Monday, February 15, 2010

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.

4 comments:

Clementine said...

taina you are so beautiful. thank you for sharing. i'm often awake between 2-5 in the morning, battling with my deepest, darkest fears. my acupuncturist was reminding me that those hours are the hours of the metal element; the lung and large intestine which are about grief, longing, taking in nourishment and letting go of what we no longer need. she said it's no coincidence that most spiritual traditions encourage regular meditation and prayer during that powerful time. i'm so grateful you're in my life and look forward to sharing more of these moments with you!

Unknown said...

thank you thank you for sharing all of this. look forward to processing. hugs!

Unknown said...

taina, thank you for your leadership. it came in a moment in which i needed someone else to be speaking, and it felt completely natural and helpful and right to have you provide the motivation, the direction, and the grounding presence of leadership.

also, please remember that you are just beginning this part of your journey. you have many, many moments ahead in which you will hone the skills leading others. i hope i get to share in many of them.

Amateur Yankee said...

"bearing my soul is risky." Amen.