Dream log - falcon and flounder

Recently, I've been sleeping more deeply than usual. I can feel it on dropping and awakening: the drop and the ascent feel far deeper than usual. In part, I think, this is because it is now darker longer, and I can sleep more deeply in the mornings. But also, with a regular spiritual practice in place and ACIM exercises, something is shifting more deeply. 

I always dream vividly, but last night was another order of vivid - it was like travelling.

In the first dream, I was living in a huge flat - I have no idea where it was, but it was sprawling, with different sections and high ceilings. One night, I was home with a friend when we heard someone in another section. I dragged him over saying, 'We need to find out who it is and what is going on.' He reluctantly followed me across the HUGE paved outside area (patio? garden?) to the section where the kitchen and the dining room were, and we intercepted a scruffy man trying to steal two chairs from my dining room. Interestingly, they were the crap chairs my parents had at the breakfast table before my brother was born, with tacky black cushion seats.  We took them back (WHY????????) and turned him over to the police. There's a part of me that wishes we'd let him have them, but that's neither here nor there.

Then suddenly, I was in another house with flourescent lighting, with my parents(!), pacing back and forth in floods of tears, inconsolable, in a formal dress, moving my looped cross back and forth on its chain as if daring it to break. A close friend had died, and my parents kept trying to tell me it was fine, even as I sobbed that it wasn't, 'She's dead. She's DEAD, ok? I'm NEVER GOING TO SEE HER AGAIN!'

Something whispered and I moved from the centre of the house to the one floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window that I could see, waiting.

My breath caught. We were high up in the mountains, clouds scudding by like light traffic on a motorway. It was almost as if the house was built into the rock, as I could see a natural rock ledge outside the window. The sky was the colour of a dying campfire, deep yellow, red and orange as the sun set. Suddenly, a movement on the ledge caught my attention: birds were gathering in a hushed flock, looking through the window at me - cardinals, sparrows, raptors, all sorts. Suddenly, when the ledge was almost full, they went preternaturally still, looking out towards the blazing sky expectantly. My eyes followed theirs and I saw a large shape on a nearby mountain peak. "Gyrfalcon," I thought. "Gyrfalcon."

"Irim," I felt it say as it spread its wings and soared towards us, gracefully landing in the one empty space on the ledge, at which point all the birds turned back towards me. 

It was...stunning. Its was huge, the size of a large cat or small dog, I guessed - patterned in brown and black, with an odd peacock-like plume arching tailward from the middle of its back, but  I was caught by was its mesmerizing eyes - black centre ringed with gold. We stared at each other, its gaze full of utter love and compassion for me, trying to hold my grief in its heart and wingspan. "It's going to be ok." He took a step forward, continuing to gaze at me, trying to wrap me in his love and reassurance, as he tried to send me a message - not in words, but in that deep telepathic rapport that one could only wish was an option for communication. As my grief eased, I woke. 

This morning, I had to look it up. 'Gyrfalcon' first, assuming that this glorious bird was, in fact, a gyrfalcon. Shape-wise, perhaps, but the eyes were those of a hawk. They had to be gold-ringed. None of the interpretations of a falcon in one's dreams fit at all, and it wasn't till I found that in falconry, only a king could use a gyrfalcon, that I thought: 

"Royalty. Kingship. G-d. Oh MY G-d. Horus." Goosebumps - I'd always thought of Horus as a hawk, but when I looked him up, I discovered that he's a falcon god. THAT was right.

 And then I realized - as any one of my friends reading this probably already has - I wasn't wearing a 'looped cross'. I was wearing an ankh.

But was Horus just Horus? What did he mean? G-d of Light? Was he an analogue of Jesus? Could he have been the friend that I associate with Horus in certain expressions/postures?

Will be turning that over for a while.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The flounder dream was as vivid, but considerably less exciting - I had this large goldfish bowl overcrowded with white/albino flounder which I could never leave because they kept jumping out and nearly dying of suffocation. I finally gave up on them and put them down somewhere and tried to leave them alone, but when I walked back to my place at the coffee table, there was one who had jumped out (on purpose, I swear). I nearly left him, but couldn't, and scooped him up, carried him over and dropped him in the fishbowl with a resigned sigh.

I was trying to work out a viable solution when I woke up. 

Pass, except for my tendency to pick up the wounded like a black suit picks up white cat hairs. 

Over to you, folks.

A note on unconditional love

This evening, as I've been faffing online, desultorily chatting with friends, Q popped up with this:

Q: I love you!

Me [touched and taken aback, as Q is not given to such declarations]: ? I love you too!

Q: Just having a lousy day and saw you pop on, and it was, like a fresh breeze. "Oh look! Someone who's not a big ball of drama! I'm so glad she's my friend."

Me [currently in puddle of 'awwww!']: HUGS

Q: So, I thought I should tell you so.
 
Me: I've felt that way about you so much, I can't tell you.  The feeling is SO mutual. Added to that was, 'Oh look, it's someone who loves me no matter what!'

Q: Yeah, that too.  Even when I'm grumpy, I still love you.

Blinking back tears, I tried to work out, aside from the obvious, what had really hit me. I find it hard to hear that I'm loved; feeling loved is even harder. But this exchange hit me differently, and I pondered it for a few minutes.

Then it struck me - this: Even when I'm grumpy, I still love you.

Even when I'm grumpy. That was it. Not Even when you're grumpy, which essentially reads, 'Even when you're a crappy pain in the ass, I love you. Aren't you grateful? Aren't I wonderful?' but 'Even when I'm in a shitty, crappy, horrible inhuman mood, even when I'm not perfect or feeling loving, I LOVE YOU.'

Why not the first? Because unconditional love assumes the first. Unconditional love is just that - 'No matter what, I love you.' It rarely, if ever, needs saying, because it's a premise, a foundation, of love. Anything else is just approval. 

[ETA] Also, as Ari just pointed out, when you love someone, you're not thinking, 'They're at their crappiest. Ugh. I want to be elsewhere.'  You're thinking, 'How do I make them feel better? Have I made it worse? What can I do?'  You are just loving them - you want their suffering to stop; you want them to be happy.

