Sangham saranam gacchāmi
I go for refuge in the Sangha
there are three jewels of practice. the buddha, dharma and sangha.
sangha, community, support network... I find that the more that I morph, the more challenging it is to keep a strong support system around me. and the more I grow, the more distant I become to a life that once defined me.
last night, I had a glimpse into the heart of someone who chooses self-destruction. it was a repugnant place, and I'm not interested in going there ever again myself or vicariously through someone else. he expressed that my inability to accept him in his tortured and painful state was unfair. the truth is, I'm not totally sure he was wrong. it seemed like a recurring theme last night, all these people I call friends focused on the conversation of a lifestyle that seems like decades behind me.
in the past six months, I've shed many skins. this has been one of my greatest spiritual growth spurts in many years. I can't say it was all positive, not at all. in this latest effort to peel layers, I shed many people out of my life. one of the many lessons I discovered was, people that I've supported aren't really equipped or prepared to return the favor. if I was to go forth in this raw new layer of skin, I would have to define a new support system to rally around me.
there are people who arrive in my life and I believe them to be those kinds of friends that are going to be there forever. because I love my pals unconditionally, I make the deluded assumption that this unconditional love will always be reciprocated. but it isn't, that isn't our nature as people... my ability to accept people and all of their flaws isn't a shared trait among human kind.
the buddha teaches us to love everyone unconditionally as one would love their own child. in no way am I remotely capable of this, but yet there are certain people who scrape the surface of my heart who seem to make this kind of metta practice very easy. just because I'm able to offer them metta, doesn't mean they can give it back in the same way.
as I continue to dedicate myself to consistent daily practice, I'm going to have to continue opening up space for sangha. this may seem to look easy for me on the outside in, but I confess, transitioning from the comforts of isolation to opening myself to new friends has been frightening and challenging. instead of quickly closing off, I've been reaching out, making connections, sparking plans, and getting myself back into life with people that share my curiosity for practice and growth. I'm putting effort into reigniting the friendships that have supported me, and cultivating new ones.
but what do I do with the friends with whom I can't be around anymore. how do I detach for survival without causing them the pain I've felt plenty of times? I'm working on this.
I've been torn on how to communicate effectively. people have their issues with emotional intimacy, trust, and creating time in the real world. without question these things are tremendous challenges for me too. I don't want to just pull away from someone who needs to be supported. sadly, I don't think I'm strong enough to carry anyone who's headed in a downward direction, when I've got myself to press onward and forward on the path to ______________________ (fill in the blank). it feels hypocritical to need to detach from friends who are struggling, but our priorities are so clearly different what use is support when the end goals are somewhere far away from one and other.
right now, I'm focused on practicing metta on myself more than anyone else. I sit, observe and say the phrases during meditation over and over just to me. this could quite possibly be one of the hardest things I've ever had to take on while on the cushion. I mean, I can sit with just me... but sit with me and send metta to myself with no one else? wow, man this is freakin hard!
I'm also fervently cultivating new sangha, a group of people who are dynamic, working towards bettering themselves and the world around them. people who have the capacity to care and love me the way I deserve to be loved, and make it so very easy to love them more. Making room for human interaction in the real world isn't easy. It's something that takes tremendous effort on my part, one that I'm willingly putting a lot of energy into.
To be able to love people unconditionally, sometimes we have to create boundaries, distance and space. It sucks having to push and pull in this way. It almost feels manipulative. It's self preservation that motivates me, I think.. like when your'e supposed to put that oxygen mask on yourself in that emergency flying video... before you put it on your kid. If I'm not properly supported by the right sangha, how can I be of service and support to friends and people I love?
Anyway...
Cutting the ties with the people who can't give me the oxygen I need only opens up space for people who can give me so much more... and from afar I'm going to have to pray to the god that doesn't exist that the people I need to distance myself from find their way to joy, happiness and freedom from the fetters that drag them into the hells of darkness.
Dayum, it's way too early to be writing... I need a cup of coffee ASAP.
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label practice. Show all posts
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
the little gorilla loves himself
"Everybody in the forest loves the Little Gorilla,
But like all little gorillas, he begins to grow,
and grow, and grow. Until one day, Little Gorilla is BIG!"
each year, at my son's birthday party I go around the table of his friends and ask the same question, "what do you like best about Zoren?"
this year, his little group of pals answered; he's the wild card, he's like a labyrinth, he's crazy, you never know what to expect....
maybe I had already doled out too much sugar and junk food before posing this annual poll to his pals, but I found their responses fascinating.
to me, he's just this kid, my kid. he's the side kick who makes me laugh incessantly, who stands up for himself with valiant "No"s when I tell him to do things and snuggles up next to me at night and shares his greatest secrets and hugs me without conditions.
as he embarked into school age, around his kindergarten years, he began to take on a self-awareness of being odd and different. I've often written about the bullies and meanies who've tortured him, and his amazing vigilance in overcoming those challenges and remaining true to himself.
ok, my kid is a nut but he's also great in school and 'normal' and 'above normal' according to the State of NY Education system.
the study that has fascinated me about being his mom is his struggle with his self-esteem and how he's learning to be at peace in the skin he's in. unlike my parents, I've taught Zoren to just be himself, to be weird, creative and live life out loud. my lessons have been all about embracing all the great things he is and my mission is to ensure that he walks out of this house every day knowing that he is loved madly by not only me but all the people in the world who matter.
when he was little, I used to read him a story called the 'Little Gorilla' who was born and everyone loved him, all creatures, even as he got older and bigger and changed... everything and everyone still loved him. I believe Zoren is very much like this little gorilla, an adventurer who ventures forth to meet all kinds of creatures and desires to belong and be loved wherever he goes. heck, isn't that what we all want? who doesn't want to be taken care of by a giraffe or an elephant from time to time? am I right?
despite my best efforts to prove to my kid that he is amazing, he still struggles with self-judgement. he was traumatized by the fact that all of his select group of friends didn't come to his birthday and often sobs when he gets home about how he just doesn't belong. he can't see what I see, he feels what all of us creatures feel.... a need to fit in. I've done everything different than my parents, instilled him with a place to play freely, to be himself, to express himself however he feels he needs to and to know that he will always be heard in this house. I love him even when I'm mad, and when I scream with my icky mommy voice I manage to get in there, "and even though I'm pissed as hell, I still love you little gorilla."
my experience of growing up was very different from his. I didn't have an affectionate mom who knew how to love me, and was placed in a competitive world where I didn't fit. I was a novelty to my upper east side friends and the punk rock weirdo at my boarding school. designed for alternative art school life, I spent most my of my life believing there was no place for me until I turned 18 and moved away to Vermont to be with 'my people' at Bennington.
that's what life is really... finding our people. even in my forties, I'm still seeking and looking for my tribe. as we've gotten older, gotten married, moved away, gotten divorced, moved the other place, had kids... we drift, we explore and I the nomad... wandered off into the woods... looking for my new people all over again.
like Zoren, my friends would probably see me in this enigmatic sort of way, wild, fun, creative, free and funny. we are very similar he and I. if I sat my friends of 'right now' down at a dinner table, what would they say? how would they describe me. over the past couple of years, I've been a bit of a labyrinth too... challenged, changing, morphing, difficult to reach... a little out there for even the closest of buds in my circle of pals.
seeing self-judgment through my child's eyes is really a reflection into my own self-judgement practice. no matter what our surroundings, nothing and no one is responsible for how we see ourselves. we are the makers of our own confidence. no matter how many times I assure my kid he is amazing and loved, he still needs to find his own way through to seeing himself as the brilliant and fabulous human he is. I can't do it for him.
after spending the past two years digging deeply into this very question, am I lovable? am I deserving? it is my 11 year old son who has taught me the truth isn't coming from out there, but inside my own citta.
I don't need anyone to answer these questions for me now... there's been this tremendous shift in my practice. my right view has once again shifted, and I see the self-judgment for the hindrance it truly is. that view has been most altered by the view through my kid's eyes. it is with that innocence and that pure emotion that I've finally learned to understand how we self inflict the negative effects of these stories on ourselves.
"Who will love the little gorilla now?"
there is nothing external I need. no validation, no award. it's not a quantity of friends, or praises, or something that is going to arrive from outside of me to resolve that 'feeling' of emptiness we all try to fill in our hearts. it isn't god. it isn't booze. it sure isn't a man or people. there's no real hole. it's not taking in that solves this complex question about fulfillment but quite the opposite.
the joy comes from letting go of the attachments. the expectations. the things outside that we don't have. the joy lives in this moment. the feeling of self worth comes in the place of being fully present and mindful and being with what is. sitting with the uncomfortable and accepting it as part of my life experience can be peaceful because it opens me to the present experience. by embracing everything that is in the now, I can accept everything in my life as it is.
as for the Zman's journey through self acceptance, I'll just keep loving him unconditionally and letting him have his adventure ... because he too has his own path.. and hopefully he can let go of self-judgment better than I ever did, or at least a lot sooner.
