"What is it that you have learned from your infirmity? ----Jesus the Christ, before he would administer a healing.
The idea being that pain is sometimes one of our greatest teachers. And that we have to learn what it is we need to learn from it, before the true healing or release can occur.
Ok, so what the heck have I learned from what is now 17 days of physical pain in my back/left arm?
My C3 and/or C5 nerve shut down, for those chiropractors/doctors out there. Sending intense pain down my whole arm and back....only the painkillers don't really work when the pain is neural. Anti-inflammatories and acupuncture take some of the edge off. I'm with a talented physical therapy guy who says 6-8 weeks of treatment and stretching and rest.
I've always had this one huge knot under my left scapula(inside rear left shoulder blade) which no amount of massage, acupuncture, muscle relaxers, Reiki, or many other modalities have been able to get to. I believe that to be what is releasing at this time.
I've become healthy enough, physically, emotionally, and otherwise, to have the strength to face a trauma that has been locked up for years. I have some ideas where this trauma came from, and more importantly, I simply know that it has always hurt there. And now, whether through meditation, or other means, I am able to, as the Buddhist would call, act as witness.
Witness the pain.
Yes, it sucks. Big time. But almost from the minute it occurred, I've been asking myself what the hell am I to learn from this? Once I fully "learn from my infirmity", I believe it will be fully released.
I did a balance facilitated by a healer friend Jessica, and through a kinesiology technique(muscle testing), I muscle-tested weak for the statement :
"It's OK to make mistakes."
Muscle testing weak refers to there is a limiting belief pattern in our subconscious field, which is holding us back in life. We all have cellular memory, and our essence is reflected in every one of our billions of cells. So if we believe something we will muscle test positive for it, because we literally believe it with every cell of our body. For the intent of this example, at that moment, I believed, at the subconscious level, "It's not OK to make mistakes."
It is the same concept of why authorities can see if you have done drugs by sampling your hair. The memory is embedded in the cells of your hair.
Quantum science says that are environments DO matter (www.brucelipton.com), biology of belief, and that we keep traumas at our cellular memory.
Ever have a big breakup with a boyfriend/girlfriend and you go and ask your hair stylist to cut all your hair off, and/or you decide to rid yourself of everything associated with that person?
Similar. This is a form of healing, whether one is conscious of it or not.
So I share my process in the hopes that it adds to yours. With my good friend Jess, I balanced for the statement, "It's Ok to make mistakes." Through a technique employing tenets of kinesiology, NLP, and acupressure, I am able to communicate with my subconscious mind, and "write" or "program" what belief I would like to shape my reality.
Our perceptions shape our reality. Change, or re-program the perception, and you change or re-program your reality, or life.
By doing this, I was able to resolve, dissolve, and evolve that particular internal conflict.
Think about this, the name of this blog is "the gift is in the wound", which, translated, means, our greatest gifts, or wisdoms, or learnings, are found in our greatest pains, or our greatest "mistakes". Our infirmities.
The medicine is in the pain. And I've had a lotta physical pain in the last 3 weeks. Lots of "medicine" or wisdom. If there is a limiting belief system active in my subconscious mind, that states, "It's not Ok to make mistakes.", well then I am not receiving said "gifts", or wisdoms.
I have learned from my infirmity.
Message #1: Slow the fuck down! Just be. In my zest and passion for life, just about everything sounds great, and I wish to directly experience as many things as possible. So I say yes to a lot of new things. While this is well-intentioned, it leaves me short of energy sometimes, with less to focus on the things I really am super passionate about.
I came up with a mantra that may resolve this "road to hell is paved with good intentions" phenomena.
"I will march to the things I AM passionate about, instead of being passionate about the things that I AM currently marching to"
Message #2: Write. Write. Write. Every day. Is it coincidental that my entire upper body has writhed in pain for nearly 3 weeks, EXCEPT for my right arm and hand, or writing arm and hand? And while I have been writing every day, it hasn't been in that way of, this is my life mission, or dharma, at this time.
Message received.
"Feather, Pebble, Brick."-----a saying referring to how universal messages will get louder and louder if you are out of sync, and not listening to them.
I got hit with the brick.
Message #3: A renewed sense of reverence, and awe at just how fragile life can be. Tomorrow is promised to no one, so I am going to choose(again) to enjoy my unfolding present moments even more. It should never take something bad, to make us realize how good we have it.
Tomorrow is promised to no one.
I am grateful for the newfound wisdom, and next time, I'll choose to tune in and listen when the "feather" arrives, rather than get drilled with the "brick".
Be well.
Aho,
Eric
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Cuz I Choose To
(waking up at 4am on a recent Tuesday)
"What the FUCK!!!" "OWWWW!" My back is spasming in a type of excruciating pain I haven't felt since a reconstructive ankle surgery, circa 1992.
