Healing the Inner Child

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I tossed and dreamed intermittently for hours. Mostly I layed awake with the heavy yet sharp, expansive consciousness that only exists late at night. Laying there, wide awake in the middle of the night, I can't help but think, "This must be the heart of darkness." I remember reading that book back in high school.. What was it about? Some Amazonian tribe of canibals, I think. Maybe I should read it again, pick apart the metaphor a bit....... There's a ball of anxiety in my chest. I watch it, allow it, breath with my darkness. Night-time can be a great time to meditate.

My mind drifts back to the beach. We'd driven out to have a ceremony at Crane Beach to celebrate and explore Lightness and Darkness. On the beach I'd felt a deep happiness to be sharing sacred space with friends. I had been anticipating the day for weeks, and I was nervous in a way you can only be about things you care deeply about. We set up a cloth on the ground, lit candles, and arranged flowers, sage, and rocks in the circle. When I encounter nature in solitude, I always feel in communion with God. This is very simple. I can find God anytime- outside my window, or on a walk, in the mountains or downtown. The experience of sharing this with others is relatively new, but something I've deeply yearned for. Usually time spent with people (in nature or otherwise) follows your usual social script of chatting and meeting goals and exclaiming "Oh, it's so beautiful!" at the appropriate moments (sunsets, vistas, gardens, etc.) Which is exactly what we need 90% of the time (don't check my stats). The remaining 10 or so percent of the time, I realize, I yearn for sacred space, a space which is specifically reserved for allowing for union with God, when the mystic in each of us steps forward. But this quality of experience so rarely extends to group encounters. Now I realize- the bridge is ceremony.

Together, with intention, we can honor nature, our own inner spirit and the great outer spirit. We can share our journey with others. With support, we can find strength, move toward our highest good, and touch deeper truths. At that beach, I spoke my truth to the best of my ability- I want to love fearlessly and meet challenges with courage. We five adults and one child all offered something in the form of ritual, prayer, song, or presence. I was grateful for my companions, deeply grateful for their wisdom and experience. I was proud of our determination in trekking to the beach in February. And I was freezing.

So, why this anxiety? I realize that I've found something about which I care deeply, and want to cultivate in my community and with friends. But I don't know how! And I don't know what I'm doing! And oh the evil triad of judgement-shame-anger (in the form of self-directed criticism)...These things which flatten the tires of my ride before I can even set out journeying. I criticize myself, I perceive criticism. From this place, my heart is clenched, doubting. It's that feeling that at the core I'm not good enough....

::I see myself as a six year old, clueless to the rules of kickball, standing there on base as my classmates run by me. What am I supposed to do? Maybe no one will notice me.. And I see my eight year old self unable to answer the math problems in front of the class to gain points for my team. And I see myself forgetting my lines in the third grade play and standing frozen in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes. And I hear my voice crack in my long-awaited church solo. Being in front of people, bearing my soul, is risky, I must have decided at some point. The evil triad convinces me I'm not a leader, not a person who can express myself with ease in front of others. Or maybe I wasn't, but could I be? Maybe I wasn't, but am I? In any case, seeing myself in a position of leadership (even just a perceived position of leadership) is triggering some old stuff. I want to move forward, but there's fear.::

I hear a bird chirping, a single bird singing its song at the frigid break of dawn. The song is brief, but full of beautiful, unapologetic determination. Each day the bird carries out its duty to fly, to sing, to nest, to feed, because that's what it was born to do. Is it possible that as a human being, I must first figure out what it is I'm born to do... then do it with unapologetic determination? With radical acceptance? With the ability to experience and live my flaws and not be shattered? I can only hope.. Maybe I'm just reaching the point where I can crack my shell and begin to stretch my wings.

Only through the cracks of my flaws can light flow in. If I can deeply accept these flaws just as they are, perhaps the darkest corners of my heart of darkness will see light.

To all the inner children

As it comes around to Valentine's Day, I realize I'm not really into the bright red and pink plastic sentimentality of the holiday anymore. Not to bash it, it's a lovely holiday, celebrating love and all. I've just decided I can make my own meaning out of it.

In my supervision group today, we ended up talking about love and how in other cultures there are a number of words for "love". There certainly are a number of experiences associated with the single word! I know that, if you pay attention, and your heart is willing, you can feel a lot of love in a single day. Driving into work this morning, I saw my client on the corner, sipping his Dunkin Donuts coffee, probably somewhat anxiously enjoying the falling white snow flakes. And my heart fluttered with gentle affection.

Then as I was leaving work, a client inquired at the desk about when I'd be seeing her. We checked her appointment time and it was actually scheduled for tomorrow. By this time she had been waiting for close to two hours. I saw anger cross her face, and tears well in her eyes. In that moment, my heart ached for this woman, who in so many ways is just a child in an adult's body. She, and many clients, remind me that we all have an inner child to tend to who feels angry, sad, afraid and unsure at times.

I believe in many ways I have been trying to defend against coming to deeply care for my clients, maybe even for the people in my life. Real love is so inconvenient! When you love, you naturally put others' needs ahead of your own. Maybe something about this is terrifying, like if i surrender to love, my needs won't be met. And when you love, you will feel some pain.

Love and pain: Two sides of the same coin? The same currency at least. There's pain in loving people we lose or who are far away, pain in feeling that love is imperfect. There's pain in having to endure the struggles of those we love. But I guess I'm willing to risk it, for the sake of wholeness. To shut down the richness of this human experience seems a great tragedy. As I traverse the reaches of this conscious-emotional universe, I hope not to turn away from the dark moments, because these too contain love. But I will savor the moments of lightness. Maybe I'll take the cheesy candlelit dinner after all.