Shadow
I have always considered the virtue “Awareness of Impact” as a sign of maturity. Children do not initially notice the impact they have on their environment. They don’t notice their parents’ exhaustion as infants and toddlers. Or that their aunts, uncles, grandparents and neighbors quickly and silently remove harmful items from ground level when they visit. Those of us who are childless often imagine that parents lose this awareness concerning their children in public places. And adults everywhere wonder about this lack of awareness among adolescents. But for the most part, we as a culture expect adults to have this awareness. The reality however is that most adults in this culture are blissfully unaware past some arbitrarily low limit.
This lack of awareness struck me just now as I moved my car in anticipation of the street cleaners. Every Tuesday and Wednesday here in my urban neighborhood, my neighbors and I engage in a well rehearsed dance – moving our cars from one side to the other to escape a parking ticket. And so I had to move my car from the side of the street that will be cleaned today. So I started up my car, checked for traffic, and pulled into the alley in preparation for backing into the space in front of my house. I have done it a thousand times. I normally can do it so seamlessly that several of my neighbors have commented that they wished they could drive like me.
But today something happened. A single car, when I checked in both directions, was just about a block a way when I began backing into the street. But he was driving so fast that by the time I was slipping into the space, he was right up on me. He was driving so fast that I stopped completely. I stopped to make him stop. I wanted some wiggle room in case I needed to pull forward again, and he was already too close already. So once I was sure he would stop, I continued backing up, but as I backed up he drove forward just as fast. So by the time I was in the space he was beside my car. We each stopped and looked at each other.
I was annoyed, but I was not really angry. That is when it hit me. He was looking at me the way I was looking at him. After a short pause, he pulled off and I pulled forward to straighten my wheels.
Then I sat there for a moment. I reviewed everything that happened and then it hit me. He thought *I* had done something wrong. He may very well have thought that he was completely in the right. Oh okay, now that made me very angry. Then another thought entered my mind, he then had no idea what the impact of his actions had on me.
What if I had been like those neighbors of mine, and needed to pull in and out a couple of times to completely park? What if the space had not been big enough for my car and I had needed to pull up to another parking space? What if I had panicked and hit one of the cars on either side of me? Now the anger passed and I was back in amazement.
And what was my impact on him? I made him wait as I parked my car. In fact if I had not stopped, I would have been out of his way by the time he reached my car. Maybe he had timed it just right for that eventuality? So in effect, I was as completely unaware as he.
So I came back inside and sat a bit before returning to my work.
Where else am I blind to my own impact? What if all the things that bug me about life, about people and about this entire freaking culture was the result of this lack of awareness on all our parts?
I lit some incense and turned inward with prayer. I pray that the gods increase my awareness of the impact of my actions on myself and on those around me. And I also pray that I slow down enough to become aware of others as I travel on my journeys and wanderings. And I thank that fast driving man for showing me a slice of my own blindness. Ashe. Blessed Be.
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Tue, 09/16/2008 - 1:04pm.
This is part four of an exploration into how I navigated a recent difficult period. The first in this series is, Distorted Nostalgia.
"Runaway child, running wild …
Better go back home … where you belong …"
Temptations, 1969
From my journal …
My niece, wearing a pink outfit, is throwing up and running away ... from me. She has a bruise on her forehead. We were traveling together, and at some point she returns from the bathroom without her jacket – also pink. When I inquire, she said that she had thrown up. “On your jacket?” “Yes.”
Later she is upset at losing all that was in the jacket pockets – especially a photo of a young boy. The photo had been worn and creased, but it was all she had left and now it was gone.
At a restaurant, the staff helps her to escape. At first I say fine and leave. But at home I looked over all I had acquired for her. They were all inappropriate for a fun loving child. They were weights and tools wrapped up to look like gifts. I realized that I wanted her back so I went back and demanded her return.
I sit with the first message from this dream. My child self is not happy with what I have been feeding her (throwing up) and giving her (weights and tools). She was mad about what she had to give up and finally ran away. And I was fine with it until I looked at what I had been offering her. Then I realized what I had done and what she really meant to me.
The second message in this dream was where she chooses to run away -- a place filled with food. Aha! My runaway child is placating herself with food.
There is definitely a pattern here. My fire self, [the one who interrupts my quiet moments with the flame of anxiety and tension] is overbearing and pushy. My water self is rebellious and running wild. Ai yi yi, something has to give.
They are each overreacting, one to fear, the other to hunger. My fire self takes over at the first sign of chaos, loss of control and stress. I am afraid of losing ground to the chaos, the ten thousand things of life that haunts introverts like myself.
And whenever I succumb to the fear, a second reaction spills out due to my hunger for life itself. My water side rebels and starts me to binging to compensate – as if there will never be a chance again … to enjoy life.
