7/9/18—Confessing

I'm a mail order reverend. I sent my email address to a website and that was good enough to get ordained, though my ordination isn't recognized in my state. But I run a confessional on Friday nights for my Facebook friends anyway.

The confessional is presented in a tongue-in-cheek, somewhat-irreverent way, but it's serious business. I take it seriously. And readers and confessors respect the process. There is no judgement. Everyone gets forgiven. It's a positive thing for everyone involved.

Most things are easy to forgive. From time to time, difficult things come my way. I don't say "Forgiven!" mindlessly. I really have to believe the forgiveness. But I promise to forgive everything. So I have to forgive everything. 

There are a lot of people who just like to read the thread without commenting. But the confessional relies on those who confess in public. For some, it takes courage. For others, it's just fun. And some just need to get something off their chest. All are welcome.

Now, for the most part, nobody's confessing to a crime or anything like that (though it has happened before.) I usually start with a few confessions of my own. Recently I confessed to liking blue eye shadow. And I also confessed to lowering myself to another's level in a disagreement. Many of the confessions are along those lines...either silly stuff or things that fall into the category of personal struggles and failings. Just when you think it's all in fun, someone comes along and goes deep. It's like a sociological roller coaster ride.

Most—if not all—of the confessions reflect our shared humanity. Who doesn't know the shame and glory of consuming "sinful" portions of food? Who among us can't relate to feeling insecure? Or diverging from the path of our personal development? And, really, who hasn't farted in a public situation, either intentionally or unintentionally? Haha. 

For those who read and don't comment, I imagine they are entertained, but I also imagine they feel a little less alone when they see others struggle with the same everyday things they do. For those who comment, they usually have fun, but they also have a safe place to get things off their chest, and they get to join in a process they trust and enjoy. The reverend was, of course, gone while I was sick and people really missed having their confessional, even if they don't use it every week.

Really, I'm the one who benefits most, though. Sure, sometimes I don't feel like doing it. And sometimes the confessional sits empty with nary a confessor in sight. But having just returned after a long absence, I'm reminded of how powerful an exercise it is. Because I have to forgive everything (because what kind of reverend would I be if I didn't?) I am exercising that muscle within me. Nearly everything is easy to forgive, but there have been times I've really had to struggle with my capacity for forgiveness, suportiveness and compassion. And there are other tests I face...non-judgment is one. Grace is another.

I also become a different person when I'm the reverend. When I'm in the confessional I'm more loving, encouraging, empathetic, understanding...all kinds of good stuff. Because as much as it's tongue-in-cheek—I'm not a Christian, nor do I believe in "sin" or hell—I also take it seriously. Because if you're going to call yourself a reverend (albeit a mail order one) you should strive to be your best you while wearing your smock...or whatever they wear. It's a test. A spiritual muscle builder. And a gratifying act. 

Frequently I find I'm not sure how to respond to someone's confession. Many times I feel they need more than just a "forgiven!" Maybe I think they need to feel better about something they shouldn't have felt bad about in the first place. Maybe their confession sparks a discussion. Maybe I decide a little added wisdom might help the non-confessing readers. Or maybe I just want to feel smart and reverendy...haha.  And I'm not always sure what to say to create a win-win-win between the readers, confessors and the reverend. But what I've found is that a no-judgement, loving response is always the best answer. 

I don't always have the patience and presence of heart to walk through life as "the reverend". But each Friday night when the confessional opens up, I'm reminded that I can.

7/1/18—Letting Go

A. Reaves Photography

Spirituality. Personal growth. Oneness. Transcendence. All the stuff we talk about on this blog comes from one thing. Letting go. 

Now, granted, it's far more complex than that. But pretty much everything you want to achieve, can be achieved by letting go.

Say, for example, you want to become a published writer. The list of things you have to let go of could include fear, excuses, limited ideas of what you can be, a relaxed work ethic, some outdated definition of who you are, naysayers, expectations...the list could go on and on. 

