Presence
Monday, July 11, 2011 at 04:07PM Our landlord gave us new window screens a couple of months ago, after our littlest cat rolled out of one while taking a nap on the window sill. They are the kind of screens that pop out easily and you pull the sides to make them fit into the frame. In our front room over looking her lush garden and the vacant lot of the house for sale next door, the screens have trapped flies in an area where it overlaps. I am in a depression high. Brought on by hormones, a stomach virus, city heat, and lack of direction in my life, and in this high I feel like one of those flies. Trapped, with no where to go.
I could meditate, roll out my mat and get into my body. But I choose to revel in this depression. A decision that is as poor as it sounds. A decision annoying myself and others who have to deal with or listen to me. Yet I choose to stay in it for the familiarity of this loss of self. This loss of self which sadly feels more like home than any sense of happiness has ever given me. I've come too far to be dancing with danger like I am right now. There is too much good in my life to allow this old friend in. The type of friend who hurts you so bad you can't let go of them, because at least they are making you feel something. In my loss I convince myself of the comfort in lacking direction. Like a lab rat in a cage too small, the only thing it can do is run in circles. There is no place for circle running in my life anymore, and my true self knows this truth deeper than any other. This feeling of home here is not real, it's dysfunction at it's finest. It's my inner five year old (a term coined by my old therapist) getting scared about growing up and letting go. Throwing her tantrum and holding on for dear life as I try to move past her. Screaming, "It's not fair! I've been through too much in my life to feel this way again! Fine, you wanna make me feel lost? I'll give you lost!" I need to tell her I love her but she's got to go, she isn't serving my life anymore. But I'm finding her case much louder and easier to deal with right now, regardless of what I know to be true.
When I meditate, I call myself. A trick I learned from a Sally Kempton workshop I went to a couple of months back. When I call myself, I answer. Not the five year old. Not the bored empath who convinces me that worrying about everyone else's life is more important than worrying about my own. But my true self. Each time I show up I'm in white, with a loving look on my face. "I'm here Sara", I say. "I am always here, and I promise you that soon you will be here with me." I take solace in that statement. That some day soon I will learn how to be present in my own life. For more than just a forced moment. But true presence. The five year old and the empath will always be with me. But with love I can shift them and open to what lessons they can teach me. Tell them sweetly "honey, I hear ya, but I think this way may be better and I think you will agree once you listen to what I have to say."
Last month I went to Wanderlust, a yoga and music festival in Vermont. The day before I was supposed to leave, Ben and I were told we were going to lose the apartment we had allowed ourselves to make home (an issue that is thankfully resolved). A week before that I began doing huge self improvement work with the guidance of one of my teachers. All of the work I had begun halted at the moment I felt my feet, which had just started to gain ground uproot completely. And as I left for Vermont I began to once again question my life in whole.
While there, I got my cards read by an AMAZING tarot reader. She told me Ben was my home, that we have a gift of a love so strong that nothing can uproot it no matter what the circumstance. It doesn't matter where we live, because together we are home. She told me I was a warrior, and have been one for long enough. That the traumas and the shit that I have had to fight my way through have already been fought and that now is the time for me to soften. It's time to play, and play hard. But first I need to figure out the one thing that keeps pulling me back from being able to do so. Once I deal with whatever that may be and find some stable ground, I need to stop. I've been working on myself for far too long, and once this one thing is dealt with it's time to focus on having fun and actually living my life. I laughed when she told me to soften "this is what all of my teachers tell me in my practice" I told her. And it's no surprise. Your life off the mat always miraculously reflects your life on the mat. I can't kick up in a handstand bc I'm too scared to play, I'm too scared to have fun.
I take life too seriously, which is something Ben and I had talked about yesterday. He brought up my great sense of humor. "Yes", I said. "My sense of humor is my saving grace." So maybe that's the answer, it certainly is something I keep coming back to in my life. Just laugh. But not just any old laughter. Real gut-wrenching, pee your pants, tears pouring out of your face laughter. Something I learned through the numbness of my past is that this type of laughter can only come if you are present, and in love with life in that moment. This is my biggest obstacle. My lack of presence. This is why I have been on a roller coaster of emotions lately, and why today depression won my affection so deeply. I am so scared to be an active member of my life that I will find any distraction, including self help, to keep myself from doing so.
When I'm present I know what I want, I know my direction. I know I want to be a writer. I know I want my book to get published and not only be a great success, but help a mass amount of people. I know I want to be creative and do arts & crafts, and travel, and play with Ben, my friends, my family, my cats. I know I want to be healthy, both mentally and physically. I know I want to laugh, laugh so much everyday, at the good, the bad, the ridiculousness, and the indifferent. I know I want to love, love myself, love my body, love Ben, love my family, love my friends, love every part of this gift of life that I have been given.
So, this is my work. Being present. Being Sara.