But like all little gorillas, he begins to grow,
and grow, and grow. Until one day, Little Gorilla is BIG!"
each year, at my son's birthday party I go around the table of his friends and ask the same question, "what do you like best about Zoren?"
this year, his little group of pals answered; he's the wild card, he's like a labyrinth, he's crazy, you never know what to expect....
maybe I had already doled out too much sugar and junk food before posing this annual poll to his pals, but I found their responses fascinating.
to me, he's just this kid, my kid. he's the side kick who makes me laugh incessantly, who stands up for himself with valiant "No"s when I tell him to do things and snuggles up next to me at night and shares his greatest secrets and hugs me without conditions.
as he embarked into school age, around his kindergarten years, he began to take on a self-awareness of being odd and different. I've often written about the bullies and meanies who've tortured him, and his amazing vigilance in overcoming those challenges and remaining true to himself.
ok, my kid is a nut but he's also great in school and 'normal' and 'above normal' according to the State of NY Education system.
the study that has fascinated me about being his mom is his struggle with his self-esteem and how he's learning to be at peace in the skin he's in. unlike my parents, I've taught Zoren to just be himself, to be weird, creative and live life out loud. my lessons have been all about embracing all the great things he is and my mission is to ensure that he walks out of this house every day knowing that he is loved madly by not only me but all the people in the world who matter.
when he was little, I used to read him a story called the 'Little Gorilla' who was born and everyone loved him, all creatures, even as he got older and bigger and changed... everything and everyone still loved him. I believe Zoren is very much like this little gorilla, an adventurer who ventures forth to meet all kinds of creatures and desires to belong and be loved wherever he goes. heck, isn't that what we all want? who doesn't want to be taken care of by a giraffe or an elephant from time to time? am I right?
despite my best efforts to prove to my kid that he is amazing, he still struggles with self-judgement. he was traumatized by the fact that all of his select group of friends didn't come to his birthday and often sobs when he gets home about how he just doesn't belong. he can't see what I see, he feels what all of us creatures feel.... a need to fit in. I've done everything different than my parents, instilled him with a place to play freely, to be himself, to express himself however he feels he needs to and to know that he will always be heard in this house. I love him even when I'm mad, and when I scream with my icky mommy voice I manage to get in there, "and even though I'm pissed as hell, I still love you little gorilla."
my experience of growing up was very different from his. I didn't have an affectionate mom who knew how to love me, and was placed in a competitive world where I didn't fit. I was a novelty to my upper east side friends and the punk rock weirdo at my boarding school. designed for alternative art school life, I spent most my of my life believing there was no place for me until I turned 18 and moved away to Vermont to be with 'my people' at Bennington.
that's what life is really... finding our people. even in my forties, I'm still seeking and looking for my tribe. as we've gotten older, gotten married, moved away, gotten divorced, moved the other place, had kids... we drift, we explore and I the nomad... wandered off into the woods... looking for my new people all over again.
like Zoren, my friends would probably see me in this enigmatic sort of way, wild, fun, creative, free and funny. we are very similar he and I. if I sat my friends of 'right now' down at a dinner table, what would they say? how would they describe me. over the past couple of years, I've been a bit of a labyrinth too... challenged, changing, morphing, difficult to reach... a little out there for even the closest of buds in my circle of pals.
seeing self-judgment through my child's eyes is really a reflection into my own self-judgement practice. no matter what our surroundings, nothing and no one is responsible for how we see ourselves. we are the makers of our own confidence. no matter how many times I assure my kid he is amazing and loved, he still needs to find his own way through to seeing himself as the brilliant and fabulous human he is. I can't do it for him.
after spending the past two years digging deeply into this very question, am I lovable? am I deserving? it is my 11 year old son who has taught me the truth isn't coming from out there, but inside my own citta.
I don't need anyone to answer these questions for me now... there's been this tremendous shift in my practice. my right view has once again shifted, and I see the self-judgment for the hindrance it truly is. that view has been most altered by the view through my kid's eyes. it is with that innocence and that pure emotion that I've finally learned to understand how we self inflict the negative effects of these stories on ourselves.
"Who will love the little gorilla now?"
there is nothing external I need. no validation, no award. it's not a quantity of friends, or praises, or something that is going to arrive from outside of me to resolve that 'feeling' of emptiness we all try to fill in our hearts. it isn't god. it isn't booze. it sure isn't a man or people. there's no real hole. it's not taking in that solves this complex question about fulfillment but quite the opposite.
the joy comes from letting go of the attachments. the expectations. the things outside that we don't have. the joy lives in this moment. the feeling of self worth comes in the place of being fully present and mindful and being with what is. sitting with the uncomfortable and accepting it as part of my life experience can be peaceful because it opens me to the present experience. by embracing everything that is in the now, I can accept everything in my life as it is.
as for the Zman's journey through self acceptance, I'll just keep loving him unconditionally and letting him have his adventure ... because he too has his own path.. and hopefully he can let go of self-judgment better than I ever did, or at least a lot sooner.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Fear We Go Again
There we were, my dharma punx buddies and I sitting around
the campfire a few years ago at a campground in the Berkshires. We were laughing, joking and talking when our
friend Pete asked, “do women find men who are
spiritual attractive or do they see us as pussies?”
or something like that. A passionate
conversation erupted between the group about relationships, love and
spirituality. Evenly distributed between
men and women, the details of romantic relationship experiences were exposed
over crackling flames of the campfire. I
don’t remember much more of what was being said…
I had a different experience than my contemporaries under the star filled
summer sky.
Sinking deeper and deeper into my camping chair, literally
clinging to myself for dear life a darker emotion was taking hold. I couldn’t speak or move…
because this debilitating emotion was paralyzing. There were words and tones I could hear,
snippets of discussion but my experience went somewhere else. It was gripping.
A moment of silence fell among the group and in that moment
I took my opportunity to force out this sentence through a few small sobs, “I
am afraid.”
My friend Paul responded, “of course you are, you’re
allowed to be, you’ve been through a lot.”
There it was.
Validated by a close friend who truly understood this layer of suffering
that was enveloping me. I was allowing
myself to admit to this deep rooted fear, and the beginning of an exploratory
journey in clarity where I allowed myself to dig deep into it and practice letting
it go.
Some people are afraid of spiders, or heights, or fire, or
the dark. Me? I have a fear of
love. It’s not the loving part
that is the issue, it’s the pain that befalls me when
it ends in heartbreak. One would think
that age and time would have taught me to be able to get though these romantic
failings more easily, but the blows I’ve endured to my precious
heart have left irreparable scars. In my
years of practice, I’ve cleaned up much of the
blackness, the scar tissue that I’ve let become a
protective layer. In my other kinds of
relationships, I’ve learned to be vulnerable and
open. Yet with romantic love, I continue
to suffer this feeling of tremendous trepidation. My fear tells me, “of
this… I am certain another heartbreak will kill you.”
It was a ‘mommy’
time weekend this week, I took the Zman and his buddy snowboarding at a little
local mountain. Bathing and makeup
seemed optional, so I passed making the effort for comfy baggy snowpants and a
tee shirt. As usual, being done well
before my gaggle of little boys were done with their riding, I went into the
bar for one post-ride beer. There I met…
a guy. It wasn’t
much of an unusual entry to a conversation, amusement about my beer snobbery,
chatting about the area, how neat this secret HV treasure is and such. I could have been sitting there for hours or
minutes… time in that moment seemed to not really take
hold. What did surprise me from this
chance meeting were three things… one, that he actually
asked for my phone number and two.. how unusually bummed I was that they left
so soon and three… how incredibly aware I was of
the magnetic sparks manifesting in our first meeting.
There was no waiting time … he texted, I texted back
and a hang plan was set. Me, the jaded
ice queen hermit was going to embark on a real life date in the real world with
a real guy.
And the date was… the best date I’ve
been on since my divorce. I won’t
kiss and tell, but I can tell you, I still feel those unmentionable kisses in
my toes.
… and now…
the ‘game’ of dating begins and all that fear
that arises with it.
The spiritual warrior me wants to be true to myself, to say what
I want to say or do what I want to do.
No games, no illusions or delusions.
Unfortunately, the mature 40 something chick I am knows
better… knows that I have to now play the game filled with
rules, the sport where I’m supposed to be a surprise,
mysterious, aloof. What sucks is, I’m
really none of those things. I’m
far from mysterious, jeesh I must be the least mysterious lady on the
planet. Pretend? Follow protocol? This rebellious feminist finds all this so
very contradictory to my beliefs.
One of the reasons I hate dating the most is the sport of it…
the ‘rules’ that are going to shape
how the relationship will be moving forward.
I’m supposed to suppress all the characteristics that make
Elissa Jane… me?
More perpetuators of this debilitating fear, having to be
something else, someone else or I am going to blow it somehow. One of the
greatest parts of my personality is my fearlessness. I’m afraid of nothing…
well almost nothing. When people recoil
at the site of a daddy long legs or the view from the edge of a tall mountain I
unintentionally judge them, like really what’s the big deal? In the presence of this gripping fear of
heartbreak and inauthentic game playing that is all encompassing, I realize
that I can relate. If I hadn’t
learned what I did in my Year to Live practice, I would do what feels safe and
walk away. That’s
what people in fear do… run from the very thing that
ignites the trigger.
Trust me… all these little fabulous sparks
are blowing up the powder keg and I am reminded that this thing will lead to
that pain. I can see the dots
connecting.. the tape play out.. or can I?
The scariest part of all is… while the fear is still
there… the delusion isn’t. I can’t see the heartbreak or
the end, I can’t even see past dinner time later
tonight. It is my enlightened and
rational self that hears my friend Gary say, “right now, it’s
like this.”
I really have no idea what is coming next or what will
happen, if we’ll go out again (I hope we do) or
if we don’t. I don’t
know what anyone else is thinking, and frankly it’s none of my business
what other people are thinking about me.
The only thing I have control over is this aversion I’m
feeling triggered by memories of a pain that I’ve endured from other dating
scenarios in my past. Am I going to give
those relationships that didn’t work out my
happiness? No.
