Chaos & Connection

ZOELAB DAY 154

Original Date of Post: February 4, 2013

Chaos & Connection

Inside

I’m opening up the circles of molecules--

letting the atoms fly out to become their destiny

trust comes later

after surrender 

how could you let go 

unless your heart knew there was something out there to catch you?

Spinning out into the stars--

at one with the mystery.

But I return for the heart that I left behind--

after a hazardous journey home

I find that all our hearts are there

where we left them

scattered over the sick earth

I dreamt of this as a child: 

tidal waves

falling down above the stairs

count dracula

but I daydreamt of this:

forced, because of circumstances,

to have all our hearts linked--

harmony and kindness

I still love it here--

I want bees to make honey

and parachuters to land

and oceans to wave

and frogs to croak

and hearts to rise

together

connected

together

connected

letting what it is

be 

what it is

Turning Against The Self

ZOELAB DAY 68

Buddha was said to have said: 

“not getting what you desire and getting what you desire 

can both be disappointing.”

Sometimes we get what we want, and we rejoice.

Sometimes we get what we want, and fear makes us recoil.

Sometimes we don’t get what we want, and we learn and grow.

Sometimes we don’t get what we want, and we turn against ourselves.

There are times when my heart opens up with desire. Especially around my birthday. But if things don’t go my way, sometimes I identify with the child in me, and let it be about the ego. I tell myself a story that makes it all about me. This is how children are in the world. Not only do they easily get disappointed, but they personalize, they think there must be something wrong with them, and that’s why they didn’t get what they wanted. As the story that I tell myself continues, as a balm for the disappointment, I see the cause to be direct action against me. As if the world wanted it that way. And then, instead of soothing the hurt child, I turn against her, unconsciously aligning myself with my projected view of the world. This is perhaps an adolescent response--thinking the world is paying attention to our disappointments. And that we are the only ones feeling that way. When really, the world is in a constant flux of a totality of disappointments and triumphs, as well as everything beyond.

You may be wondering, what kind of disappointments am I speaking of? They are the same disappointments we all feel in a daily way: we didn’t receive the phone call we were expecting, our favorite tea cup broke, our life doesn’t look quite like we want it to. But, when I really think about it, the greatest disappointment is usually in myself. Ultimately I am disappointed by my own abandonment--by not taking care of myself, not keeping my life in balance, not giving myself enough rest, not taking care of my own needs. It is a disruption of function within the inner family of the psyche. It is easy to blame the world, but it is impossible for the world to take responsibility. It is more effective, and far more empowering, to take responsibility for my own feelings, and my own actions or lack of actions. Of course sometimes events happen that are beyond our control, but still, we always have a choice in how we respond. And in how we care for ourselves. Often, when the heart is vulnerable and full of longing, it is a sign that the inner child is needing attention, and the inner adult self, whose job is it is to take care of the child, is wrapped up in the outer world that seems to have no room for those quiet soulful needs.

However, that is not the end of the story. Even after I’ve caused further suffering from turning against the little self while it already feels vulnerable, I realize that as soon as I start to have compassion again, and show kindness, the little self didn’t actually come to any permanent harm. It never seems too late to show kindness. Again, like a child, the self is resilient. It can endure great suffering, and responds well to compassion. It is soft, yet strong, like a jelly fish. Maybe it stings a little in self defense, and instead of breaking when poked, it gives just a little, and then its body fills back into the space after the aggravator is gone. 

I notice with three year old Emilio, whose ego is not yet fully formed, that he does not yet personalize his disappointment. If he feels disappointed, which sometimes happens several times a day, his response sometimes is to go into arage, but more and more often, his response is to go into a corner of the room and hide. He goes under a blanket or a desk or a table. Perhaps this is how he tends to the hurt part of himself, or perhaps he is ashamed. Or perhaps a little of both. Either way, after only a few minutes of hiding, he returns to his world of play, bounced back in full recovery (just like the jelly fish.)

