Surrender.
That much, I figured.
I had asked the universe for courage + liberation. Courage to surrender. Courage to really be alive, that is. Liberation from my walls. There are many kinds of living and of love; I was hoping, though I assumed far off, for love which floats in the the messy cytoplasm of vulnerability and ambiguity. Love that takes courage. To be a person who loves courageously, leaning more into intuition and less into the endless box-checking of the prefrontal lobe.
Go to Cuba, the universe whispered into my soul. Six weeks later, I stepped into the balmy Havana air; however, I did not connect this to my impulse for vulnerable, courageous loving. "I'm here to define my convictions," I said. I wanted to know how to be the best possible human to meet the needs in the world which made my heart feel heavy. "Go to the source to define your convictions," I said. "Stand face to face with other people's needs. Immerse. Only then will you know what you really believe regarding your convictions in the face of the world's suffering."
I remember being surprised by my tears in Cuba. One long walk along the Malecon, from my friends' home back to the pre-revolution art deco hotel, my tears were hot and angry. I had not been prepared for the thick, gray, heavy weight of oppression. I had not been prepared to face the gap between my own privilege and the poverty standing before me, most notably the poverty in freedom. I had the sensation of having eaten the forbidden fruit, a paradigm shift in my view of my place in the world.
Near the end of the trip, several of us sat around the hotel lobby, eating Cuba-brand snacks and drinking Cuba-brand drinks; we lounged on long, red velvet mid-century couches. Someone asked what brought me to Havana. "I came because I wanted to define my convictions, and-" I found myself stuck, only able to squeeze the rest of my sentence out through tears. "I still have no idea."
That night, I turned in early, exhausted and overwhelmed by my thoughts. Oppression. Poverty. My own divorce. A sense of the letters of my life being shaken hard like Boggle letters; who knows what new words it will spell and what old words will not manifest. I longed for a vice- internet, food, television shows- anything, to soften the raw, heavy discomfort. Even the book I knew would make me feel better, I had given away to a Cuban art dealer that afternoon. Finally, I realized that there was an Elizabeth Lesser podcast somehow saved on my phone. I ran a bath and listened as the universe gave me exactly what I had asked, in a much different way than I had anticipated.
Quoting Howard Thurman, she said, "Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it; because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
In two sentences, my convictions had in fact been defined, right there on the phone that never had to come to Cuba in the first place. Sadness for the oppression of others had been overwhelming me; yet, I was oppressed because of my own stance toward the world. I had asked for liberation; I was liberated from this need to use my mind to decide how be the most "effective" and "helpful" human; instead, I could follow my intuition, my heart? I could FEEL my way to the answers? It is not the kind of response I had at all expected. Instead of reading more books about world economics, I could find what makes me come alive and trust that the rest would take care of itself? The thought of having permission to just be felt like was it's own form of liberation.
********
Soon after returning, I found myself in the most instant connection had experienced so far (I didn't know yet that I would soon be blessed with one lovely connection after another); at the time, I was floored by this. Who knows what's what, but I began to believe in things about chemistry, romance, etc., in which I had long filed into a folder titled something like "unrealistic," "irresponsible," or "teenagerish." This affirmed, it seemed, some of the reasons B and I had kindly agreed to separate from one another.
I have previously been super careful in love- in fact, most would probably say beyond too careful. This time, I thought about Thurman's words, "find what makes you come alive, and it was clear to me that walking this path made me come alive right then. I could feel this so clearly. Opened up. A bit afraid of losing it, or especially losing my newfound hope in this kind of connection.
*****
I had followed my bliss, my life's navigational tool.
Later, I'm overlooking the most kick ass sunset view of downtown Dallas, sharing drinks with a friend. And then, I learned something that felt heart breaking to me.
Details schmetails. Paid tab. Phone rang. It was a woman associated with TM here in Dallas. "I hope you meditate tonight," she said.
