Life is not a destination, but a journey; yet, every journey begins with a clear objective reflecting at the end. The end culminates as an achievement, success, or simply an end. Ends can be negative or positive, or, more importantly, beginnings. How, one might ask, does an end constitute a beginning? The answer comes in the form of the journey itself.
Despite our destinations and how they vary from others, every journey gains momentum with the same energy: a spiritual leap of faith. Consider these ideas:
**Working(16) hours a day @ one’s job will result in a raise and promotion.
**Getting accepted into law school, or med school, or secretarial school will result in occupational “success.”
**Giving enough of one’s self without condition and loving with a pure heart will reap the same.
All of these ideas are plausible, with each end possible. The reality, however, is we don’t know how it will conclude, or even that we’ll want it when we get there! Instead, we move forward on the faith that moving is better than being stagnant, and changing is better than regret.
My journey began in an open field. From the time my thick little legs could balance me, I ran full-throttle across the field into the unknown. Speculation, estimation, and consequence were overridden by determination and “knowing.” As the years passed and the cynicism of the world wept into my skin through to my heart, I noticed the horizon shift. I found myself pushing as hard, working as hard, believing as much, and giving as much, but my energy and progress became noticeably less. The horizon that was once flat became rutted. The open field combined with the damp, destructive force of cynicism began to saturate the earth below my feet. The green grass and trees mutated into thick brush, impenetrable at times, but never impassable. The change in atmosphere coupled with the change in terrain brought with it significant negative energy. There have been times as I’ve waded through the thorns, bristles, and muck that the clarity I was seeking shown as a glint amongst the branches. At these moments I saw that to pass this “final” obstacle would take me to an opportunity. This opportunity would soon pattern with the obstacle, emerging at critical moments when change was not only imminent, but necessary. I have come to call this convergence of patterning crossroads.
Crossroads are interesting. They serve as significant indicators. They are also unpredictable. You see, there is no guide at the crossroads. At times, the “obvious” is contrary to the original destination. Yet, every crossroads bears a profound influence. I do wish they came with a pondering bench and travel brochures. Instead, you are challenged with the unknown. This above all invokes fear and can stall even the most stealth and formidable of travelers.
Today, I find myself at a life-altering, irrevocable crossroads. To take it means I leave my present life behind. Oddly, I feel as though on this crossroads I’ve already been. The path I last chose had me leaving where I am again headed, hurting people I love the second time around as I did the first. The difference is this time I see the path…I see the path. I must continue my journey with lessons learned. I know this path will again diverge. I only hope, as the poem declares, to “take the one less traveled on.” I search for growth and knowledge and must not wait for it to find me. Otherwise, I will forever be lost as I know today where it awaits…I see the glint shining strong. MP
Monday, May 12, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
When the waves hit the shore...
I once made an analogy of the ocean to how human behavior is perceived. I was at the beach one night, and the waves were roughly approaching the shoreline. Upon landing, the waves sent an exhale, and retreated without production. Each was carrying it's own burdens, but the burdens were left to the shore and the waves slid back for new ones. While the waters would have been difficult for a person to navigate, the waves themselves were fluid in the flow of their movement and activity. The moon was full that night. I thought how mysterious it must be from the man-in-the-moon's eye to see this activity. That view must have seemed calm and peaceful, because the chaos upclose could not have accurately revealed itself to him.
All these years later, I have come to have a much more vivid and multi-dimensional perspective for this observation. At the time, I didn't think any deeper than recognizing that what is seen up close can be misinterpreted from afar. But today, I realize how profound the act of "dumping" is for the waters. And like the waves, our hearts and shoulders carry burdens. Some are lighter than others, but there is always something to bear. Unlike the ocean, however, we learn not to dump. Instead, we continue to build upon each burden, each wound, each heartache, creating a crescendo of weight that may become like a tsunami wave when it crashes to earth.
I also had not considered that the waves do not always have a clear path. Often, there are dwellings, rocks, people, trees, animals, and numerous other obstacles blocking the path to release the load. They don't let these obstacles stop them. Instead, depending on the intensity of the load, they overtake the path. This may range from easing around the obstacles to destroying the barriers, As humans, we, too, have these obstacles, and the consequences of their collateral damage can range from barely a breeze of interference to being as profound as the tsunami landing. The destruction of that fall is what I felt in 2010. I had carried 25 years of debris, shrapnel, and garbage to the breaking point, and the fallout was tremendous.
