It’s amazing how this post from exactly five years ago is still relevant. It was in the middle of COVID, but the same issues remain.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about fairness, or rather its opposite. How it’s not fair that people we love die. Or that fascist leaders are calling the shots. Or that the world literally and figuratively burns so a few companies can increase their profits. It’s not fair.
If you’re anything like me, in response to, “It’s not fair,” someone invariably says, “Life isn’t fair,” as if that makes the situation better. The inherent message behind “life isn’t fair” is “deal with it.” But what if I don’t want to deal with it? What if I don’t want to toughen up and accept the unfairness of it all? What if I’d rather curl into a ball and whimper like a wounded animal? Can I do that instead?
This year has been absolutely gut-wrenching for numerous reasons. NUMEROUS. I’m over this year. I want something new, and yet wanting isn’t enough. As they say, faith without works is dead. I’ve also heard that pain is the price of admission into a new life. Ouch. Say it ain’t so, but it is.
When I think about creating something new – art, a business, a life even – there’s often an element of pain, or at least hardship. Rarely is the creation process smooth sailing from start to finish. There are usually obstacles to overcome, hurdles to clear. Maybe this period we’re in, maybe this year, is the admission price we’re paying for a new way of life.
It seems to me humanity is being forced to change on numerous fronts. It’s become clear we cannot maintain the status quo because doing so equals death and destruction. Change isn’t easy, and honestly, sometimes it sucks, but I have to believe everything we’re enduring is leading to something better. It’s the only way I can keep going, to continue putting one foot in front of the other. I’m also choosing to believe my spiritual teacher who said, “[A] bright future awaits you. Your future is glorious, your future is luminous, your future is effulgent.”
He describes himself as an incorrigible optimist and also said, “Human civilization now faces the final moment of a critical juncture. The dawn of a glorious new era is on the one side, and the worn-out skeleton of the past on the other. Humanity has to adopt either one or the other. You are the spiritual soldiers; you are the worshippers of life divine. Hence, I call upon you to adorn this crimson dawn deluged with glorious light. Victory is surely yours.”
We’re not on the other side of the fight yet. The world remains unfair, but slowly, in certain places, we’re moving in that direction. For instance, in Portland, companies must pay a 10% tax surcharge if their CEO earns 100 to 250 times more than the median-paid worker. That number jumps to 25% if the CEO makes 250 times more than the median-paid worker. The law only applies to Portland, but other places like San Francisco are considering similar laws. Laws like these are a start and show me if we keep striving for a fairer society, eventually it will happen.
I dream of a world that’s fair and just. A world that considers what’s in the best interest for the planet as a whole. A world where we realize the impact of our actions and adjust accordingly. A world where we understand that sometimes the price of admission into a new life is pain.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m deep in grief at the moment, and while talking to my therapist, she encouraged me to let Love hold me. To let it act as a container. It reminded me of a post I wrote exactly 12 years ago. Enjoy.
When I ride the bus, it exposes me to people and situations I might not otherwise encounter. On Wednesday, I rode the bus and felt like crying hearing the stories around me – the snippets of people talking about being addicted to weed, the demeanor of the woman who looked ready to punch someone, the unhoused people camping out at bus shelters. My heart broke a little because I care so much. I care so deeply. Yes, my sensitivity is probably over the top at the moment, but I can’t help that.
As tears started to leak from my eyes, a woman walked on the bus and sat in front of me. Her shirt said “love” down both sleeves. In that moment, I cried even harder because it struck me that love is the container for all things. Even while I was crying, love was still there; in this case, literally. Love means it’s safe for me to cry, safe for me to be angry, safe for me to feel whatever I feel. All of my emotions, all of my everything, really, are held in the container of love.
We are held by love similar to this candle lantern. Photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha on Unsplash
Often, I think love is separate from icky emotions or things I cast judgment upon. I think there is love and then there is everything else. What I’m coming to realize, however, is that’s false. Love is not outside of all these things; love IS everything; it’s omnipresent.
Nothing escapes the purview of love; nothing is outside of love. There is a Sanskrit mantra that I sing every day, and one translation is, “Love is all there is.” For the longest time, I couldn’t wrap my head around that definition and preferred the longer version: “Everything is an expression of an infinite, loving consciousness.” But today I finally “get” it. Love holds everything, even war, disease, famine, and poverty.
