Staying in My Lane

2nd on the list of activities in my life that serve as barometers of my spiritual footing is my behavior in the pool (the 1st activity on the list is my behavior in traffic !)

When in my best Self,  aligned with my Higher Power,  I stay in my lane - literally and figuratively.

When I believe I am in charge,  I am JAWS.

Two weekends ago, my spiritual ground clearly in question,  I am irritated by a man who is taking up an entire lane (at the pool where I swim,  lanes are shared by 2 people when it is crowded) during prime Sunday morning swim time.   He is swimming purposefully,  I believe,  down the middle and so sprawled out that it is nearly impossible to share a lane.   In my place of self-righteous anger,  I dub him "The Old Walrus" and feel justified doing so.   There is no room in the pool when I arrive and I have a futile and aggravating experience in negotiating space with him,  until fortunately a lane opens up.   I swim next to him seething the entire time with fantasies of splashing him or dunking his face full force under the water.   I have allowed this experience to rent space in my head and yet want to blame him for all of it (this would be known as "resentment").   I talk about him to a dear friend and want to find allies in seeing the injustice of his behavior.

I go to a meeting later that day which I was chairing on Step 8.   I recognize that I am not practicing willingness to treat every person with care,  as they suggest in this step,  and I allow myself temporarily to see my part,  to see my vulnerabilities of character and to share humbly about it all at group level.

Fast forward to the next Sunday,  which was yesterday.

I arrive promptly at the opening of the gym,  make my way into the pool, and who is there but 

The Old Walrus.  I feel a familiar pang of irritation arise.  I choose a different lane.   The pool slowly but surely begins to fill up with enthusiastic Sunday morning mermaids and mermen.   The Old Walrus is fully engaged in his taking up an entire lane so that no one can share and I glance over from time to time,  thankful that I am sharing with a kind woman who makes it easy for each of us to swim effortlessly.   Out of the corner of my eye,  I see a young man who enters the pool area with no other choice but to go in the lane with the Old Walrus.   He is clearly a swimmer:  broad shoulders,  thin muscular legs,  able to sport a Speedo.  He is a pool Adonis.

 He hops in the lane and it appears that he may be more of an egomaniac than the Old Walrus and this is the perfect monsoon.  He proceeds to do, of all strokes,  the Butterfly !   Watching these guys duke it out for splashing rights is a sight to behold.  I try not to gawk and to just stay in my lane and swim.  I am very aware of how I secretly want to see the Old Walrus put in his place once and for all.

And then something else happened ...

The two people sharing the lane next to me both exit at the same time.   It is completely open.  I am content swimming where I am and quite sure that the Old Walrus will want that lane.   As I am kicking away on my board toward the end of the lane,  the Old Walrus motions with his hand to the open lane -- gesturing as to whether I want it or not and can he have it.   I motion and state  "Go right ahead."   I realize in this moment that it's not that important and I don't need to exercise my power to prove a point or to do to him what the Adonis was doing.   I recall a reminder that a beloved soul shared with me just a couple days before about "seeing the God in everyone".   My week had been such that I was residing on much more solid spiritual footing than I previously had been.   

As I reach the end of the lane and put my kickboard up on the ledge so that I can return to doing breaststroke,  my eyes now come into clear focus with this older man (no longer objectified by the term of non-endearment I was using).   He remarks:  "I don't share lanes very well."   I reply:  "It seems like you prefer a lot of space."    His eyes get wide and light up:  "You have NO idea..."   My gaze met his and there was an understanding in that moment that went unspoken.   

I returned to swimming,  my heart wide and my whole being softened.   I pondered whether or not he lived with a domineering,  intrusive spouse and this was the only place he could have his own space.

He became so human to me;  there was no longer any "thing" here between us.

When I got out of the pool to leave,  he waved goodbye and I waved back.

I was given an opportunity for healing and to practice the principles of the 12 Steps in all my affairs.

It was a choice point and I chose to be happy and not to be right.

I stayed in my lane.

Infinity and then some ...

Infinity, a photo by Angelionli on Flickr.

I had a dream in the wee hours entering yesterday morning where I was looking to purchase a new home. I had really liked the one I just viewed and was steered toward another one, a "must see this" urged the realtor. There was a number 8 on the door and my thought in the dream was: "that's my lifepath number, this is meant to be".

As I opened the door, there was utter destruction and ruin. Walls torn down, gravel and old wallpaper on the floor, some rooms with floors or ceilings caved in. I looked in disbelief and yet I didn't turn around. I became curious. I can recall the tiny pebbles of dirt and other material glistening on the floors. In spite of the wreckage, there was a seemingly solid foundation.

After a good 24 hrs to ponder this, I decided to investigate this dream. 8, which I have a strong numerological connection to, is also the symbol of infinity when on its side. It also corresponds with the Universe of Assiyah and the Hebrew letter, Chet -- which happens to be tattooed on my foot. On the Tree of Life, it is assigned to Hod -- the sefirot of location, placeness, splendor, one's secret garden.

In my last Lifepath year, 2006, significant life-altering events happened. In February of that year, a former client made false allegations which have since taken a different shape and I am in the midst of legal matters to resolve my past mistakes of poor boundaries. In July of that year, my partner attempted to slit her wrists in our kitchen and I had her placed in a rehab the following day. 10 days later, in an attempt to talk about our failing relationship, she threw me out of our home and I was never to return. The month was August -- the 8th month. In October of that year, I would attend an intro workshop and meet my soon-to-be healing teacher, entering this school in December of 2006.

I return to the #8 house in my dream. This house IS me,  a representation of the assiyatic action I am taking in my life in the present. I am literally clearing away the wreckage of my past. There is beauty and splendor (Hod) in being solidly located in this -- hence, the shimmering in the rubble on the floors.