For today, in this moment, I’m grateful for feeling
this way again, romantic, hopeful, curious… and even
vulnerable. I’m
ok with all that is arising because, well, I’m ok with me.
Human nature is filled with fear, and I guess just like
people who are filled with phobias of other kinds, I need to be compassionate
to myself and give myself the same understanding I’ve
learned to give others.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
tales from the Ashram...
For the past two weeks, I've been formulating my next blog post in my head... trying to put together the words to describe the dismal private pity party I've been hosting for myself. This summer has been a wild roller coaster to put it mildly, and many of the things I carved into expectations didn't come to fruition. Once again, I went out there a gutsy warrior, and failed by making some really bad choices. Where did I end up? Right back where I started. Or did I?
There's something cyclical afoot ... each June, as my birthday comes, I make a declaration that I'm going to make things very different. I put plans into motion, and set an intention to radically change my life... and each year, those radical plans end in "disaster" and "failing." Inevitably, I end up crawling back to my life, humbled.
This summer has been no different. Once again, I've repeated the quest that ended in failure.
I can't say that I feel royally defeated, because of the clarity I have about the imperative to have a certain quality of life, I haven't backed down on myself. In fact, I've picked up the pieces and quickly got back into my upstate swing of things. A year ago, heartbreak was the catalyst for a year long crisis of faith and, well, I totally gave up on me. I don't feel this same defeat right now. Just a bump in the path, a big crazy speed bump and a pot hole that literally dislodged some things.
I'm writing this post from Ananda Ashram. If you haven't been here before, the best way to describe it is... a yoga camp for spiritual seekers with a magical vibe and chillaxed atmosphere. I came here once before, last year just after hitting a large life sized pothole that left me broken. I wasn't really planning on coming here this weekend, in fact it was a spontaneous last minute decision ... literally, I booked this trip on Thursday night.
On Friday, I ended my harrowing week emotionally exhausted. Complaining to anyone who would hear, "I'm fried, I'm beat." I wasn't sure I was really up for coming here. I knew I 'd be surrounded by a bunch of yogi's getting their dose of hari krishna vibes and I wasn't entirely sure I was up for the woo woo chatter. So if I wasn't in the mood for the hippie dippie new ageness... why come here? Because I lead this choice with my heart rather than my mind, and my heart knew I needed a moment of retreat and renewal. To concede, I needed a good helping of what these people have... a little bit of crazy, and a bunch of answers to life's big questions.
The highlight of the weekend thus far, is the amount of quality time I'm having with older women. While I'm feeling immensely let down in my relationship with my mother... the universe has decided that I needed a bunch of wacky old ladies to share their wisdom, guidance, love and stories about their journey. While I've tried to keep to myself, the universe has made it a point to put this fabulous woman in my path. In my dorm room, I share dwelling with a woman who has experience great love and the loss of her great life love. At lunch I sat alone, thinking I would dine in silence, instead I was joined by a woman who insisted on sharing her journey of 40 years on the path. A lady sat with me and shared her vision of love for me, that she saw my struggle and advised me how to open my heart to possibility. On my way to yoga class in the afternoon, I met another woman who spoke honestly about her relationship with her daughter and gave me a rendition of her greatest lessons. At dinner I met a woman who is a spiritual therapist who shared her story of loss and renewal after Hurricane Irene. While writing this blog, two different women came to talk to me about their journey. All of these woman in their senior years have been imparting their wisdom, their openness, and their love upon me, some stranger. It's like they were put in my path to give me what I need, the love of an elder.
I don't feel like I've been filling the expansive hole left by not having a parent, but more like I met the right teachers I needed to meet this weekend. Lay women with life wisdom. The work hasn't been in the classroom, or on the cushion or the mat... but in the company of women who felt compelled to share bits of their journey with me.
So a few lessons I got from them:
There's something cyclical afoot ... each June, as my birthday comes, I make a declaration that I'm going to make things very different. I put plans into motion, and set an intention to radically change my life... and each year, those radical plans end in "disaster" and "failing." Inevitably, I end up crawling back to my life, humbled.
This summer has been no different. Once again, I've repeated the quest that ended in failure.
I can't say that I feel royally defeated, because of the clarity I have about the imperative to have a certain quality of life, I haven't backed down on myself. In fact, I've picked up the pieces and quickly got back into my upstate swing of things. A year ago, heartbreak was the catalyst for a year long crisis of faith and, well, I totally gave up on me. I don't feel this same defeat right now. Just a bump in the path, a big crazy speed bump and a pot hole that literally dislodged some things.
I'm writing this post from Ananda Ashram. If you haven't been here before, the best way to describe it is... a yoga camp for spiritual seekers with a magical vibe and chillaxed atmosphere. I came here once before, last year just after hitting a large life sized pothole that left me broken. I wasn't really planning on coming here this weekend, in fact it was a spontaneous last minute decision ... literally, I booked this trip on Thursday night.
On Friday, I ended my harrowing week emotionally exhausted. Complaining to anyone who would hear, "I'm fried, I'm beat." I wasn't sure I was really up for coming here. I knew I 'd be surrounded by a bunch of yogi's getting their dose of hari krishna vibes and I wasn't entirely sure I was up for the woo woo chatter. So if I wasn't in the mood for the hippie dippie new ageness... why come here? Because I lead this choice with my heart rather than my mind, and my heart knew I needed a moment of retreat and renewal. To concede, I needed a good helping of what these people have... a little bit of crazy, and a bunch of answers to life's big questions.
The highlight of the weekend thus far, is the amount of quality time I'm having with older women. While I'm feeling immensely let down in my relationship with my mother... the universe has decided that I needed a bunch of wacky old ladies to share their wisdom, guidance, love and stories about their journey. While I've tried to keep to myself, the universe has made it a point to put this fabulous woman in my path. In my dorm room, I share dwelling with a woman who has experience great love and the loss of her great life love. At lunch I sat alone, thinking I would dine in silence, instead I was joined by a woman who insisted on sharing her journey of 40 years on the path. A lady sat with me and shared her vision of love for me, that she saw my struggle and advised me how to open my heart to possibility. On my way to yoga class in the afternoon, I met another woman who spoke honestly about her relationship with her daughter and gave me a rendition of her greatest lessons. At dinner I met a woman who is a spiritual therapist who shared her story of loss and renewal after Hurricane Irene. While writing this blog, two different women came to talk to me about their journey. All of these woman in their senior years have been imparting their wisdom, their openness, and their love upon me, some stranger. It's like they were put in my path to give me what I need, the love of an elder.
I don't feel like I've been filling the expansive hole left by not having a parent, but more like I met the right teachers I needed to meet this weekend. Lay women with life wisdom. The work hasn't been in the classroom, or on the cushion or the mat... but in the company of women who felt compelled to share bits of their journey with me.
So a few lessons I got from them:
- Expectations will never serve you, when you let go of your preferences, you'll enjoy life more fully.
- Meditation (quieting of the mind) is essential for mental and physical health.
- When you truly love yourself, you open your heart to possibility of being loved by others in all capacities.
- Everything and everyone you meet has a lesson for you. (one said everything happens for a reason but I don't totally prescribe to that philosophy. however, I like translating this as there are lessons to be learned and connections to be made with every human being on this earth)
- You can always start again. It's never too late to start over.
- The practice never ends, there are always new lessons to learn.
I still have one more day here, to chillax and enjoy the delicious vibes of this place, and for that I am grateful. The most important thing I need to take away from here is the value of taking good care of me, because when I do, I can feel like 'this'. Rested, refreshed and capable of showing up for my life. Honestly, it has been months (since my mom's stroke and maybe more) since I felt like I was showing up for myself. I deserve to be accountable to myself, I deserve to be well cared for by ... myself.
Monday, July 16, 2012
shake the disease
for a long time, I believed that my mother hated me, despised me and wished me dead. I didn't make this up, she literally would scream, "I wish you were never born" so many times througout my lifetime. this made it pretty easy to come to this conclusion. On other nights, in a sobby voice, she'd whimper, "do you love me?"
my response was always, "yes mommy, I do love you. of course I do."
the stroke. some early morning in march, I get a call... it's not a surprise I had been trying to reach my mom through a busy signal for a few days. they were rushing her to the emergency room.
my mother was in the hospital in critical condition, and there we were (my sister and I) in her home. in her house without her in it. it felt weird, like she had died, like we were uninvited guests, like her ghost was everywhere. the place was so uncomfortable. looking for answers, trying to find my way I opened a drawer in her room and found an envelope, legal in size with a label from an attorney's office. it was her living will, her proxy and well...
the cover letter explicitly stated that I was evil, harmful, and that I would get nothing. she left everything to my sister and her ex-husband (my father) and a paultry trust for my son which he would get when he turned 23. nothing. her last words to me, embroiled on a page, spiteful, scathing, spitting words that I can see running past my eyelids day after day. she had printed out copies of my blogs (including pages from this one), other things she had googled, such as pages from a novella I wrote as evidence that I was deserving of one thing.. her hatred of me. (she will probably add a copy of this entry as more proof)
despite the fact that I read this document that pronounced me disowned, I continued to care for her day after day in the hospital. she couldn't move, barely speak, communicate clearly. I knew, my job as her daughter, was to keep her in a state of comfort, to wipe her down, feed her food, do whatever she needed to grasp onto bits of dignity and get cared for. yes, her will that explicity said I'm this horrible child existed, but my unconditional love for her prevailed. it still does.
