Author: catadmin

How you’re feeling is not your fault. How your nervous system is acting doesn’t mean anything about you. It’s not a mistake. Not a wrongdoing on your part. Not a sign of failure.

The narrative of:

If only I had done something differently, I wouldn’t be like this. If I was “normal” then this wouldn’t be happening. Other people don’t experience this. This must mean there’s something wrong with me.

Is a false, self-deprecating conditioned narrative from a culture that demonizes and has great disdain for dark emotion – pretending that this darkness doesn’t exist.

Psychologists call changing what you think about what you feel “cognitive restructuring” or “reframing.” For instance, thinking “I’m weak” when you feel sad or scared can be reframed as “I’m strong and courageous enough to let myself feel sad or scared.” In re-visioning and reframing the power of grief, fear, and despair we come to think about them not as obstacles or enemies but as guides to spiritual transformation. This kind of affirmation is an essential foundation for trusting emotional energy and using it wisely.

Miriam Greenspan, Healing Through Dark Emotions

Tapping into this darkness and being in tune with the delicate tapestry of this emotional underworld means giving space and permission to the hurt little ones within. Their right to be here. The right for the embryonic pre-communication vulnerable ones to move through us, to show their faces.

Their repression into shadow need not be the norm anymore. They can come into the light and feel into their right to exist, their inherent right to be here. And part of that is acknowledging and feeling into their conditioned and believed sense of wrongness and the shame that comes with that. The shame of the dark emotion, the shame of intense vulnerability being labeled as weakness. And the recoiling nature of that shame.

Being in the dark for so long can cause an aversion to the light. So a recoiling can happen, a recoiling of ‘it’s not safe enough out here, let’s go back into the dark’. But great patience is needed here. Great self-compassion. To acknowledge inwardly that it’s no small feat to be in tune with the underworld. To learn to let it move through. To feel the aching vulnerability of a baby who feels totally, utterly and violently overwhelmed by 3D reality is no small thing.

And the facade of ‘normal’ out here in the world – especially in relating with others – is a great trigger point for any vulnerable, scared, hurt parts of us to feel outrageously out of place and recoil. The “normal” surfacey interactions of everyday life can feel even callous for those of us who are courageous enough and willing enough to unearth the underworld of dark emotion and live on the edge of vulnerability, precision and open-heartedness.

The ‘normal’ can feel painful to us. And it’s important to name that and not make that wrong. That ‘normal’ is fucking painful to us and this truth is our new normal. The truth of acknowledging and recognizing the facade of normal for what it is. No matter how convincing it looks.

A facade is a front. It’s not real. It’s aesthetics. It’s reality is lesser than the reality of the underworld of dark emotion. Meaning that it’s unreal. Even though it might not look like it or even feel like it sometimes. But that whole surface level of relating is sitting on top of suppressed dark emotions. And that’s where we learn that darkness is wrong. That’s where we learn, I’m crazy (for feeling this, for seeing this, for sensing this). We learn it and imbibe it by taking in the facade of normal to be realer than the underworld of dark emotions.

Making the darkness right needs to happen first before the darkness can turn into light. Which is ultimately not something we do but an inner alchemy that happens of it’s own accord. We can facilitate this process by making the darkness right; recognizing and acknowledging from our full humanness and full being-ness that the underworld of dark emotions is real. For us. And is not just worthy of our loving attention but more than that if we are to function and relate in a healthy and wholesome way, we must tend to this underworld wholeheartedly. Otherwise it will leak out in ways beyond our control or even awareness.

In making the darkness right, an inner permission slip is given to unearth the hidden, shadowy, latent tendencies of that underworld. Bringing it up to the light to be seen, felt and digested. In the rightness of the darkness, we start to see through the facade of normal functioning and the facade of normal relating. And in seeing through this facade, our ability to function and relate in a more real and grounded way starts to reveal itself to us.

When we are no longer participating in the facade nor believing the facade, our attention can be freed up to turn around from the outward appearances of ‘normality’ to the inward reality of what’s being unearthed. The vulnerability, the fear, the shakiness, the aching become our allies. And a new learning happens where we start to understand and listen to the cues of our inner world. The ways in which it is constantly communicating to us through the body with information we need to pay attention to.

