Thursday, October 30, 2008

The Pain of Growth

I'm not sure if I've written about this before-- it's a topic that fascinates me, and so I tend to keep coming back to it. The idea comes out of astrology and it's this: We are born into this world with a certain set of skills, abilities, or a way of being-in-the-world, really, that we just know how to do. It's that "something" in our lives that just comes easy and naturally. The thing we barely notice because it is so much a part of who we are that we take it for granted. It's our second nature, as they say; though really it’s our first nature—our default mode. The character of this something is described by the placement of the South Node in a person's natal chart.

Directly opposite the South Node of the moon sits its North Node, which is symbolic of our path of growth. This “something” shows what it is that we are here on this earth to learn to do. Taken together, what these two points in the sky tell us is that what we are good at is not necessarily what is good for us, at least as far as evolutionary growth is concerned. Our path of growth involves a fundamental, internal shift, represented by these two polarities.

We need to understand this as a shift in our orientation to life. In other words, it is less about content than it is about process. I can take care of my health in a Virgo-inspired way, using discrimination, analysis, structure and attention to detail (my South Node way) or, I can do the same in a Piscean way, attending to my intuition, spiritual truths, and a go-with-the-flow sort of mentality (my North Node). The shift might manifest as a the difference between planning what I will eat for the day in advance, ensuring that I get the proper nutrition, versus asking myself in the moment, what does my body need now? The intuitive way is what my particular north node is calling for. For someone else, the task might be to move from that spontaneous and intuitive way of relating to the world to a more structured and discriminating way. Or one of many other different possibilities depending upon the placement of the nodes in your natal chart.

What fascinates me about this idea is (1) it resonates deeply with me when I consider my own life and (2) there is a way in which it is counterintuitive, at least in our culture. We are taught to value, to highly praise those things we excel at. Yet, those very things—or that way of being-in-the-world—can land us in a place of meaninglessness. A colleague of mine whom I deeply admire and respect asked me to consider taking on the position of president of the board of directors of a non-profit she started, which I know is near and dear to her heart. I’m good at this sort of thing. It brings me a certain kind of recognition, good networking, valuable experience. Another, larger board also asked me to consider a run for prez, which could bring me more status, stature, and authority. The problem is, none of it is near and dear to my heart. There is no meaning to it, other than I know I could do a good job of organizing and leading and making sure the details are tended to. To admit this to myself, though, is risky. I risk losing what I know I can do well to discover meaning in something that I won’t do so well. We’re usually not so good at our North Node way of being in the world because it is new to us. Stated another way, the orientation to which we are called to take on is usually one we fumble with, at least a bit. We make mistakes. Face embarrassment, even shame. I’ve had these experiences too often since deciding to try to follow my path of growth, and it has not been fun. As I struggle to be more spontaneous (my Piscean North Node), I mess up. I say the wrong thing, or show too much vulnerability, or misperceive what a situation might call for, all in an effort to stretch myself so that I might eventually reconnect with something meaningful. And I have a ton of other planets in Pisces helping me along the way… and it’s still totally hard. And I don’t even know if it will happen—finding the meaning, that is. It’s a big risk. I often wonder if I should have remained safe, never venturing out and leaving behind how I know to do things well in order to seek some deeper sense of meaning and purpose. May be I should take on those board positions. It’s tempting, but for me there is no turning back. I’m too stubborn. I love a challenge. And I’m a gambler at heart.

Fantasy for a Friend

I have a rich fantasy life, though what I fantasize about is not that out of the oridinary. I imagine the everyday conversations I'd like to have. And the things I would like to be different in my life-- sharing Thanksgiving Dinner with close friends rather the obligatory family visits, for example. I have these same fantasies for others, imagining what I might want for them: For my artist friend to show his work in a Soho gallery; for my sister to go to hairdressing school; for my husband to break out of his need for so much security in his life. It's a strange thing-- to create fantasies for others, since they are, after all, my fantasies. My husband likes his security, for example; it's me who would like to see him loosen up. So, I try to own these invented stories as my own, even as I dream them for and share them with others. Below is the fantasy I had for a friend. I offer this, for what it's worth, to all the guys and gals out there searching for and chasing after that thing we call love.

