Myth, The Journey, and Standing up in the River of Emotions

(This was one of the candidates for our Spring 2011 Newsletter, but decided to go with a lighter piece! This one is a bit more intense, but for anyone doing their inner work (especially NFs) I think you'll relate!)

To look at my life from the outside, it would seem slow and steady, quiet and unassuming. However, within the confines of this exterior, there is a wild adventure going on. I read somewhere that myth is a reliable map of the pilgrim’s journey, because as stories are passed down for hundreds or thousands of years, only those stories and parts of the stories that resonate with the human experience make it through the filters as they’re passed on generation to generation. What we end up with is a refined map of what each seeking soul will experience in their heroic quest for wholeness.

The map has proven true for me. I’ve experienced the labyrinthine path, experienced the valleys of blindness and sorrow, peaks of clear sight and joy; I’ve had moments of feeling shattered and lost, then moments of wholeness and contentment; I’ve experienced the coldness of feeling outside of love, and then the warmth of acceptance and forgiveness. I’ve wrestled with my enemy, slaying dragons of self-hatred, rescuing the beautiful and vulnerable parts of myself from the dungeons of fear and shame; I’ve come face-to-face with the inner demons that I’ve allowed to control me, only to discover they’re merely a mask of defense behind which my utter vulnerability lies, my ego’s attempt to protect me. The quest for wholeness is ongoing as I continue learning how to use the shadowed energy for healthier means of relating with myself and others.

What amazes me is that the only conscious choice I have in the matter, besides my initial yes to the journey, is choosing to stay in the pain that I don’t understand rather than medicate it or run from it, and paying attention to my dreams and synchronicities. I’ll share a recent page from my adventure story as an example:

I dreamt one night that I was in a wide river. I found myself getting swept away by a strong current. I stood up and held my ground. I was not washed away in the wrong direction. I wrote this dream down and shared it with one of our sistery members Inie, who has been working on dreams for 50 years. The river represented my emotions that can sweep me in the wrong direction when I don’t stand up in the current. The dream portended what next wanted to be made conscious, namely that, yes, I am able to stand up amidst a tide of emotions brought on by, say, experiencing rejection (real or imagined).

For those familiar with Myers-Briggs, I have a very high feeling function, at the expense of a much less utilized thinking function. This dream helped me realize the importance of learning to exercise my thinking function while the torrent of feeling is attempting to sweep me into irrationality.

A short time after this, I experienced being swept away by feelings. An observant friend, without knowing of my recent river dream, asked me to go to my mind and consider whether what I was thinking was true. I could feel the water rushing over my body, my rationality fleeting, but it was enough to help me plant my feet on the ground. It was a rather humbling experience of waking up in the midst of the irrationality I was experiencing. I was tempted to run, feeling ashamed. But I stayed with it, and the experience has proven to be an important teacher.

What followed in the ensuing days was some direct confrontation with some deep-seated fears that I have allowed to control me, and a breakthrough to the grief behind my wall of defense. I’m still learning how to stand up in the midst of the deluge, but I continue to get stronger with each successful experience.

I’ve asked myself recently if this journey to consciousness matters, in light of the increasing devastation locally, nationally, and globally. This work feels so small in comparison to the needs, yet I find that as my self-awareness increases, I participate less in the blind and unbridled consumption of natural resources and dualistic thinking. I feel more accepting of others, as I am more accepting of myself. Earlier in my life, I wasn’t strong enough to confront and bring to consciousness the powerful feelings within. As I now face my hurt and anger and my own capacity to hurt others, I shed the chains of falsehood that have held me captive and begin to find my true foundation. As I stop the violence I do to myself, I find myself less inclined to violate others. So, yes, the journey to consciousness does matter and feels crucial if I want to be fully alive and relate well in the world.

My hope is that as each person takes their heroic journey and faces the hurt and anger within, with courage, compassion, and forgiveness, peace will continue to take root among us.

Peaceful Demonstration

I woke up early yesterday morning, and the first thoughts in my mind were about the rally happening at the state capitol in Lansing that afternoon. I hadn’t firmed up my decision to go in the days before, and now that it was the day of, I had a strong desire to get up and join with some like-minded folks in demanding to be seen and heard. I got out of bed, shot off a quick email to the only friend I knew was going, and dressed, just in case she called. I left it to fate whether she got the message or not. This was a very last-minute request.

While I waited, I got online and tried to glean as much information about the rally as I could, did more research on the issue that was stirring me up to be sure I had my facts straight. (Unfortunately, I didn’t find any silver lining to the emergency manager bill.) My desire to go was building. I knew if the phone didn’t ring by nine, it was probably not going to ring. I felt disappointed in myself for not pursuing this sooner.

I thought of my friend Amy Jo and her son Liam. They might be willing to jump in the car last-minute with me. I sent her a text, and she responded that her husband was coming home later in the day. So that was a no-go. One person in one car equaled more harm than good, so I decided going to Lansing was out. But what could I do with this energy?

I started an online class last week, so I decided to study. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Amy Jo. She invited me over to an early dinner she was cooking for her family and the Cools. I was feeling heavy from experiencing the desire to get out and defend my civil liberties to the disappointment of no action. So in my fog I told her I’d think about it. It didn’t take long to put two and two together and realize I needed to get out of the house and be around some good friends and good food. I called her back and accepted the invitation.

The heaviness was sticking around. Perhaps it was from Synder opening the door to corporate takeover of our state, perhaps the devastation in Japan. Probably all of that and more. What was certain was that this time out at the farm was going to be like a ray of sunshine to my soul.

And it was. The sun was shining; it was warm. Douglas was home and had with him some woodworking tools he was excited about. We had a short chat, skipping the how’s-the-weather and going straight to talking about god, life, quantum physics, and what’s-the-point-of-all-this. Then it was to the kitchen to watch Amy Jo pull out a 23-pound succulent turkey from the oven, a beautiful bird that Amy Jo and Jess raised on their farm, that Amy Jo butchered herself. Karen brought out her homemade blackberry pie with lattice top. We sipped on homemade hard apple cider and pondered Brian’s question about the meaning of the word “love,” while Jess put on green beans left over from last year’s crop and Amy Jo made the gravy from the drippings and shitake mushrooms.

We decided to eat out in the sun. We piled in around the picnic table Douglas built for Amy Jo, taking in the warmth as our feet slid on snow and ice still frozen under the table. The food was to die for. Amy Jo commented this was the closest she’d ever come to making her stuffing taste like her mom’s, and it was indeed delectable. The dogs watched us longingly as we ate and proved to be good entertainment; Jess’s old dog Daisy did her best to levitate and float Layla’s leftover turkey to her mouth with a Jedi stare. We watched the hens and roosters come merrily filing down from their coop to enjoy the mud and grass. Amy Jo and Douglas’ pup Maggie exercised her pointing abilities and enjoyed going round and round a lilac bush with a little bantam rooster. It was an easy afternoon. As the sun got lower in the sky, we took a long walk through the mud and snow.

Then it was time to get in the car and head back home. Indeed, the heaviness of the morning had subsided, and I felt content with not having gone to Lansing. Reflecting on it this morning, I would say exercising my right to protest at the capitol or spending the day in the sun with friends on a farm eating simple, local, wholesome food, both are acts that create hope for the future. We need to defend our freedom from the oligarchy, while exercising the change we are demanding. My heart is filled with gratitude for the warriors who descended on the capital and grateful for the warm hospitality of friends.