Information like:

This is too much for me right now. I need to set a boundary here. I need to rest now. I don’t feel safe here. My nervous system is overwhelmed. This interaction doesn’t feel true for me. This person is standing too close to me. I need to remove myself from this situation.

Or.

I love this. This feels natural to me. I want to do more of this. This space is safe. I feel nurtured.

Our ability to inwardly listen to these cues is heightened when we can genuinely dis-engage from the facade of normal and see it for what it is. This is like unplugging from a machine of conditioning with a motor so loud – you can hardly hear yourself. Unplugging this machine is a whole dance unto itself of standing your ground. And bringing kindness to the places that wobble. The places that still believe the facade of normal and take it at face value.

The wobbly places are where we carry trauma. Trauma can be as simple as an inner sense of disbelief at how convincing the facade of normal appears to be. All the little things we took for granted to be natural and authentic reveal themselves to be a complete lie, a fabrication, even acting.

This comes as a shock to the system – one in need of full digestion. Because it reveals to us a whole thread of information that has been unconscious to us in the past. That in our innocence and in our conditioning, we were taught to believe the lie and accept it for what it is. And there can be a lot of rage and even despair unearthed within us – just from that one piece.

The energy of the dark emotions brings us information about the self and the world; about the past, present, or future; about the inner and outer worlds and the connections between them. The information we get alerts us to be attentive to something important and guides us to transformational change.

Miriam Greenspan

The past is not your fault. The circumstances, the desolate loneliness. It is not something you have to clean up quickly. Or be ashamed of. The shame of how lonely you were. The shame of feeling so neglected. So invisible. So manipulated. The shame of not having any tools to deal with whatever was coming at you. All this was not your fault. Not an indication that you were wrong. Defective. Unloveable. Unworthy. None of it.

The desperation of trying to fit in somewhere, anywhere – and not being able to – is not proof of inherent unworthiness. Being on the outs is not a badge of shame.

No one has power over you.

This is an illusion.

Not a denial of the “harsh reality of the world”.

Powerlessness, helplessness, despair want to be felt, included, loved.

Not made wrong.

But made right.

Accept where you are. Don’t be in a hurry for change. New Year’s tend to activate this conditioning of ‘resolution’. New me. And this puts pressure on where you find yourself. Familiar patterns. Familiar habits. This is what’s happening. Trying to change that is what causes so much suffering. An ideal of what it should be like not what it actually is. And as the human that you are, you will fall short. You will fall short of your own expectations of yourself. Of other’s expectations of you. Of the spiritual ego’s delusional expectations of itself.

The hurry is what causes overwhelm. The hurry is what feeds dissatisfaction with the way things are. For things to run their course and given the time leave your system or not. You cannot override conditioning. You cannot override trauma. You cannot override the nervous system. The whole momentum behind wanting to override is fear. It keeps things looping. Not good enough, good enough, not good enough, good enough.

Part of this accepting is accepting that you’re not accepting. Feel the fucking frustration. The agony of the human dilemma of being conditioned. The agony of trying to override conditioning. The mere exhaustion of it. And notice that when a sense of acceptance happens, that it turns into a doing. I accepted last night, so where is this acceptance this morning. Trying to hold onto acceptance is also futile.

Where you are is where you are. That’s it. Disorientation. Disillusionment. Anger at teachers. Distaste for spirituality. Grief. Exhaustion. Not being able to be in the flow. Difficulty settling down. Impatience. Despair. Pointlessness. Meaninglessness. Bad person-ness. Falling short-ness.

You cannot force yourself to be better than you are. “More aligned”. All you can do is be true to where you are. Not trying to reach for the skies. Or sink in the earth. The trying is the exhaustion. The trying is the non-acceptance of where you are. The trying is the chasing of the ideal. The ideal that doesn’t exist except as an imagined self in the mind. An imagined self who’s doing it all right. Who’s got it all together. Who’s able to deal with it all. Internally and externally. The image of what the spiritual teacher’s imagined life looks like. The comparison to that imagination and assumption. And the feeling of utter failure for not measuring up despite all the work, despite all the effort, despite despite despite.