One day, when you are not expecting it, you meet a woman who intrigues you. You like the person she is. You laugh together. You have fun sharing time, and ideas, and even some hobbies. In fact, things go pretty well. She's not quite your usual type, though. And you miss the high of the chase that is ordinarily a part of your romatic relationships. But something about her keeps you interested. She has a way of tapping into the best there is within you, and at some level you feel this. It scares you, and there an edge of excitement within the fear, though it's different than the edge of excitement in the chase you are used to.

As things grow more serious, you want to pull away, but that something-about-her-that-keeps-you-interested is stronger. And so you stay, despite some doubts. You settle in together-- start living under one roof-- and over time the doubts start to fade, though they are there to some degree and you still miss the chase. The sex is sometimes good, sometimes mediocre. You wonder what else is out there. What you might be missing. On some level, the relationship feels too easy— there is nothing to conquer— and this leaves you uneasy, but you stay.

She grants you absolute freedom. No strings attached. She wants you to be you and to have those experiences that leave you feeling fulfilled. She can take care of herself, psychologically, which means that you can claim your own freedom. The potential for projection is taken out of the equation. If you feel limited, confined, uneasy, then you know it is coming from within and not from her. She is holding space for you... to be.

And over time, you begin to relax into her. And the sex gets better. And one night you make love to her and all boundaries dissolve. You find that you are totally open to her, in a way never experienced before now: Exposed, vulnerable, known within your depths. She sees right into you, clearly, and she still loves you… loves you more… and you feel it, deep deep within, in your bones and blood and soul. Her love for you is visceral and penetrating and warm all at the same time. You feel death as the merging evokes the eventual separation; and it's worth it. At this moment something unrecognizable is running through your veins— a kind of power unknown in your life before now. The power that comes from abject surrender. And you taste God, in yourself, in her, in the air that you breathe. Death and God and sex and love are part of the very same moment, ... a moment which eventually ends. And life resumes, and for the first time in your life, something of the high you just experienced stays with you in a way that you cannot quite explain. But you don’t need to explain. Because you feel it. And in that moment all doubt ceases. And you know you’ll be with her forever.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Seduction in the Self-Help Section

I stopped by the book store on my way to work today, looking for inspiration in the music and self-help & spirituality sections of the store. I’m always searching for something— usually some secret that will break open the skies above allowing me to glimpse heaven and the path which leads there. I didn’t find heaven or the path, but did discover some new music. Unfortunately, none of the self-help titles appealed to me; I think I’ve read them all, or some version thereof. So, with a bit of disappointment, I made my way toward the cashier to pay for my new CD when I found myself in the erotica section and picked up Seductions, by Lonnie Barbach. Both the book’s title and its beautiful cover grabbed my attention, and the fact that the author had the letters phd after her name made a book from the erotica section more appealing. Letters after one’s name is not something to which I usually pay attention, but somehow, I guess I needed some perceived legitimacy for my porn purchase. One of these days (soon, I think) I won’t need this anymore.

Seduction is a gateway to passion…” says the book’s author. She also describes erotic moments as invitations “…to be more vulnerable and hence more intimate.” I realized as I read this that this was exactly the self-help book I was looking for. In truth, the secret that might reveal heaven to me is encoded in passion, vulnerability, and intimacy. This, I know. If I were to read through my writing from the past year, I’m certain I would find these themes peppered throughout my blog. When I’m radically honest with myself I know that being comfortable in my vulnerability is the cure to all that ails me at this time in my life.

Vulnerability. What does this mean? And what does it look like? Merriam-Webster defines it as: (1) Capable of being physically or emotionally wounded and (2) Open to attack or damage (www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/vulnerability; 10/28/08). Now why would anyone wish for this? The answer to this question is easier to understand if we think about the issue in reverse: What is it that we do to protect ourselves from being wounded? To close ourselves off from attack or damage? Vulnerability, we begin to understand, is our natural state. A child is born absolutely open to wounding and damage; she is dependent on her caregivers for protection. Wanting and needing such protection is also our natural state. And herein lies the dilemma: At any given moment there may be competing internal interests to be open and closed at the same time. Open to connection & intimacy and closed to the wounding which inevitably comes with this. Wounding hurts; it’s natural to want to protect oneself in the face of this. Vulnerability looks something like moving in the direction of connection, intimacy, and anything else we desire in the face of potential disappointment and hurt.