I went to see my mother today, I brought her sumptious bagles and smoked fish, flowers, cleaned parts of her house, did errands. over coffee, we shared personal feelings and I let her know things that I felt were important. we spoke of her relationship to my son, the challenges I face as a single parent, and in that moment, I felt her mommy'ness. she was listening. we tackled a big job of cleaning up her jewelry drawer. I lovingly took apart the boxes of chains, trinkets, baubles and such and organized them in a way that made is easy for her to find the things she can still put on by herself. she gave me things, chunky earings, charm bracelets... much to my surprise. at the end of the organization, I offered to move the jewelry box so that it would be easier for her to reach, and moved a stack of neatly piled tank tops. in that instant, her face grimmaced, she shook and screamed... her emotional state automatically turned from calm and happy to this evil scary yelling mess. she couldn't handle it, I had made an unauthorized change in her wardrobe. while I assured her that I would make the pile perfect on the new shelf, it was too late.. she lost it.
screaming at me, calling me horrific insults, slurring and getting physical... the feelings that are all too familiar began to arise.
normally, I'd fight back, slam the box down on the ground, slam a door, yell back... but this time... I didn't!
mindfully, I completed the task of making her shelves neat as she raved besides me. I watched her, looked into her eyes and practiced metta, compassion and equinimity. I spoke back calmly. once the things were nicely arranged, I contined this state of mindfulness. I could feel the feelings, but I had the strength not to react. I didn't need to, it wouldn't change the fact that my mother is sick. not just physically sick, but mentally. it's not just brain dammage she endured, she is mentally ill.
my mother suffers from deep depression, mental illness, something I never understood before. I learned this while she was in the hospital. of course, to an outsider, this may have always been obvious. to me, I just saw a mother who hates me. I don't think she does, it's more that she is living in such a dark place, she can't be the mother I want, the one I deserved but never got.
you would think while hearing her scream horrific things about my hideious looks, my zoftic size, my lack of intelligence, what a horrible mother I am, and countless other things that roll so easily off her vitriolic tongue that I would react. well, a different version of me would.
because I now have the knowledge that she's sick, I am able to understand that she's in too much pain to know any better. she thinks it is ok to be this way, because that's all she knows. she's never gotten treatment, or therapy or taken any steps to get better. there's medication, a pile of drugs that are and are not prescribed, but this isn't the way out. sadly, I just see her deteriorating emotionally more and more, her illness engulfing her every fiber.
as my mother was physically pushing me out the door and yelling at me, in the way she usually does, I had an awakening... I didn't have to react. I didn't have to let it in. as I walked out ... calmly, I said, "I forgive you, mommy, I forgive you."
my response was always, "yes mommy, I do love you. of course I do."
the stroke. some early morning in march, I get a call... it's not a surprise I had been trying to reach my mom through a busy signal for a few days. they were rushing her to the emergency room.
my mother was in the hospital in critical condition, and there we were (my sister and I) in her home. in her house without her in it. it felt weird, like she had died, like we were uninvited guests, like her ghost was everywhere. the place was so uncomfortable. looking for answers, trying to find my way I opened a drawer in her room and found an envelope, legal in size with a label from an attorney's office. it was her living will, her proxy and well...
the cover letter explicitly stated that I was evil, harmful, and that I would get nothing. she left everything to my sister and her ex-husband (my father) and a paultry trust for my son which he would get when he turned 23. nothing. her last words to me, embroiled on a page, spiteful, scathing, spitting words that I can see running past my eyelids day after day. she had printed out copies of my blogs (including pages from this one), other things she had googled, such as pages from a novella I wrote as evidence that I was deserving of one thing.. her hatred of me. (she will probably add a copy of this entry as more proof)
despite the fact that I read this document that pronounced me disowned, I continued to care for her day after day in the hospital. she couldn't move, barely speak, communicate clearly. I knew, my job as her daughter, was to keep her in a state of comfort, to wipe her down, feed her food, do whatever she needed to grasp onto bits of dignity and get cared for. yes, her will that explicity said I'm this horrible child existed, but my unconditional love for her prevailed. it still does.
I went to see my mother today, I brought her sumptious bagles and smoked fish, flowers, cleaned parts of her house, did errands. over coffee, we shared personal feelings and I let her know things that I felt were important. we spoke of her relationship to my son, the challenges I face as a single parent, and in that moment, I felt her mommy'ness. she was listening. we tackled a big job of cleaning up her jewelry drawer. I lovingly took apart the boxes of chains, trinkets, baubles and such and organized them in a way that made is easy for her to find the things she can still put on by herself. she gave me things, chunky earings, charm bracelets... much to my surprise. at the end of the organization, I offered to move the jewelry box so that it would be easier for her to reach, and moved a stack of neatly piled tank tops. in that instant, her face grimmaced, she shook and screamed... her emotional state automatically turned from calm and happy to this evil scary yelling mess. she couldn't handle it, I had made an unauthorized change in her wardrobe. while I assured her that I would make the pile perfect on the new shelf, it was too late.. she lost it.
screaming at me, calling me horrific insults, slurring and getting physical... the feelings that are all too familiar began to arise.
normally, I'd fight back, slam the box down on the ground, slam a door, yell back... but this time... I didn't!
mindfully, I completed the task of making her shelves neat as she raved besides me. I watched her, looked into her eyes and practiced metta, compassion and equinimity. I spoke back calmly. once the things were nicely arranged, I contined this state of mindfulness. I could feel the feelings, but I had the strength not to react. I didn't need to, it wouldn't change the fact that my mother is sick. not just physically sick, but mentally. it's not just brain dammage she endured, she is mentally ill.
my mother suffers from deep depression, mental illness, something I never understood before. I learned this while she was in the hospital. of course, to an outsider, this may have always been obvious. to me, I just saw a mother who hates me. I don't think she does, it's more that she is living in such a dark place, she can't be the mother I want, the one I deserved but never got.
you would think while hearing her scream horrific things about my hideious looks, my zoftic size, my lack of intelligence, what a horrible mother I am, and countless other things that roll so easily off her vitriolic tongue that I would react. well, a different version of me would.
because I now have the knowledge that she's sick, I am able to understand that she's in too much pain to know any better. she thinks it is ok to be this way, because that's all she knows. she's never gotten treatment, or therapy or taken any steps to get better. there's medication, a pile of drugs that are and are not prescribed, but this isn't the way out. sadly, I just see her deteriorating emotionally more and more, her illness engulfing her every fiber.
as my mother was physically pushing me out the door and yelling at me, in the way she usually does, I had an awakening... I didn't have to react. I didn't have to let it in. as I walked out ... calmly, I said, "I forgive you, mommy, I forgive you."
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
begin the begin
so I spent the day fully aware that I publicly declared that I'm taking the Real Happiness 28 day challenge... there were times throughout the day that I'd say to myself, "ok, I'm gonna sit for 10 minutes at 11am" and at two different points I pulled my chair back from my desk declaring, "ok, now I'm going to sit" only to get sucked back into my work vortex.
all day, I knew, I had to sit, come on, I got the book, I told all these people, I've been tweeting it and posting it... I had to sit.
after putting my son to bed, I put my cushion on the floor, turned off all the lights and ... I did it. for the first time in months, I put my butt on my cushion, and sat.
it was so nice. I gave myself permission to let go and just breathe... what a gift, to just be.
like Sharon Salzberg said, I can begin anytime. this isn't remedial practice, it is the practice. NOT PRACTICING WAS PART OF MY PRACTICE!!! what an awakening, to discover that I can come back anytime. well, to realize I never went anywhere. I'm just in my life, and tonight, I gave myself permission to pause.
I can start again at anytime. not just with meditation, with anything. with things that are healthy and nurturing just as easily as with the decisions which are detrimental, that lead me to pain.
I deserve the dharma just as much as any other human on this planet. this may be a mundane, yet adorable statement, but the truth is.... I felt abandoned, and undeserving of my spirituality. and tonight, I turned a corner, well, I didn't do much, I just .... sat the frack down... and gave myself 30 minutes of being still and just being.
Day #1. I sat.
all day, I knew, I had to sit, come on, I got the book, I told all these people, I've been tweeting it and posting it... I had to sit.
after putting my son to bed, I put my cushion on the floor, turned off all the lights and ... I did it. for the first time in months, I put my butt on my cushion, and sat.
it was so nice. I gave myself permission to let go and just breathe... what a gift, to just be.
like Sharon Salzberg said, I can begin anytime. this isn't remedial practice, it is the practice. NOT PRACTICING WAS PART OF MY PRACTICE!!! what an awakening, to discover that I can come back anytime. well, to realize I never went anywhere. I'm just in my life, and tonight, I gave myself permission to pause.
I can start again at anytime. not just with meditation, with anything. with things that are healthy and nurturing just as easily as with the decisions which are detrimental, that lead me to pain.
I deserve the dharma just as much as any other human on this planet. this may be a mundane, yet adorable statement, but the truth is.... I felt abandoned, and undeserving of my spirituality. and tonight, I turned a corner, well, I didn't do much, I just .... sat the frack down... and gave myself 30 minutes of being still and just being.
