This morning I dreamed a seashell the size of a baby whale was sucked back into the ocean, despite my best efforts. I held on to the rim of the seashell and tried to swim back to shore with it. Two-story waves kept crashing over my head leaving me gasping for air. Eventually, I gave up because I knew if I didn’t let go, the riptide would pull me so far away from shore that I wouldn’t be able to swim back and I’d drown. I released the shell and crawled back to the beach exhausted, relieved, and disappointed as this shell I’d wanted so badly slipped further and further away from me.
I’m sure there are many layers to unpack with the dream but I’m going to share about the most obvious. It’s hard for me to let go. I will literally water a dead plant. The way this shows up in my relationships is I’ll keep holding on long past the point where it’s wise. I may not have heard from someone in months but I’ll still text them and say, “Hey, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up,” or, “I’d love to see you soon. Are you busy next week?” Despite not hearing anything in return, I’ll try again.
I do this because when I love someone, I really love them. I forgive them for their flaws, show understanding for what they’re going through, and accept however they want to show up in the relationship. I do this because I focus on the good times, the times we were close, the times when the relationship was working, and so it’s hard for me to accept the current reality where I have no clue what’s happening in their lives. It’s painful, really painful. What helps me is remembering that just because the relationship is dead doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.
Jung said, “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” We were both transformed and on my end, every relationship leaves a mark. I wrote about this in my unpublished romantic comedy. The main character is talking about romantic love in the quote I’m about to share but the sentiment applies to every sort of love. I’ve changed the wording a bit so it fits with this blogpost:
“She expected falling in love to feel like a bomb – explosive, undeniable, irrevocably changing everything. Instead, falling in love was more like a leaky bathroom faucet, the slow and steady drip of water eventually wearing away the porcelain until it left an indelible mark. For better or for worse, the person now had a permanent space just for them.”
Sometimes that permanent space is like a scar, a reminder of what was, and other times that permanent space is like an internal organ, active and functioning. I often long for the scars to turn into organs but they very rarely do.
I opened this post writing about letting go and that’s what I’m doing here. I’m acknowledging most scars remain scars and longing for what was doesn’t serve anyone. Who I am in the present moment deserves to spend time with other people who make an effort for me in the present moment. Otherwise, it’s like I’m holding on to a giant seashell that’s destined for the ocean.
I dream of a world where we’re able to let go of old relationships and the dreams we had for those relationships. A world where we understand everyone we love has a permanent space in our psyches but sometimes that space is a scar. A world where we recognize sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is let someone go.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Growing up, I was the weird kid because I didn’t fit in with my peers. I was a vegetarian in the 90s and my first-grade teacher announced to the class I didn’t eat meat because I was Jewish. (I think you know this but just in case, the two are not related.) I didn’t grow up in a bastion of diversity and understanding and that’s colored, well, a lot.
As an adult, I let my freak flag fly and usually have no problem standing out. I joke that my biography title should be: “Always the Outlier: The Rebekah Moan Story” because it’s true in 99% of cases that I’m the outlier. Over the past few weeks though, I notice parts of me are scared to be vulnerable and authentic. I realize a lot of people feel that way but that’s an unusual feeling for me. Normally, I don’t have a problem saying, “This is me. Here’s how I’m feeling,” but some parts of me feel terrified to do that because I’m worried people will run away screaming if I do.
When I shared that with a friend, she said, “Yeah because I haven’t seen the real you in our eight years of friendship.” I never said it made sense but that’s what wounding does. It makes us irrational. I’ve been ruminating over my experiences and a strong memory emerged from second grade when my music teacher went around the room and asked every child what their favorite music genre was. One by one, every child said, “country,” including me, even though I couldn’t name a country song to save my life. What I meant to say was “oldies” because that’s what my parents played around the house but I didn’t because the pressure to fit in was too great.
