Myself on the couch - what about marriage and me?

In the midst of a deliciously deep email conversation, I was asked the following:

But what are your own plans - do you intend to marry, or are you a bachelorette, or are you secretly living the consecrated life?

I had thought the response would be difficult, but it just flowed from my keyboard, giving me new clarity along the way. So, since I offered advice on marriage to a hypothetical couple on my couch, it seemed only fair that I put myself next to Winnie and his honey jar - and do that very rare thing for me - show my emotional cards:

I want to be married and (G-d willing) have children if possible more than anything else in the world - it has always felt like my vocation. But I always swore, up and down, that I wouldn't end up in the loveless, horrible marriage my parents had. Granted it was arranged, but I've seen arranged marriages that at least rub along tolerably well; my parents' marriage was a form of hell. I was...12? 13? before I realised that people marry because they're in love with each other - that you could actually LIKE YOUR SPOUSE. That...has had a long-lasting effect, and I am extremely relationship-shy for fear of being trapped as my parents were and as we were in what was a desperately unhappy home. The minute they mentioned arranged marriage, I moved out, leaving them a note on the fridge. It's hard to be with a guy without that immediate panic attack feeling of 'Oh my god, he's going to trap me forever and it will be horrible' cropping up. Having said that, I don't think I've turned anyone away who was right for me; I just wonder where he is. I really hope he didn't get run over by a bus crossing the road to find me!! :-P

For me, marriage is so deeply holy, such a binding of souls, a real sacrament, I wouldn't DARE approach it unless I knew G-d, and not my boyfriend and I, had put it together. Anything other than that certainty would be a mockery for me; I couldn't do it. Vocation is such a deep thing, it's beyond words - I just don't mess with it, and try to trust G-d knows what he's up to, hard as I have found it over time. I trust He'll let me know. I don't want to step into a marriage because I feel I should be married; I want to marry because it's what G-d wants of me. I want to say those vows before G-d and KNOW that's what He wants for me, KNOW that I mean them heart and soul to this person and to G-d. Nick had a wonderful line in a wedding sermon: May you become so entwined with G-d and each other that you have no idea where your marriage ends and G-d begins. That sums it up for me.

I rarely dare dream - I'm too aware of how easily they're ridiculed or snatched away, but some dreams run too deep, are too much a part of every fibre of our being to be submerged or ripped out - or even discussed except with those who can be trusted with one's heart - and even that is difficult. 

For me, this is that dream.

To a couple on the occasion of their wedding

I know of several couples getting or recently married. This is what I'd say to them if they were on my couch sitting next to Winnie-the-Pooh and his honey jar.

Much love and many congratulations on your wedding day.

I am always in awe of those who take this immense leap of faith - what in many ways, to me, feels like the ultimate leap of faith: joining one's life to another's in order to sanctify each other and reflect G-d's love to each other and the world. One of my favourite images of marriage comes from the Jewish tradition: [A] spouse is like a mirror that exposes the weaknesses of the other in a way which leads to growth. Growth into the person that G-d meant us to be when He planted us in the soil of our families and watered us with the love of so many who come into our lives: friends, kindred spirits, and now, your beshert.

You are meant to be true mirrors to each other, not the funhouse mirrors that society, or even some that we call friends, so often offer us: those who offer us the lie of uncritical adoration; those who demonize us and play to our insecurities; those who would manipulate us for their own ends; those who shore up our comfortable worlds and expect us to do the same for them. Your vocation with your beloved entails being true with each other at all levels - from keeping your vows to telling them what's true - always - especially when everyone else is not.  

So finding your beshert is not the rom-com 'happily ever after' that Hollywood promises us - light, fluffy, always smiling. You DO need that intangible chemistry, that undefinable, deep connection, that cannot be created if it isn't there at first - Hollywood isn't wrong about that. Where Hollywood fails is in showing us that real intimacy and deep relationship entail challenge and difficulty as well as happiness and laughter. But here's the secret: coming through the hard times brings something far more beautiful, more nuanced, more mysterious - and real.  Something always underpinned by real joy, no matter what troubles the surface: happiness, sorrow, anger. Truth at the centre of all you are - individually and together - will ring G-d's love out clear as crystal to the surrounding world.