Day #1. I sat.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
crazy sexy Elissa Jane
about six months ago, I had the opportunity to meet Kris Carr at her office here in Woodstock. I left with a handful of stuff, books, DVDs more books. the Crazy Sexy stack of stuff moved around my room starting with my nightstand next to my bed, to a chair at the food of the bed and eventually, to the big book shelf out in the living room with my stacks of other books.
and when I put them on on that big book shelf.... I decided I'd just leave them there.
since my last very sad post on this blog, I've spiraled down further... letting go of and losing my spirituality, quitting the gym, freezing the yoga.... three months of choosing NOT to take care of myself anymore. I felt that if 'he' wouldn't love me, I wasn't worth loving. I called myself a sham, and wanted out of my dharma practice because I felt I was unworthy.
in these past three months, I quit on myself. a turning point came last week. I wrote about it in my Death Becomes Her blog.
this past weekend, I happened upon my Crazy Sexy Diet book. OMG, did Elissa Jane say Diet? Oh hell no, I didn't. I dusted it off and began turning pages. The next day, I took myself to the Emerson Spa for a day of me, detoxing, getting rubbed and primped and scrubbed. I napped in that yummy spa robe in the sun on the deck. It was all about me. and the day after that, it began.
I got my first juicer. shoving veggies into it brought me such joy. so I'm doing this thing, yeah, a diet thing. it's kind of cool because I'm not really thinking of it as a diet but as a chance to re-worship ME. my morning elixers are delicious gifts from the green goddess. I'm caring for myself from the inside out. the Zman was downing doughnuts next to me and all I could think about was kale chips from my own oven. a continental shift in my thinking has taken place.
I'm mindful of EVERYTHING for the first time in a long time and that mindfulness includes... what I'm eating because I have decided to Love ME again.
the scale doesn't lie, I gained over 15lbs this past summer. there is a physical indicator of how much I hated on me for the choices and changes I tried to make and failed at. but I'm not a failure.... I'm a freaking Rock Star! so I'm going to treat myself like one all over again.
perhaps this sort of goddess self-worship journey has to have curves and downturns, otherwise, there's no way to commend myself for the work it takes to be loving and fabulous to myself.
I hit the meditation cushion for the first time in so long. I'm not beating myself up, but noticing how unstill my mind has become without training. instead of getting frustrated, I remind myself that I'm like a newbie all over again. practice is for me to practice being still, again.
I had no idea I could be so perky in the morning without coffee. this kale greenie juice thing gives me a lot of inspiration, it tastes so good and feels so amazing as the juice is making contact with the insides of me. don't worry, I'm NOT fasting, I'm back to clean vegan eating, lots of local fruits and veggies to enjoy.
Juice joyful combo of the day:
Bit O Ginger
6 Local Kale Stalks
Handful of Local Blackberries
1 Local Beet
1 Green Local Apple
1 Cucumber
1/2 Lemon Juice
Well, it's officially the end of Day 3. Tomorrow, I wake up and continue on the journey of me.
and when I put them on on that big book shelf.... I decided I'd just leave them there.
since my last very sad post on this blog, I've spiraled down further... letting go of and losing my spirituality, quitting the gym, freezing the yoga.... three months of choosing NOT to take care of myself anymore. I felt that if 'he' wouldn't love me, I wasn't worth loving. I called myself a sham, and wanted out of my dharma practice because I felt I was unworthy.
in these past three months, I quit on myself. a turning point came last week. I wrote about it in my Death Becomes Her blog.
this past weekend, I happened upon my Crazy Sexy Diet book. OMG, did Elissa Jane say Diet? Oh hell no, I didn't. I dusted it off and began turning pages. The next day, I took myself to the Emerson Spa for a day of me, detoxing, getting rubbed and primped and scrubbed. I napped in that yummy spa robe in the sun on the deck. It was all about me. and the day after that, it began.
I got my first juicer. shoving veggies into it brought me such joy. so I'm doing this thing, yeah, a diet thing. it's kind of cool because I'm not really thinking of it as a diet but as a chance to re-worship ME. my morning elixers are delicious gifts from the green goddess. I'm caring for myself from the inside out. the Zman was downing doughnuts next to me and all I could think about was kale chips from my own oven. a continental shift in my thinking has taken place.
I'm mindful of EVERYTHING for the first time in a long time and that mindfulness includes... what I'm eating because I have decided to Love ME again.
the scale doesn't lie, I gained over 15lbs this past summer. there is a physical indicator of how much I hated on me for the choices and changes I tried to make and failed at. but I'm not a failure.... I'm a freaking Rock Star! so I'm going to treat myself like one all over again.
perhaps this sort of goddess self-worship journey has to have curves and downturns, otherwise, there's no way to commend myself for the work it takes to be loving and fabulous to myself.
I hit the meditation cushion for the first time in so long. I'm not beating myself up, but noticing how unstill my mind has become without training. instead of getting frustrated, I remind myself that I'm like a newbie all over again. practice is for me to practice being still, again.
I had no idea I could be so perky in the morning without coffee. this kale greenie juice thing gives me a lot of inspiration, it tastes so good and feels so amazing as the juice is making contact with the insides of me. don't worry, I'm NOT fasting, I'm back to clean vegan eating, lots of local fruits and veggies to enjoy.
Juice joyful combo of the day:
Bit O Ginger
6 Local Kale Stalks
Handful of Local Blackberries
1 Local Beet
1 Green Local Apple
1 Cucumber
1/2 Lemon Juice
Well, it's officially the end of Day 3. Tomorrow, I wake up and continue on the journey of me.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
broken
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
things I gained... equanimity, community, peace, joy, gratitude... broken ... all so quickly. I blame no one but me. every choice for every situation I put myself in lead me to this moment.
my physical health is suffering greatly, and I know this is related to the emotional pain. I'm not taking good care of me. over the past week, I've developed kidney stones. this isn't something new. the pain is so severe that the best way to explain it, "I'd rather give birth to 5 10lb babies again and again than pass another kidney stone in my lifetime."
the medicine... pain killers and some other medications. I have not taken them as prescribed, instead, I only took them if the pain was acute to avoid abusing the meditations. yesterday, I had to take more than I wanted to, and in tandem with the other medication, my head went crazy. I lost my sober clear mind to feeling as though I couldn't feel anything physically. my mental capacity is another story. it was like being really fucked up without being high. in a way, the experience was very reminiscent of coming down off of a weekend long coke binge. big depression, huge crash.
for a good chunk of time, whirling in my physical, emotional and drug induced agony, I convinced myself that I had broken my sobriety. that my surrender to say that I needed pain medication was a sign of weakness and relapse.
I cried and sobbed, everything was just awful. and then something came that I didn't expect. as I felt as though I had ended my 1207 days of clean time in a whirlwind of discomfort.... an unexpected sigh of relief came. sigh, finally, it is over. I can be normal now.
I wanted to talk about it, but the emotions were so extensive, I didn't know how. relief came with the idea that I had made it this far and that I could stop working so hard and feeling so much day after day. I was off the hook. I could smoke a bowl and drink a glass of wine like everyone else. for 26 years I didn't have a clue what emotions were. up until I got clean, I assumed I might actually be one of those sociopaths, because I was so passionately cool and ambivelent about things people seemed to think I needed to react differently towards. men considered me cold, Ice Queen was a nick name I relished.
last night, after leaving the office, walking down the street, sunglasses on, playing my iPod, sucking in Lafayette where I have walked countless times at countless hours for countless reasons, moving slowly towards the subway ..... the rush came, I was overcome by the realization that it was official, I had been anhilated by life and fully broken.
I know my experience was exacerbated by a combination of sort of involuntary ingestion of medicine I took to help me get past excrutiating physical pain.
in the process of spiraling to the ultimate emotional low, I came to some strong realizations. it has occurred to me that in the path of poor choices I have been making... I have morphed into someone else. for the first time in my life, I stopped being strong and let go of all my armor. I introduced a vulnerable and honest me to another human being, and in a short time I got very hurt. the scary thing is, the person I was turning into was someone I do not like. I loathed watching myself become attached to impossible outcomes and hopeful for a life that was never going to be. My self-control and self respect disintegrated around me, and I compromised myself with the hopes that I could trust someone, and failed miserably at being the true Elissa Jane.
it is sad that it took days of excruciating physical pain combined with the heinous effects of Vicodin consumption to realize that the only way to stop hating myself was to end a relationship I thought would never end.
my heart breaks... and breaks... and breaks. but in reality, the only way I can get myself back is to stay as far away from the person for whom I was so willing to change and change and change.
I tried desperately to please and impress this other person so that I could be appealing to the needs of someone else. every intention I had was to get attention, which I was losing with each and ever moment I was turning into this repugnant needy girl. in the end, I only continued to torture myself more and more to the point that I do not recognize me anymore. where did I go? what happened to the cool, independent, balanced, serene me I worked so hard to become over such a long diligent period of time? it was almost instantaneous that I crumbled over a feeling of daily rejection and perpetual heartbreak for what was not going to happen.
