As the oldest, I have long been known as, and probably am, the bossy one. And as the bossy one, I want you to slow down and breathe. Just for 30 seconds. I want you to feel the joy of breathing in. I forget to do this, I forget to look for joy even though it is everywhere. We can't spend all of our time looking at the swamp, you know.
And time well spent is not time wasted!
You will make it through this week. I have had weeks just like it. But things are quiet here with children grown and mostly gone, and so I have the luxury of really missing those over-scheduled days and weeks.
I really appreciated your observation that when we step into the swamp, and pause there, we discover a whole other life community. Too often I expect, and find, darkness which makes me hyperventilate, like in the nightmare. I was also inspired to wonder, what happens if we dive into the swamp? What would we find down in the deep? I think I have to mend my broken heart before I take it diving into the slime.
I completely agree with your observation that to live is to survive pain. It's part of the game of life. That is the source of lessons. But if someone holds you and comforts you immediately, you develop empathy - learn how to reach out or speak up immediately. If that doesn't happen, if you are alone, you suffer until that first person who understands and listens shows up in your life. And I remain grateful for the grace of those who have shown up for me. I think they are the answer to one of your very first questions - who taught me resiliency. The answer is the people who acknowledged and validated me, and let me vent and let me cry.
I wonder if Buddha was truly alive before he opened his eyes to the world around him. Can isolation in a place where you know no pain, although it is happening all around you, really defined as being alive? Perhaps the awareness of the duality brought him to life. And perhaps enlightenment simply means actually being alive.
I didn't know the term Bui Doi, but I have wondered if we are related to any of them. How would we know? How would they know? And I have learned the stories of the indigenous children being taken from their families. I do know that we are not the only ones who have suffered, and that our suffering has not been the worst. But it doesn't matter who is the most damaged. It only matters that someone proves the swamp can be traversed. We can climb out and clean up and be joyful. And there will be pain, but we will have each other, so it won't be like suffering alone. We can be tender with each other so our hearts can not only heal, but grow.
I was shocked when you said the spiral staircase is going down. I thought I was going up. It was good to be reminded that we can go either way, as necessary!
I have been thinking about crying. I learned not to cry, not to show any vulnerability, both at home and at school. The new kid is always a target - I know from years of experience. If I failed to react, they left me alone. Being alone isn't great, but at least no one is hurting me. I started crying when I went to Al Anon. I cried for what I did, what I missed. I cried because Dad never understood what a great kid I was. His loss. Then I got involved with Reevaluation Counseling, where crying was a healthy release, and when I cried, my peer was simply present with me, acknowledging me. I learned to release. And now it is easier to cry. What I was thinking about is that in the past, feelings like I had last weekend overwhelmed me until I shut down. My depressions have always been silent, emotionless, facing a great void with no answers, no relief. Now I feel the pain, so it's not depression. Depression just is. It doesn't move, it doesn't change - it just is and I am dead in the center of it. Now I am active - actively feeling pain and sadness and frustration. Maybe answers will come soon...here's praying!
And again, take a second to feel joy. I will be waiting for the report! Lovingly waiting...
No comments:
Post a Comment