Ah! The message of the dream I ignored comes dancing back before my eyes. I do not want to lose any more time, I feel like I have given up so much already, I do not want to miss out on the passion of living in the moment, not again, not anymore. I have been so sick for so long, enough with all this working hard all the damn time. And it does feel like a family curse, now that I think of it.
I sit with these realizations as tears well up and fall to my journal obscuring the words. When I can talk, I say out loud, “Please don’t leave me again … we will get through this together … I promise.”
Next … a dialogue … finally
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Mon, 07/28/2008 - 9:00am.
This is part two of an exploration into how I navigated a recent difficult period. The first in this series is, Distorted Nostalgia.
So the next morning, I decide to skip yoga class, but not the yoga.
… on the mat …
During savasana ... day dreams about someone setting the monastery on fire. I kept trying to get out but every exit is blocked. Then I wake up to discover that someone had rigged it so that the monastery catches fire. So I go around disarming the devices, turning off the gas and carefully opening all the windows to let the gas out safely.
I kept asking, “Why would someone set fire to the monastery?” And I hear the sound of screeching brakes … wrong question. “Who is setting the fires?” Oh yeah, me – I am setting the fires.
… deep breath, adjust my body …
And now I am in a yoga class in the studio. A woman loses her balance and begins to fall. I jump up and catch her before she slams into a wall. She is not grateful, she is angry. “Let me go”, she shouts at me. And I respond, “No problem, just stand up first so you can regain your balance before I let go.”
Again, I ask, “Who is out of balance?” And the answer is the same, “I am out of balance.”
…I wiggle my fingers and toes, slowly turning on my right side then slowly sit up …breathing deeply,
I begin my metta prayer. “May I be healthy …” I remember yesterday’s message about my fire needing balancing with water. I make a mental note "Today will be a water day." I hear protest from my fire side, "Yesterday was a water day dammit!”
Good point. “Today will begin as a water day.” Which for me means taking things slowly. I mentally add laundry and dish washing to the morning chores. Later I will pay bills and go through the mail.
“Okay?” Blessed silence … okay, time for breakfast.
The next morning … from my journal …
…dreams … of this young woman who seems in a hurry to experience the joys of life. It is hinted that it is because she has not long to live. So she rushes to marry the man of her dreams so she can be sure to experience the bliss of her wedding night. It is also hinted that it is a family curse that can only be broken by experiencing true love, multiple orgasms and real happiness.
I had been up past midnight the night before trying to solve one of the design problems. I hug myself wondering, “How am I going to get all of this done?”
I ignore the dream … I am truly scattered and worried all day.
Next, a revelation … of sorts.
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 1:48pm.
Shadow stalking can be an exhilarating sport. My quarry is leery of being seen much less being cornered. The chase can seem thrilling, especially when I am getting close.
It throws up all these distractions …
”Why are you doing *this*? You could be watching TV. You like TV right?” Or …
What if that car exploded and then ….the resulting gas cloud was ignited by *this* candle and … it fried half of the block?” And …
"What if a car careened from the road and headed right for these trees while you were gazing at *this* stream and listening to its water?”
It stalks me, even as I follow its trail. Booby traps filled with emotional triggers, hidden pits of despair and grief, and poisonous self-talk all are weapons at its disposal. All I am armed with is the light of awareness, and it is all I need.
Hey! If I can see you clearly, you are mine!
And lately, let’s face it, your tactics have taken on the stink of desperation – I must be close. When I catch glimpses of you, you seem nervous and twitch at every sound. And I am getting closer everyday.
Your armory is well stocked, and your stealth knows no limits. And you have escaped me for many, many years. But as soon as I can see you, you begin to weaken. Every time you escape me now, just hastens the day when I will have you squarely in my sights.
And on that day, I will pull out my trusty journal and draw your image with words. And with each detail I capture, you will become pinned to the canvas of the page.
There, I will remove your mask and peal away all your disguises. And there I will uncover your real name and then … you will be mine.
Then … we will embrace, join hands and dance joyously together. It will be so wonderful, so beautiful, we will both cry with delight and relief.
But till then, you better run and you better hide … because I can see you and baby … the hunt is on!
©2008 Katrina Messenger
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Fri, 05/16/2008 - 1:31pm.
I'm troubled, though, to see the same canards that were used against the ERA back in the day deployed in favour of Prop 8 out here in California. It suggests that those arguments still have traction, and could be used against the ERA all over again.
My own amendment fantasy is similar: I'd like to see a move for an amendment explicitly guaranteeing a right to privacy, creating a solid legal ground for Roe and countless other vulnerable legal decisions.
There's dancing in celebration of Obama's win in the streets of Austin! YES!!!!
No wonder I never get to see you! Sheesh.
Kick back, my dear, put your feet up and do nothing at all, yes??
And btw ... happy happy happy. I am so glad you were born. Now chill out OK??
Cool site.