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
and I'm in worse shape than I ever was. where did I go wrong? I can answer that, it just seems like a good moment to post the rhetorical obvious. in the past few months, I've cried more than I did when my dog died. I mourned more loss than when my marriage ended. how did I come to believe so strongly that I had found 'the one' only to discover that I was so incredibly wrong?
technically, according to my friends and support network, I'm still sober. my sobriety has not yet been compromised. while I did get fucked up from drugs, it was not the kind of use that will end my day count.
tonight I sat in the room where I normally facilitate my weekly dharma punx group, and announced that it is time for me to resign. if I am giving up on myself, how can I continue to be in service to anyone else?
when I died a year ago, I had one regret, that I never had the chance to fall in love before the end. well, I almost fully fell, wrongly, deeply, wrongly and now I cannot see... with the big life I have ahead, how I'll ever be able to be open hearted with anyone ever again. visceral connections for aliens like me are almost impossible to come by. I suppose I should be grateful that in this ocean of existence a few of the drops of time included little moments where I felt a 'connection', no matter how slight and immeasurable, at least I know that maybe it is possible. perhaps my next lifetime. oh look, I think I just expelled a hint of gratitude. maybe there's hope for me after all. I don't think I have another 42 years in me to wait for the next one. sigh.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
things I gained... equanimity, community, peace, joy, gratitude... broken ... all so quickly. I blame no one but me. every choice for every situation I put myself in lead me to this moment.
my physical health is suffering greatly, and I know this is related to the emotional pain. I'm not taking good care of me. over the past week, I've developed kidney stones. this isn't something new. the pain is so severe that the best way to explain it, "I'd rather give birth to 5 10lb babies again and again than pass another kidney stone in my lifetime."
the medicine... pain killers and some other medications. I have not taken them as prescribed, instead, I only took them if the pain was acute to avoid abusing the meditations. yesterday, I had to take more than I wanted to, and in tandem with the other medication, my head went crazy. I lost my sober clear mind to feeling as though I couldn't feel anything physically. my mental capacity is another story. it was like being really fucked up without being high. in a way, the experience was very reminiscent of coming down off of a weekend long coke binge. big depression, huge crash.
for a good chunk of time, whirling in my physical, emotional and drug induced agony, I convinced myself that I had broken my sobriety. that my surrender to say that I needed pain medication was a sign of weakness and relapse.
I cried and sobbed, everything was just awful. and then something came that I didn't expect. as I felt as though I had ended my 1207 days of clean time in a whirlwind of discomfort.... an unexpected sigh of relief came. sigh, finally, it is over. I can be normal now.
I wanted to talk about it, but the emotions were so extensive, I didn't know how. relief came with the idea that I had made it this far and that I could stop working so hard and feeling so much day after day. I was off the hook. I could smoke a bowl and drink a glass of wine like everyone else. for 26 years I didn't have a clue what emotions were. up until I got clean, I assumed I might actually be one of those sociopaths, because I was so passionately cool and ambivelent about things people seemed to think I needed to react differently towards. men considered me cold, Ice Queen was a nick name I relished.
last night, after leaving the office, walking down the street, sunglasses on, playing my iPod, sucking in Lafayette where I have walked countless times at countless hours for countless reasons, moving slowly towards the subway ..... the rush came, I was overcome by the realization that it was official, I had been anhilated by life and fully broken.
I know my experience was exacerbated by a combination of sort of involuntary ingestion of medicine I took to help me get past excrutiating physical pain.
in the process of spiraling to the ultimate emotional low, I came to some strong realizations. it has occurred to me that in the path of poor choices I have been making... I have morphed into someone else. for the first time in my life, I stopped being strong and let go of all my armor. I introduced a vulnerable and honest me to another human being, and in a short time I got very hurt. the scary thing is, the person I was turning into was someone I do not like. I loathed watching myself become attached to impossible outcomes and hopeful for a life that was never going to be. My self-control and self respect disintegrated around me, and I compromised myself with the hopes that I could trust someone, and failed miserably at being the true Elissa Jane.
it is sad that it took days of excruciating physical pain combined with the heinous effects of Vicodin consumption to realize that the only way to stop hating myself was to end a relationship I thought would never end.
my heart breaks... and breaks... and breaks. but in reality, the only way I can get myself back is to stay as far away from the person for whom I was so willing to change and change and change.
I tried desperately to please and impress this other person so that I could be appealing to the needs of someone else. every intention I had was to get attention, which I was losing with each and ever moment I was turning into this repugnant needy girl. in the end, I only continued to torture myself more and more to the point that I do not recognize me anymore. where did I go? what happened to the cool, independent, balanced, serene me I worked so hard to become over such a long diligent period of time? it was almost instantaneous that I crumbled over a feeling of daily rejection and perpetual heartbreak for what was not going to happen.
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
and I'm in worse shape than I ever was. where did I go wrong? I can answer that, it just seems like a good moment to post the rhetorical obvious. in the past few months, I've cried more than I did when my dog died. I mourned more loss than when my marriage ended. how did I come to believe so strongly that I had found 'the one' only to discover that I was so incredibly wrong?
technically, according to my friends and support network, I'm still sober. my sobriety has not yet been compromised. while I did get fucked up from drugs, it was not the kind of use that will end my day count.
tonight I sat in the room where I normally facilitate my weekly dharma punx group, and announced that it is time for me to resign. if I am giving up on myself, how can I continue to be in service to anyone else?
when I died a year ago, I had one regret, that I never had the chance to fall in love before the end. well, I almost fully fell, wrongly, deeply, wrongly and now I cannot see... with the big life I have ahead, how I'll ever be able to be open hearted with anyone ever again. visceral connections for aliens like me are almost impossible to come by. I suppose I should be grateful that in this ocean of existence a few of the drops of time included little moments where I felt a 'connection', no matter how slight and immeasurable, at least I know that maybe it is possible. perhaps my next lifetime. oh look, I think I just expelled a hint of gratitude. maybe there's hope for me after all. I don't think I have another 42 years in me to wait for the next one. sigh.
Monday, May 16, 2011
everything happens for a reason
Over the course of this past weekend, I had several conversations that seemed to lead me back to one of my least favorite phrases, "Everything happens for a reason." Man I hate that expression. Really, everything? I think if you're evolved enough, you can easily find lessons in EVERYTHING that happens in life.
I do believe that events happen as a combination of fate and free-will. While I don't believe that there is a puppet master pulling strings trying to guide our experiences, I do recognize the intricate web all of our karma creates weaving experiences together in what feels something like fate.
Many people say that we come together with other people for a reason, that there is a destiny that can justify how people meet. I wish I could believe that the people in my life have placement in my world because of this romantic notion that we were meant to meet. Unfortunately, I just can't fully get on board with the idea that each and every person in my life has an intrinsic purpose and a part to play and that it was pre-destined that we'd meet.
None the less... I took a good look at the people in my life this weekend... going back in time, wandering the streets of the neighborhoods where I lived, worked, made impressions and created connections with hosts of people, wandering by old apartments, bars I drank in, shops I shopped in, places I rolled my son in his stroller, my old Urban Monster store front and the vacant space where our favorite coffee once was... I could see details that continue to remain a constant and the changes. I was able to identify how I have made a mark on people in a time line that makes up my life with the symbolism of architectural details which remain and the things that were new and different.
Soaking in nostalgic feelings of a lifetime behind me and seeing old friends with whom I shared a sense of community at one point highlighted snapshots of a lifetime's journey behind me. I have met so many people in my almost forty-two years of life. At different points, many of them have had a purpose for why they entered my life. Each of them connects me and anchors me to humanity in someway or another. In the mix of people I saw over the weekend... there were people I am close to, people I used to be close to, and some people with whom I am no longer friends. Time changes, and each of these people have taught me something, even if the thing they presented me was merely that feeling of community and human connection. There's something really great as an alien like freak to have that feeling of being able to connect with someone else on any level.
One thing I'm super grateful for right now are the people with whom I am closest to right now. I have a small circle of friends in my life right now with whom I'd say I have deep connections with. Everyone in my life right at this moment has a purpose, because the people in my life today mirror a more authentic version of myself than I've ever portrayed before. As I continue to evolve and grow, I'm attracting new people into my life who provide me with a new sense of connection and deeper level of understanding and support.
You see, it isn't the universe or a puppeteer who brings this love into my life... it is me. My action, my change, my evolution isn't so different from the store fronts of Smith Street. There is change and there are constants, it won't stop the gentrification of the neighborhood. It may make some people sad to see a shop close... but it only makes room for something new to take it's place. And honestly, if you don't like it, you can do like I did, and MOVE up and out all together.
I do believe that events happen as a combination of fate and free-will. While I don't believe that there is a puppet master pulling strings trying to guide our experiences, I do recognize the intricate web all of our karma creates weaving experiences together in what feels something like fate.
Many people say that we come together with other people for a reason, that there is a destiny that can justify how people meet. I wish I could believe that the people in my life have placement in my world because of this romantic notion that we were meant to meet. Unfortunately, I just can't fully get on board with the idea that each and every person in my life has an intrinsic purpose and a part to play and that it was pre-destined that we'd meet.
None the less... I took a good look at the people in my life this weekend... going back in time, wandering the streets of the neighborhoods where I lived, worked, made impressions and created connections with hosts of people, wandering by old apartments, bars I drank in, shops I shopped in, places I rolled my son in his stroller, my old Urban Monster store front and the vacant space where our favorite coffee once was... I could see details that continue to remain a constant and the changes. I was able to identify how I have made a mark on people in a time line that makes up my life with the symbolism of architectural details which remain and the things that were new and different.
Soaking in nostalgic feelings of a lifetime behind me and seeing old friends with whom I shared a sense of community at one point highlighted snapshots of a lifetime's journey behind me. I have met so many people in my almost forty-two years of life. At different points, many of them have had a purpose for why they entered my life. Each of them connects me and anchors me to humanity in someway or another. In the mix of people I saw over the weekend... there were people I am close to, people I used to be close to, and some people with whom I am no longer friends. Time changes, and each of these people have taught me something, even if the thing they presented me was merely that feeling of community and human connection. There's something really great as an alien like freak to have that feeling of being able to connect with someone else on any level.
One thing I'm super grateful for right now are the people with whom I am closest to right now. I have a small circle of friends in my life right now with whom I'd say I have deep connections with. Everyone in my life right at this moment has a purpose, because the people in my life today mirror a more authentic version of myself than I've ever portrayed before. As I continue to evolve and grow, I'm attracting new people into my life who provide me with a new sense of connection and deeper level of understanding and support.
