Like It or Not (Blog #952)

This morning I finished listening to an audio series by Caroline Myss and Ron Roth called Spiritual Exploration: Navigating the Dark Night of the Soul. I first listened to this series years ago and recently felt compelled to go through it again.

Note: when you feel compelled to do something, do it.

It’s funny how sometimes a statement sticks and sometimes it doesn’t. For example, when I owned my dance studio, one night some of my most faithful clients were there, and I was talking about how in swing dancing rather than standing upright and shoving yourself in a particular direction, it’s important to lean into a movement, to let gravity PULL you where you want to go. Well, I’d said this no less than a dozen times previously, in the same way, in different ways, but that night, for whatever reason, it clicked for one of my students. They said, “OH, I GET IT!”

Who knows why they didn’t get it before.

It simply wasn’t time.

Anyway, today in the last audio file of the Dark Night of the Soul series, Ron Roth said something that I’d heard him say before but didn’t “get.” (It simply wasn’t time.) He was talking about loving other people, and whereas I can’t swear he meant other DIFFICULT people, people you might look down on, feel superior to, or be upset or pissed off with, those are the ones I thought of. Because, let’s be honest, those are the hard ones to love. Anyway, enough stalling. He said, “Like it or not, God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves you.”

Slow down. Go back and read that again.

Not that this is a new concept for me, the idea that God, life, or the universe loves everyone equally, but it struck me today in a new way. I guess because I have hopes and dreams for my life and would like to believe that whoever or whatever runs this planet, even if it doesn’t agree with everything I do, loves me unconditionally and is behind me, is rooting for me. And if I really believe that’s true for me, then I HAVE to believe that’s true for everyone. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this, that unlike most of us, the gods don’t play favorites. They love all of us. They want all of us to succeed.

This is a game changer if you truly get it.

This afternoon I spent time with my family, and I couldn’t help but see them differently. I like these people to begin with, of course, but I kept thinking, These are people God really cares about. This evening I ran some errands and found myself absolutely riveted by the store clerks who waited on me. I thought, This person’s gotta be pretty fabulous if God loves them as much as he loves me. And whereas that may sound like I think I’m a big deal, I do. I think we all do. This is my point. We are a big deal. At the same time, we’re no more of a big deal than anyone else is. When we imagine we are, that’s when we get into trouble. When we drive through traffic or scroll through Facebook thinking we know it all and that that other guy or gal is just an idiot driver, Republican, or Democrat rather than our equal, we inevitably separate from rather than connect with them.

This is our choice.

For me where the rubber of this idea of us all being equally loved by God really hits the road is in the area of my enemies, those people who have–from my perspective–harmed me in some way and that I’d really rather never see again. And whereas I’d like to say this is a short list of people, it’s quite long and includes exes who have cheated on me, friends who have lied to me, and former clients and employers who haven’t paid me. Like, good riddance. That being said, I’m SURE I’m on a number of other peoples’ shit lists. Because I’m not perfect. (There, I said it.) Anyway, I’ve been thinking about those folks on my shit list, the ones for whom I’d have a difficult time praying, “God, please bless them the way I want you to bless me” and really meaning it. And then I’ve been praying that prayer for them. Because God loves them AS MUCH AS he loves me.

Like it or not.

And I need to be reminded of that.

You know that saying that hurting people hurt people? Well, it occurs to me that when we’re unwilling to see those who have hurt us as just as special as we see ourselves and unwilling to desire the very best for them, we are, in effect if not in conscious practice, desiring that they continue to hurt (as punishment) and–consequently–continue to hurt others. This is bad logic. Think about your most miserable relative, the one who makes holidays oh-so-much fun. Don’t you suffer when they suffer? Wouldn’t you prefer for them to be happy, and wouldn’t you be happier if they were? This is how life works. We either suffer with one another or we celebrate with one another, but we’re all in this together.

Like it or not.

My suggestion: like it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Answers come built-in. There are no "just problems."

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On Looking for Silver Linings (Blog #640)

It’s day four after knee surgery, and–believe it or not–I’m walking. Well, sort of. Sometimes it looks like walking, sometimes it looks like lurching. Still, for the most part, I’m not using a walker or crutches. The doctor said I could get around without them after I could do twenty to thirty straight-leg lifts without assistance. And whereas he said most people could do that seven days after surgery, I’ve been doing that since yesterday (day three). So basically I’m a rock star.

No autographs, please.

I’m making jokes, but personally, I’m not celebrating my slightly ahead-of-schedule recovery because this isn’t fun and this isn’t pretty. Seriously, walking to the refrigerator shouldn’t require every ounce of willpower a person has and three Hail Marys. I don’t know. It’s the weirdest thing–sometimes I feel really solid, and other times I feel like I’m putting my weight down on a piece of boiled spaghetti. (Whoa!) Then there’s the pain. The vast majority of the time, it’s not that bad. But if I’ve been in bed or had my leg propped up on the couch for a while and then stand up, well, that makes me want to cuss. And usually I do.