Astrology has helped me to understand how this has manifested in my own life. I was born with A LOT of Pisces energy, which translates into much sensitivity, compassion, and openness— indeed, almost a lack of boundary between my self and the world. I think this put me at risk for more intense wounding; and this, combined with parenting that couldn’t support my sensitivity, led to my attempts to become invulnerable, or so I believed. In my adult life I literally developed hard skin (scleroderma). There is not a more clearly literal translation of this dynamic than one’s skin acting as a shield for the potential wounding from the world. It’s sad to me to think that I was that scared— that I, or my body, believed that I needed such dramatic protection from the world I live in. I share this example because it seems to me to illustrate what many people struggle with, each in their unique ways. Perhaps the balance of vulnerability and protection is different for each person. I am learning that pretty extreme vulnerability is what I need to move toward if I wish to discover some semblance of heaven here on earth. I’m learning how to protect myself when I, in fact, need to, and how to let go and risk for the sake of passion and intimacy in all other instances. And this brings me back to my self help book. What comes to mind when you combine passion, intimacy, and vulnerability? What better way to practice these states than through Seduction—“the gateway to passion”—and all that that entails?

Saturday, October 25, 2008

From a Pisces

How do you live on the earth
after journeying to the depths of the soulful ocean?

Can you find happiness at the post office
once you've paid a visit to paradise?

Or appreciate the clouds
when you've already seen beyond them?

Can life be anything other than medicore
after tasting heaven and making love to God?

Practical advise is welcome...

FOR NOW

Destruction
Rage
Withholding
Suffocating the air that love needs to breathe

Fed by horrific screams from within
The shadows burst into black.

Fear
Protest
Aggression
Fighting the threat always just around the corner

As real as anything ever felt,
The feelings are lost in their own truth.

Shame
Humiliation
Confusion
Wanting to breathe more peacefully

Made possible by the witness within
The sadness overtakes me.

Song
Dance
He
Yearning to love with abandon

Released by the smallest ray of hope,
I will not die today.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

A SEXY AND FERTILE NEW MOON

A new moon takes place on October 28th. Approximately once per month the universe wraps us up in moonlight that carries potential, opportunity, and fertility as the Sun and Moon share space within the same degree of a shared sign of the zodiac. On October 28th, both the Sun and Moon will be at approximately 6 degrees Scorpio, filling the sky with a sexual, mysterious, psychically penetrating, intense, passionate, dark, & deeply contemplative energy. It is my favorite day of the year.

In astrology, the Sun represents the core personality, the light that shines forth from us when unencumbered by our hang-ups, the ball of fire that lights up the sky. The Sun’s energy radiates outward, penetrating that which surrounds it; and in this way it is a more masculine form of energy. The Moon, in contrast, speaks to a more murky and feminine part of ourselves: Our instinctual responses and needs; the ways in which we seek comfort, experience raw feeling, and feel cared for; our inner tides and ties—to our roots and rootedness, including the body. It is a receptive energy, focused inward.

During a new moon, the fire and light of the sun meet the tides of our instinctual life. The masculine meets the feminine. And if we can bring awareness to these complementary energies, then something will grow from the murky and fertile ground. The image of a lotus basking in the sun carries this well. On and around October 28th, we have the opportunity to birth something into being that is both rooted in our instinctual nature and can shine forth into the world. The atmosphere is fertile with this mingling of masculine and feminine, penetration and receptivity, shining forth and looking in. It is a call to generate something from the most intimate awareness of our bodies, allowing it to radiate toward the sky.

In the world of astrology, new moons are believed to be a good time to set intentions for that which you wish to grow in your life. If you can hold this in mind and take action that honors these intentions, the full moon two weeks later will begin to offer the fruits of your integrity and desire.

