My Tent on The Beach

I’ve never been a fan of the Manichaeins.  They were an ancient competitor of Christianity, professing the belief in a dualistic approach to everything.  We all hang in the balance between two opposing forces vying for our souls.  ”What forces?”  you may ask.  Everyone together now: “Good and Evil.”  It sure makes things simple doesn’t it?

And as much as I don’t like this particular kind of simplicity, I can’t help but embrace a much more holistic idea of balance and complementarity.  I think the principles could be the same: I think there are opposing forces at work very often in my life but they don’t work to rend me apart as much as the work to balance the social order of things.  When I’m having a particularly horrendous day, very often my close friends are experiencing the opposite.  When I’m frustrated, if I’m open to it, I notice people stepping in, usually subconsciously, to alleviate that.   A day after I seem to make amazing progress on whatever challenge I’ve been laboring, there always seems to be an inevitable fall from grace (usually and ungraceful one).  I’ve never considered these opposing forces pulling me outward, farther and farther apart.  I’ve only come to understand them more definitely as a process of falling in and out of balance.  There’s always a yin to a yang.  There’s always a sweet to a savory.  There’s always compassion to follow judgement.  There’s always light after darkness.

One of my more recent insights of which I’m particularly proud (but really not attached) is to realize that these rhythms, this balance, is not linear.  These balancing forces appear to us as a cycle; ultimately, I think we can trust in the rhythm.  When we approach it as linear, everything appears out of place and is scary and creates anxiety.  If we’re always moving forward without paying attention to the backward, then we’re certainly going to be lost.  While the present always brings us something new, it also always (ALWAYS) reminds us of something old, something familiar, comfortable, to be honored.  But how much is that balance.  We have to want the balance…otherwise, the rhythm disappears.

This is a really abstract reflection on really concrete events I’m watching happen today.  From one source I see hurt–disappointment, discouragement, and wounding.  In the meantime, another source experiences great joy, abundance, and love.  I’m sitting in between contemplating watching “Glee” again and finding some contentment for both right where I’m standing right now.

It’s a weird day.  In that rhythmic, balanced sort of way.

This could easily be a rant about comments I didn’t ask for showing up on my Facebook page that “cynify” [def: turn something fun into something cynical...that's right, my word] something I’ve posted up there as a moment of levity.  In fact, I’m choosing not to dwell on that (and it’s an active choice because I’m actually seething about it right now…but I’m letting go).

No, instead, I’m going to build on the somewhat popular, new-to-this-blog topic of friends being asses.  It seems fruitful territory to mine these days; at least, I learn an awful lot about myself.

I think it’s no secret (unless you read this blog and literally absorb nothing I write about) that I’m in a period of reflection, transition, self-discovery…all brought on my these crazy circumstances of change everywhere I turn.  Like “epic dreams” that allow your subconscious to speak “truth” to you in dreams, my life right now is at “epic transition.”  I’m totally day to day.  And I’ve already discussed how important my friends are in keeping me afloat in what can be tumultuous seas.

But this tumult also breeds a really bad habit on my part and what can be really bad behavior on the part of some of my friends: they can be mean to me and I’m likely not able to call them on it.

I know…it’s funny even to think about that weird contradiction–if people are mean to us, how can they be friends?  But no, there is a fine line I think lying in between people being comfortable enough to “be who they are” in their darkest of forms and people just being…well, asses.  And this is a line we (meaning the “me”s in this situation) regulate…it’s up to us to defend who we are and what people are allowed to do to us.  Although, arguably, when it comes to friends, we should never have to. (What can I say…I’m still an idealist at heart…and head…okay, I’m an idealist at the most molecular level.)

I realized today that this has been happening to me for awhile…with someone(s) I do consider my ports in this daily storm.  And it makes me sad in several dimensions.  I’m sad I let it happen.  I’m sad they’ve taken advantage (although I’m sure they’re not even aware…which, incidentally, is why we can still be friends).  I’m sad I have to confront my “ports,” a situation that could render me…wait for it…portless.  And portlessness is a scary place to be.  But it’s not scarier, necessarily, than have ports whose waters aren’t shelters but are actually barnacle-pummeling storms (okay, I’m done with the boat metaphor now.)