Even when we think it’s not, love is there. It could be in the smile of a stranger, a call from a friend, or a feeling deep within ourselves. We are held in love even when we think we’re not. Even when the world is on fire, politicians are running amok, people are dying, and our lives are in chaos. Love is still there. This concept transcends language so to really understand what I mean, I invite you to pause, breathe, and try to feel the love that is already here, holding you.
I dream of a world where we remember in good times and bad, love is here. A world where we understand we are never abandoned by love, even if it may seem like it. A world where we let ourselves feel whatever we feel because we know that we are held by love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This is the most unusual post I’ve written in the 17 years of this blog because instead of discussing spirituality or a lesson I’m learning, I want to tell you about my new favorite TV show.
First, some context. I’m not a guts and gore type of person. I’m squeamish at the sight of blood, I can’t handle graphic violence, and I don’t enjoy shows where people behave badly. “Game of Thrones” is not my jam. But neither is “All Creatures Great and Small,” which is a show that many people like and suggest because it’s heartwarming and adventurous. (For the unfamiliar, the series chronicles the tales of James, a young country vet who lives and works in Yorkshire in the late 1930s.) I don’t like to see animals suffer so I can’t watch that show either.
What am I left with?!? It’s a great question, especially as I consider that what I consume with my eyes and ears is just as important as what I consume with my mouth. The food we eat affects the body, and the media we consume affects the mind. How do I want to affect my mind? A sensitive gal like me needs something uplifting.
This picture will make sense in a minute. Photo by Taylor Heery on Unsplash
Many people would say, “The Great British Bakeoff! That’s the show for you!” But it triggers my eating disorder so I can’t watch that or any food shows in general. What I’ve discovered is “The Great Pottery Throw Down.” Here’s a description:
Follow the trials and tribulations of an exceptionally creative group of contestants as they transform ordinary lumps of clay into pieces of glazed glory in this one-of-a-kind test of pottery prowess. Each episode sees contestants vying for the “Top Potter” title as they tackle mammoth challenges, hoping to showcase enough skill, technique, and originality to avoid elimination. With the art form’s rich heritage, intriguing technical language, and potential for magical transformations, “The Great Pottery Throw Down” brings the messy and marvelous world of pottery to life.
Also, here’s a trailer:
I love this show. I love this show because everyone is nice to one another. I love this show because there’s still drama due to not only the competition but also whether the pieces will turn out the way the potters hoped. Will they break in the kiln? Will the glazes work? The show has enough drama to keep it interesting but not so much that I’m upset and activated. Plus, the potters make something. It’s tangible and creative and inspires me to make something too. (Not pottery, although maybe.)
When our world is filled with so much chaos and heartbreak, I want to watch something beautiful. That reminds me life is sweet and people are kind to each other. “The Great Pottery Throw Down” is that show for me right now.
And because this is already an unusual post, instead of ending in my usual way, I’d love to hear from you. Is there a show you love that you wish more people knew about? What do you watch when you need to feel uplifted? And if you start watching “The Great Pottery Throw Down,” let me know and we can geek out about it together.
As a final note to end on, I’m wishing you ease and gentleness. May you remember there is good in the world and that another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s been truly strange around my neighborhood for the last few days, and I’m not reacting the way I thought I’d react – or the way other people are predicting I’d react. On Thursday, my friend Michael was standing in the doorway and said, “Do you know that guy?” A young man was hopping the fence that separates my apartment complex from my neighbors. I didn’t know him. Michael confronted him as he hopped the fence on the other side.
A few minutes later, police officers drove down the street, and Michael notified them about the trespasser. I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. The police officers kept coming. And so did two helicopters. And then U.S. marshals. Around 40 police officers and U.S. marshals blocked my street and patrolled with assault rifles drawn. I went grocery shopping in the middle of this and they wouldn’t let me walk back to my apartment without a police escort. Some of my neighbors weren’t allowed in their homes while the officers looked for the guy who hopped the fence.
I read in a news article later that the guy who jumped my fence was armed and the U.S. marshals were looking for him along with two others who were involved in a robbery. One of the culprits violated his patrol. This search and lockdown continued for hours. The two helicopters circled right above me for three hours straight. Police officers literally blocked my driveway.
You can do it! Photo by Stijn Swinnen on Unsplash
When I tell most people the events from Thursday, they respond with, “Wow. That’s so scary.” But here’s the thing: I didn’t feel scared. Even though I saw the person they were after. Even though there were guns drawn. I was annoyed. My nerves were frayed from the constant noise and stimulation. But I wasn’t scared.