The sign of Scorpio brings a particularly sexy and sensual energy to this October new moon, and with it, to our intentions and creations. To me, Scorpio is the personification of the conjunction of the sun and moon with its gorgeous merging of masculine and feminine energies. The sign itself seems to have an affinity for the lunar cycle, and for new moons in particular. Those individuals with a strong Scorpio vibe tend to carry themselves with a subtle, yet very strong, quality of confident-shining-forth. This masculine shining-forth is as compelling as it is precisely because it radiates (Sun) from the depths of the instinctual body (Moon), which is exquisitely feminine. It is this marriage of penetrating strength and compassionate receptivity that lends Scorpio its je ne sais qua—that mysterious and nebulous sexuality and sensuality the sign is known for.

In addition to the profound marriage of masculine and feminine, Scorpio has a natural fondness for the cycles of the moon given its affinity for regeneration and transformation. Any discussion of Scorpio is incomplete without at least a mention of its potentially transformative nature. At its best, this is the energy of the courage to let go so that something new can be born. It is the energy of great power and brave surrender merging to create a life well-lived. The energy of a tantric way of life. And of knowing when it’s time to destroy and build anew. With a Scorpio new moon, it is likely that something will, in fact, need to die for the new to be born. This is also the energy of deeply fulfilling and potentially transformative sex, with the letting go or dying required (remember that the French word for orgasm translates as "little death").

Don’t let the day and night of the new moon pass by without opening yourself up to the opportunity for an inner merging, deep dreams, regeneration, or a profound sexual encounter. And if you choose the latter and don’t wish to get pregnant, use birth control. Remember that the air itself will be wet, passionate, penetrating, and fertile. Enjoy it.

Isn't That Crazy???

"In a sky full of people, only some want to fly. Isn't that crazy?" -- SEAL

Listening to Seal's Crazy this morning, I was aware of how crazy it really is that only some of us wish to fly. It must be my own midlife awareness of mortality that has me thinking about regrets, and life, and what it is we’re all doing here. I believe that most of us, if we were to thoughtfully reflect on this idea, would want to live the best possible life we could during our short stay on this planet. Yet, how many people actually take the time to reflect on what this best-possible-life would look like for them? And how many fewer people take the courageous, and admittedly risky, steps to get there? My experience is that only a very small segment of the population is currently journeying to actualize such a life, let alone actually flying.

I consider myself one of the inhabitants of the sky who, in fact, wishes to fly. I don’t want to get stuck tethered to the ground for the rest of my life. Images of spreading my wings to fly, with the freedom to visit the clouds and the moon, fill my soul. And I know that if I do this I will make the world a better place and help others on their journeys to flight as well. Yet, with all of this knowledge, and with a passionate desire, something keeps me stuck. This something, I am sadly learning, is a lack of faith: A lack of a belief that this is attainable for me. The realization is particularly sad given my Piscean nature. I have a shit-load of planets and asteroids in Pisces in my natal chart, including the Sun, Moon, North Node, and Venus. The fishes motto is “I believe,” and I do believe in others. I see the potential in others quite easily and I have faith in their capacity to fly. As a therapist, I hold that vision for the individuals I work with when they can’t see it themselves, and I give it over to them when they are ready to open their eyes to this potential. And then I watch them fly.

When it comes to my own life, though, faith in the capacity to rise above is no where to be found. There is a refrain that repeats, now just on the border of consciousness, singing a reminder that I cannot create the life I wish to lead. Less conscious, most of the time, are the reasons: It’s selfish, others need you to be there for them, flying is a threat to those who don’t, your not beautiful enough, etc. It’s one of the few songs that I strongly dislike. Yet for some reason, I listen.

I recently described these limiting beliefs to a friend as my internal glass ceiling. I can see the sky through it, and I even envision myself getting there, but keep bumping up against the glass as soon as I try.

I believe all of us have our own version of a glass ceiling. There are always words that go along with it, expressing the beliefs that form the ceiling: “You can’t --- because ----.” It’s worth reflecting on what your personal glass ceiling is saying to you and working to make this as conscious as possible. Once these beliefs are conscious—that is, once we’re aware of it—we can evaluate how accurate these beliefs are. We can actually set up experiments in our life to test these beliefs. I encourage folks to start small. Open your heart just a bit wider with a trusted friend and see what happens. Get that massage you’ve been wanting and see if the world in fact tells you that you are selfish. Ask a friend to watch your kids and see if the sky really does fall. It is with such baby steps that we can begin to question those long-held, but often false, beliefs and start to break-up the glass that keeps us down. It is risky. And it takes courage. And it’s the only way toward that flight you’ve been wanting to take.