How do you bring truth to the centre? Anchor yourself and the relationship in G-d. You pray for vision, that you are not seeing yourself or the other through a glass darkly, but clearly, with G-d's eyes. You love with everything you have. You speak what you know to be true with love. Communicate, communicate, communicate - nurture that precious G-d given connection by spending most of that time listening with an open heart: to G-d and to each other: listening with an eye to how you're going to respond is not listening. Be good friends, first and foremost. The genuine liking, respect, quality of attention and leeway we give our friends far too often goes AWOL in our intimate relationships. 

Whatever you do, stay in relationship. Is there an issue between you? Talk to each other, don't whinge to your friends or anyone who will tell you how right you are. Talk to each other, and don't ever stop. I mean, do breathe, take time for yourself, go out with your friends, pursue your interests and stuff. Being joined at the hip is unhealthy - you're individuals in relationship, not a mini-Borg. (Not to mention that doing things by yourselves keeps the mystery alive - there's always something new for you both to discover!) But always keep that channel of communication between each other open. 

Are you shaking with rage? Talk. Find out what's real, not what you think is real because your triggers have been pushed. Yes, you may need to step back and think, because there are things that should never be said, but let each other know you need that space. Saying 'I'm furious about this right now, I need some time to cool off, can I have [X amount of time] and then we'll talk?' and following through is the ultimate in healthy boundaries. Dropping out of relationship by cutting the other person off open-endedly, using what's popularly known as the 'silent treatment', is something else entirely. That says, "I am withdrawing my love, my presence and any opportunity for healing from you - from both of us." Don't go there. You will have broken your wedding vows - to be there 'for better or for worse', but even more foundationally, you will have broken the most basic vow of real relationship (genuine friendship, family, marriage, etc.): "I will be there and we will work through problems together." The silent treatment shatters those vows and removes emotional safety and sanctuary from the relationship - for both of you. 

The reasons it does for the recipient are obvious - their hands are tied; they cannot operate in the relationship to heal/correct their mistake; they are being punished for something they did/didn't do by having an important relationship suddenly stripped from them, with no voice - unable to put their side forward or set things right. How does it eliminate sanctuary for the instigator? By slamming the door, the instigator says, 'I don't trust myself when I'm angry. I don't trust myself in connection or in relationship. I don't trust love, because it hurt, so I will lock myself away.' You're imprisoning yourself, punishing yourself as much, if not more, than the other person - cutting yourself off from love, healing and depth of connection that the other wants to give you. You are freezing the person you care for into a whipping post for your rage (usually about so much more than the actual event - and the other person) based on a single incident, when you know they are so much more. You're cutting yourself off from emotional safety. Let yourself be touched, held, apologised to, by the other. Let them feel your pain and help you transform it. Let the reason you want to cut them off become the reason that your relationship becomes stronger and more true.

Even more destructive than silence is what is now fashionably termed 'snark'. We live in a city - a world - where snark is considered 'clever', where one's intellectual standing is exponentially increased by a smart putdown rather than thoughtful listening and argument; where clever snideness is more valued than compassion. 

But that is not what is true.

Sheathing your anger in humour so you don't have to own it doesn't make you clever, it makes you a coward and an asshole. Let's call a spade a spade: snark is not amused affection; it is not the affectionate teasing that is the mark of a good relationship. Snark is that death knell of all relationship: contempt. Let's not start with the British + Commonwealth/American divide, because I have never known anyone from any culture who was not being a passive-aggressive, cowardly asshole when they were being snarky to someone, constantly jabbing at them with edged comments, like the Chinese death by a thousand cuts - and that includes me. Irony is very different; it has a different emotional energy - it's about sharp human observation, something that moves us to see the world differently. Snark is about lashing out at another without consequences.