You belong somewhere, I promise. Photo by Annie Williams on Unsplash
Here’s the thing though – sure, in that setting every child said “country” but that doesn’t mean every child everywhere would have answered in the same way. I didn’t realize at that time I wasn’t weird, it’s more that I didn’t have anything in common with the people around me. That’s different. People who shared my interests existed in the world even if I didn’t go to school with them. What’s helping me to remember this is I organized a Zoom meetup for the young people in my spiritual community.
In our small group, we had people joining from London, Copenhagen, Moscow, and all over the U.S. Within the U.S., some people originally hailed from India, the Philippines, and Brazil. Only a handful of people live geographically close to me, which feels like the greatest gift, but also knowing there are people like me who live far away is a gift. It reminds me I do belong and there is a place for me. When I share that with the parts of me that feel like a weirdo, loser freak, they feel better too because I imagine a thread connecting me to each and every person in the world who is like me.
There’s a quote from C.S. Lewis who said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one!’” Precisely. You’re not the only one even if sometimes it feels that way. You aren’t the only one even if the people around you are into different things. You already belong right here, right now and I hope you can feel that.
I dream of a world where we recognize someone, somewhere is into the things we’re into. A world where we remember that just because the people around us are into different things doesn’t mean we’re weird. A world where we recognize we may be far apart from the people who are most like us, but those people do exist. A world where we remember we already belong.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m sick right now and didn’t feel well enough to write a new post or record any audio. The post that came to mind to recycle is from my birthday nearly six years ago. Enjoy! And just in case it wasn’t clear, I’m grateful for you. <3
Today is my 29th birthday, that is, if you’re reading this on December 1st. It’s been a less than stellar day because I had to work from 8:30 to 4:30, I’m still experiencing pain from the car accident, and I’m not having a big party. Suffice to say, today has not turned out the way I expected. The challenge for me is to find the good in what is.
I think we all have expectations of certain days — birthdays, holidays, graduation, first dates, etc. — and when those expectations aren’t met we’re left feeling disappointed. I know I am. However, even though today hasn’t gone the way I’d hoped and I’m not feeling the buzz I normally do on my birthday, there’s been a lot of good about today too. I’ve received numerous telephone calls, text messages, and facebook posts from friends near and far wishing me well. My mom is at this moment making me a delicious dinner. There’s a lot of love for me in this world and today is the day I get to bask in it.
It’s my birthday! Here are some pretty cupcakes.
What’s awesome is I spoke to a friend on the phone and I mentioned that if I was in Chicago like I normally am at this time of year to cover a conference, I’d still be celebrating my birthday with family because my sister lives there. Hearing myself say that I was taken aback because I’m so lucky, I’m so loved, I have a lot of community all over the world, which is amazing.
I’m telling you all this not to brag, but because I’m sincerely grateful. Sometimes gratitude becomes dry as I reel off all the things I’m grateful for like heat and food and a roof over my head because I list those things every day. If something occurs every day it becomes mundane, ordinary, common — at least it does for me. So when something doesn’t go the way I expect, it’s even more important for me to find the good about what is. What’s good about the here and now? What’s true? When I do that I can genuinely pull the feeling of gratitude into my heart because I am grateful for my friends and family, I am grateful so many people are wishing me happy birthday, and I am grateful I chose to come into this world on this day. Thank you for being with me on my journey.
I dream of a world where even in sucky situations we can find something good about what is. A world where we all feel genuinely grateful for something. A world where we not only accept what is, but we find something positive about it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This weekend I surprised myself. I did things I’d consider out of character — things other people do, but not me. I flew up to Ashland, Ore., for a quick up and back trip and started chatting with the woman next to me on my flight. During the course of the conversation I told her I didn’t have a car and wasn’t sure how I was getting to and fro. She said, “Well, let me give you my number and if you need a ride while you’re out there, give me a call.” I said, “Actually, what I really need is a ride from the airport to my hostel.”