Then on Saturday, I was without power for 11 hours. I knew it was coming – the electricity company needed to work on a utility pole. Friends remarked how annoying that would be, how unsettling. But I didn’t really mind. It was quiet. I couldn’t even hear the hum of a refrigerator. And it wasn’t so bad because I have a gas stove and could still make myself food. Plus, I just returned from traveling so my tablet was filled with downloaded movies and TV shows. It was fine. I was fine.
My reactions remind me of a quote by A.A. Milne, author of the Winnie-the-Pooh series, who said, “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think, and loved more than you know.” I am strong, and brave, and resilient. I don’t operate with the same amount of fear anymore – even in situations where people expect me to be afraid, I’m not.
Essentially, I’m stepping into my power. I’m owning what I’m capable of as I am, right now. Not the me of 10 years ago. Not the me people think I should be, but the me of here, and now. The me who meets challenges over and over again. The me that says, “I’m scared but I’m still facing this.” I know that’s not true for everyone but even still, maybe you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think, and loved more than you know.
I dream of a world where we see ourselves clearly. A world where we stop selling ourselves short. A world where we understand we are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for. A world where we take care of ourselves over and over again and realize that’s exactly what we’re doing.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m currently in Denmark at an economic conference so it seems only fitting to share this post I wrote in 2009. Many things are different – I no longer work for a magazine full-time or live in San Francisco – but my dreams remain the same. Enjoy.
This morning, I had a nightmare the magazine I work for folded. That created a ripple effect whereby I couldn’t pay my rent because I have pretty much zero savings. I woke up with my heart pounding, feeling scared and dissatisfied. Dissatisfied not for my own sake but for the way the world currently runs. Dissatisfied with unemployment, homelessness, and greed ravaging the world. Fed up with our entire economic system.
I’ve written about this before, but I’m tired of the “fend for yourself” and “rise and fall on your own” mentality. Why should my well-being rest squarely on my shoulders alone? Why should anyone go hungry? Why should anyone live on the streets? Why should anyone scrape by? Why can’t we as humans reach out to one another and support each other? Why can’t we know the true meaning of community?
Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash
As humans, each and every one of us has a right for our basic needs to be met. Every person should be guaranteed food, clothing, shelter, education, and medical care. This current economic system? It’s not working. If it did, we wouldn’t be facing the problems we are now.
I am not suggesting we pick up communism because clearly that doesn’t work so well either. The best economic theory I’ve come across thus far is Prout – the Progressive Utilization Theory. Prout says the basic necessities of life should be guaranteed for everyone. It values local businesses and local cultures. It says there should be three tiers of business: 1.) cooperatives 2.) private enterprise and 3.) government-owned industries. It recognizes resources are limited and should be treated as such.
What would it be like to live in a world where we KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt that our needs would be met? Not because we have hope and faith but because the system itself is set up that way? What if there were zero unemployment? And people who truly cannot work were also taken care of? None of this, “I can’t afford to buy groceries until the first of the month,” business but really, truly taken care.
Under Prout, that’s what happens. Workers are not exploited. People are not commodities. Everyone, everywhere, is valued. Everyone is paid a living wage and there’s a wealth cap. Resources are evenly spread and necessities like water aren’t for profit. “Homelessness” fades from our lexicon because it is eradicated.
The environment is treated with respect rather than as a resource to pillage. We invest in local economies and let local people make decisions about how to run things for themselves. Is it a pipedream? Maybe, but in the words of Nelson Mandela, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.” I see sprouts of this growing everywhere – in cooperatives doing amazing work. In people turning to their hyperlocal communities for support. In folks waking up to the fact there’s a different way to do things. A new economy can be created. If we create it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m currently traveling and never have I identified more with the Charles Dickens line, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The lows are low (no clean clothes for 48 hours! Diverted plane! An unexpected six-hour bus ride!) but the highs are also high. I’m meeting my friends’ children for the first time. I’m reuniting with people I haven’t seen in two years, 10 years. And I’m trying to do as Joseph Campbell advises when he says, “We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”
I know there are terrible things happening. I know the world can be so horrible it will break your heart over and over again. I know people are struggling (myself included) but I am choosing to live in joy. And more than that, I’m choosing to relish the little joys when they arrive. Here’s a little story about that.
In early July, I was at a yoga and meditation retreat in upstate New York. It was so sweet to see my spiritual family and connect with people I hadn’t seen in ages. But it was also hard physically – no air-conditioning in the dorms, people walking on creaky wooden floors at all hours of the day and night, and just generally sleeping poorly in a new place. My body was wrecked.