I guess the realization is this…I’ve assumed the storm was outside of this group of folks I’ve surrounded myself with…only to discover that they’re part of the storm.  I do have faith that I’ll be heard in whatever way I choose to address it; these conversations won’t be easy, but I think they’ll be fruitful.  But I keep moving along as though I’m protecting something I have.  What I’m really protecting is just a mirage…once again, the choice to face what is real rears its ugly head.  At least there isn’t a decision to be made; this simply cannot go on.  But things will change…another transition.

What’s hard to remember is that there are transitions that will bring about more difficulty and there are transitions that will actually get us to a better place.  This specific case is definitely the latter; my life will be qualitatively better not swallowing the bad behavior (no matter the intention) or justifying it…or contextualizing it…or rationalizing it.  I’m going to get away with much less work on a daily basis.

But I’m not fully prepared to accept that some of these “friends” might not be “friends who are asses sometimes.”  They might, in fact, just be “asses.”  And maybe it’s time for them to find another lost little rowboat to pummel (sorry…I needed just one more go…)

I’m hoping…really hoping…for option A.

Yesterday, I was headed over to the eye doctor for some new,  exorbitantly expensive contact lenses when I saw possibly the greatest vehicle I’ve ever come across.  A silver Dodge Utilivan pulled up next to me and I never would have noticed it had it not roared past me, displaying it’s company to be “Universal Power and Control.”  There was a ladder on top…it was an electrician…or was it.

That made my whole day…as did my ridiculous knee-jerk reaction that was, “How do I work there?”  I don’t know how to do anything electrical…but I’m willing to be an apprentice just so I can drive that truck around Chicago.  Brilliant.

Of course, the irony was not lost on me…in fact, the whole episode was nothing but ironic since for the past 7-8 weeks my whole life has been one big shitstorm of unknowing; Universal Power and Control has been my sad, pathetic mantra.  I’d do just about anything to get it at this point.  And whenever I’m clinging on so tightly to that need to control, I just know that whether I like it or not something profoundly chaos-enducing will surely happen.  I just need to let it go a bit.  There is a balance to all of these things.

So this morning as I was standing (okay more like trembling) in “vertical splits pose”–the one I’ve also heard called “needle”–I realized two things.  First, I came to accept the fact that I cannot have universal power and control.  Actually, I’m not even sure I’d want universal power and control–I mean, really, wasn’t that what the entire movie Aladdin was all about? [Sidebar: is anyone else as shocked as I am that the entirety of the western world has been saying this name wrong...and that it's -ah-la-DEEN....not ah-LAD-din?  Thanks again Disney for creating another lie my whole life is tremulously built upon. End Sidebar].  My greater insight, though, is that I already have universal power and control–but it’s really only over my universe which is mildly annoying but a step in the right direction.

I’ve been sweating blood over the past couple weeks, especially when it comes to people moving and moving on.  It seems there’s a lot of this going on.  I feel adrift in their seas…at their whim…I’m floundering.  Except, while suffering through breathing in “needle pose,” I began to think that the power I have in these situations refers specifically to my ability to trust them.  I have the power to trust the people who are moving and moving on.  If I can stop fixating on the circumstances [moving and moving on] and focus on the people [trusting they will show me the loyalty I show them], then the situation becomes more manageable.  The people define the circumstances.  If I empower them to do that, I can breathe a little easier, at least for now…by that I mean this second.  I’m trying to work up to a minute.

One of the greatest comforts I find in yoga is that these systems of thought are ancient…and they seem almost tailored to me in this day and age.  If Buddhist monks on the mountain a thousand years ago were fixated on how, exactly, to live in the here and now and not slip carelessly into the future or past, then…well…good for me.  I really am human.

And I still want that Universal Power and Control truck.  It’s just to tempting NOT to think about…

Confession: I am a sucker for at-home workout videos.  And I’ve done them all.  It’s almost embarrassing…Rodney Yee–yep, I was doing Power Yoga with him before he was all, “I’m a big yoga creep.” Pilates–Ana Caban is still my girl with all the props.  Tae-Bo with Billy Blanks…yes and yes. And…my favorite…Budakon.  Supposedly, Jennifer Aniston said this made her lose those pesky 30 pounds…you know, the ones that kept her from looking like the skeleton with fantastic hair that she is now.

