Ramblings and Prayers
I haven't felt like writing much lately. I don't know exactly what I want to talk about today either, but I know there is something to say, and my fingers are rolling along the keyboard, so let's just see what comes up. Ready or not...
Life these days has been up and down, sometimes severely so. In other words, I guess I am guilty of being profoundly alive. I am definitely conscious, feeling everything, and certainly that kind of alertness has its moments. Like for instance, when I start to go into a full-blown panic attack over absolutely nothing, with no apparent trigger or logical reason for its occurrence. Heart races, breath quickens, pains emerge all over the body. Chaos ensues, mentally and physically. Not pretty. This kind of stuff has been happening for several weeks now.
I have heard many Buddhist teachings about "leaning into" pain and suffering, encouraging you to dip your toes into its muddy waters even when it feels like the world may just collapse into a hundred million little pieces if you do so. Good advice these Buddhists offer, if you are able to follow it. I try to lean. Sometimes I simply fall over. I often try to walk the fine line between dipping my toe and wallowing, usually with ugly results. I have found myself being swallowed up by the whirlpools of a murky sea of negativity and self-doubt, and just when I think I should give up and let it pull me under, I am thrown a life preserver and pulled safely to shore. At first, giving up feels like a weak cop-out. But there is nothing weak about screaming for help in your own mind, sending out an SOS to anyone that will listen, and then (here's the important part) actually making sufficient room for a rescue. Letting go works, when you can remember it is an option. This is very likely the source of more strength than any of us can even imagine.
I have not been working very much since returning from Europe, though that is changing little by little. I'm doing fine, yet I have also questioned that reality over and over again while not being employed full-time. Am I ok? Really? And with all of this open space to contemplate and process such things, my resulting emotional state these past few months has run the gamut from mildly depressed to extremely detached to horribly overwrought, stopping everywhere in between for a brief visit or two. People told me to expect such a response to taking a long break and exploring the world, that a period of adjustment would be necessary once I returned home. I hung my hat on that excuse for a little while. Who knows, maybe it has some validity. I would say it does, to a point. It's just that it never delivers you to the promised land. It can't make you wake up and be present again. Excuses never can. They just make it possible to escape, to numb out, to bury your head in the sand and forget about living. Yet under the sand there is no life to be found; nothing under there to see. It is dark and lonely, and never provides the alluring relief that such an escape seems to promise.
I have often considered myself to be a fairly intelligent person. I have always thought of myself as sensitive, hard-working, loving, etc etc. On and on they go, all of these personality descriptions. So much to measure up to. It is these very identities that have conspired to work against me of late. I forgot how meaningless they all are. I tried to cling to these imaginary titles instead of relaxing into whomever I am right now, every part of the whole. I have desperately reached and grabbed for relief in any one of those old personas, trying to return to "normalcy" long after I abandoned that sense (whatever it represented) and threw away the map that told me how to ever find it again. All of this has caused such discomfort. Really, what else could it lead to?
Identity is a funny thing. It is probably the first cousin of "normalcy", in that both concepts are completely fluid and representative of absolutely nothing. They are always changing. Yet understanding this does not automatically equate to freedom. I have examined this all quite a bit, only to wonder with even more fervent gusto who the hell I am, what I am all about, and then try like the dickens to grab onto something, anything, that would tell me. And yes, in the lowest moments I have even gone so far as to wonder what my purpose is. Ah, there it is again--the old purpose question. I can now say unequivocally that searching for purpose and meaning in your mind is a wonderful sign that you are very, very far off course. It's one of the biggest tricks of the ego, whose bag is quite full of them.
The other day I was asked an interesting question. A friend, a very deep and connected friend, asked me what the prayer of my heart was, what I was truly seeking in this life. He didn't want an actual answer. He just wanted to give me some food for thought. And so I thought about it. I immediately went to all the tried and trues--love, peace, blah blah blah--and then once I got honest, I knew I hadn't found the answer quite yet. So I closed my eyes and felt for it. I don't know that I ever found a concrete and full response. Maybe I haven't still. But in that silent space of contemplation, I knew that I felt undefended. The tension disappeared. God, it felt nice to relax again. Touching in with the prayer of my heart, whatever it is that my heart is really asking for, revealed a desire for tenderness and love without defense. It was an emotional discovery. Even now, writing about it gives me chicken skin. And the thought of giving that tenderness to myself really got me going. A-ha! There it is--the missing link. There is the perfect place to start.
And so I am writing today as part of the prayer of my heart. In my own rambling voice, I can hear it. This is where I am these days. I'm accepting my humanness. Sometimes it feels like learning to walk all over again. I accept the challenge, and put one foot in front of the other. It's a bit like coming up with a brand new mission statement for myself, one that serves me right now. Maybe something like this:
I will be kind to myself. I will relax. I will be kind to others. I will understand that my purpose can only be found in this moment. I will drop my defenses. I will open my tender heart. I will remember that it is always safe to do so. And if I forget, I will just try again. I don't have to do any of this on my own. I only need to be a little willing. That's all. The rest will take care of itself. Amen and alleluia.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Life these days has been up and down, sometimes severely so. In other words, I guess I am guilty of being profoundly alive. I am definitely conscious, feeling everything, and certainly that kind of alertness has its moments. Like for instance, when I start to go into a full-blown panic attack over absolutely nothing, with no apparent trigger or logical reason for its occurrence. Heart races, breath quickens, pains emerge all over the body. Chaos ensues, mentally and physically. Not pretty. This kind of stuff has been happening for several weeks now.