After the retreat, I met my fourth cousin for the first time, who graciously let me stay in his two-bedroom, two-bath apartment near Times Square. Air-conditioning! A comfy bed! No creaky floors! A pool! It was exactly what I needed. The joy of temperature control after sweating all night cannot be overstated. But even still, I was tired, cranky, and feeling off because for the first time in a week, I was completely alone. As I brushed my teeth in my cousin’s bathroom, I looked down and saw a rainbow stripe in the sink.
The rainbow in question. And yes, that’s my reflection in the sink.
Many people know that I have a thing about hearts and the word “love.” I see either or both every single day. I share many of those images on Instagram. What’s less known is I also have a thing about rainbows. Whenever I see a rainbow, I will squeal in delight or, at the very least, smile. Rainbows bring me joy in a way that hearts do not because they’re unexpected and rare. It’s easy to spot a heart every day if you look for one because people wear heart necklaces. They carve them into cement. They decorate their homes with love paraphernalia. Hearts are everywhere. Rainbows are not.
When I see a rainbow, it’s like the universe is saying to me, “Hey! Remember the good stuff, kiddo! Relish the joy and remember it can come out of the blue!” When so much of the world feels like a dumpster fire, it feels important to remember that. It relates to a concept my spiritual teacher touts, which is, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”
Movement is the innate characteristic of the universe. Nothing is stagnant or static or stale. The world will always be full of sorrows but it will also be full of joys. Am I relishing them when they come? It’s definitely a practice but I’m doing my best because joy is a lot more, well, enjoyable.
I dream of a world where we understand there are always bad things happening but there are also always good things happening. A world where we understand joy is often about the little things – air-conditioning on a hot summer’s day, going to the pool with friends, seeing a rainbow in an unexpected place. A world where we do our best to relish those little joys because we know they aren’t so little after all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Many years ago, I had a conversation with one of my closest friends about enlightenment. We compared our approaches – how I live in idealism, fantasy, and move toward the light. He told me his approach is more like crawling down the back of a scaly beast until he comes full circle at its snout. I heard what he said but I didn’t understand it because who wants to go down the scaly back of a beast? Who wants to peer into the seedy underbelly?
It turns out that I do. I’m currently experiencing the astrological transits associated with the mid-life crisis (and if you were born in 1984 or 1985, you are too). If you’re interested, that’s Pluto square Pluto, and essentially it means looking at the shadow and everything that remained hidden. It’s doing what Carl Jung suggested when he said, “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
I’m realizing how true that is. In my post from the other week about meeting the self, I talked about the importance of looking in the mirror, and sometimes, when you look in the mirror, you don’t like what you see. Some people become well-practiced at avoiding the mirror. It’s too scary, it’s too threatening to witness the parts they want to hide but that’s not me. I’m devoted to myself and that means all parts of myself.
As if to underscore this point, I pulled an oracle card called “Diving for Light.” The author Alana Fairchild says, “It can be so much simpler to seek light in the heavenly, in that which is blissful, sweet, loving, and kind. To look for the light in that which is dark is an advanced task that only a rebellious and brave heart will attempt. You may not feel that you have taken such a journey by choice. Yet you have taken this wise challenge from deep within your soul. Your innermost being has evoked this situation in your life with the intention that you grow in power, wisdom, and creative juice. It also wants you to experience a bold and fearless trust in life and become further empowered to live it with zest and courage.”
That’s true. I want to live fully. I want to liberate myself through expansion, and that means every situation, every struggle, every everything is an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved or further away. My spiritual teacher says our path is an all-around fight, both internally and externally. That means facing my fears, protesting injustice, and always asking, “How can I use this situation or experience to grow?” It’s not only the happy, joyful situations. It’s also the ones that have me crying every single day.
I’m diving for the light by mining the darkness. I’m sifting through the muck looking for gold, not because I particularly want to, but because I recognize there’s something of value in doing so. On the other end of this is more power, more wisdom, more creativity, and being one step closer to enlightenment.
I dream of a world where we understand to become enlightened, we must make the darkness conscious. A world where we use everything as an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved. A world where we dive for the light because we understand that something powerful and transformative is waiting for us in the shadows.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As we’re approaching the July 4th holiday, a time that supposedly celebrates freedom and independence, I’m reminded of this post from five years ago. Enjoy.
