Our Deepest Fears

I was thinking a lot lately on how difficult it is to comprehend those deeper elements of our psych in times of serenity and calm. It seems that we only are able to confront them when in crisis mode. This came in startling relief recently for me as I dealt with the excruciating pain associated with acute pancreatitis. I had felt this pain before, back in 2003, when I had emergency surgery to remove my gall bladder. But this time I did not have the overarching pain of Fibromyalgia masking the severity.

As it dawned on me how much intense pain I have endured … for years … I was hit with such a wave of sorrow and compassion … for myself. So here I was … almost delirious from pain, weeping over how much pain I have endured in my life. It was a moment that sort of proves how much of “mad” mystic I am.

It was when I was laying in my hospital bed, trancing in and out of consciousness due to the morphine, that I was readily admitted into the recessed areas of my psyche. And what I found there was amazing, humbling and thrilling at all levels.

There was storehouse of images, symbols and “hidden” truths that I discovered but I will save those for another time. This long post is about what I uncovered about some of our deepest collective fears.

The Flood
One of the overarching fears worldwide is of being engulfed – flood waters, landslides, and collapsing structures along with the threatening tide of too much change, technology and information. We fortify ourselves with rationalizations about these fears --pretending as if each them are separate issues. But the reality is that this fear is universal and we project that fear onto world around us. We project it onto cancer and fear cancer patients. We project it onto those who migrate into our countries and forget that humanity itself is a migrating species. We resist even changes that benefit us like universal healthcare simply because it is new. We keep trying to close the door on a room without walls or place our fingers into a dam that has already been breeched – too little, too late.

It manifests itself in my psyche as flood waters slowly encompassing more and more of my life and removing my agency. So I fear that my life seems to be out of my direct control. So an illness can roll in like a tide, knocking me off my feet and sweep me out to sea – at the mercy of waves and storms.

But as I lay in my hospital bed, a new awareness sprouted -- one that sees this onslaught as impersonal and larger than I had imagined. And how it had nothing to do with me personally. It has a name, and it is called, Life. And just like standing on the beach, facing the oncoming tide does not have to mean being thrown over. I can brace myself and participate in the movement, allowing myself to be buffeted, changed and cleansed by embracing the very things that are challenging me. And yeah, sometimes I will be knocked off my feet. So what? It is the nature of Life and shit happens.

I am still challenged by Life, but I am learning not to fear its waves. Because, yeah, I may lose even more agency as I age – and it will suck big time. But Life is not out to get me – Life is the gift I get to participate within, that is fucking fabulous at all levels.

The Island
Another major fear is of being alone. Not just being physically alone, but being alone with our fears, hopes, and ideas along with our secret desires. We feel as if no one would truly understand us. We harbor deep-seated shame over things that when examined are actually not so bad. It is one of the tenets of the 12 Step movement - that when we actually do a fearless moral inventory, we find out that we are not as horrid or bad as we imagined. One of the benefits of the web is that so many of our imagined singularities can often find community.

But even if we have found the other 1000 people in the world who wished they were born with a tail, we can still act as if no one else lives in our bones and walks our path of pain or fear or grief or shame. And when we find a person who seems to get us as any level, it is such a relief, such a balm to our troubled soul.

My version of this fear is manifested in a sense of being different wherever I go. I am the only black bi-sexual, left wing, Wiccan, warrior, poet, techno-mage and mystic I know. Oh sure, there are probably others out there, but I haven’t met them. I could parse my self-definitions enough to fit in with several groups, and I do, but I always feel like an outsider. So when I find individuals or groups that seem to fit, it often feels like I have found my long lost home … that is until my essential uniqueness raises its head. And I am left feeling so adrift and ultimately … alone.

I usually blame the group or individual for not living up to my hopes and expectations. And then my practice of self-examination kicks in, and it all comes back to me and I feel the space surrounding me very keenly.

The reality of course is that we are all alone. That is what hit me in the hospital. I was alone with my pain along with hundreds of other people alone with their pain. And if I focused on the alone part, there was no way out of my essential dilemma. So I focused instead on the parts we shared, and instantly, I was no longer alone. I gave my religion as Wicca and boom … a fellow Wiccan sent me a lovely poem from the hospital. I shared my fears, and others shared theirs. I laughed and others laughed with me in spite of themselves.

We are all alone, and in that we are together whenever we choose to be.