But reality tells a different story. I am shit scared. I am fumbling. I can’t get my shit together for 5 minutes let alone all the time. I am so tired of my shortcomings. I am so tired of feeling like a complete failure. I feel mildly disassociated and at the mercy of the rush of humanity. Slowing down has become a chore. And all my tricks have gone out the window.

That is the truth. That is the humbling. That is the reality of where you are at. You can sit and meditate and then the moment you get up, you’re right back at it. And then… the disappointment.

So let’s drop all these requirements, imaginations, chores. And just be where we’re at. Non-accepting, messy, fumbly, disoriented, pointless, tight-knotted, absent-minded, abhorrent, nothing to write home about’s.

Sometimes knowing there’s no remedy for how things are, is the remedy. It takes away all the effort of trying to solve, fix, heal or prove and throws it out the window. What a relief.

You can just be bested. Bested by all. No exceptions.

Bested by the family. The hurt, the grief, the sadness, the fear. All of it. Say it out loud. You guys bested me. You win. Here’s my white flag.

Bested by the body. I don’t know what to do to regulate or make any of this better. I’m exhausted. Bested.

Bested by the trauma. My heart is broken, my body aches, and I’m tired as fuck.

Bested.

Slow down. Notice the hurry. Not enough time, not enough space. Lots to do.

This premise is not real. It’s like a mirage. This sense of urgency has no validity to it once it’s really looked at and inspected. It’s a sense of urgency that is inherited from the outside world, from those around you as well as a deeply held trauma and conditioning. It can be released. It can be let go of.

Come back to simplicity. To the simplicity of this moment. Unencumbered by anything else. Forget all the should do, must do, have to do... and come back here to the simple fact of being here. With no responsibility. Nothing to take care of. Nothing to fulfill. Just simple being.

When we interact with the world, with others, with family, there’s a lot that can get touched in us. Triggered in us. And so it’s important to slow down and allow whatever has been touched to percolate and reveal itself by slowing down.

The hurry, the inability to sit, the sense of activation, the sense of urgency is both a trauma in itself and a reaction to a trauma bubbling up to the surface. One of it’s symptoms is a wanting not to be activated or triggered. And is often the top layer that needs to be recognized for what it is and acknowledged for it’s right to be here too.

When something is being digested, it needs space. It needs permission to be activated, triggered. It needs an inner permission to be uncomfortable. Otherwise, it’s really uncomfortable. Double whammy.

Running from the activation further agitates the trauma. It tires and exhausts the body. And it disorients and overwhelms the mind. So slowing down and dropping everything is the most important step.

Ground is what it’s all about here. Earth. Ground. Breath. Birds. Cat. Slowing down even more. Moving fast is fuel for the fire of trauma.

Slowing down is like drenching this fire with water. It stops raging and starts being quenched. Not by suppressing it but by moving slow and sinking deeper into it. Giving space for it. Allowing it to be here to show itself. Not saying, no this shouldn’t be here.

Allowing it means, letting in the exhaustion. The exhaustion of trying to fight it. The exhaustion of not allowing it. Allowing it means feeling as shitty as we really feel. Feeling as tired as we really feel. Acknowledging that something is triggered and activated and that that’s okay. Not trying to override it by going back to ‘normal’ to the routine of everyday life.

Allowing it also means minimizing further triggers when the body is already in a state of overwhelm. So forgetting the narrative and creating a safe space for processing the felt-sense of what’s going on in the moment. Resting, sitting, napping, walking. Staying hydrated. Dropping out of what I think is going on, into what’s actually going on.

What gets in the way of allowing is often this sense of urgency which is really a defense mechanism in the form of escape. The sense of urgency or escape is also further fueled by the world. The collective conditioning of living at super speed. Where getting things done and fast is top priority. Not moving slow, not checking in, not meeting what’s coming up.

So there has to be an understanding and accepting of that discrepancy. And the willingness to fall behind so to speak. Not trying to keep up with anyone. And not heeding to the sense of urgency that is demanded from you by the world. Not buying into the premise of urgency and falling out of that wavelength completely by noticing the symptoms of it.

