I write to you
In a room I can stay in as long as G!ddess wills it
In an apartment where I pay rent
with a paycheck I receive
in a holistic workplace.
BRUCHA HASHEKHINA! G!ddess is gracious!
I moved to Berkeley yesterday, two blocks from my community acupuncture clinic, six blocks from the friends with whom I’m co-creating a California chapter of our beloved MN nonprofit Face Forward, seven blocks from Berkeley Bowl, and within a mile of many of my other friends. It’s really happening!
It’s interesting to watch the impulse to attach and to go right into ego mode: mine, mine, mine! Control, control, control! I have many dreams for my new space. I’m also cultivating patience, presencing as often as I remember to that sweet spaciousness that says: You have all the time you need. Always. And, as great as it is to have a space to ground/replenish/explore/express, my four months of traveling taught me that these things (jobs, houses, routines) are not ultimately us.
After work today I lay on the floor of my new bedroom and spoke to my mentor on speakerphone. We investigated my relationship with anger and boundaries, and she reminded me that I’ve been in an intense playground of boundaries as I’ve co-habited others’ spaces. She reflected that without a space over which I have sovereignty, I’ve had to really ground in myself, and I did so with beautiful imperfect grace. There were days in the past few months that I felt incredibly alive and authentic. There were days I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. I’m learning to recognize and honor my desires…it’s a delicious, exciting, and surprisingly terrifying journey.
Why is it so scary to know what I want and ask for it?
Is it because I have this Buddhist-influenced mental loop playing that says “Desires?? Suffering! Bad!”?
Is it that I learned from my adult role models that to be in harmony with those around me, I must ignore what I feel and want?
Is it a layer of internalized oppression from a misogynistic, heteronormative, conformity-encouraging society?
Is it my Pisces martyrdom and self-sacrifice?
Is it a piece of the puzzle of human re-membrance, a confrontation we all make with the self as we evolve spiritually?
I can tell myself whatever story I want about the pain that lives in my connective tissues, the tightly held animal self so often found in fetal position, shivering and flinching at the touch of the world. Ultimately she is mine to approach, to offer my hand in love and reverence, and to coax as she allows me. In the act of showing up to meet myself with true love and respect, I embody shekhinah. I allow the divine presence in the physical world to flow through me and know herself, cycling in infinite spiral time between everything and nothing, everywhere and nowhere.
Words get tangled and lose their source. I’ve wrapped the threads of my life in a ball so I could take it with me at a moment’s notice. I’m thankful for the space to unwind, to trace back, to spread myself out and see the patterns my spirit weaves. For now, I’ll trust my dreams to undress these layers.
With love and strength,