"Always focus on how far you have come instead of how far you have to go." ~ Unknown
I recently read Glennon Doyle's Untamed, and like many who have read it, I felt that it changed my life – but not because I was thinking of all the things I was capable of ( as was the case with many) from friends who read it) but because I realized how capable I already was.
The book is by and large beautiful and inspiring, but the part that caught my eye the most was the story about Tabitha, a beautiful cheetah that Glennon and her children saw in a safari park and laboratory called Minnie , who grew up next to Tabitha as her best friend to tame Tabitha.
Glennon watched Minnie sprint out of her cage and chase a dirty pink rabbit tied to a jeep. Shortly afterwards, Tabitha, who had been watching Minnie, ran out of her cage and chased the "dirty pink rabbit", just like her best friend had just done.
Tabitha was born a great, wild animal and had lost her wildness through the cage. She had forgotten her own strength, her own strength, her own identity, and had been tamed while watching her best friend. But remnants of Tabitha's inner wilderness came back to life as she walked from the pink rabbit to the edge of the fence in which she was imprisoned. The closer she was to the edge, the wilder and more regal Tabitha became.
Glennon revealingly states in the book that if a wild animal like a "cheetah can be tamed to forget its wilderness, a woman can certainly be too". And then I asked myself, had I also forgotten my own inner wilderness? Did I spend my time in a cage when I could walk up and down instead?
I've been scrambling over this story for days, desperately trying to figure out how to break free of my metaphorical cage to find my way to the seemingly elusive perimeter that others seemed to have easily found and already on and off we went.
I wondered why I hadn't worked harder, pushed further, and done more to create the life I really wanted, especially when it became painfully clear that what I was living didn't fit that description. And then suddenly it hit me. Like a ton of stones falling on me out of nowhere:
I didn't have to go to the perimeter. I was already there. To be honest, I've been there for most of my life and it was so familiar to me that I didn't even notice it anymore.
As I sat there in the midst of this understanding, I looked back on my life and suddenly all steps seemed to fit the periphery.
When I fell into a bucket of boiling water at the age of two and put my own discomfort aside to comfort my mother, who collapsed at the sight of my burned body, I took a step toward the edge.
When I moved to America at the age of seven and couldn't understand the language and was immediately classified as "stupid" but went ahead anyway and refused to let them define who I was, I took another step in this direction.
When I saw my younger sister die of an incurable disease and kept her light alive in me by seeing the beauty of her life and not just the grief of her death, I moved closer to the edge.
When I said no to becoming a teacher or a doctor – an unfathomable and shameful decision for women of my culture at that time – I took another step towards the perimeter.
When I refused an arranged marriage and again put my family to shame, the periphery was right in my eyes.
When I left for law school (much to the continued horror of my parents), the perimeter and I were practically facing each other.
For a while I stayed on the sidelines and quietly followed my surroundings with the same pride and vehemence as the cheetah who inspired these forays. But now I realize that I should never stay on the sidelines – I should always go beyond.
Until I did, I stayed trapped in my own inner chaos. And the quiet that I was so desperately looking for would continue to evade me. That inner turmoil that just wouldn't go away, that indescribable lack of fulfillment and the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach … these were all signs that I was ready to move over the edge. I was ready to set free more than just myself – I was ready to set my soul free.
That is why I have been repeatedly traced back to certain people, programs and even books. I was ready to free myself from all restrictions and, moreover, from all limits.
The process was not easy. And sometimes it was more than lonely. But it was rewarding, deeply healing, and transforming at the same time. And perhaps most importantly, I understood that we are all here in one way or another to break free from the cages that have locked most of us in for most of our lives.
Some cages are forced upon us by the thoughts and ideas of others, and sometimes we willingly put ourselves in them. In this way we can avoid discomfort, pain, suffering, change, growth, and our own rebirth.
Sometimes they can even be helpful, but sometimes they do nothing but hold us back. The steel cages often tell us who to be, where to live, what to do for a living, how to behave and even who to like or dislike.
The cages often come in different colors, shapes and sizes. Some are made of gold and filled with expensive toys and bribes to keep us from going out of them. Their attraction is just too difficult for some people to resist, although they are often accompanied by golden shackles.
Others are sparkling and full of glitter. The shine is so intense that its inmates don't even know they are in a cage. They are so fixated on the glitter that they spend their whole life within themselves and never notice that they are no freer than the people they looked down on as "trapped".
And of course there are some who live in small, dark and dingy cages that they dearly want to escape from, but dare not try because they are so convinced that it is safer, easier and more convenient, just to stay.
These are the people who are so afraid of their own power and the taste of true freedom that they probably wouldn't leave even if the cage door were opened for them.
And then there are the brave ones. The ones who are really brave and don't feel like holding onto a cage or any boundaries. These are the people who will do anything to break the cage so that they can free themselves and all of humanity.
These are the people who are on the move beyond the perimeter and who have removed far more than their physical body from the cage – they have their soul and with it the many lifetimes of memories, wisdom and truth that it holds within itself, taken out of the cage.
I want to run with these people. These are the people I want to call my tribe. These are the people I know I've found my home when I meet them.
About Afsheen Shah
physical, mental and emotional wellbeing. Her mission is to help women reconnect with their hearts so that they can bring their unique light into the world and truly embody their inner strength.
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