She told me her parents were picking her up but she was sure they wouldn’t mind dropping me off. “Really?” and she replied in the affirmative. So I got into the car with a stranger that I didn’t pay to transport me. In my world you don’t do that sort of thing because it’s dangerous. Even getting into a lyft or a taxi provokes anxiety within me so trusting a total stranger is antithetical to my normal behavior. My whole weekend was like that. I made conversations with strangers. I stayed in a hostel and socialized in the evenings. Even staying in a hostel is unusual for me.
I looked for “character” and this is what I found. I like it. Photo by Антон Воробьев on Unsplash
Normally I stay in hotels or airbnbs because I enjoy my personal space. I’m highly particular and want to control as many variables as I can. However, due to financial limitations, and also the desire to stay close to town, I slept at a hostel. I’ve heard stories of people making friends with strangers or the magic of connection during travel experiences, but my magical experiences tend to involve thinking I missed my train but the train was running late. I barely ask strangers for directions much less make conversation with them.
It may seem like a small thing, but for me it’s indicative I’m trusting myself and the universe more. I’m starting to view the world as safe and friendly as opposed to scary and antagonistic. It’s for many reasons — the chiropractor I’m seeing, the work I continue to do in therapy — but what stands out to me is the way we experience the world and ourselves can change. How the world appears to us is not stagnant or stale. It’s dynamic and vibrant and we are the same. The title of this post is “out of character” but it’s just as true there are many facets to my personality and perhaps this Rebekah is someone I hadn’t met yet, but she’s been here all along.
My spiritual teacher speaks to this through his words and actions. His first initiate was a dangerous criminal who tried to rob him. That criminal completely turned his life around and became ethical, sincere, and devotional. No one would have predicted that person existed inside that criminal, but he did. And the same is true for all of us. There are internal people we know and internal people we don’t know, but it’s all us. And maybe “out of character” is like the people I met this weekend — strangers that become friends.
I dream of a world where we recognize there is more to us than we think. A world where we understand acting out of character just means a part of us is unfamiliar and unknown. A world where we realize we all have many parts and facets to our personality and perhaps it’s time to say hello.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Every holiday I think about the one from the year prior. What was I doing? Who was I with? This July 4th was no different. In addition to reminiscing about last year, I also took stock of my life. I was reminded how much I’ve changed, how much my life has changed, and how some of my relationships have changed. There are certain people who are no longer in my life; not because they died (although there are a few of those), but rather because we grew apart. We have become alien to each other and don’t own starships to bring us together.
I cried over the loss of those relationships and all the while a little voice in my head whispered about making space for something new. I have a tendency to cling on to things far past the point of being healthy. Alexander Graham Bell has me pegged with his quote, “When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”
It’s important to leave space for something new. Photo by Dylan de Jonge on Unsplash
This week I’m looking at the open door. In terms of relationships, that means I’m noticing the new ones in my life from the past year. Or the old ones that are new again; in other words, relationships where I reconnected with someone from my past. By clearing out the old relationships, by letting them go, I’m making space for the new ones. I have the capacity to nourish what’s here because I’m not caught up in knocking on a closed door.
We have that saying nature abhors a vacuum. I abhor vacuums too, but not the ones that clean the carpet. Those I love. I abhor the life vacuums but there’s wisdom in acknowledging their importance. Of seeing the beauty in empty space because empty space doesn’t last. Soon it will be filled with something. Maybe saying goodbye to old relationships opens me up to better ones. It doesn’t mean the love died because for me anyway it hasn’t. It just means I’m no longer investing time and energy in cultivating the relationships that no longer serve me.
I’d love to throw in a spiritual quote here or make this post more profound but it’s not. The practice is a simple one that we all must learn. In order to make space for something new, we have to get rid of the old, whether that’s an object or a belief.
I dream of a world where we understand it’s important to grieve the loss of closed doors but also turn our attention to doors that are open. A world where we clear away what no longer serves us. A world where we realize nature abhors a vacuum and thus ultimately we are making space for something new.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I spent this weekend with dear friends of mine and all I could think was, “Thank God.” When the world feels like too much, when I recoil in horror after reading the news, good company lifts my spirits. In Sanskrit, the word for that is satsaunga. What follows is a post I wrote about the subject nearly six years ago.