It is a choice not a destiny. And so I choose community, friendship and intimacy. And when I need to, I also choose to be alone in my uniqueness. And that is the best choice of all.

The Smallest Pebble
The last fear I noticed was the fear of being insignificant – a small pebble amongst a pile of pebbles or worse boulders. The “No one will know that I was ever here”, fear is one of the ways it manifests. I have seen this fear beneath the surface of so many people over the years.

One of my roles as a mystic is to “imbue value by acknowledgement.” I say “thank you”, hold doors, look people in the eyes and smile, and just acknowledge a person’s existence … a lot. It is one of the easiest and most satisfying parts of my practice. But what I had not understood was how far down this fear resides in our collective psyche.

This fear lies beneath the “It doesn’t matter what I do”, “I am not important enough to make a fuss”, and the “I cannot make a difference.” It is the burden we carry that stops us from taking action in our own lives, or in the lives of our loved ones. It causes well-meaning engineers to give up on safety measures, medical personnel to have lapses in judgement concerning patient care and inspectors to ignore blatant violations.

Closer to home, it causes me to purposely wander in the creative desert when faced with another rewrite for my book. And it cripples me in reaching out to my dear friends even in times of need. It also blinds me to the impacts of my decisions, actions and statements.

All in all, most of us feel pretty small compared to the world or to the universe. But the reality is that we are all small in comparison to all that out there! But so what -- we are small but we are not insignificant. Our Life matters to the world and to the universe … or we would not be here in the first place!

My job is not only to imbue other lives with meaning; I am the one that imbues my own Life with meaning! In other words, I realized that whatever meaning my Life holds comes from my own actions. Just like all those African-American college graduates who worked as janitors to make a living, whatever I do with my Life has value as long as I bring value to it.

And as I lay in that hospital bed, I thought of all the work I‘ve done these almost 55 years, and suddenly I did not feel so insignificant. I realized that whatever my faults, mistakes and challenges, I have done good in this world with my own hands … and if given half a chance, I will do it again and again.

Be Yourself
And lastly, just as my stay came to an end, I was reminded that all I had ever needed to do in this world was to be myself. And that was my deepest fear. I was afraid that at my core, I was insufficient. And here is where the outer world mirrored back me to me truth. “Yeah, you are insufficient to meet the demands of all that Life has to offer, but that is why there is community.” And as I looked at all the people who cared for me, who stood up for me and yes, even stood up to me – I let go of my need for control and replaced it with gratitude. And with that, I could finally be who and what I am, a person recovering from an illness and who is deeply loved.

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The Journey

I delivered this sermon in August of 2006. It is as true today as when I first delivered it. As we bask in this season of Beltane, its message of love, especially self-love seemed so potent.

I want to just say a little bit about what I call ‘the Journey.’ I have said this to some of you, because some of you have asked me questions about feeling that because things are difficult that you’ve lost your way, that you’ve somehow lost your way on the path. And I’ve said to you, “No, that’s part of the path.” You haven’t lost your way, the path includes the entire wealth of human experience. The highs, the lows, the confusions and the false clarities, all are part of the process.

Perfection is not our goal. We all know that, right? We are not trying to produce perfect people. Perfection is actually a trap; it is a distraction. The goal of your spiritual journey is for you become more of what you already are. Now, that has a trap, there is a trap in that statement. The trap is that, whatever you imagine that you are, you then carve into stone and say, “This is what I am!” – and that is not what we mean. What we mean is that you become more of what you already are … beyond your comprehension; beyond your small, narrow view of reality. It’s not to celebrate the mediocre, or to celebrate and rejoice over your own misconceptions, repressions, fears, illusions, and whatever. It’s just to point out that we’re not trying to make you into carbon copies of someone else.

Our goal and our job in each lifetime, in each incarnation, is to become what we already are in this lifetime. Some say that once you are born into this world, you spend the first half of your life figuring out why you are here. What are you here to do, what is your purpose? We are trying to speed up that process here in Reflections, but we need to also recognize that this process of coming to know who you are is part of the reason why you are here. Does that make sense? It’s not just, we figure it out and then we can do what we’re here for. Part of the reason we’re here is to figure that out. The self-discovery process is as important as the later work.