If you want to change a thought, you have to let go of the old thought. If you want to open your heart, you have to let go of the fortress you've built around it. If you want to be at one with others, you have to let go of the notion you're in any way different from them. If you want to move closer to god, you have to let go of needing to "know" and just trust. 

If there is something eluding you in your life right now, ask yourself what you have to let go of. There is something you're holding on to—an attitude, dream, goal, outdated notion, belief, emotion, stubbornness, resistance, fear, concern, excuse, knee-jerk reaction, insecurity, thought pattern, paranoia—something. Of course, you have to be self aware enough—and honest enough—to recognize the things you're holding on to in the first place. Ultimately, the only thing that ever stands between us and the things we want out of life is ourselves. 

If you've ever had a massage, meditated, practiced yoga or done any sort of relaxation exercise, then you know that your body holds on to tension in places you didn't realize. And you also know how hard it can be to let go of certain muscles...or to even know if you've let go of them...or to even know those muscles are there. Then, when you're "fully relaxed", you find another level of holding on beneath that. And you loosen that. And then, eventually, you're satisfied you're fully relaxed, even if momentarily.

This is the same process that happens on our personal journeys of growth. The more you let go of the muscle of the ego, the tighter wound you realize it is and the more places you see you're holding on that you never knew existed. And then, if it's even possible to reach a place where you think you've fully let go, you become conscious of a whole other nuance of holding on that you never knew existed.

If you're angry with someone, you're holding on. If you're sad or lonely, you're holding on. If you're stressed, you're holding on. If you're pursuing a goal, you're holding on. Even if you're happy, you're holding on. In fact, if you're alive and conscious, you're holding on...haha. Even monks hold on to their practice and devotion. We get glimpses of letting go, but we can't stay there, partly because trying to stay there would be holding on and partly because our journey on earth counts on us holding on to something. Holding on is our gravity. It's what keeps us tethered to this reality. 

As you begin a practice of self awareness and letting go, you also begin to see what's working for you as far as attachments go. A wise friend once told me "move toward that which makes you feel larger" and that principle applies here. If something is keeping you stuck or making you feel small, it's time to let go. 

For a different perspective, Buddhism believes that attachment is greatest source of suffering amongst humans. They define attachment as seeing the thing you're attaching to as separate from yourself. In their way of seeing things, it's possible to transcend attachments by being united with all things. So, in that way of thinking, letting go is actually the opposite of non-attachment. In non-attachment, there is nothing to let go of because there is unity in all things. In essence, you let go of your resistance to accepting this thing into your being. So that's another perspective on the situation. It doesn't make our journey as spiritual seekers any easier, though. It's just as hard to come to a place of non-attachment with something as it is to let go of it. 

I estimate that some of my letting go is letting go and some of it is non-attachment. I know that the more I understand and embody something, the less impact it has on me. And I also know that I frequently feel like I'm fighting upstream with some struggles and I often visualize letting go and letting the current take me...surrendering to it. Two sides of the same coin, really. 

For the vast majority of us, there's never going to come a day when we'll be here on earth without having countless attachments or things to hold on to. But we can lighten our loads, which is what the spiritual journey is about. It's about being as clear a channel as possible to transcend suffering or to receive and transmit grace, God's light, universal energy, the goddess...whatever speaks to you. Whatever your beliefs, however, the path to God or happiness or whatever you're trying to reach, can never be found by reaching toward something outside of you. It can only be found by clearing a pathway toward it within. 

6/25/18—Struggling With Anger

Sometimes doing the right thing, making the right choice or having the right opinion can be unpopular. It can certainly feel unpopular. Sometimes it can make you feel like a pariah. But when you walk the spiritual path, you have to keep growing. And those around you may not be ready to grow. Grow anyway.

Each time something like this happened to me, I was rejected and ridiculed by people who couldn't stretch themselves. Maybe I forgave someone too soon. Refused to lower myself to someone's level. Walked away from groups I no longer resonated with. Maybe I saw something others weren't ready to see. Maybe I thought or believed something others hadn't come around to think.

