Just when I get accustomed to the harmony and flow of life, a curve ball smashes a dent in my figurative skull. Several. Big ones. Fast balls, see.
Last week, Orion, Hijo and I jetted off to LA for a mixed-bag adventure. On the menu, in a primary sense, was a visit with Zen, Orion’s younger brother – the one written about lovingly here, in reference to his battle with lymphoma. We stayed at his cute 50′s style cabana in Reseda, and it was my first in-person meeting with Zen and his really lovely wife. Out of the gate, I loved them both, energetically and in that what-a-cool-human sense. But because Zen is deep in the thick of his battle with cancer, there is such complexity brewing – every word, every emotion feels loaded and fragile. It was, admittedly, hard to talk to him. My issue – I wanted so much to wave a magic wand and feel his soul melt into life and his being feel light and happy again, instead of toxic and doomed. I had hoped to come in with some tools of assistance, but I felt an immediate barrier. Even still, the first night went really well. I gave Zen several gifts – one a juiced-up power object (tourmaline, the shaman’s stone) that has been sacred to me for some time now. Our dialogue was open and deep, and I felt so honored to have this immediate connection. But by the next morning, that dissipated. The reasons, in a relative sense, were twofold – 1) Zen was feeling like poo that morning, and ended up back at the hospital for most of the following day, and 2), Orion woke up in a seriously foul mood, which I then in turn allowed to sink me into a tough space as well. That would be the theme of the trip – Orion and I were nasty to each other at times, uncharacteristically so, and it kept throwing me for loop after loop after loop. Tears were shed one morning in the yard as we dissected these blow ups. I felt unheard, way too vulnerable, and fed up with the self-imposed lockdown on speaking my truth about our interactions. All gifts, but shit if that wasn’t a powder keg of a scenario. Looming around a beautiful soul who is facing his own mortality has a natural effect of asking me to do the same. I reveled in the lack of separateness – because while the ego really wanted to look with sympathy on Zen for his really challenging predicament, the truth is his story is my story, and I could not diminish our shared experience. I looked it him and felt what it was like to think you’re dying of cancer. I looked at him and wanted so badly to help him change his story, in part because I felt it as my own. But then the higher self would chime in, remind me of the perfection of his dance, how it is his path to awakening, if he chooses it, and the sympathy dissolved into the only thing that remained – unconditional love.
Even with this knowingness, I kept my distance from Zen the rest of the trip. My head surmised that was his wish, but in the nothing outside of self exists realm that I abide by, it was clearly my own. I’m still often not willing to call out the elephant in the room, and to really stare down the Very Big Topics. But I trust that it just wasn’t my place to intervene at this time. My desire to do so was simply egoic. I looked in Zen’s eyes and felt the barrier. A wall we both constructed. And I knew it wasn’t appropriate to try and blaze on through. So I watched from a distance, sometimes in tears, but always with my heart.
And in the meantime, during all this interplay, the snaps between Orion and myself were coming in spades. My head spun from the frequency and depth, and I wound up unraveling. Seemingly confused by the negative interchanges. By our very keen inability to communicate clearly. I tried to let it break my heart, but I kept getting self conscious about the surroundings – not my home, not my place to let it rip, in the presence of people facing huge life challenges. Who am I to come unglued because of spats with my partner?
We made our way home, and while things were peaceful on the surface, I was seething inside. Angry at myself for what was transpiring, and trying desperately not to project all this on Orion. By the time we were back in Vegas, it would seem the worst was over. But then a blowup came worse than all the rest of the week’s crisscrosses combined – mainly because I finally stepped up and spoke my peace, in a very non-peaceful way. I saw the charge rise up again in Orion, and had reached my capacity to try and process without kicking and screaming. I brought out the expletives and just unleashed. Not surprisingly, he didn’t take my projections well – and basically sent me away. Reached his capacity as well. So I did something I’ve never done before in our relationship – I left home, and checked into a hotel. I didn’t actually think I’d sleep there that evening, but the just in case thoughts prevailed, and all I really wanted was a safe haven to decompress inside. I had previously made my way to my old home, which is now inhabited by a super amazing friend and her equally amazing husband. I wasn’t sure if they had moved in yet, so I made my way to what I had hoped would be a private haven – then I saw their furnishings inside, and my heart just collapsed. This was the house I had bought – my first home purchase – thinking maybe I’d live there forever. Or at least a really long time. Now it was almost in foreclosure, claimed again by someone new. And this homeless girl allowed those emotions to just. . .rise to the surface. So after a good hour spent meditating in a nearby park, I checked in to a local hotel and pondered what might be next.