That doesn't mean that it's always feeling sweetness and light, far from it. Real love has darkness, depth and edges as well as light and curves, encompassing the entire spectrum of emotions - or lack thereof. We don't always FEEL love.

As I said to another friend as I was trying to tease it out:

It's the knowing when you can't FEEL it that matters. E.g., it's a given that I love you no matter what. That I loved you in October 2010 when we had that massive fight. I knew that; there was no question that no matter what happened - I loved you. It was knowing it through my absolute rage that was the test.

Not through HER rage or HER actions, thinking, 'Oh, you're acting like this, I still love you.' NO. Love cannot be withdrawn; approval can. Love simply is, and no matter how we act out our humanity, unconditional love is there, so much bigger than we imagine, holding the space for us to be ourselves as we unfold through the storm, whether we are imploding or battering at those around us. 

What matters is knowing through MY rage, my imperfection, my inability to feel it at the time, that the love is there - like the stars during the day or the blue sky behind the darkest storm. 

THAT is the test. THAT is what is real.

No matter what, I love you. Even when I'm grumpy.

A Course in Miracles - Lessons 7, 8 & 9

Crazy, crazy week, so I've missed the last three posts! Not that anyone minds, since these are my Irimesque musings, but I did tell MYSELF I'd blog each lesson, so no Irim biscuit - though I've ordered dinner :-).

Thanks to ACIM, 7, 8 & 9 make a natural trinity: "I see only the past," "My mind is occupied with past thoughts," and "I see nothing as it is now."

Again, they were only to be practised four times a day for a minute or so each time, but I found them drifting through my mind at various times during the days, so I used them. I found something interesting - they kicked up a sense of something...sitting in my solar plexus. Not just the sticky sensation that I've talked about earlier, but a rock. A heavy jagged rock that just filled the space and sat there, made me feel ill. I did it with people; I did it with objects; I knew it for truth. I realised how rarely I saw anything on my walk in to work, as my head was turning things over; I'd be at work, having missed people I knew, the beauty of the trees, kids saying things to their parents that would make me cry with laughter.

Wednesday, I practised "I see nothing as it is" with the sanctuary at solemn mass - and realised it was true in the most startling of ways as the procession moved out of the sacristy. When I saw the celebrant, I thought, 'Makes sense, as it would be a Provost's feast,' only to realise, with a start, that I wasn't looking at the current provost. I wasn't seeing him as he was, any more than I saw anyone else, except for those I didn't know, as they are now. 

And that's how it is for all of us, isn't it? Those we know, those we claim the greatest intimacy with, are the ones we assume we truly see - when really, we don't see them at all. They're the ones we're most likely to use as commodities - to stuff our wounds; to contain our emotions; the ones we assume we know, and so we don't look any further; the dog we kick when we're having a bad day.

With those we claim to love and treasure the most, we do not see them as they are now.

They deserve that from us - the wondrous curiosity; the joyful exploration; the rigorous honesty; all of who we are - light and shadow; sunshine and thunderstorm; joy and sorrow. 

And yet, we give them the least of ourselves - either our best or our worst, but not our truth, not our complexity, not our nuance. We do not give them ourselves as we are now, because we refuse to see them as they are now.

It's time to give ourselves - and those whose lives we touch - a present.

A Course in Miracles, Day 6

I am upset because I see something that is not there. 

Thus beginneth lesson 6.

Well, ain't THAT the truth.

I have to say, though, it didn't work so well for spiders...

...but when it came to situations that WERE upsetting me, even slightly, this kicked ass.

Unlike my calm, more laid-back friends, I weave stories around what's happened. This is a result of growing up in a household full of subtext, where things looked fine on the surface, but you had to work out what was REALLY going on.

This became my normal, and so I did a lot of 'deep practice' when it came to piecing together stories of what was really going on. Very few people can read - or even pick up the presence of - subtext like I can.

What this means is that I am absolutely fantastic at surviving a dysfunctional atmosphere; in fact, it feels like home. I'm not happy, but I know how to work it, though I often break through tacit agreements to keep silent - my ability to navigate dysfunction is in tension with my need to force subtext into the open.

Give me a healthy relationship/environment? Much, much harder. If it's all on the surface, it takes me a while to work that out; I keep looking for the bomb under the sofa, occasionally checking that there aren't any. I'm torn between wanting to just relax - no, make that collapse - into it and totally mistrusting it.

This exercise is a brilliant way to begin to nuance that, so I use that real talent when appropriate, but let it go when it's not.

I gave one example in yesterday's post, where I actually combined lessons 5 & 6 with person X, because I'd had time to analyse.

Today, I used it at church with parents putting prams in aisles (I'm annoyed at parents putting prams in aisles because I'm seeing something that's not there (selfishness).); work (I am worried about the QAA self evaluation document because I'm seeing something that's not there (incompetence at admin writing).); friends ('I'm annoyed at Y being late because I'm seeing something that isn't there (they don't value my time).') I used it for deeper situations as well, to begin to untangle them.

It works - the emotion eases immediately, and I'm more open to see what's really there. I can let go of the victim stance, the sense of being attacked (by myself or others), and I have freedom to move, to decide from love.

And if the subtext or negative reason really IS there? Then I can still act from love - because just as rock trumps scissors, love trumps fear.

A Course in Miracles, Day 5

I am never upset for the reason I think.

This idea, like the preceding one, can be used with any person, situation or event you think is causing you pain. Apply it specifically to whatever you believe is the cause of your upset, using the description of the feeling in whatever term seems accurate to you.

One of my closest friends called me on deflecting in my blog entry last night, and she was absolutely right. The early exercises had pulled enough away to leave me feeling internally raw, and three tough sessions Wednesday night hadn't helped. I was actually feeling, and deflecting made it coping easier. The early ACIM blogs had been intense, I was processing, I knew today wouldn't be easy. Being an INFJ means I'm an extraverted Feeler, so I process feeling out loud. Yesterday wasn't one of the days I wanted to. Yesterday was about putting it in the crucible of my strongest function, introverted Intuition. 

Today may hover between the two. I won't be sure till I really start writing.

So. Lesson 5.