Anyway, I’ll kill myself to remember the Budakon guy’s name but he is amazing…he’s like some kinda black belt in Tae Kwon Do (I’m sure that’s spelled wrong) but super stretchy so he does yoga too.  This is not the point, however.  My point is he said something in one of the videos (that I basically did for 2 years straight) that has stayed with me.  He used to say, “When you concentrate on something, it expands.” What?

I had images in my head of swirling power energies and chakras and auras and things.  I felt I was out of my element.  It was new agey and weird.  But this little thought has followed me around like a nagging 2-year-old for years.  So finally, I stopped to give it its due and…I think he’s right.

If you concentrate on it, it expands.

Of course.  I’ve been doing this for years but I didn’t know it and actually I think it’s been killing me.  Allow me to demonstrate with…a cheeseburger.  Sorry all one of you vegetarians who may or may not be reading this…but one of the few things I crave hard in this world is cheeseburgers…like the, “I need it now” craving.  Once I’ve established that I need that cheeseburger…it’s all I can think about.  It consumes every other thought.  It’s always poking around from the dark corners of my brain, asserting itself mercilessly on my poor frazzled psyche…until I get it…and then happiness.  The same goes for misery and discontentment and loneliness…all that seem to be conditions brought on by reality but all that are actually my own mantras, allowed to form through the circumstances I’m in.

All of this is a long way to say, I’ve decided to choose happy.  It’s a very conscious decision right now because choosing unhappy is a well-formulated awful habit I’ve picked up.  But I ran a little test experiment not too long ago and, I’ll tell ya what, choosing happy works. I think the key for me was realizing that in my life, the opposite of happy is not unhappy, but worried.  I somehow roll around gloriously in my worry…if I’m not worried, I start to worry that I should be. Frankly, it’s ridiculous.  So, I’ve chosen strategically what and how much I’m allowed to worry about things…and I’ve actually started breathing again and everything.

Choosing happy is not easy.  I’ve been trained in worry.  And I’m good at worry…but it’s only taken about 17 years (alright, alright, 28 years) to realize that it’s not worth it.  There is a time and place for everything.

It’s time to give happy its due.  Thanks Budakon guy…whatever your name is.

One of my favorite little mysteries of life involves getting smacked in the proverbial face by the answer that you’ve been waiting on for awhile.  I’ve been laboring over coming up with something to say in these special fields that I’m working on and it’s been annoying and exhausting.  All of these little snippets of things roaming around peripatetically in my head with no connections.  The picture on paper is even worse.  Excruciatingly slow writing progress.

And then, yesterday, it hit me.  Like a friggin’ ton of bricks.  There it was, unfolding in front of me, much like the path of the most perfect putt does to Junuh in The Legend of Bagger Vance. I saw my way home.  I saw the end and I saw the path.  Finally those pieces clicked into place.  And instinctually I cried at the sheer simple beauty of it.  And out of a profound sense of relief.  (Which was short-lived when I realized that I was crying in a semi-private forum…ah well…it was in the moment.)

I’m tempted to just sit and think about the process.  How did it happen?  Why yesterday? But, I just can’t now.  I’ll never know the answers to that question.  It was, in fact, a simple gift.  Simple in presentation in that it was there one minute when it hadn’t been the previous minute. Simple in that it found me in the quiet and stillness.  Simple in that I was at ease.

Inspiration is funny.  Everything we know about working hard, challenging ourselves, making strides…it all seems pointless when true inspiration strikes.  It’s elusive both in its presence and absence.  But not ever without notice.  These kinds of deep breaths feel very good.

And I’m proud to announce that I think I have a muse.  That’s surprising too.  My muse looks nothing like the ones in Greek mythology.  I want to be able to use the word “diaphanous” in muse-talk.  I just can’t even imagine that…but it does make me laugh, so I guess that’s something.

Hooray for revelation.  Today is a whole new day.