My wife and I have been spending a lot of time lately with Elders and older friends; visiting, taking care of them, participating in ceremonies with them.
And one of the things that’s pretty obvious is that people are starting to get older – ourselves included. We’re starting to move a bit slower; starting to do a little bit less.
But things are getting deeper. Conversations are getting deeper. Ceremonies are getting sweeter. And the prayers are getting more honest…
There’s a certain sense of familiarity that comes with covering the same ground again and again. You learn how to read the terrain – how to navigate by familiar stars, even when you can’t see them.
It’s comfortable, even though it can be excruciatingly difficult.
But those of us who’ve learned to step off the path for a bit, to rest a while on softer ground, to feel comfortable for a moment under the light of unfamiliar stars,
we’ve learned a few things…
I’m also reminded, in these things, of this path of emotional recovery – of how difficult it can often be.
And then, how some mornings, you can wake up, and you can feel that something’s changed.
You feel different.
You feel rested.
You feel strong.
You learn, as you go along, to really take comfort in these strong times — in these times where you feel healthy — because you know that there’s always more work to do. You know that you’re being prepared to go a little deeper, to walk a little further, to carry something that’s a little bit heavier…
Today is actually one of my favorite days of the year. It’s the day I get to plant my vegetables. I don’t grow from seeds because I don’t have the room, so, I’m going to make the rounds later and pick up some plants.
I’ll get those in the ground. I’ll get my berries into the raised beds that I set up. I’ll uncover the fig tree…
And I’ll have a hell of a good time doing it.
Does all this change the way things are in the world?
Absolutely not.
Does it change the way things are in me?
Hell, yeah.
There’s just something that feels really good about being out here getting my hands dirty.
And since I garden barefoot, getting my feet dirty, too…
A few years ago, I was talking with someone about intention. We were having a discussion about what it means to set sacred intention – or sacred intent – when you’re getting ready to do ceremony.
And so I picked up a pebble and I said to him, “What is this?”
And he said, “It’s a pebble.”
And I said, “No, it’s an altar. Say it.”
And he kind of shrugged, and said, “It’s an altar.”
And I said, “No, believe it. What is it?”
And he said, “It’s an altar.”
And then I said it, and then I put the pebble down on the ground
– the altar down on the ground –
and I said, “Now just sit.”
When we sat there for a few minutes, and I saw the look on his face, I could tell he was feeling it. The energy in the room completely shifted. We were totally grounded.
And then I picked it up again and I said, “This is a pebble. Say it.”
And he said, “This is a pebble.”
And I threw the pebble over my shoulder, and the energy of the room completely changed.
And he got it.
For that short period of time, we were bound together in a sacred space specifically created by our intention, by our belief that that space was sacred.
I am very grateful for everything that’s happened in my life, because it has brought me to those places. It has given me the gift of being able to sit with others without judgment.
And I can say, “Well, that’s the price I have to pay for this privilege.”
Or, I can say, “That’s part and parcel of the privilege. That was my school.”
You don’t get to pick one without the other.
It doesn’t mean you have to like every single aspect of it. It doesn’t mean you’d want to go back and repeat it again, because for love or money, I wouldn’t…
Out of everything in your life, what are the things that feed you? That nurture you? That keep you healthy, and ultimately, promote life?
And out of all the things in your life, what are the ones that drain you? That take your energy? That keep you sick, and ultimately, promote death?
If you know the answer to that question, then here’s another one:
What are you getting out of hanging onto those things?
Carl Jung once said that “Unless you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.”
That, right there, seems to be the core of so much of the work that so many of us who come at the world from the perspective of adult children of alcoholics and dysfunctional households are doing every single day.
When we grow up in an environment that’s unpredictable, chaotic, we learn certain survival skills. We learn how to read the terrain. We learn that we either have to keep ourselves low – to stay out of the range of fire – or we learn to lash out in anger in order to make ourselves bigger, stronger, and less vulnerable.
And until we start to explore these things – even later in life, because they’re rooted so deeply, we find ourselves involved in the same types of situations over and over again, the same dysfunctional relationships.
It’s like we walk into the same story again and again, only the names have changed, and the characters are slightly different…
I used to wrap up my life and the way I was living in a story kind of similar to the following:
“I am the way I am because my dad was a drunk.”
Or
“I am the way I am because my mom was a very frightened woman who raised me to be dependent on her and poured her fear into me.”
And I was good with that. I knew the way my world worked. I knew why I was the way I was, and that was it.
And that’s the thing about blame. It’s a very easy handle to grab onto. It gives you some security, when you think you’ve got your life all wired out.
You understand the way things are.
And you can move into that story, and you can feel safe there — even if it’s turbulent…
We need you out here…
Every single one of us that’s doing our work, that’s trying to get better, that’s trying to heal old wounds…
We’re keeping the lights on.
And we may not have any idea of where the hell we’re going – of what this is all going to look like when the healing finally settles in, but we don’t need to.
If we can just keep putting one foot in front of the other; just pick up the work that’s given to us, carry it until it’s done, set it down, and pick up the next bundle.
Just keep doing that…
I’ve been talking with several people lately about the way things are in the world, and there seems to be this general consensus that even though the external world – the social world – seems pretty chaotic right now, there’s this feeling that the ground we’re standing on spiritually, even emotionally, is pretty solid.
It’s as if we’re being asked to bear more weight, so we’re given a solid foundation to stand on while we do it…
Bonja the Bodger 