This is something I've done for years, though not quite in this way. This is something I use when something carelessly spoken upsets me, or I'm overreacting to some woman's (perceived) playing helpless or a priest who has the pastoral ability of Ted Bundy. It's one I use when someone lashes out to be able to avoid my natural tendency to lash back - and it often allows me to hold the space and respond in a much calmer way, though when I do, I tend not to challenge the person on their reaction, and need to learn to do so much more, so that the response is more authentic and balanced. But that's a different entry.

Today's exercise was very apropos, because there was one situation in particular that really needed this, but I knew I needed to follow the instructions:

There are no small upsets. They are all equally disturbing to my peace of mind.

So, though the most difficult one first popped into my mind, I made sure to do easier ones too:

I am not afraid of spiders for the reason I think (they scuttle weirdly and unpredictably and have too many legs).

I am not irritated by my computer going to sleep at random intervals for the reasons I think (because I'm in the middle of doing something).

But happy thoughts needed including too:

I am not happy about GB winning the gold for the reason I think.

I am not enjoying FB banter for the reason I think (e.g., being connected).

The lesson doesn't require one to analyse, so I attempted not to do that, and managed it for most of them. To be honest, it was actually a relief. 

But all of them, in the end, were like the event horizon around a black hole, leading to the situation that really needed this exercise:

I am not angry at and feeling hurt by X for the reason I think. 

This situation has gone on for a while, so I've had time to analyse it, to dig into why I feel the way I feel. I'm aware my feeling is out of proportion, making any kind of bridging difficult at the moment, though it's what I most want. Part of that is that without connection and communication, it becomes very easy to caricature someone, to remove their complexity, to forget who they really are. 

Our imagination makes them a vessel, a touchstone, a lightning rod: we may be upset for real, legitimate reasons, but the longer things remain unresolved, the easier it is to make the person the focus of ALL our anger, pain, rage. After all, they're not there to disabuse us of our created image of them, based in selective truth on what we know of them, creating a 'flat Stanley' that suits our need for something to contain for us.

Case in point. WHY do I think I'm angry at/feeling hurt by X?

My story is that X is knowingly acting like my father, aware of how painful that trigger is, to punish me for something I've done.

Written out, how much sense does that really make? 

It doesn't. And it speaks of me, not of X. It speaks to my lack of trust, to my expectations of others, to the amount of past pain I still hold. It speaks to how my projection is my perception here.

But it also speaks to my willingness to allow myself to open up to others enough to allow myself to feel this hurt and to still want to bridge the distance more than anything else.

It reminds me that X is simply being X, and incorporating an earlier lesson: I don't understand fully. I need to remain open to know what is true. 

I cannot close my heart. I cannot say, 'I accept this about you, but not this. I love you if you do this, but not this.' I grew up with that, and I know that is not truth. That is not love, not even human love. Love encompasses everything - laughter, joy, sorrow, pain, anger, being let down, letting another down, the times we are hurt and the times we hurt. That doesn't mean one is uncritically adoring: that isn't love for an addict or someone caught in a dysfunctional pattern. Love rejoices in the truth, and truth means holding up a mirror and challenging even as it means affirming and reassuring. 

Love is a place where it is safe to unfold fully into who we really are. Love allows mistakes and comes out stronger from them. Love heals, love connects, love holds everything.

Love is real. Nothing real can be threatened.

So, Irim, unclench your hands and your heart and relax. What is real cannot be threatened. You're not upset for the reason you think. You don't know what it is yet - and in fact, what you're really feeling may not be what you think you feel. You are not yet sure what is true.

Breathe. And pray.

And so I borrow this prayer from Marianne Williamson, slightly edited:

"G-d, please help me. I can't do this. Right now, I'm finding it hard to see this through Your eyes, to see this with love. Wherever I have strayed from love and acted out of fear - been angry, controlling, manipulative, needy, selfish - whatever it is, I'm willing to see it differently. Help me see clearly. Help me see through Your eyes. Help me be open, listen, hear the truth. Thy will, through me, be done. Amein."

Wow, that shift from a single exercise. Not bad for a day's work. Roll on, lesson 6.

A Course in Miracles, Day 4, or 'The evening I was distracted by (almost) naked men'

Right. Irim, focus.

I must confess, I'm finding it hard to write this blog entry with the men's platform diving going on in the background. They do wear their speedos a bit low on the hips...

*Shakes head to try to focus.*

ACIM. Spirituality. (Not that spirituality can't encompass a, erm, healthy appreciation of physicality...)

Lesson 4.These thoughts do not mean anything. They are like the things I see in this room [on this street, from this window, in this place].

So today, I take lesson 1 and apply it to my thoughts.  Clearly, they know me too well, because the directions say: Do not, however, examine your mind for more than a minute or so. You are too inexperienced as yet to avoid a tendency to become pointlessly preoccupied...Do not repeat these exercises more than three or four times during the day.

Busted. Oh, and much easier than yesterday, not least because I've practised something similar to this when I've been angry, though tomorrow's lesson is pretty much EXACTLY what I do. This means that when I am absolutely furious and want to lash out, this is one of my interrupts, and it is brilliant. It gives me room to stop, breathe and respond in a more loving way. 

So it was interesting to use them on non-angry thoughts - at first, I didn't think there was a difference, but the second time through, I had that feeling of something sticky being pulled away from the inside, leaving more space, making things clearer, sharper. Since I followed instructions, I can't offer a lot more than that at the moment, but having peeked ahead, I know that tomorrow's exercise may be familiar, but it will kick my ass, because stuff IS being loosened and I am feeling a less numb.

I hadn't expected the early exercises to do that - I simply expected them to 'train the brain'. Clearly, they're making room for emotional stuff too. 

Roll on, tomorrow. And not just because it's Saturday and the men's platform diving final...

A Course in Miracles, Day 3, Or, "Oh my G-d, Day 3 made me want to flip the bird at spiritual practice."

The ego cannot survive without judgment.

Today, lesson 3. Sounds easy enough, right?

Oh so very wrong.

Today, I had to get up early to open up at work, which robbed me of my few minutes of text reading and grounding for lessons, as I was rushing out the door and too tired to set my alarm clock much earlier.