The symbol of Infinity, 8 on its side, is boundless; it is the cyclical nature of Life. It is the spiral of Chesed of Yesod, the rhythm of all Life that contains the nega, the oneg and the pause in between.

I am fully in it ... in the infinite movement of my Life path ...

Form Preciousness

Surface Tension, a photo by nickwheeleroz on Flickr.

I have been on a blogging hiatus.

I have not, however, stopped writing in my head or in my heart or in the palm of my hand.

For 4 and a half precious hours this morning, I was engaged in form preciousness. Fully giving my attenion to each movement, activity, feeling and allowing each to be just as it is, including any anxiety or fear.

I sat in communion with God and my Dog this morning (a Divine anagram !). After lingering a bit in bed, I ground delicious coffee beans and made french press coffee. I talked for awhile to my sweetie, who made me laugh just being herself. I made breakfast and listened to a Tara Brach podcast. I did one of my non-dual practices for conflict. I changed sheets and washed my comforter. I did the dishes. I swept and dusted and mopped my entire apt -- giving each room my undivided attention. I walked the dog. Then walked myself and stopped to look at tulips and daffodils along my trek to pick up a variety of fresh produce. I took a steamy shower. I made lunch.

This is my IDEAL Sunday. Every sense stimulated while I luxuriated in every moment.

Everything that is allowed to exist, exists in light.

In a different place ...

Measure These Things by Your Eyes, a photo by [ Kane ] on Flickr.

One day
you suddenly

WAKE up

and find

you are

sitting

in a
                                     different place

in your Life

And

scratch your head

wipe the tears
of SURPRISE    away from your face

upon realizing

I am the

One

who has     
                 moved away,


not them

I will be what I will be ...

~ daybreak ~, a photo by ~Fussel~ on Flickr.

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh.
Hebrew for: I am what I am.

Or, as my healing classmate translated for me, the "burning bush" moment when God asked Moses to lead His people [as God would have him] ...
"I will be what I will be."

After a week of wrestling with myself, I have landed on an intention -- my desire for change.

"I want to be in the Life that is here, including its uncertainty and unpleasantness, trusting that I am safe and secure in this awake Presence. I honor the voice of my wise interior who knows what she wants and needs. I can bear and experience Reality without poisoning anyone or keeping my story alive."

My dear friend received and healed me from a place that I was calling forth and she trusted what was here. She felt the luminosity of the threads of my poisoned ground, like a vapor, hovering around my deep places of wisdom and knowing. These threads simply needed to be gently turned.

An alive awareness to my woundedness, without being overtaken, allowing it to have its rightful place beside my desire for health, well-being, presence of mind ... I am calling the Awake. The marriage of the exiled and the free.

I will be what I will be ...

Illumination

Luna and the Evening Star, a photo by Mr Geoff on Flickr.

I have gotten free of that ignorant fist
that was pinching and twisting my secret self.
The universe and the light of the stars come through me.
I am the crescent moon put up
over the gate to the festival.
~ Rumi

God, please release me from the bondage of Self.

It has been my own fist, as noted in Rumi's words above, that was doing the pinching and twisting.

I am currently engaged as an observer and a participant in seeing the battle I've been having nearly all of my life with myself. There has been much bloodshed and scars. I fear that I have hurt many an innocent bystander. I am perhaps as toxic as a nuclear waste site.

AND

I have goodness and light. I am holy as I am.

Opening my eyes and ears and heart a little more and a little more to all of the voices of all of the Who-Is's that make up the entity that is me, I am both surprised and weary.

A statement of the One in me who does not like uncertainty which took me aback was this:
"I don't want to die alone." I didn't know that actually lived in me.

The voices that I am sick and tired of are all the whining and complaining drones about being seen and heard and met and respected. Blah, Blah, Blah. Those are tiresome, self-seeking voices that come from trying to keep the Woe is Me story alive and well. I've read it dozens of times and it doesn't have a happy ending. Let's toss that book into the fire, shall we ?

My teacher Jason has pre-warned that the venture into examining our poisoning thoughts is a road to be trudged gingerly. I can attest, being on the trail for a spell, that it is the muddiest path I've dragged my boots in AND, for me, there is no turning back. This IS a choiceless choice. The operating mechanism on this here piece of human machinery is rusty and in dire need of an overhaul.

If I want the lights of heaven to shine through me, so that I am indeed the moon over the festival -- the celebration of Life -- I need to keep putting one dirt-drenched foot in front of the other. This is the path to Salvation. I don't want to poison another soul, including me.

At Her Deathbed ...

Gustav Klimt: Ria Munk On Her Deathbed, a photo by deflam on Flickr.

I stand today at the bedside of a loved one who is dying.

This dear soul is me.

I should clarify by saying – the former ”Who Is” of me.

What also will disintegrate in this process are the attachments held by this version of me.
Tears stream down my face as I let go and say goodbye to each of them. What finds me in the deepest well of sorrow is bidding farewell to the one who has been attached to the unavailable, with an imagined hope of  Fullness. One cannot be nourished on breadcrumbs trying to be convinced it is a feast.

She now heeds the call, which whispered her out of a deep sleep, a number of nights ago:

“Follow your own trajectory.”

I cradle this One close to my heart.

Grieving and holding and standing simultaneously, I am gazing into the eyes of suffering in a way that has never seemed possible, definitely not tolerable.

There is nothing to grasp, so I fall back into the arms of God. The lines from the AA Big Book bellow: “We stood at the turning point. We asked His protection and care with complete abandon.”

Wide awake to this Reality, my face collapses into my cusped hands, defeated and surrendered.

No control: it is not yours to do but the purpose of the world itself.