Swearing at the Shore and Confessions of Truth

If there is any doubt that I have a little “nuts-o” in me it you needn’t wonder any longer. I went for a run on the beach recently to try and clear my head and collect my thoughts. I was feeling particularly blocked in my thinking that day, like when all the pipes are clogged and nothing flows properly. My frustration was building, my fear mounting and worry surrounding me. Cornered in by my thoughts my tendency is to shut down; withdraw, and pull-back. And, if I’m honest, in these places I hold an inner turmoil and abiding anger.

Those who know me would not think of me as angry person. I am tempered, measured and hold myself as a non-anxious presence in tense situations. Yet, I’ve learned that I hold a lot. I so want to give the “right” and “proper” response to situations that I leave no room for my free thoughts, my lower self, my lizard brain, the Resistance within. And here’s the deal…

If I don’t let the Resistance within have a voice?

It won’t shut up.

And when the Resistance won’t shut up?

It takes over.

While running on the beach that day it just wasn’t enough to clear my mind; it was building. So instead of burying it I let it out and I began doing the most ridiculous of things: I began swearing and yelling at everything in my path.

From the waves rolling in to the birds scurrying along the shore, I let them all have it. I hit Mother Nature with a barrage of names not fit for any Mother-Son relationship. I cussed at the waves for splashing me and even dared for it to do it again. At one point a piece of drift wood almost tripped me and, like a pouty 5th grader I gave that piece of wood “the bird” (not kidding people, I straight up flipped off a dead tree stuck in the sand! Can someone say “straight jacket”?). There was no thinking in my words, no planning my actions, just letting a voice I burry have a say.

During my tantrum one voice kicked in and said, “Dude, you are straight up crazy. You’ve lost it. A certifiable nut-job”. Yet as soon as I had that thought another, kinder voice moved in and had a say. “Dave, that was the most sane thing you have done. Thank you for not pretending. Thank you for not hiding. I know it’s a lot. I know you don’t have all the answers. I love you."

I believe this is what it means to confess. Confession isn’t just reserved for the sin of our actions; an “I’m sorry for ____”. It is so much more, so much richer. Confession means I get to say “here I am damn it” and “where are you?!?” Confession means I get to announce my terrified self, my naked being to the world. Confession reveals that I can’t do this on my own, and that quite frankly, I so frick’n sick of trying.

And this my friends, is one of the biggest truths we can uncover every day.

The truth of: “I can’t do it on my own” and the second: “I don’t have to”. Thanks be to God. Literally… Thank. You. God.

When we confess, when we speak our truth, we tie our selves into the proper relationship of the I and Thou. “I” don’t have to run the show because “Thou” is already on the move. You see, frustration comes, the gears grind, when I get the order of relationship wrong; when “I” feel “I” have to make it work and “I” have to get it right to make “Thou” happy.

I don’t want to be taken over by fear. I don’t want worry to run the show. And I sure as hell don’t want the Resistance to hold me back. So… I have to give voice and space for the untethered self to say what it needs to say and to feel what it needs to feel. This doesn’t mean that I become unhinged or lost in lunacy but, in fact, it means I move closer to sanity and lost in Grace because… there is room for it all. Friends, I am learning that it’s not crazy to swear at the shore. In fact, it may be the most heartfelt prayer of confession we could have.

Grace and peace to you.