It's hard not to hate these days, especially if you're an American. It seems to be that way on all sides of the situation. I struggle with it myself. But I feel this situation is asking me to grow. And it's also asking me to risk becoming "unpopular" because I don't want to join in the hate anymore.

If you abandon your values and beliefs when times get tough, then the proper foundation hadn't been built, no matter how spiritual you think you are. (And, frankly, we regularly outgrow the foundations we build in life anyway.) It's easy to love and forgive everyone when your world is stable. It's easy to connect with your higher power and elevate your vibes. But when others challenge, offend, gall, anger or befuddle you, godliness can fly right out the window.

So how much do you really believe we're all one? How willing are you to forgive? How much do you really trust in your higher power to steer you safely through chaos? How much do you want to turn toward love instead of hate? How much do you want to seek what makes you feel larger? How badly do you want to be part of the solution instead of being distracted by the problem? And, most importantly, are your heart, mind and actions reflecting those ideals?

I ask myself these questions a lot. And some days I'm disappointed in the answers I have to give. It's a struggle. And there are times when you make decisions for your own growth that may not the serve the growth of others. We're all here on our own missions. My forgiveness may be what I need to stretch, and another's lack of forgiveness may be what they need to sit with. My decision to move on may be what's right for my soul's journey and another's decision to stay and love them anyway may be what they need.

Forgiveness and letting go of hate are very similar in that neither mean you have to continue surrounding yourself with the person. Neither mean you have to engage the person if you see them in the future. And neither mean you're OK with what they did. Both, however, DO mean you're shifting the energy in your heart. Neither are about the other person. Both are about you and the energy you carry in your heart. And neither is "complete" until you not only do and say forgiving or loving things, but also think loving and forgiving things. The thinking part can still be a challenge long after your outward facing self seems past it.

Interestingly enough, when you make that shift in your heart and mind, the other person often finds their way to growth, too, because the "you vs. me" energy has been broken. You could be half a world away and they can feel it. It shouldn't be your intention. Your intention should be to free yourself and move on. But it does demonstrate how the energy all of us hold shapes the energy of everyone else.

The Buddhists have a loving kindness meditation they do where you imagine you're walking down a road and and someone you love crosses your path. Your heart opens as you greet them. Then you continue on the path and come across an old acquaintance. Your heart opens as you greet them. Then you come across someone you had a beef with long ago, but have forgiven. Your heart opens. Then it's someone you don't even know, but disagree with. Then it's someone who has hurt you or you currently disagree with.

It gets harder and harder as you go down the path. But life is like that, too. You learn to forgive stupid stuff, then you encounter something new to find "unforgivable". And so it goes. It's like that with every lesson and every layer of the onion you peel away. But as you look around you and see others modeling principles you admire, know this: they are still on the same path as you. They haven't graduated, they're still struggling the same way you are, just maybe a lttle further down the road.

Sometimes growth can be painful. Sometimes it drops you off in the unknown all by yourself. And sometimes you wonder what the benefit is if you lose companionship because of it. But it's not about being popular or right. It's about living in the fullness of your ideals. It's about walking the talk. Cutting the strings that tether you to your smaller self. It's about integrity. With each step you come closer to your god and closer to the tribe that will take you again to the next level.

6/18/18—Building Our Mosiac

When I was a girl, I had a recurring daydream—that I would one day be wealthy enough to have a "mad room" in my house. It would be soundproof and filled with stacks of china. And when I was angry, I could go in there and throw as much china against the wall as it took to get the anger out.

I had kind of forgotten about it, until I saw Iyanla Vanzant dedicating an entire room of a home in Iyanla Fix My Life (a TV show) to one of those heavy bag punching bags and a bunch of bats. It was a series about angry women, many of whom had been victims of abuse—verbal, emotional, sexual, physical—all kinds. And when the overwhelming pain would come up, they'd go in that room and beat the crap out of the heavy bag.