This weekend I had the good fortune of being surrounded by folks who practice the same yoga and meditation I do. We are all close in age with only 10 years between the eldest and the youngest. It was a delicious weekend because we had excellent food, but also because it was one of the rare times I was surrounded by a large group of people who are similar to me. Sure, I’ve been to tons of yoga and meditation retreats, but it’s not as if I’m friends with everyone there like at the gathering this weekend.
Pictured is a flock of starlings.
Experiences like these give me hope for the future. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know I had a rough childhood socially. I had friends, but most of them lived far away. I suffered from a lot of peer rejection and self-defined as the “weird” kid. Not because I ate paste or anything, but because I’m extremely sensitive to energy and cared about things like vegetarianism as an 8 year old. “Weird” is a title I’ve carried with me for much of my life. Inherent in “weird” is not fitting in or being an outsider. I’ve been shifting my focus away from that because I see how viewing myself as “weird” has been harmful. This weekend was a prime example because I didn’t feel out of place – I realized it just took me a while to find my flock; as in “Birds of a feather flock together.”
Speaking of birds flocking together, I’m reminded of this video by Sophie Windsor Clive who filmed a flock of starlings. It’s awesome in the truest sense of the word and captures the power and the beauty of belonging.
I know there’s a lot of talk about the necessity of cross pollination, of mixing different classes, races, and mindsets, which I completely agree with, but there’s also something to be said for being with people who get you. People who already have a shared understanding of where you’re coming from so there’s no need to explain things to them. People who love and support you and just want to see you happy. It’s a beautiful and touching thing, that sort of community. That’s what inspires me most: Someone like me who constantly defined herself as “different” found herself around other “different” people. Like those starlings who created new shapes by flying together, when people join in groups, beautiful things can happen. Because ultimately even the “loners” and “freaks” will find others like them. It may just take a while. In essence, no one is as alone as they think they are. And when a bird finds its flock, there’s great power in that.
I dream of a world where everyone feels a sense of community and belonging. A world where every person has a support network. A world where no one has to fend for themselves because we are all taking care of each other. A world where we can all live happy, joyous, and free. A world where we all fly with a flock that fits us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a lot of fears. Most of them centering around physical safety. For much of life, I’ve tried to inoculate myself from danger by either not engaging, or by believing terrible things wouldn’t happen to me because I’m protected by my higher power. A few years ago, I was hit by a car as a pedestrian and that viewpoint shattered. It was a horrible time that shook me to my core. I realized being a woman of faith doesn’t mean I’ll escape all harm. Rather, it means regardless of what happens there is always a loving force with me.
I’m also reminded of a scene from the movie Rogue One. If you haven’t seen it and are planning to, stop reading or listening right now. The scene I’m thinking of is where blind warrior Chirrut chants, “I am one with the Force; the Force is with me,” as he strides into battle. He accomplishes what he sets out to, but he dies anyway. Being “one with the force” doesn’t make us immortal or keep us from getting hurt, instead it offers us the reassurance, the comfort, knowing we are not alone in any thing at any point.
We have one true friend.
In my yoga and meditation group, my spiritual teacher says our relationship with source or the divine is like the relationship of a fish with water – ever present, inseparable. Higher power, or whatever name you want to use, is our one true friend, the being who loved us in the past, who will love us in the future, and will be with us always.
This feeling was cemented for me over New Year’s. After the midnight meditation during my yoga and meditation retreat, I was struck with a strong feeling that we are deeply loved; through thick and thin there is a divine presence with us. That we will never be abandoned.
In these troubling times, when the future is uncertain and I don’t know what will happen next, it’s a balm to my soul realizing I’m not alone. That even if something terrible happens, I’m not handling it by myself – not only because I have friends, community, and me, but also because there is a loving presence with me always. It’s a comfort to me knowing I have a true friend.
