At the recommendation of my supervisor, who keeps pointing out that something is missing from my energetic field, I started reading the book Autobiography of a Yogi. I started the first chapter and began to cry within a few pages. Something clicked, albeit momentarily, and I felt like I was back on the right path. Elements of the book remind me of Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, which had a similar impact on me despite my cynicism. A commonality between the books is that there is somewhat of a predestined path that one can move in and out of alignment with, and that when on the path things whether joyful or sorrow-filled make sense, and that when off it, things feel incomplete. This is something that has resonated with me for a long time. Like my little kid self felt that way, and I have always found myself trying to get into alignment and then finding that discomfort when off the path. Oddly though, the discomfort away from the path has changed, or rather the shame and guilt of it have shifted. It used to be that when I was off the path I felt ashamed, literally I held myself in a state of fear, strongly believing I was deserving of punishment. Now I find that I have come to understand that the veering is the punishment in itself. Disconnection from G-d, is hellish, there doesn't need to be a punishment beyond that, and these feelings of disconnect and discontent are enough to push me towards seeking the path again. And I do, in fits. A jump and then a fall back.
The book describes the man's early life in a series of similar realizations, each time he is uncomfortable he finds some meaning in it, and each time he is on the path, some miracle happens that reminds him he is headed in the right direction.
It's odd to me how many times I have experienced this, and still hang in doubt, still return to my worldly ways. I am a human after all, and my human nature is soooo captivating.
When I was in India a man told me that I would return in one year. He also said that if I told anyone I would have 7 years bad luck... I am not sure if the luck was bad, but I also did not return. Still, I have this desire, like the writers to be plucked from the crowd by the mentor, the guru that will steer me in the right direction. Maybe I need to go on a genuine pilgrimage. No more of this sightseeing. A walkabout, but to seek vision.
In the autobiography, he talks about what it feels like to learn from wise teachers that are not quite right for him. I feel I run into this a lot. I learn eagerly, and am grateful for the experiences, but never quite trusting. The Sufi center, the shamanic journeying class, the reiki class, the UU church. I take steps, but I am still waiting on the thing that feels right. Similarly, there was a woman in my dreams for like 5 years that I kept assuming I would meet, and just stop in my tracks and be like "Oh, hey, you're it." and presumably she would do the same. What is funny is that they weren't always pleasant dreams, in many cases we were undeniably attached but also in conflict, the kind of partners that love and lose and love and lose, over and over. Still I waited. Still I compared each next person to that face in my dreams. It is pretty much the reason I stopped being attracted to blonds, there was this moment of like "that will never be her" and though I may still be attracted to beauty, the idea of finding love there seemed ridiculous to me.
What a weird thing to acknowledge. It feels utterly ridiculous to me... to assume I can have love off the path. And that being said, my relationship with M was always complicated with this thought. With Jesse, even though I love her, I never really assumed she was someone I would stay with forever. With M, everything told me NO except the overwhelming desire to be in her presence. There is this meme that gets sent around about how when you find 'the one' it won't be someone who sets your heart racing, it will be someone who is comforting and feels like home. M set my heart racing. She set me adrift. I steadied myself daily to not be entirely swept away, and even so, I was lost... My foresight said NO... I didn't listen. My heart is still yearning only now it is complicated by toxicity.
I have been feeling less and less of this divine intervention, asking for it more and more. I do believe my supervisor was supposed to guide me this way, to be a blessing in my life. When she is right, she is right, and when she is wrong it is easy for me to let it go. She asks me to do things she knows I am capable of, and does so without guilting, knowing I am afraid. She names things that are true of me, even if I can't always hold that truth myself. Sometimes people see these things in me, and I am afraid they will use it against me, they will try to manipulate me into serving their needs. Thats what I started feeling with my last therapist, so I quit. Though she doesn't know the whole story, my supervisor wonders if that is what my parents ended up doing, and whether I consented to this contract before I was fully aware of the costs, made it my personality, etc... "It wasn't your choice." she reminds me, and I remind her that I am now conscious and continue to make it.
But again, I often question if I was given a choice, not by my parents but by G-d. You can be a teacher, a counselor or a pastor. I am a healer, these professions display the scope. Even when I think about writing or creating artwork, it is only to do this same work. I am not creating because I love creating, I am creating to express and heal my inner truths and ignite others to do the same. It is all healing. Thus when I do the things that do not feel healing (hurting people, being mean, speaking untruths, etc.,) I hold on to these sins, because they are abhorrent to my dharma. And what is the purpose of this healing? To show proof of the divine, to remind people of the truth. There is no one like G-d despite the momentary forgetfulness, there is no other path.
My name is so funny. So fitting. Which came first do you think?
So it was yesterday, I was crying at a coffee shop, moving in and out of meditative states, enamored of G-d. I went for a walk, and felt that ecstatic bliss I have experienced before, the drunkenness of seeing G-d's creation, illuminating, pointing back, overwhelming in every single way. It was sprinkling, the warm air was thick with humidity, and in small moments I could see all the energy of the universe of every thing, tree, and leaf, and lake, and concrete, like the matrix revealing itself, and it would make me smile, or laugh, or become giddy, or cry in joy and awe, and then moments later I'd be doubled over in suffering, grief, pain, in the recognition of that greater reality, that these things are not separate -that joy and suffering are one, that they are inspired and planned, and miraculous. G-d would remind me that it is all. I would look at the people passing me, or talking and be aware of just how silly are humanness is, sacred, but hilarious, and I would see people's souls and everything was in it's right place, and then I'd look down at a dog and suddenly be overwhelmed, recognizing the history and vibrancy of each individual soul. I'd be knocked on my ass, like someone had pushed me. One moment dancing light as a feather, the next a train wreck. And I'd ask G-d to be with me, and work through me, and steady me... and it would happen... minutes, or hours, I don't know how long the drunkenness had me, but suddenly a bird called out, flew from branch to branch to get closer, and I was afraid it would peck me. Go after me. Then another. And the illusion returned with my fears. I was back to this life. Hungry. Having to pee. Tired. I was shocked by the difference. The infinite endlessness abundance of awe, had returned to the scarce concrete. And I walked home wondering if it were sustainable... and whether I would even want that?
Some part of me is so attracted to the human mundane, the profane, the intolerable. It is funny how so many therapists and healers are attracted to the worst in humanity. It's like we know on a deeper subconscious level that there really isn't any difference between the consecrating and the desecrating, that on some level they are both the human's way of seeking.
I am too often reminded of my paraphilia. Since I was a child, as early as I remember these visions of the sacred, I also am reminded that I had desires for the debased. I wonder aloud these days if my OCD traits are immersed with this dualism.
So I went home yesterday having had this mystical experience, and then did nothing all night to further these flights. Did nothing to honor or hone, nothing to practice... I avoided meditation, flung myself into the opposite, sought carnal pleasure, hedonism.
The experiences remind me over and over that I am drawn and afraid. I want to dedicate myself to the heavenly, but I want to experience the earthly soil too. Cling and fantasy.
What next?
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