You see, it isn't the universe or a puppeteer who brings this love into my life... it is me. My action, my change, my evolution isn't so different from the store fronts of Smith Street. There is change and there are constants, it won't stop the gentrification of the neighborhood. It may make some people sad to see a shop close... but it only makes room for something new to take it's place. And honestly, if you don't like it, you can do like I did, and MOVE up and out all together.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Rot Town Road Trip
What a difference a day makes... after a chaotic dramatic Sunday, I entered Monday... open to getting the eff out of dodge and driving an unbelievable five hours to facilitate a 1.5 hour Rochester Dharma Punx meeting. I wasn't sure what was going to ensue, what I would offer or what kind of service I could be to anyone else. My head and heart were battered and done in, my emotional equanimity all off quilter. When I'm not really in a good balanced place, I often feel like a bamboozling shamster, like those guys who used to sell the magic elixir tonics at the turn of the century. I know how to fix you, drink this!
I don't think I really evaluated the length of the drive before I planned on making the journey. It was quite the long venture.
Mind you, I actually LOVE being in my car for long periods of time, I talk on the phone, play my music loud and enjoy the people watching and of course, my love of driving fast is affectionately sated on 270 miles of never ending highway. I was looking forward to my drive time, but snags in the drama of the life I can't control through my co-pilot into the mix, Zbot ended up coming along for the ride. My much-anticipated five hours of alone time was now altered to be keeping the kiddo calm time. We argued over the music, had to stop all the times he had to pee, had to get him food at some MacDonald’s at a rest stop. This was not part of the plan. Nothing leading up to my adventure was part of the plan and let me tell you, life through me some wretched dramatic curve balls before I left for my Rot City adventure.
By the time I landed at the White Lotus Tibetan Buddhist center I was so incredulously emotionally and physically exhausted, I had the shakes. I was worried that I'd be that tonic selling con woman, with nothing authentic to offer. I had rehearsed parts of my dharma talk in my head in the car in between Zbot's ramblings and debates over iPod music selection. I felt like a lower percentage of whole myself, about to present the dharma to a group of strangers who most likely had some expectations about me.
Upon arrival in Rochester, we got a quick bite, which I was very excited about. Instead I spent most of the meal begging my son to eat the quesadilla generously given to him, which was draining on my wanting to devote my attention to my hosts. He was defiant, as he is so very good at. I felt last shreds of my spiritual groovy capabilities slipping from me. .... and I HAD TO PEE! The restaurant wouldn't offer me the use of their bathroom, and I seriously felt my teeth floating the entire meal.
It was time to begin the meeting. I had all sorts of things with me, readings, my cushion, my phone that I use as a timer to arrange. Desperately, I really needed to find a bathroom. I felt like I'd never find that settling space I'm so attached to so that I can do my soft shoe. On top of the hustle to be ready for the meeting, I had my son whimpering about the computer not working and not being able to find his favorite game screaming, oh gads SCREAMING from the other room, "mommy ... mommy." Let me tell you, this shit combined with life's laywoman responsibilities is really fricking hard. I did manage to leave him behind with a stern tone, and nestled myself into my cushion hoping to find space from the stress of the journey and the day behind me.
That is when I quietly took a breath, and another one, and another one, I forced a smile upon my face which gradually went from fixed to authentic as I opened myself to the room, the new faces, the energy of the space and the decor and the Buddhas. In the way I instruct so many others, I set an intention to be of service and my intention was to be in service to EVERYONE who was in that room. That is when the release came. I was relieved of my chaos the moment I set an intention to care for others. When I let go of my needs and self-interest, I became abundantly present and even excited for the moments that would follow.
Like magic, my overall well-being shifted when I made the moment about a bunch of somebody else’s and got over the 'Me Me Me'.
The meeting was amazing, for me. I loved being able to share my take on the dharma, my understanding of the story and the history and my passion for practice. I tuned in to each and every person and brought in his or her ideas. I abandoned the talk I rehearsed from days before, to the night before and on my way in the car for hours and hours. The discussion was about what the group chose and I was neutral about changing everything up for the conscious of the group experience. The meeting went an hour longer than usual. People took turns and shared honestly.
What I was reminded was that there is a reason I've been working so hard at this stuff. I do have a purpose in this community, there is sangha for me wherever I go. I do have something beautiful to offer even in my darker times, all I have to do is turn my attention outward toward the betterment of others and the love of people besides myself. All the craving and dissatisfaction I had arrived with had become irrelevant.
I drove home a different person because I've re-focused my effort towards the connection I have with others. My priorities are not on what I'm not getting in my life ... I'm putting my energy towards being in service and sharing what I can to help others combat their suffering. I have two new sponsees in the Buddhist recovery scene as of today. I'm elated to be working one on one with people who want what I have. Wow, what a concept. People actually want what I have? If only they know all the other stuff I endure... hah hah... well, I am only a mere mortal human, just like everyone else.
I don't think I really evaluated the length of the drive before I planned on making the journey. It was quite the long venture.
Mind you, I actually LOVE being in my car for long periods of time, I talk on the phone, play my music loud and enjoy the people watching and of course, my love of driving fast is affectionately sated on 270 miles of never ending highway. I was looking forward to my drive time, but snags in the drama of the life I can't control through my co-pilot into the mix, Zbot ended up coming along for the ride. My much-anticipated five hours of alone time was now altered to be keeping the kiddo calm time. We argued over the music, had to stop all the times he had to pee, had to get him food at some MacDonald’s at a rest stop. This was not part of the plan. Nothing leading up to my adventure was part of the plan and let me tell you, life through me some wretched dramatic curve balls before I left for my Rot City adventure.
By the time I landed at the White Lotus Tibetan Buddhist center I was so incredulously emotionally and physically exhausted, I had the shakes. I was worried that I'd be that tonic selling con woman, with nothing authentic to offer. I had rehearsed parts of my dharma talk in my head in the car in between Zbot's ramblings and debates over iPod music selection. I felt like a lower percentage of whole myself, about to present the dharma to a group of strangers who most likely had some expectations about me.
Upon arrival in Rochester, we got a quick bite, which I was very excited about. Instead I spent most of the meal begging my son to eat the quesadilla generously given to him, which was draining on my wanting to devote my attention to my hosts. He was defiant, as he is so very good at. I felt last shreds of my spiritual groovy capabilities slipping from me. .... and I HAD TO PEE! The restaurant wouldn't offer me the use of their bathroom, and I seriously felt my teeth floating the entire meal.
It was time to begin the meeting. I had all sorts of things with me, readings, my cushion, my phone that I use as a timer to arrange. Desperately, I really needed to find a bathroom. I felt like I'd never find that settling space I'm so attached to so that I can do my soft shoe. On top of the hustle to be ready for the meeting, I had my son whimpering about the computer not working and not being able to find his favorite game screaming, oh gads SCREAMING from the other room, "mommy ... mommy." Let me tell you, this shit combined with life's laywoman responsibilities is really fricking hard. I did manage to leave him behind with a stern tone, and nestled myself into my cushion hoping to find space from the stress of the journey and the day behind me.
That is when I quietly took a breath, and another one, and another one, I forced a smile upon my face which gradually went from fixed to authentic as I opened myself to the room, the new faces, the energy of the space and the decor and the Buddhas. In the way I instruct so many others, I set an intention to be of service and my intention was to be in service to EVERYONE who was in that room. That is when the release came. I was relieved of my chaos the moment I set an intention to care for others. When I let go of my needs and self-interest, I became abundantly present and even excited for the moments that would follow.
Like magic, my overall well-being shifted when I made the moment about a bunch of somebody else’s and got over the 'Me Me Me'.
The meeting was amazing, for me. I loved being able to share my take on the dharma, my understanding of the story and the history and my passion for practice. I tuned in to each and every person and brought in his or her ideas. I abandoned the talk I rehearsed from days before, to the night before and on my way in the car for hours and hours. The discussion was about what the group chose and I was neutral about changing everything up for the conscious of the group experience. The meeting went an hour longer than usual. People took turns and shared honestly.
What I was reminded was that there is a reason I've been working so hard at this stuff. I do have a purpose in this community, there is sangha for me wherever I go. I do have something beautiful to offer even in my darker times, all I have to do is turn my attention outward toward the betterment of others and the love of people besides myself. All the craving and dissatisfaction I had arrived with had become irrelevant.
I drove home a different person because I've re-focused my effort towards the connection I have with others. My priorities are not on what I'm not getting in my life ... I'm putting my energy towards being in service and sharing what I can to help others combat their suffering. I have two new sponsees in the Buddhist recovery scene as of today. I'm elated to be working one on one with people who want what I have. Wow, what a concept. People actually want what I have? If only they know all the other stuff I endure... hah hah... well, I am only a mere mortal human, just like everyone else.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Goats Ate My Mala Beads
I was in Los Angeles, just finishing my fourth weekend of Dharma Punx Facilitator Training. I was on a bit of a high, excited about everything that was to come. The weekend was spiritually fruitful and educationally productive. I learned a great deal from my peers and teacher, and had the connection and feeling that things were really gelling.
When I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, and my fellow trainees asked the proverbial opener, "how are you?" I honestly answered with... "I'm feeling an equanimity I've never quite felt before. Highs and lows, but I'm just rolling with it."
On Monday, June 21st, while sitting in an Internet Cafe in Venice, after being WiFi-less for so many days, I logged in and began my usual work routine, updating, writing, crafting, sending, doing, clearing... preparing for the workload I had on my plate.