These symptoms can be external like rushing through chores, moving from this to that without pause, not tuning into the body, checking your phone compulsively, not acknowledging your boundaries for personal space when it’s needed, feeling like there’s something you’ve got to do and you’re not sure what it even is. Trying to get to the end of the day. Feeling like you have homework or something.

The sense of urgency can also be internal like an intense spiritual seeking as a means to avoid the trauma. Wanting to reach an end point. A place or state where you’re no longer at the mercy of being triggered.

Noticing the triggered sense of urgency and escape is key to unwinding this spell. So noticing the doer rushing through chores and recognizing that this is a symptom of a trauma. Recognizing the behavioral mechanism of escaping, running, rushing.

And noticing the spiritual seeker’ sense of urgency includes seeing the strategies it uses to try to cope with trauma. So the spiritual seeker sees trauma as an indication of failure on the path or as something to avoid. And knowing that this seeker is a symptom of the trauma itself.

It’s a protective mechanism that comes in spiritual clothing to say this is too much, I don’t want to be here. Or I need to be on high alert so that I’m not triggered anymore. It’s a subtle inner critic of our internal state as meditative or not meditative. It’s an inner violence acting out toward the trauma by trying to avoid it or keep it contained.

It may seem “unspiritual” but the most spiritual thing you can do for yourself when trauma is activated is to drop spirituality completely and come back down to earth. No existential questions, no self inquiry, no spiritual tricks or states to bypass trauma. No having to meditate so that I am not triggered.

And it’s okay to be all over the place. Kind of floating about. There are no requirements here. You don’t have to feel a certain way or live in accordance to what last week looked like. You can relax in knowing that everything is as it should be and you’re doing the best you can. That in itself opens the way for relaxation to happen and for whatever is lurking beneath to reveal itself.

Maybe sadness is here. Just be sad. Maybe a certain sense of numbness or despair is here. Blasé. Let that be here too. Be blasé. Maybe fear is here. Disappointment. Disillusionment. Shallow breathing and a sense of being disembodied. None of it is wrong. None of it is bad. Not even the sense of urgency is bad. It’s all welcome here. Nobody is judging your ‘performance’, your ability to stay centered except your own mind.

You don’t need to keep questioning yourself. You’ve seen enough.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

Maya Angelou

This is the hundredth, thousandth time. You need not question yourself anymore. Enough is enough.

There is nothing, nothing, nothing in this world worth this clarity. It is worth way more than any money, any inheritance, any crumbs of belonging or acceptance.

This is the real inheritance. The real inheritance your father left you is not the money. It’s the gift of his death. The gift of his experience with death and experience in life. His true gift. True Love. Honor that. Bow to that.

It doesn’t matter what they’re all doing. It doesn’t matter. Look at who you’re looking to for guidance. Look. Don’t forget what you saw at the hour of death, at the lead up to death. Don’t forget. Clear as day.

You’re on your own path now. And it may be lonesome at times. But this is it. You can’t argue with your Heart. You just can’t. You feel peace, don’t you? You feel love. You feel your Heart widen with rest. With reassurance. You feel him here. You don’t need to go anywhere or do anything.

Not like this. Not with these lost souls. Bless them. They’re on their own now.

Rest here. Rest here.

There’s nothing to get. Nothing to do. Nothing to run around for anymore. What a gift. What a blessing. The simplicity. The rest. The real belonging.

It may seem like they are the ones dealing with what’s “real”. The paperwork, the bank, the official this and official that. How real was all this when he died? How real was it? What significance did it have, if any?

So, what’s real here… What’s true?

Stay with that. And trust that. Rely on that.

It may seem naive, simple-minded. Too little even.

But it is everything. It’s everything.

This is where Dad is. Not in the grave, not at the burial site, not in the paperwork, not in the inheritance.

Here. Right fucking here.

Amen.

You don’t have to try so hard. You don’t have to brace yourself. You can relax. Put a smile on your face. Breathe. Aaaaahhhh…..