Another way to see this cycle of separation and reunion is as a spiritual longing for connection with the The Self. Here is a poem by Rumi to illustrate:

Love Dogs

by Rumi

One night a man was crying,

                                                Allah! Allah!

His lips grew sweet with the praising,

until a cynic said,

                             “So! I have heard you

calling out, but have you ever

gotten any response?”

The man had no answer to that.

He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of the souls,

in a thick, green foliage.

                                        “Why did you stop praising?”

“Because I’ve never heard anything back.”

                                                                   “This longing

you express is the return message.”

The grief you cry out from

draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness

that wants help

is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.

That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs

no one knows the names of.

Give your life

to be one of them.

Poems on a Theme

ZOELAB 365:  DAY 44

To continue on yesterday’s themes, I want to share three poems.

The first is very well known, and written by the spiritual activist and writer, Marianne Williamson, but is often wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandela as part of his inauguration speech. I was first introduced to this poem by one of my acting teachers many years ago. It spoke to a part of me that had never been spoken to before and has inspired me countless times since. The second is a poem I wrote in response to that poem. The title comes from a women’s artist collective and website called Spun Sugar that I initiated many years ago in NYC, but never came to fruition. The third poem is a poem I wrote while in graduate school that dares  the other (and myself) to not fall for the illusion (a false self) of disempowerment. The latter two poems became lyrics to songs that are as of yet, unfinished.

I made the drawing above while exploring Jungian theory in graduate school. It depicts the feminine archetype that becomes empowered through her connection with nature. By reclaiming the parts of her that were in shadow: her power/animus (the lion), her groundedness/earthiness (the tree), and her femininity/sexuality (the moon) she becomes an integrated, embodied and empowered woman, and therefore: whole.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Song for a Spun Sugar Sister

Planes go high in the sky,

red-winged red birds pass me by.

But, me on them,

me seeing them

makes me large & upwards &

cross-moving.

makes me Chinese-happy,
& sunshine eyes.

My tragic stomach

flittering,

ticking the blood up to my heart.

Don’t be afraid,

in the smoke-stacked circumference

of a tiny world

on tiny hinges

to be great,

to let out the largeness of you.

Don’t be afraid

to put forth

kind & bouncy words

for those ears you care for.

Don’t be afraid

to talk of your unique bible:

soulful & aesthetic

human & genetic.

Don’t be afraid

within the shameful state of things

to be embarrassed

to hold yourself,

to wink at unseen things.

Cuz it’s not what we can swallow,

but what we can chew-on

that gives us acceleration

and initiation.

So, be large, as Marianne says.

Be huge in your dollhouse

and soon you will see

that even those who’ve made you shrink

will suddenly swell.

Don’t Believe

Don’t believe

this face

this ease

this voice.

Don’t believe

this overt tenderness

which caresses you

and mends

your discomfort

with your presence.

I need for you

not to believe

that this is all I am.

I need for you

to pry me out.
I need for you

to know how I have left me.

That there’s a fierceness inside

that aches.

There’s rhythm

in this body.

But not the rhythm you think.

Don’t believe

My voice you hear.

It’s on top of another thing:

A rumbling.

A torn creature.
A fire.

Listen harder

And be bold with me.

Blood bold.

Don’t believe

my fragile escape.

Even this,

I can fake.

Photography as Spiritual Practice

Taking photographs can sometimes be a way to transcend judgment of certain experiences or sights. Judgment (whether it’s good or bad) about the objects and people around us can create a barrier to pure experience. By photographing something close up, the image becomes more about form than content. It helps me to find the beauty in something that might otherwise disgust me. Included here are photos from the last few days of domesticity.

Mixing blue food coloring into yellow play dough

Cleaning the burners on the stove

Bubbled over oatmeal on the stove

Dead spiders and moths and compostables in the sink

Wanting a shot of tequila, discovering a cockroach in my cup