I asked myself that question this morning. The sense of a tiger in a packing box came over me again. Another day of gray, the feeble light mimic of sun stopping just inside the windows. The fact that the intentions in my life are moving forward so cold molasses slowly into action states, builds a closed circle of
so many doors to other realities, other futures
Because of the loneliness at night, I have been unable to break the habit of watching old television shows at bedtime. Frequently, I fall asleep while watching and it is somewhere between 2 and 4 in the morning. So when I awaken the choice is to “do” the day with only five hours sleep or to shift back into my downy nest and sleep unbidden by any appointment with destiny until noon.
Waiting for the bright light of knowing
My day is punctuation by the sound of the clock ticking and by the appearance of Dick, the mail carrier. He is a round man who frequently wears his coat like a cape. The diamond earring glistens in his left ear and he chats about his wife and daughter at times. But he is dependable and committed to making his crisscross path from side to side on our street in a timely manner. He flys off again his cape glistening with raindrops bouyant behind him.
Getting a grip on the day always feels like a struggle; however, the years I have spent reading, listening to Hay House and watching You Tube videos inform me that it is not about the day, or how I choose to live it. The struggle is something I order from the limiting menu of perfection. No matter how “well” I have done in a particular yesterday, each new day begins with regrets: I didn’t floss twice, I missed the third glass of water, I didn’t write in my Gratitude Journal.
The habit of critical mind has become much more quiet about the performance judging of people. Instead of measuring them up to cut them down, I now hear the voice in my head say, “Isn’t it wonderful that I get to know this person.” There is so much I am learning about and from others in our shared stories. How many tragedies people have undergone in their lives… the childhood disease that left her deaf on one side, being sent to boarding school at seven, being betrayed by two husbands, multiple bouts with cancer, etc. From the outside, we assume we know another and an impulse is to be competitive with her or with him. Most people are valiant survivors of multiple woundings. The very fact that others around them are not aware of their strength is in and of itself a testimony to their resilency.
Competitiveness with the gifts and successes is my de-facto setting. “She got a book deal. What is wrong with me?”
I am a master of this type of dualistic, poverty of opportunity thinking. Then the really grotesque competitiveness comes out. We all laugh at comedy sketches of two old geezers comparing gun shot wounds in the battle of life. One has had a cold, the other six bouts of pneumonia. I understand that we, sometimes, celebrate how badly victimized that we were as a means of displaying our merit badges.
Nonetheless, we hold courage in our hearts each day as we set intention and carry out actions. For me this fragile edge is the gripping place. If within twenty minutes of awaking, I sit meditation for heading out into the day with compassion and love, I feel like I have my ship’s bow lined up to cut across the waves. I won’t go under no matter what happens.
The aching restlessness that inhabits me at this time is like a large, lurching, drooling dog. It wants to run, jump up, sniff different object-tasks, pick things up in its mouth. “Patience,” I tell myself. “Patience.” I hold the choke chain firmly in my hands.
I have debts to pay down, I have a task of turning this blog into a book. The late illness still leaves me coughing with a sore throat and ear aches. So my body is saying it isn’t ready for one of my manic sweeps of accomplishment. (Oh how my monkey mind loves these workaholic binges.)
My sprained knee did not magically heal with mind control. So I have started acupuncture. It says quite a bit about the condition of my chi when both knees, my shoulder blades and my hands began to ache like fresh injuries. My entire body became hot and sweat covered blanketed. When I came home, I crawled into bed for hours.
So looking at the circle of dysfunction: surgery after surgery; broken relationship; no sense of being needed in my work arena; weak financial condition; deep loneliness. Each item in the circle feeds into the next until I have established a closed system of victim hood and powerlessness.
Using the book The Happiness Project and making a chart, I have begun to work more on my body. Doing crunches and weights is starting to give me good definition. Going to the acupuncturist, I believe will help resolve the issues with my knees. But I know full well that much of that issue is a lack of flexibility and a lack of knowing where to go. I have just manifested in my body, that which I hold in my mind.
I am making new friends and I no longer try to hide anything about my life. I don’t offer up the bitter, hard lessons I have learned like over-dried fig turds on a plate. But if someone asks me, I will be very open about the events in my life. I refuse to carry the shame which was not my shame either from my parents or from my ex-husband.
Moving my life to a higher level, I now am saying my affirmations and intentions out loud. Yesterday, I wrote them on index cards and placed them around the house. They become the voice in the background much as successful people who have had parents who hypnotically repeated, “You can do it”.
So I am learning to parent myself, to act as my own cheer-leading team.
Strangely enough, what I have come to realize is that being filled with shame as a child, feeling like a lesser being really stopped me from loving. I would feel rushes of love or affection to those around me but I wouldn’t feel good enough, important enough to act on those urges. I would want to pick up George’s dropped book, help Jim with his homework, hold a sleeve up for easier access when Susie was putting on her jacket. But when we fell lesser or damaged, we become invisible.
And I think the worst of the situation is that we become so self absorbed that we can’t see that our heart’s urge is power. It helps to heal ourselves when we understand that others really seek affection. It is ultimately a selfish act to send love out.
Passivity is what I struggle with at this time. How much sitting meditation, journalling, waiting, making myself stronger physically is necessary? When will the universe part these heavy mists and give me some stars to navigate by? Am I missing the messages?
When I had acupuncture the bright note was my report card for Chi. Over the decades when I have gone to Chinese medicine doctors I have always been told that my masculine side was outrageously dominant and my feminine side almost wraith like. Yesterday, after 24 months of a life of quiet and contemplation, the male and female energies were almost equal. The workaholic pathways of action over accomplishment are re-patterned.
I am giving birth to a new self and sitting by the death-bed of those delusions which had me dancing mindlessly to their tune. But it is difficult, the patience, the reformation and internal struggle. I want my old toys to play with.
Currently, I am “using” entertainment to dull the pain of not knowing and it is eating up hours of my day.
each of us is unique and similar
Driving home instead of driving to Choices to get a big slab of carrot cake last night was a major victory. The sugar fix is on its way to being extinguished. I win some and I continue on with some delusional behaviors. But how exciting it is to watch the dynamics of learning how to be in a life.
Now. What would I do today if I weren’t afraid?