Cough out the holding in. Trying to be prepared. The bracing mechanism. It’s so serious! It makes everything so serious.

Relaxation is where it’s at. Relaxing, relaxing and relaxing. Who would’ve known? It’s not what we were taught. When you’re triggered, you clench up even more. You get tighter and tighter. Nobody ever mentioned anything about relaxing, it wasn’t even in their vocabulary.

No. This is the time to relax even more. Relax even deeper. How sweet! How tender. How gentle. It’s counterintuitive. It’s not what the mind is used to but it’s what the body loves and needs.

And let the clenching mechanism do it’s thing. It clenches on it’s own. And you notice. Breathe into that. Breathe into the clench. Let the clench have some air. Give it some oxygen.

The clench is the past. It’s unprocessed energy. Undigested information. It needs the softening. It needs the relaxation, the sinking in. It needs no jobs. No chores. But space. Breathing room. Here-ness. Now-ness. Love.

Simple things. Stay hydrated. Put yourself first. Body movement. Stretches. Yoga. Naps. Baths. Touch. Quiet. Laughter. Garden. Walks. Cats.

Stay on the same wavelength as the cats. On the ground. On the earth.

You’re not on a mission here. You don’t need to operate in the ‘go, go, go’ mindset or matrix of being ahead of things. You can be behind. Really far far behind. Very very slow. The last one. The forgotten one. The useless one.

There is so much beauty and simplicity in being useless. Like a cat.

Resting. Foraging. Playful. Precise. No bullshit. No catering. Almost demonic hissing. Soft purring. Alert. But relaxed. Graceful. Truth-full eyes. Majestic. Embodied. Slow. But also really fast. Nimble. Unenthused. Fiercely protective of it’s own. Not exactly a welcomer.

And completely useless.

I’m like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody and nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other.

Holly Golightly, Breakfast At Tiffany’s

Something is resolving itself in you. Give it space. Let it be what it is for now. Jumbled, messy, painful. Gut wrenching. Gut squeezing.

True humility is not inserting yourself in the story of another. Putting yourself in their shoes by recollecting their story. Their past. Their circumstances from your perspective.

Your perspective is skewed. It’s not clean. There’s a lot at play there. Sentimentality. Guilt. Unmet trauma. A belief in suffering. A belief in taking in the pain of others. It’s tampered with.

This kind of empathy and humility requires you to enter the field of suffering. To suffer because others are suffering. It’s diluted with conditioning. Familial conditioning, cultural conditioning and collective conditioning. And it only brings pain and confusion.

It’s no good. No good for you. And no good for others. But you can stop at no good for you. That’s all you need to know.

Beneath this ‘humility’, this ’empathy’ is a fear of aloneness. It’s really an unmet childhood need of trying to seek comfort where comfort can’t be found. From family, from strangers. Outside yourself.

By comforting family at a time of need, you’ll be comforted. By showing kindness to a stranger in need, you’ll be shown kindness. By denying the judgement and even hatred in you toward them because these are not “virtuous” qualities, there’ll be hope.

By being the good one, that’s somehow comforting. For yourself. Because it sure as hell isn’t comforting for anybody else. If I’m good, maybe they’ll be good. Maybe they won’t judge or hate me. Maybe they’ll be there for me. Come to their senses.

By over-extending yourself, crossing your own boundaries, saying what “needs” to be said, doing what needs to be done etc. etc.

All this…

This is a deep, deep unmet pain.

It’s a misconstrued idea of what goodness is, what help is, what empathy is. It’s the road to hell paved with good intentions. And it comes from fear. A gut fear. A gut fear to see what you don’t want to see.

To see the raw naked barrenness of the landscape of your environment. It might not be like this for everyone. But it is the case for you. And it needs to be addressed. Otherwise, it’s like a leaking gasket.

You need to clean up your own mess. You can’t come to the rescue of others. You simply can’t without an unwavering sense of clarity and precision within yourself.

And you might need to accept that you might never be able to rescue them. That maybe just maybe, they don’t need to be rescued. They just don’t. It’s not your job and most importantly, you can’t.

Something in you is calling out for rescue.