It was the same kind of idea as my room filled with china. And it got me thinking. What was I even mad about back then anyway? As I write this, a million things come flooding in. In essence, though, being a kid didn't come easy for me. I didn't easily fit in—not with other kids and not in my family. And that was made more difficult because we moved every two years. The kid I was just wasn't well equipped for a nomadic life.

And on top of that, I needed more than I got from my parents...from my family. I'm the youngest of six kids and both my parents worked a good part of my life. If I were one of, say, two children, I might not have felt so starved. If I were a different person altogether, I might not have felt so starved. My parents were normal parents and we lived a normal life, so it's not like I was poorly treated. But the person I was felt unheard, unloved, misunderstood and invisible, yet remarkably visible when there was something to criticize. I had way more feelings than I knew how to handle, and I felt like there was nobody to turn to—nobody saw or cared. 

And the truly angering part was that most of this was not in my control. I had no control or input into how often we moved, where we moved to or how available my parents were. I didn't really fit in or have a friendship with any of my siblings. The ones closest in age to me were males, and they would be protective of me, but they weren't confidantes. I felt lonely and alone a lot. I cried a lot. I got pissy. I would act out at school and at home. I would scream into my pillow. And, occasionally, the pain would be too big for a pillow, and I would feel so intensely I thought I was losing my mind.

It's possible that the role of family and the purpose of childhood is to break you into pieces so you can spend the rest of your life putting yourself back together again. And all of it made me want a room where I could get the shattering out of my body and onto the wall and floor. Just like those ladies were getting the abuse out of their bodies and into that heavy bag.

I know the "dream of the angry room" seeped into my adulthood, but I don't know when it stopped being a legitimate goal in my life...haha. Somewhere along the line, I have found other ways to deal with pain and anger. I meditate. I talk to friends about it. I blog about it or journal about it. As I've written about before, I mow. And occasionally, still, the pain is too big for a pillow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

I wish I could say I've put all my broken pieces back together again, but I haven't. Some of those breaks and cracks have been healed and have made me stronger. And some of them keep me stuck in cycles I now have control over, but choose to remain in in self-sabotaging ways. I both mourn for and celebrate what the shattering has done in my life.

We arrive on this earth intact. And we leave here a mosaic of all the times we've been broken and healed. Each person that hurts you takes a shard and each that loves you leaves a shard to help you heal. We not only get to choose which shards we use to build our mosaic, but we also choose what kind of shards we leave behind for others. How we use those pieces—to create something strong and beautiful or something fragile and inconsistent—is entirely within our own control.

6/11/18—Forgetting Pain

Earlier this week a neighbor quipped that it was longest I had gone this year without calling 911. 

In that moment, I was mowing my lawn (if you can believe that!) and a million miles away from what I'd been through earlier in the year. But their comment brought me back...back to the many sleepless nights I feared for my life. Back to the frustration I felt trying to find a "cure"—or at least a doctor who took me seriously. Back to the ever-increasing physical limitation I was experiencing. Back to the hours spent in uncomfortable ER beds and days spent in slightly less uncomfortable hospital beds. Back to my time spent in a rehab center creepier than a Stephen King novel. Back to the darkness that surrounded me for so long. 

Once we move past a painful time of our lives, we begin to forget how bad it was. And thank god, right? Can you imagine if women remembered the pain of giving birth? (Or babies the pain of being born, for that matter?) Some other species of ancient man would have survived instead of us, simply because we wouldn't adequately propagate the species. 

Our ability to forget the pain of our struggles is what keeps us moving forward—from breakups, illness, loss, victimization, whatever. We feel the pain, then we love again. We live again. We risk pain again. 

I can see I'm already disassociating from the trauma of the last few years. I think our brains do that for our survival. It puts distance between us and the pain. It puts the trauma in a place where we can recollect it happening, but don't have to relive it in a palpable way. 

I feel really sad for that woman who suffered so long, who sat alone in the dark, scared, so many nights. I'm still close enough to all of that to remember being the woman who experienced it, but there is growing emotional distance between me and her. It's almost like it happened to someone else. 