Orion and I ended up reconciling via phone shortly thereafter, and I made my way back to the new home which didn’t yet feel like home. As we discussed what had transpired, I suddenly heard myself speaking words I had silenced for sometime. They centered around my communication challenges with him, felt primarily whenever I hit that fragile emotional place. The truth is, the deeper I hurt, the more I feel rejected by the one I love (and, in turn, by my own self). When I’m clear, I know that Orion’s intent in those times is to fight back against my ego, to not let her run the show, and to not become condescending to the part of me that wants to believe this world is real. I get that he has the highest intentions. But none of me feels loved during this part of our dance, and it just came to a head in this particular conversation. I still don’t know what it all means. I heard myself tell him how devastating it is to feel danger when all I crave is love and warmth. At the same time, I’m grateful for the really harsh way he treats me in those moments, because it forces to get me clear on what’s really going on, and look inside for unconditional love, not out. So I’m not sure which part of me is really asking for him to be gentle with me. And I’m not sure it’s a sincere request. All I knew in that moment was – I have to tell him. I have to tell him how much it hurts me to see his anger, his robotic, cold cold reflection, when I’m in my deepest breakdowns.
Then came today’s Sangha – our weekly Sunday meetings with our Enlightened Master, Mac. Conversations always swarm around the absolute – about the true nature of reality. Today was a special day – sparsely populated, very direct, very focused. Orion is off flying to Shanghai, so I was the sole host. One participant, the Poet – named as such because *everything* he speaks is poetry – talked about the Buddhist notion of “entering the stream”. This is an act done by the individual who is willing to let down self – to enter the stream and be in the flow of life, not a driver. No identity at all. It isn’t enlightenment per say, but it is a stripping down – a willingness to be without ego. A proverbial gesture of nakedness and vulnerability. I buzzed as he relayed the notion, and willingly reentered the stream.
This day was magical. As the Sangha ticked on, all but three of us left. Guru Mac, Fire-Friend, and myself. Mac even gave me a foot rub today, as we went deep into the nature of emotions. I can’t even process how honored I feel to have had this experience. And through the interchange today. . .I am just now realizing. . .I got my answer.
Mac helped me categorize emotions in a sense – to understand that they spring forth from one of four scenarios.
1) Phobias – the stories our minds create around fears (example – I’m afraid of cockroaches and totally freak out when one is near)
2) Psychosis – illogical, emotional responses to things that don’t even exist (example – My life is a mess because my fear of cockroaches permeates my every day experience)
3) Neurosis – the externalization of illogical fears (exampled – I won’t go in that house because it might have a cockroach)
4) Real (in the relative sense) – emotions that spring up because of actual life events
The first three are tricks – tactics the mind employs to maintain control, and to keep a grip on the perceived sense of reality. The last one is the only logical place to let emotions run free. If your dad dies, let your heart break. If life is throwing you curve balls, let your emotional self feel whatever he / she needs to feel. But if your mind is creating emotions that do not reflect what you know to be true in your circumstances, do not be fooled.
So I bring this back to my week with Orion. I think in part our conflicts came from our inability to talk about what was really bothering us. We projected on each other, rather than talk about the heart of the matter. And my conversation with him regarding my apparent “needs” shows me the places in which I am not “in the stream”. I basically voiced to Orion that his way of being didn’t fit my script. I still say there’s real validity in needing to be treated with kid’s gloves on occasion, but *only* when than emotional need arises from real circumstances, not those created by my mind.
To put this in tangible terms:
What feels right, in the highest sense, is to feel safe and loved and nurtured when the shit hits the fan. If my brother is dying of lymphoma, if the whole fucking world is imploding, than yes, please, show me some mercy until the floods subside. But if I’m acting out from any of those phobic/psychotic/neurotic spaces, do not play my game.
It seems futile to dissect the past and analyze when Orion showed me that harshness and when he didn’t – I’m simply grateful for the clarity of where I stand emotionally. This is all centered in self-integrity. If I keep that in check at all times, then some part of me will know when the mind is playing an emotional game. In those moments, if Orion reacts with toxic glances and out-lashes, it shouldn’t matter – nothing is as it seems at those times, and it would just be the ego who wanted to be protected. That’s the rub, of course, because when I fall into the illusion, I do so because of my ego. She’s extraordinarily crafty, and she wants to be validated – and is bloody sick of my “you are not real” light of truth. But I feel like this is another big light in the realm of self-discovery – to insist that I be aware of the source of emotions. I trust that what transpires between my partner and I will follow suit, and will reflect back exactly what I need.
A big blog post for a very big week. Facing mortality, blowups with loved ones, footrubs from a guru. That this is my life makes me eternally grateful.
“Waiting on Sunday to drown. . .”
(Tori Amos)
Kitty,
You are an amazing teacher, vulnerability and humbleness is the true essense of helping others… and is very painful at times.