Whenever life becomes challenging, my first impulse is to flee. Maybe it’s because I’m a Sagittarius. I read a meme recently where Sags described having to-go bags packed at all times “just in case.” They are ready to jet off somewhere at the drop of a hat. I don’t have a literal to-go bag, but I do have a figurative one.
As soon as I encounter a difficult situation, I fantasize about moving to Europe, or back in with my parents, or at the very least hiding under my bedcovers. The universe though is the best and worst kind of parent because instead of allowing me to run away from experiences, it forces me to confront them.
Several years ago when I had an extreme sensitivity to noise, I moved from place to place looking for my quiet, peaceful Shangri-La. It’s a little more complicated than that because some of my housing situations turned sour and necessitated I leave, but in essence I searched and searched for a great place to live. I even went so far as to move to the middle of nowhere Missouri, but even there I was plagued by noise.
If you know yoga, you’ll get the joke — this person is performing warrior pose. Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash
What finally squelched the problem is I built up my warrior self. I stopped turning into a meek mouse when I heard loud music. I stopped covering my ears wishing I could escape to somewhere else. To be fully transparent, all along I confronted people, telling them to turn down their music. I called the cops on my neighbor multiple times to complain about noise. I did all the things people told me to do, but the music kept playing.
On some level I think people didn’t respect me when I knocked on their door and said, “Turn down your music,” because they sensed I didn’t have any bite to back up my bark. They could tell if they pushed even a little I’d cower in fear and turn into a victim. Through therapy I have learned to hold my ground, to say no and mean it not only with my words, but with my vibration, and that’s when the music stopped.
Not turning into a victim is a lesson I continue to learn because it’s still my first impulse. Not being a victim is something supported by my spiritual teacher who wants me to be brave and to fight. He said, “Life is fight. Life is the constant fight against belligerent forces.” Later on he said, “No one can be victorious without fight: Victory without struggle is unthinkable.”
That means there’s no easy way out. That means I can’t hide under my covers and pretend things aren’t happening. It means I’ll never be victorious if I keep withdrawing from the world, thinking I can escape life’s problems. The hard truth is there’s no escape. The sooner I remember that, the easier life will be.
I dream of a world where we recognize we can’t run away from our problems. A world where we realize we have to stay and fight the hard battles. A world where we assert ourselves with strength and determination embodying our inner warriors.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Years ago I read an interview about James Franco’s childhood. When he found out he would die one day, he cried because there were so many things he wanted to do and he didn’t think he’d be able to accomplish them all in his lifetime. I relate, but not exactly in the same way. Yes, there is a lot I want to see and do, but my predominant feeling is that I’m behind. If life were a race, my perception is I’d be losing.
In 12-step communities, we’d say I’m engaging in “compare and despair.” That is, I’m comparing my life to someone else’s and coming up short. It’s true, I am engaging in that sort of behavior, but it’s more than that. I feel pressured. I feel pressured to go out there and get what I want. To seize the day, to grab the bull by the horns, to not waste a moment of my life. Pick an aspirational cliché: It applies. And if I haven’t, if I’m not growing, progressing, or achieving, then I perceive myself as wasting my day, and in turn, my life.
I like this picture because it shows time, but also beyond time.
Friends, I’m exhausted. It’s exhausting having this kind of attitude, to try and beat the clock. How many times have we all heard, “Do it now because you never know how much time you have left”? I need to start operating my life as if I have all the time in the world. As if I were eternal. The alternative is what I’m currently experiencing: feeling rushed, anxious, and frustrated. I can’t go on like this. Instead of living like I could die tomorrow, I need to live like I’ll die when I’m 120. I say this because I’m the type who would be hospitalized for exhaustion, not the type who constantly says, “Some day. . .” and “some day” never comes.
My body is screaming for rest right now and I don’t get any rest if I’m constantly putting pressure on myself to live as if I’ll die tomorrow. I don’t get any rest if I feel like everything needs to be accomplished NOW. I need to start believing all the dreams in my heart will come true, but not tomorrow, and that’s OK because I have time. I also think it’s a part of spiritual practice to contemplate the qualities I associate with the divine, which my spiritual teacher corroborates. He says:
“The wise do not absorb themselves in the glitter and glamour of the fleeting entities of this transitory world. They focus all the zeal of their hearts upon the Eternal Principle that is the original cause behind these moving entities. Ensconced behind every change is the One Who Witnesses every transitory entity deep within that Supreme Entity, who is the only entity. The truly wise should contemplate and worship [that entity].”
It may not work for everyone, but for me, right now I need to contemplate the One Who Witnesses every change. I need to contemplate my eternal nature, the one who views time as merely a marker, rather than a race. I need to believe there is time enough for everything.