I get to hear lots of folk’s darkest thoughts, their biggest fears and their self-assessments – which very rarely have been a reflection of reality, I have to tell you that – and one of the things that always amazes me is how little we see of ourselves. It’s what keeps me humble in a very real way. We very rarely see ourselves for what we really are. And being unable to see ourselves, we very rarely see each other. (Sometimes we can have a better view of other people than we do of ourselves but our own self-blindness often obscures it through projections.)

But it is just amazing how much self-abuse we engage in, within this process. I just want you to consider that this is not a Judeo-Christian path. We’re not looking for martyrdom. The purpose of this path and this work is not to make you suffer. I say that, knowing full well that it can feel like we are using diamond dust in our efforts to get you to shine. The goal is to get you to shine, not to get you to suffer; but sometimes it hurts getting to the shiny part.

So the pain is not the goal. That’s not why you’re here. You’re not here to suffer. That’s not your job. It is not even my job. My students may believe otherwise, but my job is not actually to push you out on little rafts onto the River Styx, nor to push you off the cliff. My job is to catch you, when you do fall, and to fish you out of the deep water when you can’t swim. You’re job is not to suffer. You’re job is to grow. And part of that job is to find the joy, the beauty, the sweetness, even in the darkest moments. So, let’s stop inviting more suffering into our lives. Let’s stop holding that as a banner: I must be growing because it’s hard, or it hurts. Let’s use another measure: I must be growing, because there is such beauty around me. There is such love, such preciousness in the world.

I think I have said before that this is the sermon every black, woman minister I know shares at some point as part of her ministry. And it’s from Beloved by Toni Morrison. It is the sermon given by Baby Suggs, Holy to her people, primarily ex-slaves.

“Here,” she said, “in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it… No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them! Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face ‘cause they don’t love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain’t in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed…What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give leavins instead. No they don’t love your mouth. You got to love it."

"This is flesh I’m talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I’m telling you. And oh my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it, and hold it up. And all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver - love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet… More than your life-holding womb and your live-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize."

You’ve got to love yourself. And you’ve got love the work that you do. We have got to turn this entire world on its head; that’s says to be spiritual, to seek vocation, is about lack and scarcity. It’s not. It’s about loving yourself, loving your work, loving your hands, loving your heart, loving your feet! Because out there in the larger world it may never get appreciated by others.

This is the Journey -- love, love, love. It starts with love, it ends with love, and it is sustained by love. Never forget that.

How can you be the beauty, the star, and the beacon in this world if you can’t love yourself? It’s not possible.

This is the Journey we’re on. We are discovering ourselves; we are rediscovering ourselves; so that we can learn to love ourselves -- in all our gloriousness and all our pettiness; in all our strengths and all our weaknesses; in all of our boundless beauty and all of our limitations. It’s the work of a lifetime, and all I ask is that you take a step every chance you can.

That’s why we’re here, that’s the Journey.

Even in the midst of darkness; even in the midst of fear, sadness and grief -- love, love, love.

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Swimming In Pea Soup

I am having difficulty concentrating lately. I keep trying to identify the problem, the issue, whatever it was that was causing this “condition.”

I normally run at pretty high speeds mentally while manipulating a freeform visualization of such complexity that it some days it rivals the global internet. Right now, I am finding it difficult to remember what day it is and why just now I walked into the kitchen. To say it is frustrating is putting it mildly.

I have been sleeping in the middle of the day, glorious naps that do not interfere too much with my regular sleeping. Even my dreams have been below the surface, almost undecipherable from external sounds at waking. I finally was able to write out a dream late last week, but I was unable to “think” about it till today.

The dream image was of a beloved sleeping woman in the midst of a play in the woods. The man who had the role of King in the play pledged his undying love to her and refused all other women. And there she lay, sleeping … underwater.

I was alarmed at the image. “No healthy animus figure would prefer me unconscious,” I shouted from the page angrily. But then … I thought about the last week, and my inability to focus or concentrate. “What if, …” I muttered to no one in particular.

My inner contacts confirmed my suspicions. I am supposed to be exactly where I am at the moment. It feels … yeah … like I am swimming through pea soup. But until I wrote this, I wonder if anyone could tell it. I have been running on autopilot, which from the outside may look normal to most folks.

But I know deep inside, something is stirring below the surface. And apparently, I need to allow it to gestate undisturbed for now.

So if you find yourself staring into deep waters anytime soon, that play of light you see, its me waving at ya’ from the bottom.