I get it, Universe. Thank you. I went to my car and sank into the infinite of meditation. I cried, and I thought of something I had heard Chogyum Trungpa say about surrendering to sadness as a soft, brave act- The beginnings of being a warrior, he said. In my surrender, I was able to see both my pain and the greater purpose in it at the same time.
This whole thing- not the dating part so much as the crack in my fishbowl of life in general over the past two years- pushed me to a limit I haven't seen in at least a couple of decades, believe it or not- that limit that had caused me to close down in the first place as a little girl, frantically guessing at the emotional climate of the next moment. But this time was different. Almost as soon as I found my edge, I decided to be brave, to lean into it. I felt like I was standing up for the little girl who couldn't do it anymore.
I think I have been approaching this edge for years, gaining the courage, gaining the strength to knock down the wall which had muted so many of my years. I just needed something to push me over the last tiny part of the edge, into the abyss. The abyss isn't bad at all; in fact, there's a lot of hope in here. A lot of liberation. A lot of real.
I realized that for me to really have my wish from the universe- to be able to know I could love so courageously, I needed to feel deeply, so intimately, and then for my fears to manifest. On a human level, the emotions were messy, of course; yet, on a soul level, I could consider nothing but gratitude. I got to learn that I was still ok. It's all gratitude at the end of the day anyways, right? It's interesting to think of what spiritual deals we might have with one another, rather than think of one as hurting another. Especially when we know there is no one and no another.
The duality of my feelings is notable. I almost feel like two people- one that has awakened a great, great deal more than the previous me, and who is capable of loving like I've never before been capable. The other self is the self who can feel pain with a new (recovered) intensity, too. She is the same self who used to be to so afraid to feel anymore that she had shut down to avoid the sorrows; but sorrows and joys have the same key to the same lock.
I can feel all of those years of repression spilling forth, and I am liberated, and I am lighter every day. Later that night, I went to yoga. I cried. Running. Cried. Elliptical. Cried. When I was a little kid, I remember thinking, "I wish I could cry so someone would know how sad I feel." These days, I see glimpses of myself opening back up- after something like two decades. It feels like a total rewiring, if that can be imagined; and, it all has something to do with the confidence of knowing that no matter what, I'll be ok. Something to do with feeling my infinity.
Who knows who or what is next. I feel like I can do anything. Then, there are moments where I feel precarious; yet, I remember knowing that I can do anything. As for my mind- it is mostly fired for now. My mind would have ditched that whole experience a long time ago; in fact, it is B who talked me out of that a couple of times. He would say, "You said you wanted to be good at loving. Love is in the ambiguity." I want to follow what resonates with me, what feels right. How could I not? I see the fruits of it in my life, so shockingly clear.
I have learned that the new me cannot see far ahead, and that is because I am seeing things more as they really are. Impermanent, uneven, perfect reality. My job is not to use my mind to plan a detailed course of action for me life. I already tried that. My job is to follow my bliss, to decide what, in THIS moment, makes me come alive- and to do it.
To quote Lori: Thank you, Higher Power, for everything you bring my way.
namaste.
*In case you know B and I and this post is making you feel bad for him, I should mention he is dating as well. We are still best friends. We have dinner and talk about our dating adventures and our new lives outside of ourselves as a couple. We know it's weird. We don't care.
*Life Upside Down Disclaimer: Half of the shit I say these days, I say the opposite of soon after...Que sera, sera...I'm not claiming to currently recognize the difference between love, a rabbit hole and a bad idea. I have the confidence in my ability to be okay these days, though, and am concerning myself with the very next step and that is it. :)
= shit I bought at Target one day. I bet the guy wondered what kind of drunken vigil I was having when I got home. I just couldn't pass up the Baby Jesus candle, and the box of wine is self-explanatory. Okay, I'm much less lushy than I'd like you to believe; but, I do have a goal of having a glass of red a day, and it seems to happen more often when it comes with a convenient-pour spout, straight from the top of my fridge.