Friday, October 17, 2008

REGRETS?

What regrets would you have if this thing called life were to be over for you tomorrow?

What is one thing you don't wish to live without?

And the one thing you can't live without-- the feeling, experience, sensation, or other something that you seem to need more than the air you breathe?

What would you do if you were more courageous than you were fearful? And if you weren't concerned with what anyone else might think?

How would you write the ending to your life if it were a Hollywood screen play?

What would you do tomorrow if you didn't live with an internal glass ceiling?

And if you could travel back through time and visit yourself as a five year old, what you tell him or her?

Meditation

I have worked with quite a few spiritual mentors over the past several years, each of whom has appeared in my life in his or her own unique form: Therapist, astrologer, friend, or internet-based-guru. Many, if not all of these individuals, have suggested the discipline of meditation for me. I have always cringed in response. The mere suggestion taps into a certain resistance that lives within me. And this is true even though intellectually and in general I think it is a good idea. So why do I cringe when the idea is presented as something I might do within my own life?

When I listen to and read some of the descriptions of meditation and its goal of detaching from (or not attaching to) the ego, what I hear is: Give up your feelings; give up your passion; live a more even-keeled (i.e., mediocre) life. My feelings are what guide me in life. They offer me some proof that I am in fact alive. I experience intimacy with myself through such feelings. They help me to know what it is I am passionate about. And I learn something about the bigger picture by going more deeply into them. As I said to one of my mentors recently, “I would rather experience painful feelings than to feel nothing at all.” “The people who propose this enlightened way of living are likely not water signs. They’re more likely to be born under a Libra or Aquarian sun… ,” my resistant self muses, unfairly.

So, even as I clearly see how I am attaching to my identity as a feeling person in the resistant statement above, and even though I know that those meditative practitionners are not really suggesting I live without passion or detach from feeling, I still choose not to meditate in any formal way.

But here’s the thing: I received an email from a family member today asking for my “detached” perspective. I ‘m quite sure that detached was used here to indicate the belief that I do not have feelings about the given situation. I was enraged: Of course I have feelings about the suffering of someone whom I love dearly! But I have been through years and years and years of good psychotherapy and I know how to own my feelings and not impose them on others, to not behave from a reactive place, and to go deeper into my experiences without getting lost or tangled up there (although sometimes I do get lost and tangled up there). This is the point of meditative practices, I think. And I think I’ve achieved much of this through a commitment to psychotherapy and other forms of healing work.

I’m still sorting much of this out. What I’ve discovered thus far is that what offends me most about my perceived understanding of some new-agey suggestions is the exact opposite of what they are in fact suggesting. Whereas I perceive some mandate that I should not be fully present in my experience, being fully present is exactly the point. When we are attached to some end goal, some way of perceiving ourselves, or some hidden agenda, then we are more likely to miss what is going on in the now. This, I get.

I know that to be a witness to our feelings and experiences is a mark of health only if we are also living them fully. Otherwise, being a witness is purely dissociative—and this is a big difference; it is the difference between psychological health/maturity and psychological illness. Furthermore, there is a big difference between what we experience in the moment, our raw sensations and feelings for example, and what we tell ourselves about these experiences—i.e., our stories. Human beings are meaning-making and story-telling beings. It is our nature to do so. The important thing here is to acknowledge this. To acknowledge that “I feel sad” is different from “I feel sad because I’m not leading the life I wish to.” The latter is a way of making sense of the primary feeling of sadness. If I can acknowledge that what I am doing is trying to make sense of something that will always be more than I can capture, and to be present to this effort to make sense, then I can also leave room for the mystery that is the sadness. For the mystery of the tears which seem to form somewhere behind my eyes and the release of energy that accompanies the flow of those tears and the years of hurt that are somehow present in this one and the suffering of the world that also speaks through this moment. To remain open to the mystery of life even as we try to make sense of it seems to me to be what most of life is about. Art, dance, therapy, friendships, bodywork, healing arts of all kinds, and yes, even meditation, can help us to be there.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

