What causes resistance?

This full moon week has been one for the books. Lovely and illuminating. They say full moons can also bring culminations. I’ve been reading so much lately, so many blogs and articles and books. Somewhere, somebody wrote that we should document our successes. So, here goes one.

Just a few days ago I was chatting with a fellow yogini and artist about how to distinguish between feelings of resistance. Knowing when there is resistance to something potentially good for you (i.e. a hot sweaty yoga class), versus resisting something potentially harmful (i.e. a cancer inducing cigarette).
Sometimes the difference isn’t so obvious.

A week prior, I’d been chatting with another dear yogini about my struggle to complete a business proposal for my album project. Seems whenever I get close to completion or a breakthrough, Whoosh!, the forces of sabotage and evil are set upon me with a vengeance to ensure nothing I produce will ever see the light of finishing’s day. She told me about this book, The War of Art.

As the moon waxed full, I had the creepy familiar old feeling of a visitor coming back round to haunt me. I call him, Mister Boredom. He steals my joy, and leaves me feeling extremely, extremely ungrateful. You see, letting go is always risky business. Especially so when you take that extra unsafe approach and let go of something before you’ve been careful to replace it. That’s what was happening with me in regards to my choices about relationships. I made some very risky decisions, and I was beginning to feel extremely vulnerable, and alone.

I was invited to a girlfriend’s birthday party in Venice. Well, I call this girl, friend, loosely. We are more like acquaintances. But she is a very talented and very cool chic. And in light of my new year, new moon intentions to let go of some old friendships and cultivate new, I felt particularly inclined to go to this party. Not just because I was invited, but in hopes that by participating in her celebration, we might actually become better friends. I felt the invitation was God supporting my intentions.

Then the strangest thing happened the day of the party.

I'd wanted to go, but as the hour drew nearer, the thought of going became filled with dread. I fought with myself the whole way. Even after I started the car and took off down the hill, I wanted to turn around. I prayed, annoyed. “God, show me how to know when I’m resisting something that will actually be for my good?”

My prayer was answered simply. I kept driving. I had an amazing time at that party. I made new friends, and fans. I shared a song for the birthday girl and gently rocked the crowd, moved the birthday girl to tears. The occasion wouldn’t have been the same without me...in some odd, unpretentious way.

The boredom that was settling evaporated.

Now I know the face of fear, its tricky ways. Illogical and manipulating. Showing up uninvited, trying to change my plans…