Comfortable with What Is

A streak of blissful days and nights was interrupted a couple days ago when I didn't Start Whole. I practically kicked a couple friends out of my house to go visit someone. I was expecting something. I wasn't quite sure what that was; I'm still not; I didn't define it ahead of time. Whatever it was, it didn't happen. I want to say that I learned a lesson instead, but that's just tying it up in a neat little bow to make it feel safely understood (as I discuss in Lean Into Discomfort). Since our Stories Define Reality, we could focus on the dark cloud or the silver lining, though lately I have been seeing that both sides add interpretations that don't necessarily exist. Authoring our own silver lining into the story is a slight aggression against what already is.

I did learn a few things, though, but that's not the outcome of the experience or the purpose of it. I see that, now. It's just separate. I let something out of me. At the time, I thought that I had needed to for a while, that letting that out was the purpose. Then I thought about some recent waves of nausea that I've been feeling (during my reiki III attunement, during rolfing, and the morning after that same rolfing treatment). I thought about a writing from Susan Shumsky of the 13 different inbound and outbound activities of the body and how we're supposed to honor them, let them happen. I had a feeling that this was a purpose for the nausea... Right there, I caught myself. I was trying to find a reason for it. Then I realized that there doesn't need to be a purpose, and realizing this was a moment of turiya and a feeling like I just left the greatest spa trip.

There's this need in me--likely it is true of human nature--to search for explanations for things. I'm often not comfortable until I can explain it. For instance, when I feel something, I may make up a reason like I'm supposed to puke to feel better or that I need to let out those tears, that I've been holding onto them and really there's a purpose to them. What I realized: there is no grand purpose. It is always possible to tell ourselves a story based on things in the past and make sense of them in the present. In the end, though, we don't know a fraction of the details of everything going on, and we certainly are not armed with the information to figure out our realities. Instead, we learn what we learn, we know what we know, we think what we think, just as we go. Things just happen. Our minds confabulate the reasons or want to draw a conclusion to things to make it tidy (at least mine does). But that's the exact trap. It's the desire to control things through understanding them. The real power comes from being comfortable with things exactly as they are, without ascribing meaning to them. That's slightly different than being comfortable with uncertainty. It is just being comfortable with what is. Yes, that is uncertain. What is is uncertain. We can never know ahead of time what is. It just is. There's nothing to fight or to control. There's nothing to understand or derive meaning from. We only react, or not. And what is keeps on being what it is, without regard for us.

In parting, I will leave you with this lovely poem by an anonymous (to me) Native American, from my yin yoga teacher, Saiko:

The river flows,

the grass grows, and

the wind blows....

This post is dedicated to Nick Dallett, good friend, former colleague, and musical co-conspirator (together we are the Cat's Cradle Robbers). He thinks--among many other things--that complex pleasures are underrated. Nick has a gift for rolling with things as they are, though he'd tell you that he has worked really hard at it.

Start Whole

We are completely whole. Deep down, we all know this to be true, but much of this wisdom has been buried during a lifetime of negative mantras, unfortunate set-backs, and unconsciousness training -- such as from the advertising industry which thrives on us not feeling whole. Consequently, there's a part driving us that doubts our wholeness. This is the ego. For many of us, it is our delusion to believe that we are not whole and that we need material wealth, a title, fame, career success, a perfect partner or spouse, recognized intelligence, an attractive face and body, trophies, and a host of other things to feel whole. Most of us have somehow learned helplessness in one realm or another. Fortunately, we already have everything that we need for happiness and peace.

I take this lesson to heart and counsel myself with this advice (in second person). In everything that you do, whether in a relationship or alone, start by asking yourself if you already know that you're whole. That is the Self that Serves. If you are not convinced that you are whole, you may be acting out of desire or fear. And this can get ugly or embarrassing -- "Spilling your guts is exactly as charming as it sounds." (Fran Lebowitz). When you know that you are whole, you can act from a position of strength, as your authentic self. This holds true with work, relationships, hobbies, etc. If you have a regular practice, look inside your practice and see if this is true.

Next, see if the fear of being incomplete holds you back. A simple introspection: check if you seek validation through any of the so-called seven deadly sins. Give me a chance to explain that. I'm nervous to use sin, because it is a loaded word, and Words Are Powerful. Sin was not always synonymous to "act of evil". This came about by a certain church's fear-mongering oversimplification/distortion/mistranslation. Sin originated as an archery term meaning to "miss the mark." The word was used philosophically as a metaphor for missing the point, for doing something that was off a wise course, or what we might call "off track" or "off the path". Reclaim this less judgmental definition of sin as an effective tool for self-awareness. The seven deadly sins is a short list of symptoms that is helpful in diagnosing an unhealthy ego. The syndrome manifests through the ego as ravenous cravings for wholeness. Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride are all afflictions of the incomplete ego hijacking you. When you witness this taking place, your authentic self snatches the reins back from your insecure ego.

Only recently have I noticed this pattern in myself. Every time that I have acted in order to make myself whole -- to fill some need in me -- something fails terribly. When I already know my whole and authentic self, my actions work out wonderfully, either as I intended or I learn something interesting along the way.

The panacea: Start whole.

This post is dedicated to Gaelen Billingsley who guided me to the understanding that I am already whole.

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