No resolution

We met on February 14th, 1986. I was 15. We've been together ever since. I come from a messed up family and he was a reprieve from this. He would drive me to work and I’d hang out at his house, and he was there for me in these day-to-day ways. When we spent time together, it would take me away from having to know how much my family members were suffering and how my needs couldn’t get met in that atmosphere. Upon graduating highschool, we maintained a long-distance relationship, each with our own lives outside of the relationship, but staying closely connected. I "cheated" a bit, though in my mind we had agreed to allow each other freedom while away at our respective colleges. We got married almost ten years after meeting one another; we had always been together and it was just the next thing to do, although I had to push for it. "Shit or get off the pot" was my attitude. If we weren't going to be together "forever," then I wanted to get on with my life. That was when I beleived in forever. Not forever, but for a long time, life sort of went along like this –just being together in a stable way. No great passion and no great conflicts; just walking along side one another with various degress of closeness for about another ten years, all along being perceived as the perfect couple by many. Then, something happened, and I haven’t been the same since. It was as though something in me that had been turned off my entire life lit up, and life now pales in comparison to that, including life with my husband. The light is off again and I don't know how to turn it back on....

The most difficult aspect of this saga for me now is that I used to believe that there was something to be learned and integrated from this. I want to believe this, but I haven’t been able to get there— despite a lot of trying. I have wanted this experience to make me a better person. To help me to love better, to accept me.

This is what I plan to tell the new therapist that I'm going to meet with my husband. It is my last ditch effort at bringing this painful experience to a resolution.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

National Find-Your-Direction Day

Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow…
Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically

- Eddie Vedder


In the days when I have lost my footing and am unable to find even a semblance of hope it is difficult to write anything at all. I’m not sure if I’ve always had such days, if they are increasing in number and/or intensity, or if they are entirely new. I do know that I’m glad when a sparkle of inspiration catches my eye and I recall some piece of wisdom that I seemed to completely annihilate in the hours and days prior. After noticing a sparkle or two today, I remembered these songs lyrics by Eddie Vedder, which resonated with my soul the first time I heard them: “Gonna rise up, find my direction magnetically.” Yes, I reminded myself, I know something about how to do this. This is always how I’ve found my way. Not by listening to some guru or another—whether in the form of a person, book, or social doctrine—but by listening to my heart, following my soul, trusting my intuition. I find my direction magnetically, by the push or the pull of an energy current.

On the road, I’m the kind of person that thinks she has a better sense of direction than she actually does, and so I feel the need to be cautious about what I’m writing here. But the truth is, we can never know where exactly to put our faith and we certainly can’t know what it will grow into. But we can trust. We can trust that if we literally rise— stand tall with shoulders back and awareness centered in our guts—a sense of direction will call to us. It may be the round about route, as it often is for me when I’m driving, but maybe we we’re meant to see that field of poppies or to pass by the road kill for which we can then offer a prayer. Maybe there is a purpose to the hours or days of despair, when hints of behind-the-scenes sadness and anger emerge, before the stars of hope sparkle once more.

If I could create a national holiday it would be this: Find Your Direction Magnetically Day. Actually, I would create two such holidays, one in the spring and one in the fall. The task on such days would be to follow one’s inner sense of direction. To get out of bed and make every choice for the remainder of the day based on what one feels in one’s energy body or body-soul as long as it would not inflict injury on another. We’d have to loosen up some other rules, laws, and social norms, but I think it would be worth it. I don’t have the power, of course, to create a national holiday, but I think I’ll do this for myself next week. I will post about how it goes….

Saturday, October 4, 2008

The War Within

By Guest Writer, Dan Buteau

Sleep is my only escape
My war torn body wont let me wake
But when the shots begin to sound
I pray the lord my soul to take

For I don’t wish to be here no more
As the children scream the planes they soar
There is no light on this forsaken country
Only darkness from the dead and poor

As new recruits arrive on jet
No sports, no family, no housewarming pet
I look up at the clouds as my knees hit the floor
I realize god is here no more

Death is my only escape