"I do not understand anything in this room." "I do not understand anything about that tree." "I do not understand anything about that bus." "I do not understand anything about that coffee (as I was making it)."

Not feeling settled. 

I understand that it's about letting go of judgment and allowing room for curiosity,  but saying that felt like a lie. There are things I DO understand. I might have managed better if I'd been able to say 'I don't understand X completely' or something else, but there was huge resistance today. 

In the evening, it was slightly easier at church: "I do not understand anything about the crucifixion." (True) "I do not understand anything about the English translation." (Also true - why not just lift from the 1962 missal?) "I do not understand anything about X (person)." 

Ah. Breakthrough. Now, that was someone I didn't know. Someone I DID know?

Bummer. Resistance back, but not so much. Because one can never know EVERYTHING about someone; most of us don't know anything close to everything about OURSELVES.

The resistance? Pride. I pride myself on being able to read people/dynamics very well, and, barring my being hijacked by my issues, that is borne out. If I had a penny for the number of times I heard, 'No, no, you're wrong. No, REALLY, IRIM, YOU'RE WRONG!' followed days/weeks/months later by, 'Erm, you know what you said that I didn't want to hear? You were right,' Bill Gates and I would be discussing investment portfolios.

So to say, 'I don't understand anything...' doesn't ring true. 

But. But if I do it in the awareness that it's about becoming curious, finding out something new, allowing room - the resistance eases. The pride is still there, but the resistance is residual.

What if I turn it to a current situation, one I'm finding difficult?

"I don't understand anything about this situation."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Oh. THAT helps. Feeling something like a plaster wall falling in my solar plexus, leaving more space. That feels clearer.

Why? Because this is a story I've created. 

With no idea of the full picture, I've woven a story from the pieces that I see, and made judgments based on the story. But I'm not sure what's real. 

In this case, I really don't understand anything about this situation.

And it is HERE that lesson 3 works its magic, opening me up to new possibilities, shifting me away from a story that is very negative and tied to my triggers, to a curiosity, a desire to find out what is true. It takes me to a place where I can judge not and be deeply still - not just leashing myself - and truly listen.

Yes, I pride myself on my intelligence and ability to understand quickly and fully. But that pride can mean that I stop learning and growing, because I think I know.

Sometimes, perhaps the greatest power is in that variant of 'I don't know' - 'I don't understand anything about...'

So You who created all and understands all, teach me...

...I'm finally starting to listen.

A Course in Miracles, Day 2

I have given this flying cow all the meaning it has for me.

Hey, who said ACIM practice had to be po'faced? That had to be one of my favourite choices for today's 2nd lesson from the ACIM Workbook.

But it wasn't all fun and games. If I commit to a spiritual practice, it has a tendency to kick my ass as soon as possible. This morning, I wasn't even halfway up the road to the bus stop, merrily noting that I'd given the recycling bin all the meaning it has for me, when I heard an anxious voice behind me asking, 'Excuse me, excuse me, but can you tell me where to catch the #2 bus?'

I felt my shoulders tense. 

Here's one of my many dirty little secrets: I have real issues with Southeast Asian women on first meeting. Why? Because, in far too many encounters, I've run into ones who use high, breathy voices to manipulate;  totter like toddlers to look like little girls; and blink rapidly at you when asking a question, widening their eyes and playing utterly helpless, hoping to get what they want. My internal, unspoken response is, 'I'm a straight woman, sweetheart. It isn't going to work on me. It's just going to make me want to slap you.'

There are not words for how deeply I despise women - of any ethnicity - who do this. My mother, a South Asian woman who became a paediatrician, pulled this helpless shit. I comforted her, confided in her, then watched as she betrayed me to my father, excusing herself in that helpless, whiny voice, 'I HAD to tell him.You know what he's like.' 

Ja. And I have your number too, bitch. Don't think I'll be forgetting it anytime soon.

Back to this morning. I responded tersely, then relented slightly and expanded, as I paused and turned to see a young Chinese woman in heels drawing level, following me to the bus stop.

Once we got there, I thought, 'Incorporate into ACIM exercise. So I glanced at her as she passed me to sit in the bus shelter and thought, 'I have given Southeast Asian women all the meaning they have for me - the helplessness, the victimhood, the manipulativeness.' 

A wall gave way. Suddenly, I remembered that I have a friend who wears a hijab and has read 50 Shades. People aren't stereotypes.

Then who should walk up to the bus stop but a South Asian male, another one of my 'Spike defence from Hellraiser' inducers. Straight to the exercise: 'I have given South Asian men all the meaning they have for me.' Slight easing at the time, but a bigger result in the afternoon, when I passed a South Asian man as I got off the bus and smiled at him. 

Yeesh. Not my favourite part of myself, but it felt good to grapple with it head on so early. And I know I'll need to come back to this everywhere: social gatherings, church, in the centre of town, cyclists...

Why, some may ask, am I relishing an early ass-whooping? Because I've always found that it means I'm ON THE RIGHT PATH. To quote Marianne Williamson:

I had read about people surrendering to G-d and then feeling this profound sense of peace descend like a mantle over their shoulders. I did get that feeling, but only for about a minute and a half. After that, I just felt like I'd been busted. This didn't turn me off to G-d as much as it made me respect His intelligence. It implied He understood the situation better than I would have expected.

THIS. For me, being busted on two of my biggest prejudices within 2 minutes of each other? THAT is divine intervention. THAT is real. When that happens, I know not only that I'm being challenged, but also that I'm not going to be left alone in meeting that challenge. I'm ready, G-d. Let's do this. After all, we both know that I can't.

Others may say, 'OMG! You're showing yourself to be prejudiced and having ugly thoughts sometimes! You can't do that!!!'

Why not? I don't want to be good. I want to be real. I want to be WHOLE. And that means embracing everything: light/shadow; harshness/gentleness; compassion/judgment; all of it. Own it. I want to know it all, to encompass it all as only love can, and then I want to give my WHOLE self to G-d. Why come to G-d, holding one hand behind my back, hiding bits I don't think He'll like or want? He's given me free will, and He'll only take those bits that I offer. He can't transform what's hiding behind my back, and that's what I most need him to transform. Keeping it from Him just defeats the purpose.