What does it mean to be free? Some people would say it’s doing whatever you want, whenever you want. But is that really true? In Rebecca Solnit’s excellent essay on “Masculinity as Radical Selfishness,” she mentions the axiom, “My right to swing my arm ends where your nose begins,” which is about balancing personal freedom with the rights of others. It’s also about watching out for someone else’s rights. However, what we’re seeing is the idea that my right to swing my arm doesn’t end where your nose begins, but instead just doesn’t end. And in fact, your nose is not my problem, and it should get out of the way.
She also says in the U.S., “unlimited armswinging peaks at an intersection between whiteness and maleness, with plenty of white women on board who seem to believe that a white lady’s job is to protect white men’s armswinging (often with a selfless disregard for their own noses).” What we’re seeing is peak entitlement and conflating “freedom” with hypermasculinity as well as white supremacy. Who is it that thinks they should have unlimited armswinging? White men (but not all white men, to be clear).
This is incredibly juvenile and shortsighted because no person is an island (even if they have enough money to buy one). We don’t live in our own self-contained bubbles, able to accomplish everything by ourselves. We want someone else to cut our hair. We want someone else to make our food. Humans are social creatures. We are not meant to live in isolation.
Real freedom requires limits. Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
The hypermasculine freedom some in the U.S. idealize is a myth because what happens when that individual gets sick? They rely on the collective to help them out – they go to the hospital for care, or a doctor, or the drugstore.
My spiritual teacher says, “Just as my life is important to me, others’ lives are equally important to them; and if we do not give proper value to the lives of all creatures, then the development of the entire humanity becomes impossible.”
It becomes impossible because individual life is bound to the collective. Collective welfare lies in individuals, and individual welfare lies in collectivity. There is no instance where my individual welfare doesn’t contribute to collective welfare. And furthermore, real freedom requires constraint. That may seem like an oxymoron but hear me out.
Retired Navy SEAL, author, and podcaster Jocko Willink says, “Freedom is what everyone wants – to be able to act and live with freedom. But the only way to get to a place of freedom is through discipline. If you want financial freedom, you have to have financial discipline. If you want more free time, you have to follow a more disciplined time management system. Discipline equals freedom applies to every aspect of life: If you want more freedom, get more discipline.”
He’s talking specifically about individual freedom, of course, but I think the same message applies to collective freedom. We’re able to drive safely, for the most part, because there are rules associated with driving. We’re able to buy food we enjoy because there are regulations that keep expired food off the shelves. I realize there are problems with the rules and regulations I listed, but I’d much rather have those problems than going into a grocery store and wondering if the food I’m buying will poison me.
Real freedom requires discipline and a care for others. Anything else is just selfishness that will eventually catch up to us.
I dream of a world where we recognize true freedom requires giving up a little bit of freedom. A world where we understand we can’t do what we want whenever we please without consequences for ourselves and others. A world where we understand there’s an inherent relationship between freedom and limitation.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I was invited to two weddings this weekend, so it seems only fitting to reshare this post on marriage that I wrote 10 years ago. Enjoy.
So often when I hear or see depictions of marriage, it’s about finding a companion to build a life with, someone you’ll love forever, your best friend, the person you’ll turn to in times of joy and sorrow. However, what I don’t often hear discussed is how marriage can enhance spiritual growth.
We get so caught up in the mushy-gushy stuff of marriage that we forget there’s another side. As was so aptly pointed out in a New York Times piece called “The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give,” there will be times when a person will look at their spouse and feel only rage. That doesn’t mean the marriage is bad or wrong – it means it’s normal because a marriage isn’t a pleasure cruise.
I often paraphrase Marianne Williamson, who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” What does that mean exactly? It means other people don’t exist to make me feel good; it means every person and every relationship is a teacher. All of them provide opportunities to bring me closer to the divine. And sometimes that means the other person serves as a mirror to reflect some painful truths. Things about myself I don’t like. Things about myself I wish I could change. Things in me that are still unhealed. But a marriage is a commitment to walk that sacred spiritual path together.
Walking hand in hand means something different in a spiritual context. Photo by Jeremy Wong Weddings on Unsplash
Marriage becomes about living your life in a “new way with a special type of responsibility,” as my spiritual teacher would say. In fact, the marriage oaths in my spiritual tradition state that each partner takes on the responsibility for their spouse’s food, clothes, education, medical care, etc. And also that the person will be vigilant to ensure their spouse’s mental and spiritual progress. The oaths are a genuine desire to take care of another person’s all-around welfare and growth. Marriage not only takes into account the other person’s needs, but also tries to help them along the spiritual path. The emphasis is not on the self, but on another.