It's so early in the morn I think it a bad dream for a moment. I am a healer, and and an empath. In other words, it's real easy for me to "pick up" on O.P.P., other people's problems. To intuit other's people's energy. Intuition, it's all of our given birthright, and in many, it simply has been dulled by the static of our busy lives.
Me? Yeah, I'm down wit O.P.P. Except this time, this pain is all mine.
FUCK! I am in intense pain at this particular moment, and recall working out too hard yesterday and carrying my guitar and case 2 miles to the guitar shop because I was locked out of my house. Surely, it's neuromuscular, I say to myself.
FUCK! I can't feel my left hand. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Nope. Sorry. I'm a semi-expert at breath, I teach the shit, for fuck's sake, and the only breath thats seemingly gonna do any work here is my potential last one, or so it feels.
It's hard to collect your thoughts when your whole body is in massive pain. I have a high tolerance for pain. My left arm is numb. I have a daughter. The choice is pretty clear. I go to the E.R.
The intern nurse sees me and speaks up, "you probably have carpal tunnel syndrome"
Clearly this young female is some sort of Jedi master(sarc), realizing that nothing is going to take away my pain at this moment, but she can distract me by saying something completely asinine as suggesting people go to the E.R at 5 a.m. on Tuesdays to get carpal tunnel treatment.
I reply, "Listen bitch, I've been eating pain omelettes for breakfast for 30+ years, been to hell and back, and had demons rip off my head and shit down my neck, so put chapter 3 of your nurse handbook down and get me someone who knows what the fuck they're talking about" (on the inside)
My real response: "look, i highly doubt this is carpal tunnel syndrome, my whole left arm is numb, and I'm in unbearable pain. May I see a doctor please?"
I know the nurse is doing her best. I simply share my felt-sense of the moment and process in hopes in may add to yours. This notion of enlightenment isn't all faeries and pixie dust.
To be sure, the senior nurse, and the resident doctor were absolutely amazing. 'Becca', actually did keep me distracted with conversation as I was in agonizing pain, even though it was the end of what she said was a trying shift. The physical explanation is it turns out to be a massive strain, with some entrapped nerves. My ticker is fine.
My first hint is this is something a bit more metaphysical than that comes when the morphine doesn't dull the pain one iota. They do a neck X-Ray as a precaution, say I might need an MRI, and send me on my way.
Nine days later, 2 doctor's visits, 2 acupuncture treatments, and a shitload of self-healing and introspection later, and we come to the present day. I wake up and I'm still in so much pain I'm punchy. I let out a helpless chuckle. It's like masturbating with a cheese grater, slightly amusing but mostly painful.
This really has sucked. Haven't been able to strum the six-string, write, exercise, or most of all, engage in active play with my daughter.
I'm exhausted. And this exhaustion is actually a key component here in being open enough to receive the medicine, or wisdom from this particular situation. When one achieves exhaustion, the ego can't help but surrender. It stops holding on for dear life, trying to be relevant, and then, and only then can one receive the deeper message.
I've always had this spot under my left scapula(rear shoulder), and no amount of treatment, massage, reiki, acu, psych-k, or any other modality has ever been able to release this one knot, this one pain, this one trauma.
I realize this release is what is now occurring. I'm in the best shape of my life, pushing myself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually over the past 15 months. I've finally peeled enough layers of the artichoke to get to the "tasty" heart. It's counter-intuitive, but I've finally become healthy enough to receive this pain. To be with it. To sit with it. To 'hold space' for this trauma to be released. So why 9 days of it?
Sometimes things are more of a process rather than a point. Each clue builds on another. One night, my healer friend Jess does some work on my emotional body through kinesiology. I muscle test weak for the statement, "It is OK to make mistakes." Which in lay terms, means I am "programmed" subconsciously, with a filter that says I have to be perfect at all times.
I don't know about you, but consciously I've come to associate perfectionism as completely fear-based.
Imagine being a DJ at a radio station spinning tunes, and your station manager says, "Spin the wrong tune and you're fired."
"How do I know what's a wrong tune?"
"You'll know it when you've been fired."
The good news is we can actually re-write the "softwares" that have been downloaded into the hard drive that is our brain. Yup, we can choose which program or belief, we want to hold onto or let go.
Argue for your limiting beliefs and fucking A right, you own 'em.
So I keep the positive polarities of all behaviors/beliefs, and release the negative ones. All of it is simple perception anyway, i.e., this thing called life is an illusion.
Jess and do an exercise(balance) to "take that tune off my playlist", and I'm one clue closer.