I've experienced that many times in my life, but none so much as when my father was murdered. The story is so incredible and bizarre that, even as I tell it, it feels like it happened to someone else. It also feels totally made up. And I rarely tell the REALLY strange bits because they're just. so. odd. 

Frankly, my father's murder and my sickness and all of that DID happen to a different person. Things like that change you forever. The fact I lived through those things instantly makes me a different person. 

And I should note that when you're just trying to hold on to your breath, your life or your sanity—when you're in survival mode—you're not able to dream. You're in a different place altogether when you feel vulnerable and threatened. That takes you out of yourself, too. So in that way, it's also as if it didn't happen to you. 

When you consider all this in terms of evolution, it's interesting that we forget pain and move on. If it weren't useful to us, it wouldn't be so deeply rooted in our natures. So since we're programmed to overcome trauma, it's also part of our makeup that we will have traumas to overcome. 

There was a time when I'd had some big traumas for a young person. But now that I'm 55, everyone my age has dealt with heavy crap. If there is a person who ever leaves this life with nary a scrape on their heart, spirit, sanity, etc., I'd have to wonder what they learned or how much they grew. Happy things prompt evolution, too. But, in my life, at least, the heavy stuff has been the most transformative. If it didn't suck so much to have to live through, we might actually welcome it.

6/4/18—Believing New Reality Into Being

Not actual lizard. Image from VA Herpetological Society.

I chatted with a neighbor through the fence the other day, and then the strangest thing happened. 

While chatting, she mentioned being afraid of seeing snakes. I didn't realize we had snakes. If I didn't have dogs on patrol all the time, I would suspect my yard's "natural" growth would be a snake breeding ground, but I've never seen one hanging out in the neighborhood. 

She said seeing snakes is rare, "but the lizards!" I've never seen a lizard, either. And I sit out back all the time. She said there are little lizards all over her porch each morning. While I had no reason to doubt her, it all sounded a little bit wacky to me because I didn't even know there were lizards in Virginia. 

But then two seconds later, I actually saw one. It was maybe 5" long, head to tail. Maybe it was a salamander. It was crawling up my tree. 

In one minute, tiny lizards my neighbor saw in droves didn't exist in my reality. And in the next minute they did. Opening my mind to the possibility either made me more observant or it manifested a new reality for me. 

This same phenomenon served me well when I quit smoking 15 years ago. I tried to quit for 10 years, but "it was so hard!!" Finally I allowed for rhe possibility that it could be easy. And it was. 

This is the point in this blog entry where I say, "Just open your mind to new possibilities! It works like magic!" And sometimes it does. But I have been working on "I can win the lottery. SOMEBODY has to win it!" for years now and I haven't won yet. And there is probably a part of me that doesn't REALLY believe it could be me, but there was a part of me that didn't believe lizards lived in VA, too. On the other hand, the lottery could just be waiting for the perfect moment to surprise me with a win. 

There is a metaphysical principle that says we create our own realities. The further down the rabbit hole I go with that particular theory—for example, that you only exist because my mind conveniently made you exist—I can't quite get on board. But I have clearly seen evidence that I can manifest situations and things just by thinking of them. And I have had evidence of "changing my reality" just by opening my mind to possibility. Chances are, you have, too.

So if there's something that's got you stuck this week, eludes you, or "just isn't possible", why not try living as if it is possible? Each time your thoughts drift back to "It's too hard" or "I'm not talented enough" or "It just isn't in the cards for me", stop yourself and turn your thoughts around. Carry yourself like you've already gotten your wish. Be grateful for receiving it. See yourself doing or having your wish. What could it hurt?

I have found on more than one occasion that the more rigid I am, the fewer possibilities I have. And I may get what I want, but I haven't given the universe enough room to do something super amazing in my life. Yet when I don't try to control the exact way my wish will be fulfilled, I usually get a nice bonus from the universe. 