Something in you doesn’t want to face the coldness, the aloneness, the barrenness of the landscape of where you found yourself. And so tries to find the warmth by creating the warmth.

Lighting fires in Antartica and telling eskimos to come gather round it. You’re the one who’s cold, you’re the one that can’t handle the cold of Antartica. Not the eskimos.

The futility of the effort to create warmth has to bring you to your knees. Pretty much like everything else. And the futility of this one is a big one. It’s an impossible task that you’ve undertaken since childhood. And it plays itself out in everything.

It’s the over-extended empathy, the saccharine sentimentality, the rancid guilt and projection of the suffering of others. The idealizing of others and of yourself and of what it’s supposed to look like. What it’s supposed to be like. The potential of it.

Maybe it’s time to see clearly.

Oh, these guys are fucking eskimos. I’m the one who’s freezing my ass off here. I’m the one who’s left out in the cold. They’re packing their gear, living in their igloo’s, eating blubber or whatever, and I’m starving, freezing, butt naked.

Maybe I need to realize, I am in Antartica.

This isn’t an invitation for escape. No. It’s an invitation to stop and look around and really take in the fact of Antartica.

The fact of I’m trying and have been trying my whole life to make Antarctica warm. And notice the self compassion that comes in. Like seeing it in the eyes of a lost innocent child, that fear, that despair, that aloneness.

Notice the mercy you would have on that child. Bring that mercy to yourself. Really love yourself for even trying. And just comfort that one.

You’ve been trying so hard little one. You’ve really been up against it. With this impossible task. Aw, I love you. You don’t need to do this anymore. This isn’t your job anymore. Let’s take you out of here and bring you the warmth of the sun. No more little fires, no more. Sit here under the sun and I’ll sit with you. Closer than close. Leave the eskimos be. All they know is Antarctica. And it is no longer your concern. Your concern is sitting under the sun. Regardless of everyone else.

And maybe one day you’ll realize you’re actually in Hawaii. And there’s a bunch of crazies walking around in Eskimo clothing all over the place. How odd.

Maybe not…

But start with breathing into your gut. Literally. Breathing into that clench. That somatic sense of the tight fist. That squeeze. Breathe into that again and again. And again and again.

And notice the projections when they come up. Notice the projections of other’s suffering. Notice and come back to yourself. Sit under the sun.

Something will want to leave and go back into the barren landscape of Antartica on a “heroic” journey to save an eskimo. Or to come to the aid of an eskimo that’s starting to feel the landscape of Antartica. None of your business. You don’t need to save anyone, nor come to the aid of anyone.

Attend to yourself.

Keep coming back. Under the sun. Bask under the warmth and light of the sun.

That is your one and only responsibility regardless of what anyone around you is doing, thinking or believing. About themselves or about you.

Be grateful for the hard lessons you’ve learnt early on.

The hard pills you’ve swallowed.

Though there might be sorrow.

Say thank you for making me a quick learner.

May I take leaps and bounds.

Even though it’s not easy.

It’s easier than the alternative.

There’s Great Grace involved.

A Great Love.

Bask in the gratitude of that.

A lot of people are going to try to waste your time with nonsense.

But you stay laser-focused on that which gives any meaning to this thing we call life.

It’s not about niceties and formalities. It’s not about social obligations or familial duties. None of this matters. None of this has any meaning.

What does matter is the integrity with which you’ve lived. How hard you tried to live in Love. How hard you tried to overcome your own obstacles to Love.

And it might not look the way you expected it too. It might not be agreeable to others. But it doesn’t matter.

All the stuff that pretends to matter doesn’t matter in the end.

Not one iota.

So what does matter?

What matters is inexplicable.

It’s knowing everything that doesn’t matter. And not getting lost in it.

The art of knowing is knowing what to ignore.

Rumi

It’s a devotion to all the little things.

The way your Dad’s hands look when they’re laying on his lap.

The sigh and the breath of relief when we stop talking.

It’s the catching of the glimpse of Truth in the eyes of another.

Everything else and I mean everything can be cut and thrashed with the laser-focus samurai sword of Truth.