But then I give it a minute, and the pain goes away.

For the last few days, I’ve survived on only Tylenol. Sometimes Ibuprofen. Granted, I’m glad to have the prescription heavy hitters if I need them, but they sort of made me loopy, and I’ve heard they can make you constipated. (Like I’m not already full of shit.) But really, I don’t need anything else to go wrong.

God, I need something to go right.

It’s simply one of those days. Fuck, it’s one of those years. Hard, difficult, and kick-you-in-your-gut challenging. And I’m tired of it. I’ve said this before, but I cry uncle. Go pick on someone else, universe. Earlier I saw one of those stupid, feel-good memes with a picture of a daisy that said, “When everything seems dark, maybe you haven’t been buried; maybe you’ve been PLANTED. Bloom!” I seriously wanted to barf. If you ever come to me when you’re in the midst of The Dark Night of the Soul, and I look at you and not only compare you to a flower but also suggest that you immediately spring forth and open up your petals for me (and no, that’s not a sexual reference), you have my permission to punch me in the ass.

It’s not that I don’t see all the silver linings in this situation. I’m making progress every day. I’m supported by a lot of people. I have good friends. And despite the fact that this last year has been filled with health challenges, I’ve made headway on a number of fronts. But here’s the deal. I’m TIRED of looking for silver linings. I’m tired of waking up every day (almost every day) and staring at clouds. I need a sunny day. I need a string of sunny days.

Uncle.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s enough just to be here.

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On Fermentation (Blog #512)

Well shit. After waking up at 6:15 this morning and rushing to and through the St. Louis airport just to sit on the tarmac (again!) for over an hour (due to lightning), I finally made it to Washington, DC, this afternoon. The good news–my luggage made it too. In fact, it was one of the first onto the conveyor belt. The bad news–almost everything inside was wet. I guess they left my bag outside while it was raining. Oh well. I took a complimentary (hotel-sponsored) shuttle to the hotel where I’m staying, got checked into my room, and laid my clothes out to dry.

When I told one of my friends about my problems yesterday and today, she said, “The flight home will be better.”

Let’s hope she’s right.

I’m here in the nation’s capital for the International Lindy Hop Championships, one of the largest and well-known swing-dancing competition events in the world. This is my first time here, my maiden voyage, and I’ve come mostly to observe. And despite the fact that I’m not competing or taking classes, normally I’m intimidated in new dancing situations. But today I’ve felt at home–comfortable in my own body and heart. What’s more, I’ve seen some friendly faces–people who know my name and seem to like me. So that helps.

The weekend here is jam-packed with things to see and do. I’m not sure what’s going on now, but I do know that dinner starts before long, so that’s my priority. Well, after I take a shower and brush my teeth. Since I was stuck in St. Louis last night while my luggage was stuck in Tulsa, I haven’t used an honest-to-god toothbrush in over thirty-six hours. Granted, I did scrub my teeth with my finger and a bar of hotel soap (that tasted ever so slightly like lemon), but that’s wasn’t the same thing. Also, I know washing my mouth out with soap sounds gross, but it was my best option at the moment and wasn’t as bad as you might think. Try it for yourself sometime.

Just don’t swallow!

Currently my brain is mush. I could really use a nap. That being said, I can’t stop thinking about fermentation. Odd, I know, but I finished reading my book about alchemy on the plane today, and fermentation is one of the seven phases of what alchemists call The Great Work. And not that they have to happen in a certain order, but fermentation is step number five and is basically the step in The Great Work (or self-work or spiritual work) in which “the hard part” has been done and now you simply wait as everything in your life putrifies, breaks down, and rots. It’s not pretty or fun, but that’s why St. John of the Cross referred to this stage as The Dark Night of the Soul.

Of the seven stages, this is the one I currently identify with the most, as it’s the one in which you feel as if nothing in your life is working–because nothing in your life is; it’s not supposed to. Rather, by design, all the things you once held dear–including your values, relationships, and precious opinions–are intended to break down and fail you so that YOU can be transformed. The books advice? Wait. Do nothing. Don’t try (because you’ll fail). Try resting for a change.

This advice is frustrating for a do-er like me, of course, but what I love about this alchemical way of looking at the world is that it reminds me that you can’t force The Process. Sometimes the best you can do–the most appropriate thing you can do–is wait. Be still. What’s more, I’m reminded that just as suddenly as problems and frustrations can show up in our lives, they can disappear. At SOME point, the fermentation process does end, and a new, transformed life emerges.

At–some–point.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If you're not living a fully authentic life, a part of you will never be satisfied.

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