Recognizing the revised interpretation of that night, I find myself reflecting further into the failures and successes of my recent past. My head turns to the idea of maturity, age, and how they correlate. There is a peculiar responsibility that comes with getting older. The use of the word "maturity" is relative, and I am hesitant to apply the definition to how lessons are interpreted and learned. As a teen, my maturity level was said to align with that of an adult, for the fact that I had to endure circumstances that made "grown-up" behavior mandatory. Through my mid-twenties and throughout my thirties, I learned that I had segregated pockets of maturity. While my ability to relate to and function with adults on a social and professional level was sufficient, the reflection through the mirror of hindsight shows clearly that I was severely deficient in my ability to succeed in an intimate relationship.
That led me to my 40th year. Year 40 was the culmination of my reality coming into focus. That year, my fourth relationship met an end that brought me crashing to the floor. The irony is that I should never had been in that relationship to begin with, at least from the standpoint of the match being a "fit". I spent 10 months trying to reshape a myself. The ex- had created dimensions for a mold that I should fit. By the end, I had no sense of self-identity, confidence, or worth. I did not value my own existence to the point I would have done anything...for a full-on, certifiable nutbag! It was in this transition of becoming single that I finally took the first grown-up steps of my life. I committed to myself to find my strength and courage. I used the perceived devastation of the breakup to motivate me to seek help and actively participate in my own recovery. After all, I had ISSUES!! I was FUCKED UP!!! And I believed all that was told to me to be true. I was a failure. How does one rectify the news that no amount of effort or "love" can save what you think is the most important relatioship in your world? You seek help. At least, that is the conclusion to which I came.
I became intensely invested in becoming "well," and healing all of the damage that left with festering scabs on my heart and soul. Weekly therapy, as well as 4-5 meetings of CODA a week, and I was living the Ah-ha moments of my life! I tried Al-anon, which was a miserable and definite failure. I found the direction of the group to be nearly offensive, as the position of most participants was one of "victim." If I was going to come into my own, I was unwilling to buy in to what they were selling. Converseley, CODA was eye-opening, inspiring, and completely spot-on for what I was seeking. Individuals were required to take accountability. You had to find your own comfort. You had to speak your own truth. And there was no blame to be accepted. Other people understood. They had been there. I saw the benefits of recovery, such as it is. And so I began. My anniversary date of beginning CODA was November 6, 2010.
That day and several to follow were filled with tears. I was raw. The simple act of air blowing made my skin hurt. My heart was shattered into a billion little pieces, or so it seemed. The words to describe my hurt did not fall easily. I found later that the difficulty in releasing words was because they were trying to describe a situation that was not a factor, but rather a conduit. It didn't take long to realize that I was trying to hold onto the fragments of a relationship that had already served its purpose. I was never to have been with that person long-term. That relationship was a vessel to take me to healing, so I then could get to where I was meant to be.
As I began my journey of healing, pieces of the vessel began to shred and collapse away from me. Within two months time, the chapter had been closed and I was facing the deep, inner realities of why I had found my way to healing. The priciples, support, and lessons of CODA may have literally saved my life. I was a broken soul, but had perfected the art of presenting without flaw. I knew better, but life-long efforts to keep your real world secret becomes the way of life, not the way of survival. But I didn't need to survive, anymore. My time had come to thrive. And so I did. I learned about letting go with love, healthy boundaries, self-love, and so many facets of understanding my value as a person, friend, relative, and partner. I was often pushed into silence as I contemplated the meaning of how I had failed myself, and subsequently, those around me. I hadn't understood the intricate lattice-work of being emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically healthy, and how it has a direct effect on who and what finds the way into my world. The benefits of my hard work and commitment to grow reflected in the most remarkable ways. I was surrounded by like-minded people who lived for the positive and rebuked the negative. I smiled a lot, and meant it. I reunited with people who had stayed away while I sank in the negative abyss that had become my life. And I met amazing people. So, nearly four years later, where am I in this journey? That is the tale to tell.
All these years later, I have come to have a much more vivid and multi-dimensional perspective for this observation. At the time, I didn't think any deeper than recognizing that what is seen up close can be misinterpreted from afar. But today, I realize how profound the act of "dumping" is for the waters. And like the waves, our hearts and shoulders carry burdens. Some are lighter than others, but there is always something to bear. Unlike the ocean, however, we learn not to dump. Instead, we continue to build upon each burden, each wound, each heartache, creating a crescendo of weight that may become like a tsunami wave when it crashes to earth.