Let's face it. Sometimes the universe knows us—and knows what's best for us—better than we do ourselves. So leave some room for possibilities you didn't imagine. And greet what comes with an open mind. Start asking for "XYZ or better" and if "W" shows up, give W a fair chance.

5/28/18—Letting Go Of Sickness

My brother made a suggestion a couple of weeks ago that made a bigger impression on me than he imagined, I think. 

For years, I've had my medicines sitting on my coffee table, right in front of the sofa. Sometimes there would be many months worth of inhalers piled up. They were convenient there. And as my condition got worse and worse and I spent more time on the sofa, I valued the convenience. 

In one sense, they were so "normal" there for me that I didn't see them. In another sense, I couldn't help but see them as they reminded me many times per day not to forget to take my pills.

So, a couple of weeks ago, my brother suggests I move them someplace where they wouldn't remind me I was sick all the time. It made sense. I found a box to fit them in and now I only see them once a week when I fill my pill box. 

But it got me thinking...it was time to stop being sick all the time, too. It was time to pick my life back up and stand on my own again. It was time to stop playing the "surgery" card. 

On one hand, it seems silly to say, because I do still have aches and limitations and I have a three-month rehab coming up. It's still early. I could elicit sympathy for at least another few months. And I do have legitimate complaints. 

But on the other hand, I'm not sick anymore. I suppose anything can happen...I could go into afib again or my new valve could somehow fail. Any one of us could face an unforeseen malady. But the fact is, I had a bad body part and it was the culprit that dogged me for years. And now the source of that issue is gone. And, while still recovering (who knew coughing and sneezing could hurt so much?) I'm better than I have been for a long time. I can't walk as far yet, for example, but I can get around a grocery store easier than I have been able to for years, actually...and without sweating profusely and turning red to the point of humiliation while I'm at it. 

I'm not sick anymore. I'm recovering, and well along my path in that regard. It's time to start living like a normal human being again. 

For years, I wore the "mysterious, debilitating illness" label. I really had no choice because it was so prominent in my life. But it gave me many excuses—remaining stagnant and becoming more reclusive among them. And as much as I hate to say it, I got to be a victim, too. Even when life sucks, there are payoffs...excuses, attention, victimhood...glum indulgences. "How can I possibly move forward when my energy is still low and my incision isn't fully healed?" I could hold on to that excuse a bit longer. Its sell-by date isn't yet expired. But what am I waiting for? WHY am I waiting?

It's really no different from someone facing an empty nest, a career change, a child, a marriage, a divorce—there are times in your life when you have to stop being one thing and choose to become another. If you hang on to the old thing, life will eventually start to crumble around you. There's a card in the tarot—The Tower—that depicts the inevitable destruction of some aspect of your life. We can move alongside change or it can come crashing down upon us. But make no mistake: change will always win in the end.

Normally, I'm not beyond hanging on for dear life until I HAVE to change. But I no longer want to wear the cloak of darkness I've been wearing, no matter how it might benefit me and keep me from the discomfort of change. I'm starting to shed it, whether it's ready to shed me or not.  

So that's what happens when you suggest I move my medications...haha. It wasn't just staring at the medications that was keeping me in the "sick mindset". And even though I think I can milk it a little longer, I longed for this day for years. I feared this day would never come. And while I can forgive circumstance and medical oversight for delaying my wellness for so long, I don't think I could forgive myself for stretching it out any further than is necessary. There's a difference between being victimized and being a victim. 

We can choose to re-label ourselves at any time. If we don't like a personality trait, we can change it. If a label is untrue or has outlived its validity, we can re-label ourselves. If a life phased has passed, we can move on to the next adventure. We don't even have to slough the old way entirely. We can just de-emphasize one behavior and emphasize another. 

The timing, however, is key. Do it too early and you risk being ill prepared to greet your best future. Hesitate too long, and you just keep getting more and more miserable as life changes around you and threatens to leave you behind. The best path forward, it seems to me, is to be honest with yourself, accept your new role and greet it fearlessly. Easier said than done, I know. But also not as hard as you'd think.