I entered a dark and vacuous space that I knew was outer space as Maggot Brain by Funkadelic played. It was the gravity that draws towards your head after breathwork. I had begun prayers. Listing off people to pray for, which I had drawn from Tom Hanks’ portrayal of Mr. Rogers. Yesterday when I did this I listed names, a contest to drop as many as possible. This time their faces appeared out of the darkness of space. Holographic, almost. Consciously drifting out of the exercise, the gravity of my head and chest grew. Like particles from all over gathering tighter and tighter to birth a star or a new planet. It’s a gravity that both acknowledges self and the weight of self and the expansiveness of the beyond.
I meditated with mom to Shakti Gawain.
She’s left now.
Seemed to be rather in a hurry if I do have to say.
I lost myself.
Not in any grand way, but my awareness slipped.
With mom in the room it seemed if I was just doing it for her and was gladly accompanying her with my body.
God knows where my mind went.
Weekend one of the Oprah series began this morning.
Focus was the theme.
She has a special grounding quality, but what makes her so spectacular is that she has earned public legitimacy.
She’s no hippie spiritual leader. She lives in this linear world. She’s real and showing achievable goals. Like the Mr. Rogers. The title of being a living saint is alienating for both him and those who follow, because it marks his behavior as unachievable, exceptional, rather than a product of work and determination. Don’t quite like the word determination, seems too “work harder not smarter” to me. Maybe the correct term is intentionality. I like that.
My word from the workshop was Purity.
To work well, think well, move well.
To live well, period.
I don’t remember where I heard it, must’ve been some podcast way back in the dark days of Tony Robbins and Lewis Howes binging in early high school. It’s funny because at that time I’d hear a line and be like that’s IT! And for a moment truly believed that I had figured life out. Had thought my way, studied my way into mastery. Or being clued into some sort of higher knowledge. A sneak peak into the exclusive club of people that had “figured it out”. But then I’d just forget about and grab on to the next tidbit of info that seemed mystical enough. Our spiritual maturity does mirror our physical growth. At that time I could be best described as a distractible toddler.
But eventually, I’d begin to catch on that to really learn something, fully understand it was to feel it, and feel it on your own terms. It would just have to click, and most times (all the time) it would require a force outside of myself to snap it a conscious part of my everyday existence.
There is one belief that is really becoming loose, to the point of rattling its final shakes before ejecting itself off me. The belief I’ve been dissociating with the most in the past year has been expectations of what life and work should feel and look like.
There’s some sort of survivors guilt...no that’s not the right term. Anyways, there’s this guilt that goes along with settling for only things that make you feel well. Well I can’t just not stress or struggle. If I don’t do any of those things I’m not working hard enough. I’m copping out. I’m being lazy. Everyone else is doing it! Look at them running around all ragged. Literally strength in numbers to everyone’s disadvantage.
It’s like I’m on some sort of twisted scavenger hunt, interrogating all the bits and pieces of what I think in why like a ripe game of Mafia.
Today I finally caught the little bastard that is grow up! You’re heading into real life. It’s a shit show. No fun. You’re required to suffer and be miserable, it’s a tenet of adulthood. Except that this metaphor isn’t quite right. It’s not a violent game of capture the flag, in where the flags are the things I’m missing. You can’t forcibly strip the old things from you, because they are you. Identifying old obsolete gears and cogs is one job. Putting them to rest is another.
It’s more like the feeling of finding a lost kitten. There’s a sense of compassion that accompanies it. Oh there you are! I got you now, I see you. So you were the little thang that was getting me all caught up! And this warm reunion in a sense comforts the bit of ourselves that created this believe, that crafted this troublesome little kitten into existence.
Move with grace. Shine light onto the dark and unknown parts of me.
When you remove urgency to the process of self-restoration, self-healing is when bits and pieces of yourself begin to come.
You can’t chase a dog into coming to you. You must draw attention to yourself, and make yourself worthy of being come to.