I personally wanted faith to act as a force field shielding me from harm, but that’s not realistic. To be alive means to experience joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain. The more I accept that, the better off I’ll be. But the lovely thing is I’m not alone with any of it, none of us are.
I dream of a world where we feel into the presence of a loving, nurturing higher power with us at all times. A world where we recognize in good times and bad there is something else with us. A world where we know no matter what, we’re not alone.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I live in a very transient area. People move here and move away all the time. It’s one of the most painful aspects of living here, especially for a person like me who clings to people like a barnacle. “Don’t leave me! Stay!” Except, the thing is, even if a person is physically present, it doesn’t mean they’re emotionally present, or that they’ll be emotionally present all the time. Well crap. What’s a person to do?
I’m going to pass on a secret: Be there for yourself. Counter to all the messages we’re being fed, the solution to fears of abandonment is not to find that one perfect person to spend the rest of our life with. The solution is to give that to ourselves. To say to myself, “Rebekah, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not ever going anywhere. I’ll stay.” People, and pets for that matter, come into and out of our lives, but the two constant presences are ourselves and the Supreme. My spiritual teacher says God is our one true friend, our constant, forever companion. But how often are we nurturing these relationships? How often are we instead taking them for granted?
Won’t you stay? Oh, I have to stay for me? Oh, right.
One of the most powerful messages I’ve gleaned from being in recovery is that I’m in a relationship with my Higher Power. That God is not Santa Claus, rewarding me when I’m good and punishing me when I’m bad. And that just like any other relationship, we need to spend time together to improve it. We need to communicate with one another, to talk and to listen. It’s easy to neglect the relationship because it’s always there, to take it for granted, but I’m reminded again, it’s one of the most important relationships in my life.
The other most important relationship in my life is the one with me. Am I here for me? Am I taking care of me? Am I treating myself like a friend? Saying nice things to myself, encouraging myself, forgiving myself for mistakes? My inclination is to turn outward, to focus on outside relationships, other people, what they’re doing, what they’re saying, how they feel. My meditation practice, however, is about turning inward, asking instead what am I doing, what am I saying, how do I feel?
A few weeks ago I went to a group meditation and I’m the only one that showed up. I know, that sounds weird because if no one showed up then it was solo meditation, but the intention was to meditate with others. I felt so awkward, sitting in a space that belongs to a friend, meditating alone when usually I’m surrounded by others. But then the awkwardness faded as I felt the presence of my Higher Power, and the presence of me. Instead of being by myself, I was with myself. No longer did I feel alone because I had me and I had my Higher Power. It was one of the sweetest meditations I’ve experienced for awhile. So in answer to the question, “Won’t you stay?” the answer is yes, Rebekah, I will.
I dream of a world where we develop the relationships with ourselves and with the divine. A world where we feel the presence of us and something greater than us. A world where we remember we are never alone because we have our one true companion by our side.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
First of all, I want to say I’m not judging other people for unfriending or unfollowing. There are some people who don’t deserve the pleasure of our company because they cause us harm physically, mentally, or emotionally. I’m using the topic of unfriending as an entry point to discuss a spiritual concept.
In this day and age, it’s easy to surround ourselves solely with people who feel the way we do. Dissolving a friendship is as easy as clicking a button or ignoring a text message. If we don’t like something someone has to say, we don’t have to listen to it. But at what cost?
Click, click, friendship OVER.
I read an article recently about how a liberal professor is terrified by his liberal students. He said, “The student-teacher dynamic has been re-envisioned along a line that’s simultaneously consumerist and hyper-protective, giving each and every student the ability to claim Grievous Harm in nearly any circumstance, after any affront, and a teacher’s formal ability to respond to these claims is limited at best.”