I have heard many Buddhist teachings about "leaning into" pain and suffering, encouraging you to dip your toes into its muddy waters even when it feels like the world may just collapse into a hundred million little pieces if you do so. Good advice these Buddhists offer, if you are able to follow it. I try to lean. Sometimes I simply fall over. I often try to walk the fine line between dipping my toe and wallowing, usually with ugly results. I have found myself being swallowed up by the whirlpools of a murky sea of negativity and self-doubt, and just when I think I should give up and let it pull me under, I am thrown a life preserver and pulled safely to shore. At first, giving up feels like a weak cop-out. But there is nothing weak about screaming for help in your own mind, sending out an SOS to anyone that will listen, and then (here's the important part) actually making sufficient room for a rescue. Letting go works, when you can remember it is an option. This is very likely the source of more strength than any of us can even imagine.
I have not been working very much since returning from Europe, though that is changing little by little. I'm doing fine, yet I have also questioned that reality over and over again while not being employed full-time. Am I ok? Really? And with all of this open space to contemplate and process such things, my resulting emotional state these past few months has run the gamut from mildly depressed to extremely detached to horribly overwrought, stopping everywhere in between for a brief visit or two. People told me to expect such a response to taking a long break and exploring the world, that a period of adjustment would be necessary once I returned home. I hung my hat on that excuse for a little while. Who knows, maybe it has some validity. I would say it does, to a point. It's just that it never delivers you to the promised land. It can't make you wake up and be present again. Excuses never can. They just make it possible to escape, to numb out, to bury your head in the sand and forget about living. Yet under the sand there is no life to be found; nothing under there to see. It is dark and lonely, and never provides the alluring relief that such an escape seems to promise.
I have often considered myself to be a fairly intelligent person. I have always thought of myself as sensitive, hard-working, loving, etc etc. On and on they go, all of these personality descriptions. So much to measure up to. It is these very identities that have conspired to work against me of late. I forgot how meaningless they all are. I tried to cling to these imaginary titles instead of relaxing into whomever I am right now, every part of the whole. I have desperately reached and grabbed for relief in any one of those old personas, trying to return to "normalcy" long after I abandoned that sense (whatever it represented) and threw away the map that told me how to ever find it again. All of this has caused such discomfort. Really, what else could it lead to?
Identity is a funny thing. It is probably the first cousin of "normalcy", in that both concepts are completely fluid and representative of absolutely nothing. They are always changing. Yet understanding this does not automatically equate to freedom. I have examined this all quite a bit, only to wonder with even more fervent gusto who the hell I am, what I am all about, and then try like the dickens to grab onto something, anything, that would tell me. And yes, in the lowest moments I have even gone so far as to wonder what my purpose is. Ah, there it is again--the old purpose question. I can now say unequivocally that searching for purpose and meaning in your mind is a wonderful sign that you are very, very far off course. It's one of the biggest tricks of the ego, whose bag is quite full of them.
The other day I was asked an interesting question. A friend, a very deep and connected friend, asked me what the prayer of my heart was, what I was truly seeking in this life. He didn't want an actual answer. He just wanted to give me some food for thought. And so I thought about it. I immediately went to all the tried and trues--love, peace, blah blah blah--and then once I got honest, I knew I hadn't found the answer quite yet. So I closed my eyes and felt for it. I don't know that I ever found a concrete and full response. Maybe I haven't still. But in that silent space of contemplation, I knew that I felt undefended. The tension disappeared. God, it felt nice to relax again. Touching in with the prayer of my heart, whatever it is that my heart is really asking for, revealed a desire for tenderness and love without defense. It was an emotional discovery. Even now, writing about it gives me chicken skin. And the thought of giving that tenderness to myself really got me going. A-ha! There it is--the missing link. There is the perfect place to start.
And so I am writing today as part of the prayer of my heart. In my own rambling voice, I can hear it. This is where I am these days. I'm accepting my humanness. Sometimes it feels like learning to walk all over again. I accept the challenge, and put one foot in front of the other. It's a bit like coming up with a brand new mission statement for myself, one that serves me right now. Maybe something like this:
I will be kind to myself. I will relax. I will be kind to others. I will understand that my purpose can only be found in this moment. I will drop my defenses. I will open my tender heart. I will remember that it is always safe to do so. And if I forget, I will just try again. I don't have to do any of this on my own. I only need to be a little willing. That's all. The rest will take care of itself. Amen and alleluia.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Comments
I was glad I got to bump into you today. I hope to see you and Renee at Pau Hana. Soon. Lv Kapua