But .... things weren't as they seemed moments before. Some bad news, a surprise lost client, some more bad news.... a dark cloud was growing on my computer screen. All this stuff was coming at once. My phone was blowing up, my texts screen bleeping, my emails parading in... all with different shades of bad I had no control over.
I sat there, far from home, very far from home, scrambling while sipping a $4 Organic Hibiscus Mango Ginger Iced Tea I suddenly couldn't afford. How the fuck was I going to get home? And would my EZ Pass go through when I try to get my car out of the JFK Lot. Will I have enough for gas to get home? And when I get home, can we eat?
FRACK!
I scrambled, updating my resume and posting ads on CL for jobs cleaning houses, painting houses, babysitting and spanking men for money. Anything I could think of that I could do, phone sex, laundry, admin assistant. Panicking in this state, trying to be mindful. Over and over I kept saying, "Just for today, you're in an Internet Cafe with an overpriced Iced Tea and you're alive and breathing."
I made it home. My car did start. My car got out of the lot. I got my son. I drove upstate. I didn't pass go or collect $200.
Zman went to school the next morning and I opened up Craigslist Help Wanted Ads... and then I found an ad that surprised me. It was an ad for an Admin Asst at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. I figured, if I did any kind of work for a nice non-profit, I would be blessed, and lucky. Right livelyhood. I looked at the ad, with a feeling like, this would be nice. This would be so much better than doing sales for Cumulus. So, I sent my resume, with a nice note and took a chance.
The next day ... I found out... they wanted me, and the day after that it was for a job they hadn't posted yet. They needed me, and I really really needed them.
I had this feeling, that this was where I needed to go, and where I need to be.
On my second day working on the Farm, I got to meet a herd of 21 newly rescued goats. I'd never met so many goats at once, in fact how many goats have I really met anyway? As we went in, treats in hand, it was fun to feed them and meet them. They were gentle loving and friendly.
One in particular stole my heart. His name is Atlas. He's 'broken', yes, crippled for life due to improper care and neglect. He laid in pain on the ground as two women gently held him and nurtured him. The Vet came to make an effort to relieve him of his pain, and his outlook seemed not very optimistic. The collaborative goal by all was to love him and give him the most comfortable life he can have.
I took photos and shot videos. I was nervous, and shy. Then, in an effort to keep the herd away from Atlas during his doctor visit, I lured the other goats away with some goat food. Now I don't know anything about goats. They have cute floppy ears, seem pretty docile and don't mind when you pet them. As they gathered around me, scarfing up food out of my hands, the biggest greediest fellow Arthur bit and ate the mala beads right off my wrist.
I giggled and laughed, "the Goats ate my Mala Beads!"
To wit, Abbie the Animal Care Director responded, "Yeah, that's Goats for you."
Silly city girl I am, in my skirt and adornments, what was I thinking? That's right, I don't know what I'm doing, and I certainly didn't know anything about what hungry little cuties the goats are.
I guess these newly rescued four-legged friends needed a little enlightenment. My service to them, Naaaaaaaahmaste Goats! (sheepish, I know** thank you Chris Bick for this one)
I visit Atlas in his stall in the barn pretty regularly. The other day, I actually saw Atlas standing, taking steps, and moving around his stall. He smiles when I see him, and nuzzles for love. Yeah, I'm falling for the goats. Who knew that this city chick could feel such affection for a creature who seemed so alien to her 10 days ago. But here I am, falling in love with goats. I'm learning what loving creatures they are, that they have emotions and feelings and like us... even when they are suffering, they can smile when they are loved.
Emotionally, I'm far from out of the woods. I still have a lot of stuff that came up last month to tend to, and fear about being able to tackle it all. I've been humbled by the humans and the animals in my life, big and small, two and four legged. I am experiencing a new growth spurt emotionally, and am afraid and excited to get to go through it at the farm.
The equanimity I was able to live in just a month ago, seems impossible to grasp at again. How was I able to maintain that Buddha like chillness for months and months, and lose it so quickly in an avalanche of new reasons to suffer. My spiritual journey is in its infancy. I must remind myself of this over and over.
Everything is impermanent. EVERYTHING. This knowledge is freeing and crippling. But like Atlas, I too can be open to love, and allow others to help me heal. This new adventure is going to teach me something new, and is demanding that I learn to soften in work in the same way I've learned to be gentle and compassionate in my life. If I am to extend the journey, I will need to be about Metta, and be in a place of love for all living beings and walk the spiritual walk at work. I may not end up perfect, but I can end up in a much better place than where I was before when I began the journey.
When I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, and my fellow trainees asked the proverbial opener, "how are you?" I honestly answered with... "I'm feeling an equanimity I've never quite felt before. Highs and lows, but I'm just rolling with it."
On Monday, June 21st, while sitting in an Internet Cafe in Venice, after being WiFi-less for so many days, I logged in and began my usual work routine, updating, writing, crafting, sending, doing, clearing... preparing for the workload I had on my plate.
But .... things weren't as they seemed moments before. Some bad news, a surprise lost client, some more bad news.... a dark cloud was growing on my computer screen. All this stuff was coming at once. My phone was blowing up, my texts screen bleeping, my emails parading in... all with different shades of bad I had no control over.
I sat there, far from home, very far from home, scrambling while sipping a $4 Organic Hibiscus Mango Ginger Iced Tea I suddenly couldn't afford. How the fuck was I going to get home? And would my EZ Pass go through when I try to get my car out of the JFK Lot. Will I have enough for gas to get home? And when I get home, can we eat?
FRACK!
I scrambled, updating my resume and posting ads on CL for jobs cleaning houses, painting houses, babysitting and spanking men for money. Anything I could think of that I could do, phone sex, laundry, admin assistant. Panicking in this state, trying to be mindful. Over and over I kept saying, "Just for today, you're in an Internet Cafe with an overpriced Iced Tea and you're alive and breathing."
I made it home. My car did start. My car got out of the lot. I got my son. I drove upstate. I didn't pass go or collect $200.
Zman went to school the next morning and I opened up Craigslist Help Wanted Ads... and then I found an ad that surprised me. It was an ad for an Admin Asst at Catskill Animal Sanctuary. I figured, if I did any kind of work for a nice non-profit, I would be blessed, and lucky. Right livelyhood. I looked at the ad, with a feeling like, this would be nice. This would be so much better than doing sales for Cumulus. So, I sent my resume, with a nice note and took a chance.
The next day ... I found out... they wanted me, and the day after that it was for a job they hadn't posted yet. They needed me, and I really really needed them.
I had this feeling, that this was where I needed to go, and where I need to be.
On my second day working on the Farm, I got to meet a herd of 21 newly rescued goats. I'd never met so many goats at once, in fact how many goats have I really met anyway? As we went in, treats in hand, it was fun to feed them and meet them. They were gentle loving and friendly.
One in particular stole my heart. His name is Atlas. He's 'broken', yes, crippled for life due to improper care and neglect. He laid in pain on the ground as two women gently held him and nurtured him. The Vet came to make an effort to relieve him of his pain, and his outlook seemed not very optimistic. The collaborative goal by all was to love him and give him the most comfortable life he can have.
I took photos and shot videos. I was nervous, and shy. Then, in an effort to keep the herd away from Atlas during his doctor visit, I lured the other goats away with some goat food. Now I don't know anything about goats. They have cute floppy ears, seem pretty docile and don't mind when you pet them. As they gathered around me, scarfing up food out of my hands, the biggest greediest fellow Arthur bit and ate the mala beads right off my wrist.
I giggled and laughed, "the Goats ate my Mala Beads!"
To wit, Abbie the Animal Care Director responded, "Yeah, that's Goats for you."
Silly city girl I am, in my skirt and adornments, what was I thinking? That's right, I don't know what I'm doing, and I certainly didn't know anything about what hungry little cuties the goats are.
I guess these newly rescued four-legged friends needed a little enlightenment. My service to them, Naaaaaaaahmaste Goats! (sheepish, I know** thank you Chris Bick for this one)
I visit Atlas in his stall in the barn pretty regularly. The other day, I actually saw Atlas standing, taking steps, and moving around his stall. He smiles when I see him, and nuzzles for love. Yeah, I'm falling for the goats. Who knew that this city chick could feel such affection for a creature who seemed so alien to her 10 days ago. But here I am, falling in love with goats. I'm learning what loving creatures they are, that they have emotions and feelings and like us... even when they are suffering, they can smile when they are loved.
Emotionally, I'm far from out of the woods. I still have a lot of stuff that came up last month to tend to, and fear about being able to tackle it all. I've been humbled by the humans and the animals in my life, big and small, two and four legged. I am experiencing a new growth spurt emotionally, and am afraid and excited to get to go through it at the farm.
The equanimity I was able to live in just a month ago, seems impossible to grasp at again. How was I able to maintain that Buddha like chillness for months and months, and lose it so quickly in an avalanche of new reasons to suffer. My spiritual journey is in its infancy. I must remind myself of this over and over.
Everything is impermanent. EVERYTHING. This knowledge is freeing and crippling. But like Atlas, I too can be open to love, and allow others to help me heal. This new adventure is going to teach me something new, and is demanding that I learn to soften in work in the same way I've learned to be gentle and compassionate in my life. If I am to extend the journey, I will need to be about Metta, and be in a place of love for all living beings and walk the spiritual walk at work. I may not end up perfect, but I can end up in a much better place than where I was before when I began the journey.
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