Also, I'm just so done with lying in relationships, you know? Hiding who I am, pretending to be what I'm not. Doing that with my Creator would make me ask myself, 'Irim, are you on crack? Don't you think He knows already, DUH?'

Yes, I talk to myself. So sue me.

So here I am - the good, bad and the ugly. This spiritual journal will be snarky, self-deprecating, introspective, passionate, zany, and totally real. I hope you enjoy it, but if it's not your cup of tea, reading this takes up too many minutes of your life you won't get back. Spend them doing something you love.

Meanwhile, remember: you have given flying cows all the meaning they have for you.
Just as I have given golden, late summer sunsets and the redolent scent of honeysuckle all the meaning they have for me. 

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Course in Miracles, Day 1

It is the privilege of the forgiven to forgive.

So, as I mentioned in yesterday's post, I was going to repeat Lesson 1 from ACIM morning and evening today.

Morning, I did it walking into work. "That tree doesn't have any meaning."  "That house doesn't have any meaning." "That car doesn't have any meaning." The workbook recommends only doing it twice a day, but that's not my style. Once I have an idea or a practice, I tend to want to turn it over and play with it, so occasionally during the day, I'd think, "That computer has no meaning." "That bookcase has no meaning." Then I went up a gear and thought, "That comment has no meaning." "That interaction has no meaning."

For someone who prides herself on being able to read interactions/emotions/subtext well, it made for a very interesting few moments - very uncomfortable ones, at that.

But then, something started to happen, even before my evening exercise (which was conducted in the familiarity of my own lounge. Let me tell you, brown sofas DEFINITELY have no meaning!). I felt more of the stickiness pulling away from the inside. 

Suddenly, there was a sense of spaciousness. It flickered, light a candle flame in a breeze, but it was there. Everything seemed slightly sharper, even as I felt slightly removed - though very focused, as if I was wearing this reality lightly. It's there, tentative, tenuous, but there. And it's important.

And it clicked, in part because of something chrysalisjourney said about not holding onto stories during an online chat yesterday - this exercise isn't about dehumanising or stripping things of their beauty or richness, it's about letting go of what we've assigned to them. It's creating an emptiness that allows things to be what they are, not what we want them to be. Hence the next lesson, which reminds us that we've given things stories and meanings, which means we forget to be curious about things; to ask questions  and discover what they are, to see them as they are, not as we are, to borrow from the Talmud.

It's about beginner's mind, being open, learning rather than imposing, not using things and meanings and certainty about how things are to block/avoid/cover our pain, our reality. It's about opening up to what is real and allowing it to find us.

And once we let go of that investment, that need for things to be a certain way, it becomes far easier to let go - of defences, of needing to control what's around us, of that which does not serve us, of manipulating/using others to 'fix' us - not least in the guise of us 'fixing' others. 

This is the first lesson, the first step, to forgiveness.

And knowing that we have been freely forgiven - by G-d, by those who love us freely - it then becomes our privilege to forgive.

A Course in Miracles - Introduction

In this sense, everything that comes from love is a miracle.

 For years - more years than I care to admit to - this particular...book? phenomenon? way of being? - has been chasing me. It's been the basis of so many other books I've read; the topic of discussion so often; the book that's fallen my way so often and been turned away. 

I've stopped avoiding other things; it was time to meet this head on too. And I don't think it was coincidence that the week I started decluttering and really listening to someone who said, "You're not ALLOWING her to do it - let her DO it," and letting go was the same week I decided to face ACIM head on.

Before, the resistance was just that - resistance. I wasn't interested in exploring it; ACIM was just not going to happen. So gradually that I'm not even sure how it happened, the resistance crumbled - the closest I can come is that the more references I read to it, the less cult-like and wacky it seemed, and the more principles I found that were in alignment with my own. Also, as my sense of self strengthened, I was less worried about becoming engulfed by something so all-encompassing and feeling trapped by the daily practice and long haul. I'm strong enough now to take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I was looking for a daily spiritual practice, and ACIM has a ready-made one that looks like it will stretch me. Sold. So I ordered on Saturday.

Whilst patience may be a virtue, it's not one of mine - so I couldn't resist looking up the first few lessons. This evening, after the book arrived, I thought I'd try the first lesson at mass, since religion is a real crucible for me - baptism by fire, I figured. It's recommended that one not spend more than a few minutes on it, and there are enough lulls in mass that this was possible. 

Following the instructions that 'nothing you see should be specifically excluded', I went for it and noted my reactions to each:

"That window does not mean anything."

"That tabernacle does not mean anything."

"That statue does not mean anything."

"That altar does not mean anything."

"That station of the cross does not mean anything."

Most garnered no resistance, just shifted perception - things felt a bit sharper, I felt almost like something 'sticky' was shifting. The closer I got to the Eucharist, the stickier it became - but people were an absolute 'That's BULLSHIT. They DO mean something.' I had no problem with 'The office of the priesthood does not mean anything,' - because that IS constructed - but when it became the person in question? That was an absolute WALL of resistance - and I think that's right.

I'll repeat this exercise in a less charged arena tomorrow - on my walk into work and before I go to bed; then continue on Wednesday with its natural follow-up, 'I have given everything I see all the meaning it has for me.' Even with people, THAT is true. I've imbued them with meaning and significance for me. No one else has, though obviously, I did not grow up in a vacuum - and all those who've touched me and the culture I've grown up in have a huge influence on my perception and inclinations, but in the end, the story I've woven is mine, and mine alone.

What did surprise me when I did this first lesson, and I'm curious to see if it continues on my first real day with the exercise, was what happened as all the sticky stuff shifted. As I finished the exercise, I thought, 'Holy mother"£$%^&^%$£$%^&%$, IT HURTS. IT REALLY, REALLY HURTS.' There was a sudden...rawness, a sudden intense pain, and I suddenly realised how much I was stuffing/numbing with the attachment to meaning of various things - the pain was intense, but it was a clean pain, something real. 

And something I'm looking forward to exploring - hopefully every (probably most) days through journalling it here. Everyone's welcome, and I look forward to thoughts/challenges/comments.