Afraid of your anger? I get it. It's a powerful emotion. But anger is simply energy that brings the message that something is wrong; something needs to change. Anger is the heat of the forge, with creative energy that can be channelled and shaped into passion, connection, action. Contempt is the chill of the void, like the Dementors of Azkaban or the Spectres of Cittagazze, sucking the soul out of anything living. It is lack of empathy, isolation, remaining stuck. As a therapist, I can tell you: give me anger or rage, and I can help save a relationship. Give me contempt, and the best I can do is try to ensure a separation with as little pain and bitterness as possible on both sides. Tease away  - but if snark starts to creep in, nip it in the bud by facing what's real.

See, here's the deal - creating an honest, safe emotional space is hard work. Trust me, I'm a therapist - it's my job, I do this consciously when I sit in that chair. It's bloody hard enough when you're not emotionally involved. When you are, when it's the most intimate of your relationships, it takes lashings of grace to do it at all. But it's absolutely essential, because close friendships, family, intimate relationships - they're all crucibles; they're our refiner's fire. That's where we push each other at the deepest places consciously through holding up mirrors and challenging, unconsciously by creating drama. With our nearest and dearest, we're going to hit those triggers no matter what. The only way that being in that crucible will sanctify us is if it is held in the safest, most real and most loving of spaces. It is when we are challenged at the deepest level that we must know we are held in the deepest safety, love and truth.

Having created  a safe space of love and truth anchored in G-d, trusting in emotional risk and grace - HAVE FUN. Laugh together long and often - there are few things more intimate. Revel in each other's company, as you would with a treasured friend. Touch each other - every time you pass each other by the stove or fridge, hold hands, snuggle on the sofa, brush back that lock of hair. Treasure the ordinary days, which are the threads of the tapestry that you will weave together. Shelter each other through the storms, share the view from ecstatic heights, build the history that only you two will know, hinted at by the shared looks and little touches caught by others when you're together. (Yes, the same ones that will embarrass the HELL out of your teenage children.)

Be each other's sanctuary - a place that is safe and real in a world that is fear and illusion. Challenge each other to become what G-d dreamt you would be when He made you. Be that true mirror. Should children come to bless and widen the circle of your love, remember that your marriage is the trunk of the family tree - nurture it, fill it with love and G-d's grace that overflows onto your children, giving them that most precious gift of being loved and of knowing how to love in G-d and the world. Every morning, wake to another day where you love, share and forgive, whatever your day may be - ordinary, rapturous, or heart-wrenching. Keep your heart open - life will tempt you to close it so you'll 'never be hurt again', but closing it will ensure your entombment whilst still alive. Better to be dead. 

If you cannot look at each other and make your wedding vows with every fibre of your being, walk away now, even if it is at the moment you say, 'I don't.' Marriage is a sacrament - there's a reason we use the word 'communion' - it is a binding of souls. Butterflies, nervous excitement, 'OMG, this is HUGE, but IAMSOEXCITEDTOBEMARRYINGMYPARTNER!' is a good sign. Feeling trapped, freaking out, 'I can't do this', and numbness are not symptoms of cold feet - they are G-d's way of saying, 'I didn't call you to this. YOU did. Stop. Now.' Listen to that, even if you're an atheist, no matter what it cost, what the guests think, however much it hurts you both at the time - better it should be put asunder now than ripped apart later.

But if you can speak those vows to each other, heart and soul, then love and keep loving - and watch life open doors that you couldn't even have imagined. Let your wedding day be the day of your marriage that you loved each other least - and let it be the day that you were deeply present as you made those vows to each other and bound yourselves together in the deepest way possible - branches touching, roots entwined.  

As per this blessing from the Sheva Brachot, I ask G-d:


"Grant perfect joy to these loving companions, as you did your creations in the Garden of Eden. Blessed are You, LORD, who grants the joy of groom and bride."

In closing, allow me to borrow a line from an absolutely amazing wedding sermon given by a priest friend: I overheard this when I was on the Lodge one Saturday (I'm totally nicking :-) this from now on as a blessing for friends getting married - credit given, of course):

May you become so entwined with G-d and with each other that you cannot tell where your marriage ends and G-d begins.

That is my prayer for you - today and every day. May each year find you deeper in truth, richer in blessings and more in love than the last.

Now go forth to love and be loved - the world and the future await you.

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.