Does that sound dry and kind of clinical? It’s not meant to be – there’s something special about romantic love, something almost magical. That matters. I’m not discounting pleasure or love; rather, there’s more to marriage than just love, at least from a spiritual perspective. Marriage isn’t about having someone warm your bed or keep you from feeling lonely. Marriage is about helping you grow as a person in good times and bad, whether that’s easy or hard. It’s about standing in the sacred fire of truth and saying, “I’ll stay and let myself be transformed.”
Joining with another person isn’t for the faint of heart. It requires courage, commitment, but also an understanding that the other person isn’t a dopamine patch. They aren’t there to “make you happy.” Rather, the other person is on a spiritual assignment to help you grow.
I dream of a world where we understand what it means to join with another from a spiritual perspective. A world where we revere love, but we also add something more to the mix. A world where we understand sometimes we’ll hate our partners but that’s normal. A world where we understand marriage isn’t about finding a person to bring us eternal happiness, but a person who aids us in moving closer to the divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m editing a fascinating book about judgment. I can’t quote from it because, hi, it’s unpublished and also not my writing, but I can talk about the general ideas and also quote from others.
My client makes the case that when we judge other people, it’s often because we aren’t tending to the vulnerable parts of ourselves. The parts that need to be met with love and care. For instance, if I say, “He’s so lazy,” it’s likely there’s a part of me that’s sad because I long to rest. But instead of holding that grief – that I desire to rest and feel unable to do so – I’m projecting and calling that man lazy. And judgment of any kind, toward others or the self, breaks connection with our own heart, to paraphrase Tara Brach.
Why does that matter? The older I get and the deeper I go into spirituality, the more I understand that enlightenment is not only living in the light. It’s going into the shadows. It’s descending into the metaphorical underworld to rescue the parts of ourselves that we’ve exiled. The ones who are scared. The ones who are ashamed. The ones who feel unlovable. Writer and spiritual teacher Jeff Foster Brown says: “Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ – it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”
Meeting the Self is one the hardest and most healing things we can do. Photo by Михаил Секацкий on Unsplash
The unresolved elements of our story remain unresolved until we face them. It’s the low hum of anxiety in the background, even though on paper everything looks fine. It’s the vaguely dissatisfying nature of our relationships. It’s the knowledge that we could be doing so much more but we’re not. You could live your whole life like that, and many people do. But regardless, these feelings are symptoms; they are an invitation to meet your Self.
Psychotherapist Matt Licata wrote:
“The invitation is into intimate communion: to move closer, and even closer still, into the feelings, the emotions, and the sensations as they surge. To surround the surging material with curiosity, warmth, and most importantly with kindness, as an inner explorer of the galaxy of your own body, of which there is no temple more sacred.”
So many people try to escape themselves – into the arms of another person, via the bottom of a bottle, through the excitement of a video game – but it doesn’t work long term. Speaking as an addict in recovery, I know from experience. I have the receipts. But my whole life got so much better – richer, fuller, more joyful – when I stopped running and met my Self. You might be saying, “That’s so vague. What does it even mean?”
I can’t condense nearly two decades of personal development into a single blogpost but if you’re interested in meeting your Self, and I recognize you may not be, a good place to start is with a timer.
When I was early in recovery, feeling my feelings was like being flayed alive. It was excruciating. Deeply painful. Scary. Feeling my feelings was the last thing I wanted to do! What if they never ended? What if I was sad/scared/angry forever?!? What helped was setting a timer. For five minutes, I let myself feel whatever I was feeling and after the five minutes (that usually turned into 10), I would stop. The feelings had a beginning and an end. When the timer rang, I could go on with my day. That was the beginning of meeting myself.
As my client emphasizes, healing happens with presence – not trying to fix, change, or solve anything. Just presence. Just being with. And we don’t need to wait for someone else to do that, we can give presence to ourselves. And the more we are present with ourselves, the more we are present with others. The more we meet ourselves, the more we can meet our true selves as divine beings of light. And that’s something I wish for everyone.
I dream of a world where we understand judgment is a protection mechanism. A way of not tending to the ones inside. A world where we see these judgments as invitations to turn inward. A world where we commune with the entirety of who we are because we understand enlightenment is about enrealment. A world where we are brave enough to meet ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.