I dream of a world where we strike a balance between activity and inactivity. A world where we slow down. A world where we get in touch with the eternal part of ourselves. A world where we believe we will accomplish all the things we wish to accomplish, but maybe not in the time frame we’d like. A world where we realize there is time enough.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Christmas Eve, I sat around the table with my parents and learned more about where I come from. Not just about their childhoods, but my grandparents’ too. I heard about great-uncles I didn’t know I had, twins I didn’t know existed. The more I heard, the more my eyes started to bug out and a wave of immense gratitude washed over me.
One of the most important things I learned that night is addiction runs deep in my family. Generation after generation, relative after relative. Stories of an alcoholic relation dying after falling down the stairs drunk; a morbidly obese great-grandparent. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about the common thread running through my family’s past. Holy guacamole. It’s a big deal that I’m in recovery for addiction. I’m turning the tide of addiction and dysfunction despite the weight of history pulling me in a different direction. I am a walking miracle.
I’m going to pretend these are sea anemones.
My friend and neighbor told me a few weeks ago there is often one person in the family who helps heal everyone else. I knew that was me, but didn’t understand how to fulfill that role. After hearing about my family’s history, I understand I’m leading the family in a new direction just by being me. By having the willingness to do something new, to sail uncharted waters. Here I was thinking I got into recovery programs and therapy just so I could live happier and more sanely, and that’s true, but recovery is also so much bigger than me. As soon as one person stops the cycle of addiction and dysfunction by working on themselves in a concerted way, addiction and dysfunction stops. I’m doing something for my family that others could not and that makes me a miracle.
I know this post is about me personally, and my family, but I want to emphasize I am not the only miracle. Everyone is a miracle.
My spiritual teacher says repeatedly that human life is rare and precious. I’ve never understood that. How can human life be rare and precious when there are 7 billion of us? How rare and precious can it be? When I discussed this with my dear friend, he reminded me when we take into account all the other lives — the plants, the animals, the bacteria even — human life really is rare and precious. I think of human life as being expendable much of the time, but when I contemplate there are probably 7 billion bacteria on my pinky finger alone, whoa, being a human really is a miracle.
I think of miracles as walking on water, turning water into wine, or somehow accomplishing the impossible, but really, miracles are so much smaller than that. It’s a miracle that I’m in recovery. It’s a miracle that we’re alive today. It’s a miracle that the impossible can became probable.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are miracles. A world where we practice gratitude for the changes we’re undergoing. A world where we understand miracles aren’t necessarily huge feats, they are also small triumphs.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version, scroll to the bottom.
All week it seems the thing I keep saying over and over again to friends is, “There is no ‘wrong’ choice,” so I decided it must be something to blog about.
When I’m confronted with a choice I’m often stricken with a sense of paralysis. “Oh no! Which way to go? What choice is the right one?” I freeze up because I’m so scared of making a mistake, that I’ll start down a certain road and realize it’s the most horrible one ever.
I know I usually write captions, but all I really want to say is can you believe this picture? Photo credit: David Marcu.
Something that soothes me and also feels liberating is remembering nothing is permanent. I know that sentiment often encourages people to live life to the fullest, or as if today was our last, but for me it also means if I make a “bad” choice, I can choose again. I can choose to navigate in a different direction. Nothing is stuck, or static, or stale.
What a relief to remember that. I think about when I was applying for colleges. It seemed like a weighty decision. That wherever I went would set me on a course for life so choosing wisely was imperative. So I did. And the school I went to was a terrible fit. What did I do? I transferred schools. There was no need for me to suffer where I was even though a part of me felt like I had to, that because I made this choice I must stick with it.
I know our society is all about sticking with things. Quitting is for losers or some such nonsense. I’m a believer in following things through to the end – if I say I’ll do something, I will, but when I feel like I have to stick with something just because I made the decision to do so, what am I really accomplishing? Wouldn’t it be better for me to have the flexibility to change my mind?
A while back I wrote a post on being unconventional. In it, I realized I’ve been looking for a home that feels like “the one.” A home that I’ll settle down in. A home that I’ll live in for years. These days, I’m not looking for “the one.” I’m realizing oh-so-clearly that I have to take a chance, and then if it doesn’t work out, I take another one. I don’t have to remain committed to a toxic situation. Now, when I’m looking for places to live, it’s not so serious. It’s not a life-or-death, I’m-locked-into-this-so-I-better-choose-wisely thing. It’s more of an, “OK, I’ll try this out for a while, see how it goes,” kind of thing.
We human beings were not made for staticity, we were made for movement. So when our choices seem not so great, we can make other ones. There are very few things that we truly can’t undo. I’m not saying there won’t be consequences – there are always consequences, but perhaps we don’t need to agonize quite so much at the beginning.
I dream of a world where we realize we have the power of choice and that means we can always choose again. A world where we realize if things are headed in a direction we don’t like, we can turn around. A world where we realize life is more flexible than it seems.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m really into astrology – not as much as some of my friends, but it’s definitely something I’m interested in. I know some people think astrology is a lot of phooey, but I’m willing to bet that’s because they equate astrology with reading their horoscope. It’s not. Or at least, there’s more to astrology than reading a horoscope. Astrology takes into account the time, date, and location of your birth and then based on where the stars and planets were, is able to reveal certain insights about you. It’s personal and specific.
