looks part rebel, part warrior, and part superhero, doesn't she? When we find ourselves tempted to burn those bridges, we must muster our strength using these energies. Those of the victim, perpetrator and arch enemy will not get us where we want to go as quickly (or smoothly). And the pièce de résistance? She completes her bad-ass ensemble with none other than a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses. What a juxtaposition. One would think that it would weaken the look, but quite the opposite occurs. Standing there, confidently in her shades, she's making a statement, "I'm setting my sights on a bright future glowing with the light of authentic soul expression." Because, it's only through the expansive e-motion (energy-in-motion) of love, which is the opposite of fear (contraction), that we become our true selves. What a rock star, right? Authenticity and originality are the cornerstones of any masterpiece, human and otherwise.
This little journey has inspired me to celebrate Halloween a bit differently this year. I'm going to give thanks for all of the masks and costumes that I've ever worn. Regardless, they got me to this point and, for that, I am truly greatful. I mean, grateful. I will conclude the celebration with a ritual burning of my ratty, old pantyhose. 'Bout time and long overdue.
Happy Halloween and love to everyone!