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Fall's Foliage - Part Two, The Wealthy Ones

This is part two of this past Sunday's message to the students of Reflections. For part one, go here.

It is amazing how when we think about the season of fall, we, especially in the Northeast, often think of all the splendor of the trees. It is a little odd since at some level the trees are experiencing a form of death with their leaves changing colors before they fall off ... and become compost. But in their decline they have that last bit of glorious color. I think of it as a reflection of the promise of spring; that the colors of fall are a reminder that spring is still ahead. So yeah, this is where things start their journeys toward repose, but do not lose hope.

And so the splendor of the second harvest is that little reminder that it is still safe to hope … it is not over. Then of course there comes the final harvest, which can be read in many ways. For those of us approaching the later phases of our life, not knowing how much time is left, it says “You know you need to start getting things done.” But it also traditionally means, “You need to start putting things away and restocking -- start preparing for winter.” For as sure as spring, summer and fall comes around, winter is not far behind.

And so the three harvests, not only to allow us to reap, but they also teach us. And I know I have said it many times, that if you want to understand spirituality, look at nature. All the lessons are there.

And we celebrate fall’s foliage by understanding what the harvests are about at all stages. That it is an urging to prepare but it is also a promise of what is to come.

The Wealthy Ones

In many cultures, when they have the harvest – not always at the same times of the year as ours -- there is the usual practice of taking the bounty and piling it up somewhere and just looking at it. Like all the apples from the orchard piled up. Or all the corn piled up or all the wheat gathered together. Just piling it up …because we need to be reminded of how well we have been treated by the earth. We need to remember how much we have received from all the work we put in. And it didn’t matter if your farm did poorly and another farm did well. Often that same table or spot was used to display all the fruits of the collective labor. It was like a statement of “We have reaped!”

Sometimes, it is hard for us to imagine what is on our harvest table. When we only look at that one underperforming patch, or something newly planted that did not grow quite right. Or something that is maybe on a two-year cycle and it is not ready yet. Sometimes we need to be reminded of all we truly have. And this is especially true now in our current economic climate. We need to be reminded of all we have in our western society where we take so many things for granted. We need to remember that all of us, every single person in this room, if we were transported to another country, a second or third world country, we would be the wealthy ones. Not that our difficulties are not real, but that difficulty is not all there is and we need to be reminded of that.

There is a beautiful song by Starhawk called Demeter’s Song. Demeter is the Greek Goddess of Agriculture. Especially for those of us living in this time, we do not get how phenomenal it was for humans to discover agriculture. Just imagine if you had to keep moving in order to find food. That you could never settle anywhere because once you ate up the food available, it was gone. And then you would have to just keep wandering in the pursuit of food, never being able to put down roots.

So can you imagine the faith, the leap of faith, it was for someone to actually put something in the ground and then wait for it to root, sprout, blossom and later produce what could be eaten. The gift of agriculture was a fundamental gift of life, and the gods of agriculture was looked upon as not only the givers of food but also the givers of laws and civilization. The entire human species changed when they were “given” agriculture. So Demeter was a pretty big deal to the ancient Greeks. And every culture that had an agricultural deity, that god was pretty central.

[I sing Demeter’s Song]

We are the wealthy ones. We have been given so much. The promise of Demeter has not ended. The promise has not been taken back. We can learn to live in a more sustainable manner. We can learn to live in harmony with others on this planet. But we need to remember always what we have already been given because we are the wealthy ones -- maybe not in coin, but in community, in education, in comfort and in safety. In spirit and in flesh, we are the wealthy ones.

There was a way I was taught, and it is also in the The Intuitive Body: Aikido as a Clairsentient Practice by Wendy Palmer, if you ask for something as if do not already have it, you cannot receive it. You can only receive more of what you already have. So whenever you ask for something, you always ask, “May I have more” of whatever it is. Because that means that you acknowledge what you have already been given.

For example, I often joke about my lack of patience. Apparently I had to admit that I have a great deal of patience, because now I always ask for more patience, …. and more balance … and more rest/recovery. We need to acknowledge what we have received. We need to be able see ourselves, even in our stories about our loss, sacrifice, and devastation, that we are still the wealthy ones.

[We paused to sing the chorus together.]

And that is Demeter’s message to us. That her ability to give to us depends on our ability to receive and acknowledge what has already been given. And that is the message from the rich foliage of fall. “I have already given you the spring and the summer, and now I give you the harvest”.

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