I would like to point out here the stars and planets do not determine life events – it’s not like something will happen automatically because the stars deem it so. Astrology functions more like a roadmap telling a person how to get from Portland to Paducah. The path may be in place, but the person still has to drive there.
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This is an astrological chart if you’ve never seen one. It’s not mine — it’s John Lennon’s.
What I like specifically about astrology is when other things in my life are not making sense I can usually count on astrology to provide me with an explanation. For instance, Saturn is sitting in my 10th house of career, which means when it comes to career there’s a big ole block for me. This explains why all the things that work for other people when it comes to career do not work for me. It explains why the books, seminars, courses, and other resources don’t seem to make a lick of difference: Saturn is blocking my career path!
It’s not a punishment; Saturn isn’t blocking my career to spite me, but rather to help with my soul’s purpose. I have a wavering sense of self-worth, which is also reflected in my chart. I tie my self-value to external things like who I know, how much money I’m making, and most damagingly, my career, specifically, writing. When I write a blogpost that gets lots of attention from other people, my self-esteem buoys. When nobody seems to care a bit, my self-esteem sinks. Last week I noticed through the backend of my email subscription service my blogs get viewed the most when I email them at around 11 p.m. I decided I was going to be really clever and ensure lots of people read my post by sending it at that time. Wouldn’t you know it – it was the lowest opened email ever.
This is the universe’s way of saying to me, “Rebekah, there is absolutely nothing you can do to increase your readership as long as you keep tying your self-worth to your writing. Saturn will not let you succeed until you figure out your self-worth is entirely dependent on your connection to spirit.”
I mention all this not to throw a pity party, but because it brings me relief. It brings me relief to know that I’m not doing anything wrong, that I’m not ineffective, or a screw up. My career is not taking off because there are some lessons I still need to learn. Astrology reminds me my life is my life and what works for others may not work for me. Astrology reminds me I’m on my own adventure and I can’t possibly compare myself to other people because it’s like comparing apples with orangutans.
I dream of a world where we understand we are each on our own journey. A world where we realize what works for others may not work for us. A world where we realize there are certain lessons we have to learn that others do not. A world where we bring ourselves relief by starting with our astrological charts to provide us with answers we can’t seem to find elsewhere.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The title for this post is courtesy of Bryan Franklin who gave a TED talk titled “The most dangerous question on Earth.” He spent the majority of his talk on the qualities of a good entrepreneur and one of them is the ability to hold paradox. For instance, we matter but at the same time we don’t matter. He said, “You can touch a life so deeply and so profoundly that the impact of your loss would never be forgotten … the ripple effect of your impact is unfathomable. And also the magnitude of your insignificance is equally unfathomable … you are barely dust.” Holding the paradox means giving equal weight and importance to both, letting neither diminish the other. Holding the paradox means not taking sides but rather allowing both.
The paradox I’m holding is happiness and sadness. Until yesterday I was in Washington, D.C. for a wedding, which I decided to turn into a long weekend trip. I love Washington, D.C. I went to school there, I became an adult there, my favorite places on Earth are there. Yet I live in San Francisco and I love San Francisco. I love the weather, I love my friends, I love my apartment, my life, my community. I felt (and feel) sad about leaving the district because not only are my favorite places there but also some dear friends. My heart is heavy because I don’t know when I’ll see them again. Washington, D.C. is a special place for me because I don’t have one or two good friends who live there, I have about a dozen. It’s hard to leave such a large and deep pocket of love and kinship. I was sad to leave but happy to come home. A part of me wants to pick a side, to say I’m either sad to leave D.C. or happy to come back to San Francisco. But that’s not true. I honestly feel both.
What I’m learning is my feelings are complex and multifaceted so that means I can feel both. That means I can hold the paradox. I don’t have to pick a side. I don’t have to move back to D.C. because I miss living there. I don’t have to abandon my life in S.F. I don’t have to do anything really except feel what I’m feeling. Allow myself to experience both happiness and sadness, yes, even at the same time.
My life these days is no longer black and white, it’s shades of gray. I am an unlimited being so I don’t have to restrict myself to taking sides in the paradox. I don’t have to say either or anymore. Perhaps that’s what it means to be an adult, recognizing there are numerous possibilities and life isn’t as simple as I thought it was. I can feel both. I can love multiple people, places, and things and nothing has to replace anything else. I can have multiple favorites. I wish everything was cut and dry because life would be so much simpler that way but in truth, it’s not. So that’s what I’m encouraging. Embracing life as it is, which is full of paradox.
I dream of a world where contradicting ideas may coexist. A world where we allow for all possibilities and situations. A world where we allow ourselves to feel disparate emotions. A world where we accept our complexity and our depth. A world where we know one thing does not have to preclude the other.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.