He goes on to say he once saw an adjunct professor not get his contract renewed after students complained that he exposed them to “offensive” texts written by Edward Said and Mark Twain. The adjunct’s response that the texts were meant to be a little upsetting, only “fueled the students’ ire and sealed his fate,” according to the professor.
What surprised me even more as I read the article was learning Oxford canceled an abortion debate because it would have imperiled the “welfare and safety of our students.” Have we become so obsessed with maintaining comfort that we can’t allow any differences of opinion? That we’re not open to having our ideas questioned?
From a spiritual perspective, when we start cutting ourselves off from others, when we start making judgment calls about who’s right, who’s wrong, and what’s good, what’s bad, we move further away from the divine. If the goal of my life is to experience a sense of one-ness with God, then I can’t practice separateness. My spiritual teacher says those who follow the path of the divine “do not acknowledge the baneful and delusory classifications created by society,” because those classifications contribute to crudeness and staticity, to engaging more with Prakrti than consciousness, which then in turn “speeds unhampered in the innermost recesses of the heart.”
Again, some people deserve to be loved from afar, but they aren’t any less deserving of love and respect. And those who are good people, but who have different opinions from us? There are many treasures to be found in those friendships. I have some dear friends who do not share my views on things like diet and religion, but instead of letting those differences divide us, we work to find our similarities instead. There is something amazing and sublime about finding the ways in which we are the same instead of pointing out how we’re different. And sublime is where I’m at these days.
I dream of a world where we have more tolerance for differences. A world where we seek to find what unites us instead of divides us. A world where we’re not so quick to cut ourselves off from people. A world where we seek one-ness in as many ways as we can.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day a friend and I started to watch an HBO show called Enlightened. The basic gist is a woman has a nervous breakdown and goes to Hawaii to get her health back. She returns to her normal life and is struggling to implement all the new things that she learned like daily meditation or giving up her destructive habits. She often gets frustrated and stops. Throughout the show I kept saying, “That woman needs some friends!”
I think often when it comes to changing a habit, belief, or behavior, there’s an idea that willpower will be enough. That a person can, and should, be able to tackle the issue on their own. I think that’s why the self-help market is so huge – people want to change and believe that desire is all they need. In my opinion, that desire or determination is the first step. What solidifies a habit, belief, or behavior (besides repetition) is support.
What I like about this picture is it demonstrates aloneness and togetherness at the same time!
The reason I kept yelling at the TV screen that the main character needed some friends, is because it’s hard to change. No epiphany there I’m sure. We already know this. We hear about it all the time when it comes to exercise. In fact, I just turned in an article on Friday in which several gyms and personal trainers all told me the latest trend is personal training in groups of three to five. When a person is working out with their friends they’re more likely to go to the gym because there’s accountability, and because it’s more fun. I’ve found the same is true with the internal changes.
In Sanskrit there’s a word for this: satsaunga, or good spiritual company. Usually it’s thought of in terms of who we hang out with, but I think it’s important not just for who we have fun with, but who will help us in life. One of the most useful things for me has been learning who to talk to about what. Some friends are good for their light-heartedness. Other friends I’ll call up if I’m feeling sad. I’ll talk to somebody else about my spiritual issues. There’s a saying I really like that applies: “Don’t go to the hardware store for milk.” Imbibing that saying has saved me a lot of frustration, that’s for sure!
Maybe I’m preaching to the choir here, but mostly I’m advocating when it comes to change, not doing it alone. Doing something alone will only get a person so far. When there’s the support of a community, when someone else knows about the changes you’re trying to make, that’s when they stick. And if I can broaden this a little more, the support of other people is also what ensures change in the greater world. In the West, we think in individualistic terms, but really, we are so much more than individuals. We’re like little droplets of water that when pooled together become a river. And a river eventually becomes an ocean.
I dream of a world where we encourage one another. A world where we support each other as we make positive changes in our lives. A world where we understand firm determination and willpower alone are not enough to wrest transformation, transformation requires a village. A world where instead of doing things alone, we do them together.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.