I also had not considered that the waves do not always have a clear path. Often, there are dwellings, rocks, people, trees, animals, and numerous other obstacles blocking the path to release the load. They don't let these obstacles stop them. Instead, depending on the intensity of the load, they overtake the path. This may range from easing around the obstacles to destroying the barriers, As humans, we, too, have these obstacles, and the consequences of their collateral damage can range from barely a breeze of interference to being as profound as the tsunami landing. The destruction of that fall is what I felt in 2010. I had carried 25 years of debris, shrapnel, and garbage to the breaking point, and the fallout was tremendous.
Recognizing the revised interpretation of that night, I find myself reflecting further into the failures and successes of my recent past. My head turns to the idea of maturity, age, and how they correlate. There is a peculiar responsibility that comes with getting older. The use of the word "maturity" is relative, and I am hesitant to apply the definition to how lessons are interpreted and learned. As a teen, my maturity level was said to align with that of an adult, for the fact that I had to endure circumstances that made "grown-up" behavior mandatory. Through my mid-twenties and throughout my thirties, I learned that I had segregated pockets of maturity. While my ability to relate to and function with adults on a social and professional level was sufficient, the reflection through the mirror of hindsight shows clearly that I was severely deficient in my ability to succeed in an intimate relationship.
That led me to my 40th year. Year 40 was the culmination of my reality coming into focus. That year, my fourth relationship met an end that brought me crashing to the floor. The irony is that I should never had been in that relationship to begin with, at least from the standpoint of the match being a "fit". I spent 10 months trying to reshape a myself. The ex- had created dimensions for a mold that I should fit. By the end, I had no sense of self-identity, confidence, or worth. I did not value my own existence to the point I would have done anything...for a full-on, certifiable nutbag! It was in this transition of becoming single that I finally took the first grown-up steps of my life. I committed to myself to find my strength and courage. I used the perceived devastation of the breakup to motivate me to seek help and actively participate in my own recovery. After all, I had ISSUES!! I was FUCKED UP!!! And I believed all that was told to me to be true. I was a failure. How does one rectify the news that no amount of effort or "love" can save what you think is the most important relatioship in your world? You seek help. At least, that is the conclusion to which I came.
I became intensely invested in becoming "well," and healing all of the damage that left with festering scabs on my heart and soul. Weekly therapy, as well as 4-5 meetings of CODA a week, and I was living the Ah-ha moments of my life! I tried Al-anon, which was a miserable and definite failure. I found the direction of the group to be nearly offensive, as the position of most participants was one of "victim." If I was going to come into my own, I was unwilling to buy in to what they were selling. Converseley, CODA was eye-opening, inspiring, and completely spot-on for what I was seeking. Individuals were required to take accountability. You had to find your own comfort. You had to speak your own truth. And there was no blame to be accepted. Other people understood. They had been there. I saw the benefits of recovery, such as it is. And so I began. My anniversary date of beginning CODA was November 6, 2010.
That day and several to follow were filled with tears. I was raw. The simple act of air blowing made my skin hurt. My heart was shattered into a billion little pieces, or so it seemed. The words to describe my hurt did not fall easily. I found later that the difficulty in releasing words was because they were trying to describe a situation that was not a factor, but rather a conduit. It didn't take long to realize that I was trying to hold onto the fragments of a relationship that had already served its purpose. I was never to have been with that person long-term. That relationship was a vessel to take me to healing, so I then could get to where I was meant to be.
As I began my journey of healing, pieces of the vessel began to shred and collapse away from me. Within two months time, the chapter had been closed and I was facing the deep, inner realities of why I had found my way to healing. The priciples, support, and lessons of CODA may have literally saved my life. I was a broken soul, but had perfected the art of presenting without flaw. I knew better, but life-long efforts to keep your real world secret becomes the way of life, not the way of survival. But I didn't need to survive, anymore. My time had come to thrive. And so I did. I learned about letting go with love, healthy boundaries, self-love, and so many facets of understanding my value as a person, friend, relative, and partner. I was often pushed into silence as I contemplated the meaning of how I had failed myself, and subsequently, those around me. I hadn't understood the intricate lattice-work of being emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically healthy, and how it has a direct effect on who and what finds the way into my world. The benefits of my hard work and commitment to grow reflected in the most remarkable ways. I was surrounded by like-minded people who lived for the positive and rebuked the negative. I smiled a lot, and meant it. I reunited with people who had stayed away while I sank in the negative abyss that had become my life. And I met amazing people. So, nearly four years later, where am I in this journey? That is the tale to tell.
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