ACIM - bring it on.

Knit with love

Several weeks ago, I was invited to a tea to celebrate a friend's daughter's first communion. I was fortunate enough to make the 09.30 mass just as the first communicants went up to the rail to receive for the first time, and my breath caught as I caught a glimpse of C from the back, remembering my first communion after my conversion years ago.

As the 0930 was wrapping up, my friend passed by on her way to change the youngest's nappy, and invited me to tea at theirs afterwards. I hesitated, because I didn't know how many people would be there, how many I would know, and I'm not at my best in large gatherings (well, that's an understatement). An introvert by nature, I do best in small, intimate groups with those I love and trust. But I did want to go, and knew I'd be ok if I was sure someone I was close to was going, so I checked with my favourite 83 2/3 year-old German. She was, so I would definitely go.

So after snapping a pic of my favourite first communicant (telling her 'You don't have to be holy for me' when she posed by folding her hands prayerfully before me - she picked up her handbag and I got the little girl shot I wanted), the 11am mass, coffee and a quick dash for my friend to pick up her car, we were off.

I found myself apprehensive as we approached the house - I was expecting a load of kids (not a problem) and a load of church peops (possible problem; I get very prickly very quickly around too much religion/piety), so I prepared my defences...

...which dropped the moment I stepped into the house. Sanctuary - I had found sanctuary.

The afternoon was magic, a bubble out of place and time. I often find being with happy families exquisite agony, but this Sunday afternoon, it was simply exquisite. People weren't just on their best behaviour; there was room for everyone to be real, and therefore, at their best.

It was an afternoon for lazy conversations, intense conversations about Iraq (my animated narration to Jim gaining me an indulgently amused look from the master of the house), wandering back and playing with the kids - all 15 or so in varying combinations, and taking lots of pictures. 

Pictures of children on swings, babe in arms, father-daughter moments, children being children and a mother-daughter moment that reminded me of the icons of Our Lady with the infant Jesus - behind her sunglasses, Mum wasn't looking at the camera, she was looking at her daughter with the utmost pride and love - she was pointing to her daughter, whose day it was.

Oh, and best of all, holding the baby most of the time (no competition), just watching her be: intensely focusing as only babies can on nearby plants as she reached for leaves; tugging my hair; grinning broadly at me; sleeping; just being her.

At some point, in my languorous sense of well-being, I noted an absence of something. As I listed the things I wasn't doing - looking for subtext, constantly monitoring emotional temperature, monitoring dynamics, working out ways to avoid any eruptions - I realised I could sum it up in one sentence:

I was no longer seeking - or chasing.

No seeking and chasing the smallest thread of potential affection; no fear of having love/affection cut off for the tiniest mistake; no need to preclude/contain emotional spillage; no working out and fulfilling unspoken emotional needs for a crumb of affection and a calm, if not safe, space - at least for a little while.

Not here. Here, one just needed to bask in the profligate love that flowed like a fountain from those who loved each other unreservedly and freely, encompassing anyone else in their orbit. In this love, freely given, one is held in relationship - no need to fear being cut off from love, no matter what. Problems will be taken in their stride, expectations will be stated, compromise will be negotiated, and no matter what, one will always be in relationship - withdrawal of love or approval is never even an option. Love is an ocean which holds us, not a cat toy we need to perpetually chase.

It was in this moment, with my chin on Jim's shoulder, as the communion cake was being cut,  that I noted the sheer joy in the afternoon's sanctuary. He said, 'That's because this is a family knit with love. Not all families are.'

'I know,' was my heartfelt reply. I closed my eyes and offered a prayer of gratitude for this afternoon of being able to rest in a love so palpable that I could wrap it around me like a duvet, where it acted both as a shield and comfort and as something that could be shared, where a whole load of us could huddle under on the proverbial sofa connecting and keeping each other warm.

Being able to rest in love allows one to just be - and it is when we are human beings that we can be who we truly are, who G-d meant us to be, allowing us to be vessels for G-d's infinite love...

...which, in the end, is the whole point of the sacrament of communion.

Si vis pacem, para bellum

It was Monday night, three weeks ago, that I first heard these words. 

What was to end up being the best episode of Grimm so far had just begun. Edgar Waltz had just dropped in for an unexpected, rather tense visit to inform Captain Sean Renard (whom we now know is a member of a Royal House) of the presence of a member of the resistance in Portland. He warns Renard:


Si vis pacem, para bellum.


After Waltz leaves, Renard looks out the window, drink in hand, thoughtfully repeating, 'Si vis pacem, para bellum. If you seek peace, prepare for war.'


My blood sang. THIS. I have always sensed this in myself - in Grimm, the character I gravitate towards is the dangerous, powerful, lazily graceful Sean Renard, and my real-life preferences mirror that. Men with intensity, with a hint of danger, with power or power in potential - alpha males or incipient (because of woundedness) alpha males. I can sniff one out from miles away, or nearby, when no one else can spot him.


Rebel that I am, I was, of course, on the side of resistance, but the shadow of war woke me like nothing else has, reminding me of an edge that generally lies dormant, or only finds its outlet in anger.


Afterwards, I processed with Ari:


me: This episode of 'Grimm' has thrown up a huge issue for me.
Ari : Which one?
me: I am a massive, massive liar. I WANT to be a pacifist. I WANT to be anti-violence. But that quote? 'If you seek peace, prepare for war'? That was like...a drug.
Ari : You're a natural warrior, she'enedra.
me: I understand that. I just realised that it's a part of me of which I am ashamed
b/c I feel it makes me like GW Bush and the Rethuglicans, some bloodthirsty violent barbarian. I want to be Mandela. I want to be Gandhi. But.
Ari: But you're not. You're a paladin, so to speak - and that is okay. It takes all sorts.
me: It's the part of me that shows up when I challenge others
Ari : Some people will never listen to non-violence. That is a valuable skill. It's NOT something to be ashamed of. It usually comes out when you want to help the innocent or learn the truth or right a wrong. I respect pacifism greatly, but I don't think it's the only possible way, and I'm bothered when people imply it is. I'm too pragmatic for that. You aren't a hawk. Not exactly. You're not aggressive for the sake of aggression, and you aren't a bully.
me: But part of me is bothered that war can feel like a natural state. Thank you.
But we are ALL capable of that [being a bully]. And I think it's because I know it's how I can be if that unhappy and angry, if my warrior skills are misdirected or can't be channelled properly.
Ari : If your energy gets blocked, if you can't be who you are...you're going to lash out.
me: Ja, I think that for far too long, I've seen my tendency towards war as...a side effect of my father. I'm less sure of that now. I reacted to him the way I did because of my nature, not in spite of it. My brother hid. I could have done that too; would have done, had it been my tendency.
Ari : But it's not who you are.
me: My father didn't FORM my warrior nature - my warrior nature reacted to him. And I have spent so much of my life being ashamed of it, hiding it, trying to 'fix' it. Jesus Christ, no wonder I'm paralysed. It's how I act and I'm fucking sitting on it. I'm not OL. I LOVE her and I will always partner Her, but I'm NOT HER.
Ari: No. You're Judith or Devora. There is NOTHING wrong with that. Oftentimes the world /needs/ people like you. You hold a balance.
Think about the mother. The mother often has a healer's duties, but what about mother bears? There is no creature in nature more ruthless than a mother whose young are threatened - BECAUSE she is a mother. But she is also healer. See, to me, your gifts have never seemed at odds with each other. You embody that, all of it, from the nurturing to the defending. I might even say that you are the archetypal mother. You don't feel that way merely towards your own children, but towards all humanity.
Don't feel ashamed of it. I honestly don't think you even need to worry about reconciling anything. Your gifts are all whole already; you just need to accept them for what they are and what they mean. Just let them be, and let yourself be.

Quantum leap forward in self-understanding, though applying it is far more difficult. But that leads to the question - what does that mean to this warrior?

For me, peace is not avoidance. Peace cannot rest on the shifting sand of a tacit agreement that the truth remain unspoken. Peace is not a lack of conflict. Unresolved issues will rise to take on a life of their own so that entire families through generations to institutions act them out in ways where there may be no open warfare, but death by a thousand cuts, through relentless anger, pain, toxicity, dynamics that unnaturally twist those participating in them, making it impossible for anyone to grow. Oh, and don't believe that it's always quiet - there are often eruptions worthy of Eyjafjallajökull that one runs around trying to prevent. 

Trust me, I grew up there.

(Just to drive the point home, in this week's Once upon a time twist on Red Riding Hood - Red's grandmother's lying, hiding Red's true nature as a werewolf from her, costs countless lives. Avoidance brings as many casualties, if not more over time, as war.)


Peace, true peace, must have its foundation in the bedrock of truth, what is real. It must be anchored in the depth of truth and love, not the turbulent shallows of worldly appearances. Getting to that truth may require war: pushing against resistant dynamics, breaking out of agreements, or leaving. War strips everything back, distilling everyone to their essence: pulling away masks, facades, facing that which we would keep hidden.


There will be casualties - relationships based on silence, appearances, shallow similarities, denial, that which is unspoken, those built on a fault line or shared wounds rather than genuine love; one's reputation; the personalities we created to survive where we lived, so we lose our sense of who we are; or as in my case when I left home, the ability to stay.


But in the end, there will be genuine peace - not a lack of conflict, but conflict dealt with in truth, in love and in the appropriate time, with organic change arising naturally - a dynamic process that allows everyone who steps into the dynamic to speak honestly, to be themselves, to grow - or to step out of the dance if it doesn't suit them. People stay out of love - not fear, not need, not control, not comfort. And they leave in love to join the dance that G-d meant for them.


Nothing is ever perfect, but things can be whole and act from that wholeness. Peace, like equilibrium, must be dynamic, constantly aware and correcting itself as one does when riding a bike or driving a car, through the little movements with the occasional larger correction. 


This is my cause - for this, I will take up arms. Do I do it well? Not by a long chalk: as my therapist friend T pointed out, I am hobbled by desperation: "What I see in you is: The family I grew up in wasn't open. THIS one WILL be." So my tendency is to move too quickly, too full on, because I have sat for too long and suddenly the pressure is too great. I'm far better in individual dynamics - hence my work as a therapist - than I am in the collective, because I am so sensitive to the dynamics around me that I mirror/act out and become part of them - and by the time I extricate myself, there are far fewer options for acting because doors have closed, ways are more entrenched, and structures are precarious - and the action must be more extreme.

Quite often, my strength is in using anger - my own and others' - as a catalyst, but had I moved earlier, more options would have been available. Like the peace I seek, my warriorhood is dynamic. I am learning. 

Anger makes war inevitable - and I suspect it need not always be so. After all, the saying goes: If you seek peace, prepare for war. Not that war is inevitable, simply that one must be ready for it and not flinch from it and its aftermath. Then, one can do the hard work of picking up the pieces of something unsustainable and starting anew to build a true peace.


Si vis pacem, para bellum.


Let us make ready, tirelessly move towards truth, and together build a true peace that passeth all understanding that we now have of the nature of peace. 

Dream Log - Church

Restless, disturbing dreams - and powerful ones. I remember snippets of many, but only a few whole ones, which run along the same theme.


1.  I was at church, which now had a 'second half' to it. Not where the real-life construction is happening, but with the church and the presbytery to the right as you're facing it, and a new glass building to the left. I worked in the glass building, which was some kind of government organisation or agency, and was going in and out quite a lot with a woman I don't know in real life, but who was either my equivalent in another department or perhaps slightly above me, but not my direct supervisor. We were animatedly discussing an important problem coming down the steps and out the front door one day when I stopped in the forecourt. Something was wrong - I'd sensed it for a while, but now it felt critical, dangerous. I 'felt' the area around me and knew there was an explosive in the presbytery tied to the electrical wiring; anything one did to defuse it would only set it off. I had no sense of when it would go off, though I sensed 'near future', not immediate. 


Right. Time to let people know.


