Balanced and Unstable

A fond memory, in a twisted sort of way, is the time my mother chased Winnie the Pooh at Disneyland because he wouldn’t take a picture with my younger daughter. The woman escorting him said he was late for a show, but that didn’t stop my mother from swinging her big bag at his head and yelling, “You ridiculous, ineffectual lump! My granddaughter wants a PHOTO with YOU!” I know from whom I inherited my colorful vocabulary. I can’t imagine what would have happened had my Mom actually made contact with the ducking hunk of fluff. Perhaps Disney police in the guise of Brutus would have swept poor Mama off and handcuffed her to the slate wall of Snow White’s palace. Moral of that story: Don’t mess with my mother’s children or grandchildren or any blood relative! I love that about her. My mother is passionate and expressive. There is nothing passive-aggressive about her. You know where you stand. And as a side note, we always felt safe around her. Evidently, she reserved her physical aggression for imposter Disney characters. She is equally loving and brilliant; a perfect nurturer.

 Mama with my niece and nephew

I was thinking about an irony of our culture: that if someone shows sadness or anger they are considered “unstable,” but when we repress emotions, a whole gamut of physical stress related conditions manifest, including chronic (particularly back) pain issues, fibromyalgia, depression, bursitis, arthritis, TMJ, IBT, eczema, tennis elbow, tendonitis, carpal tunnel syndrome, sexual dysfunction, Bells Palsy, rheumatoid arthritis and many other conditions as well as addiction issues.  We have been slow to believe the direct mind-body relationship. People stuff their emotions until feelings burst out inappropriately in a fit of misdirected rage, and then guilt ensues and nothing has been gained. Feelings are blamed as too risky. The key is...


...to be in touch with what we are feeling and to feel... regularly. And, if we are being honest, loss is a constant companion.

I spent about an hour this evening crying my eyes out. Granted, people who know me will tell you I feeeel intensely, but no longer repressed, I am pain free physically. That consolation doesn’t begin to take the edge off of the emotional pain when it arrives (or when I become aware of it). I feel like a surfer at the base of a rogue wave. But what does help is my tool bag. Meditation enables me to observe and “sit” in/with the pain – to let it feel as big as it wants to – like the contractions and push of giving birth to an extra big baby. Giving the feelings permission to invade every corner of my being causes them to dissipate sooner. Then, there is the tapping technique called EFT or Emotional Freedom Technique. I boil down what the pain (sadness? anger?) is really about and identify the sentence that makes me wail like a first grader getting vaccinated with a big needle, and then I repeat the sentence while tapping on key meridian points. I did this several times before moving on to the next technique.

 

Robert Scheinfeld’s book Busting Loose from the Money Game convinces that the Matrix is real - in the sense that what we see and get is our creation. It’s at once appalling and simultaneously intriguing. While I cannot eliminate a High Power from my world view, I am all about taking responsibility for my thoughts and how they manifest in the world. Considering I treasured Michael Talbot’s Holographic Universe, as well as the principles of A Course in Miracles, this was a perfect follow up for me. Scheinfeld offers the “Process” that walks the reader through regaining power from anything that disturbs, because, essentially, we imbue what occurs to us and what people to do to us with power. We attribute our distress and conflict to the actions of others, but, in reality, it is how we are choosing to interpret what they do that affects us. But you will need to read his book to learn the “Process.”

My daughters waiting for inevitable waves

Then, I took a hot bath and read a good book. And, somehow the rogue wave blew past without sucking me with it; I am calm again. I called a friend and cried a little more (it was more like the blubbering of a baby too spent to cry) and her soothing words were helpful. Reaching out to a community is important. Then, it dawned on me that normally I am good at observing my highs as keenly as my lows. Blind highs feel like eating too much sugar or drinking too much - satisfying only in the moment. I love the serenity of hovering near the middle – alternately joyful/enthusiastic and pensive/vulnerable. But, occasionally, I can’t help but forget and I turn into a dog left alone with the Thanksgiving turkey – giving away my power to someone or something outside of myself, as if the joy isn’t self created. And, inevitably that means a crash after the sugar (or poultry) rush. But, at least I’m aware of it. My goal as a kid was to be “balanced,” and, by and large, I’ve achieved that (without drugs!). But sometimes to be balanced I have to cry my head off and look “unstable.” Sometimes, while learning how to healthfully express my feelings, I have to look messy to be free of physical pain. Permitting the emotions to exist enables them to be processed and released.