I spotted J out front, spreading salt on the pavement outside the gate. I had mixed feelings about approaching him: if he believed me, he'd move quickly; but since it was me, I worried that he would simply dismiss me and do nothing.  As I stepped out, I noticed he had spread salt across the gate entrance itself and was now spreading it in lines perpendicular to the original one across the gate. I stepped out of the forecourt, careful not to disturb his lines, and stood facing him.


'J, what are you doing?'


'Need to create a way to contain the explosion.' 


Suffice it to say, one of the things J is known for is his precise, clear English. His leaving out the subject nearly gave me whiplash. I looked at him sharply.


'J, wait, you KNOW about the explosion?' 


In the same, slow, deliberate manner, continuing to spread salt, 'Yes. Don't know when though.'


He appeared to be sleepwalking or in a fugue. I desperately tried to break through.


'J, listen. Spreading salt isn't going to help. We need to get everyone out and we need to find a way to contain it. We're going to have to work out what kind of explosion it's going to be and build something, create something to minimise the damage and casualties to surrounding areas. It's too late for here. Can you hear me?'


No response. 'J, WAKE UP. We need to get moving.' I was on the verge of shaking him.


Unfortunately, that's the moment I listened to my own directive and opened my eyes.


2.  It was pitch dark, and I was flying. I was held from behind by what felt like a...presence more than a man, though he felt solid enough. I'm pretty sure we were on a Pegasus or some other flying creature. From behind me, his voice, raspy as if his vocal cords had been damaged in a fire, said, 'I have to fight for my love. My brothers wouldn't come.' I felt his profound sadness and leaned back slightly, trying to comfort him saying, 'I'm sure they'll change their minds and come.'


He remained silent, but I sensed his disagreement and his sorrow mixed with love - for his brothers and for me. Below me, the ground was suddenly lit up by a series of stadiums, and somehow I knew they were for gladiatorial contests - ones in which he was going to participate. My heart ached for the blood he would have to spill in the fight for his love. I hoped his love knew how blessed she was. 


Then we descended onto what looked like a college/university quadrangle. There were some security lights on, and some windows were lit as well, but we stood in total darkness. As he put me down, I turned to him, this shadow twice my height, and he said, 


'Now go. And:

Bereshit bara Elohim et hashamayim ve'et ha'arets.

Veha'arets hayetah tohu vavohu vechoshech al-peney tehom veruach Elohim merachefet al-peney hamayim.

G-d will come. Remember.'


After that, he spoke in something akin to Hebrew - I don't know how I knew it wasn't Hebrew; all I can say is that it was a profound blessing - not one of the 'given' ones, e.g., 'May the Lord bless you and keep you', but something...deeper, almost as if it was woven out of the fabric of creation itself. I felt it around me like a blanket of benison and protection.


I went...


...and found myself sitting with Steve, my cousin's husband, who I haven't seen in ages. We were sitting at a computer, working something through, when some sixth sense made me turn around. 


I saw, sitting on a brick wall, swinging his legs, in khaki trousers, tackies and a t-shirt, a clerical friend. 'Surely not HERE,' I thought, peering closely at the familiar profile. Then his head turned, and sure enough, it was he. He nodded and raised his eyebrows - in surprise, curiosity and greeting, which I returned similarly. I decided to allow him to come over if he wanted to - after all, even good clerical friends need complete breaks from those back in their church circle.


Steve asked me a question, I turned back to the screen for 30 seconds, then turned around again - he had disappeared completely, not even to be seen walking away in the surrounding crowd.


Steve asked, 'What's wrong?'


'Nothing. Thought I saw a friend from back home.'


'Well, go find him and say 'hi'!'


'No, if he'd wanted to talk, he'd have come over. I'm not going to bother him while he's on holiday.'


Then there was a weird, half-remembered segue about going into kitchens with Steve and friends, then I said, 'I'm going to mass; I'll see you guys later.'


We parted ways and I chose the cathedral, best to keep out of my friend's way, I figured. The cathedral looked like an opera house: brightly lit, white, blue plush theatre seats, in the semi-round, rather baroque and very beautiful. Suddenly, I turned to see clerical friend coming up the aisle two away from me (NOT central) to get ready to say mass and moved to an alcove where I was at a distance and hidden from view from the sanctuary. 'At least then he doesn't have to see me till at least communion,' I thought.


Oddly enough, at communion, he was dispensing at our aisle and the one next to it (I thought he'd be up at the sanctuary aisle; we were the one behind). I was about three away from him on my side of the double queue when the doors burst open and monsters of all descriptions came in, claws and teeth bared, ready for the kill. Thank G-d our teamwork in the dream was as seamless as it is in real life, or it would have been carnage. I don't remember any dead, but there must have been in that first entry, before we moved. As it was, we got everyone else out safely, then tore to the sacristy.


In the sacristy stood a cow. Somehow, we had an invocation/prayer that would turn it into a creature that would help us against the onslaught of demonic animals. I had begun to recite the prayer when a huge, lizard-like monster passed by, paused and grinned at us, then went up the steps behind the sacristy. I knew I couldn't stop reciting, and it moved so quickly, we couldn't grab it to either kill or hold it to transform it. My heart broke. I finished as quickly as possible and we waited, breathless. Suddenly, the cow started to change, growing fangs. 


'Kill it, Irim. We have to kill it!'


I could see a golden glow around it. 'No, wait, it's fine. This is the middle.'


I could sense his tension, but he trusted me. Suddenly, the transformation was complete, and a stunning red, yellow and blue feathered creature sat in front of us on one of the sacristy tables. We moved towards it. Somehow, I knew it was meant to be a phoenix, though it was currently flattened in the middle, looking more like a feathered serpent (and yes, it was only as I typed this that I got the Quetzlcoatl reference and looked him up - had no idea he was associated with Venus, whose transit was visible today).


I resisted stroking its gorgeous plumage and simply said, 'We need to go upstairs and save the others. Something like a basilisk passed as we were calling you...'


It looked at me and said, 'It's too late for those upstairs. Go, save yourselves and the others down here and outside that you can.'


Every fibre of my being protested, and I knew his did too. But then I knew - I knew that the Quetzl phoenix was going upstairs to save those that it could and that we would only be in the way. At that moment, I went to stroke it in thanks...


and woke up.