The exhaustion serves. The ego, which is holding on for dear life to be relevant, surrenders. Today I was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, too. I literally didn't want to write, and questioned just about everything I was doing spiritually or artistically in the last 48 hours.
I also just got a job opportunity that were it a year ago, I probably would've cut a finger off for. I said no to the opportunity. It wasn't easy. The job would mean added levels of 'security' and financial freedom, but at a cost. To my soul. To my spirit.
How much is enough?
This opportunity was the equivalent of wanting to date that special someone, who you "know" you have a strong connection with but has been non-responding, then finally you just resign yourself to "it ain't happenin' ". You let go, you trust the lessons you've learned, and move on. And at that very moment, they call you on the phone, or show up naked at your doorstep.
Only you're not interested anymore.
That was then and this is now.
It's an exercise in what Buddhists call that place of non-attachment(to outcome). Letting go of the possibility that was, to allow room for the possibility that IS, with another. Oftentime, we'll rationalize a person's behavior because we think we love them, but what is really occurring is we love the thought of loving them. At the time, it feels like you are connected beyond belief, and that is OK---it is wonderful to see the possibility in anything. It is a gift to be able to view the world in that way.
The place I've evolved to is to choose to make manifest any possibility I decide. It's a subtle change, and one that has involved taking responsibility for my path, and responsibility for my own healing.
There is sometimes a moment of sadness in letting go, when you feel or see something that the other does not. We humans sometimes let things get or go too far before we realize what was right in front of us, and ultimately, that turns out to be an essential part of our growth. We all have our path, and we learn and navigate said path to the best of our ability, or at our highest level of awareness at the time.
Letting go is liberating.
Back to the present day: I serendipitously lost my car for 1 1/2 hrs today, and got tired physically as well from walking. This is a nice metaphor, to lose one's car, or "ability to drive" temporarily. I would find, that it wasn't until I re-planted my flag, or re-declared my intention to the universe that things would sync up again.
i will write in, as, and with Spirit
It's 4 pm on a Wednesday. I'm still in pain. I pound an ibuprofen or 7, and a shot of whiskey.
For just a moment, I feel like I'll never write another word. As if I'll never have the physical capability to pick up my guitar, or much worse, my daughter again. Like what's the point of all of it anyway.
AND THEN I REMEMBER:
I CHOSE ALL OF THIS.
It's been 9 days, and with that one recognition, the tears start flowing, and I have instant recognition where the trauma came from, what the lesson is, and the release occurs quicker than a female Asian blackjack dealer takes all of your money(trust me on this one).
Getting to that point, is the point. The purpose of the journey is the journey itself. It's not good or bad, it just is. There is no "right" way to be grateful. I am grateful.
And ever more so, now that my wing was 'broken' for 9 days. I am ever more grateful for the ways in which I am able to participate in this thing we call life. I have even more compassion for those who will never be able to pick up their child, or those who cannot exercise due to some physical malady.
Maybe next time I'll get the memo before this pain actually happens. But then again, the medicine, or wisdom, wouldn't be the same. I would find out later that astrologically, over the past couple nights, both Mercury and Mars have formed annoying quincunxes with Chiron the Wounded Healer, bringing up issues that make us emotional vulnerable.
Did that make the little dickhead gnome on my shoulder order the trans-fat philly steak rolls at dinner instead of the healthy collard green salad with avocado?
What the fuck is a quincunx?
Here's what I do know:
Muscle memory is greater than what we refer to as our normal, or mind memory. Translation: we may have traumas---emotional, spiritual, or physical, and they are stored at the cellular level, and we may have consciously forgotten about them, as a defense mechanism.
Western society has been conditioned to fear pain. To mitigate pain. To stay away from pain. That pain is bad! We receive this message from economic policymakers who try to stave off natural economic contractions. From doctors who write prescriptions for symptoms rather than addressing source problems. From an image-conscious society that creates false idols.
A shift in perception is needed.
Look, I am not into being a pain glutton, in fact, I think pain sucks the royal karmic ass. I'm simply acknowledging it's role in making us a concentric whole being. I'm simply discerning that we grow from pain, and pain can be healthily transformative, while suffering is oftentime a choice we make for ourselves to keep ourselves in mental prisons.
I may have allowed myself to suffer a bit.
In the past, I may have drank the pain away. I may have kept myself sooooo distracted I never had to face said shadow.
And if that was my highest level of awareness at the time, that's fine too. Wherever you go, there you are. (wow that's deep, Forrest)
This time I leaned into the pain.
Why?
My experience has been that when we are able to "lean in" to the pain just a bit, we are rewarded with oh so much wisdom.
I'll leave you for now with a quote from a movie I just watched again, Matrix Revolutions, one that resonates with me.
From the Matrix Revolutions, Agent Smith: why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something, for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is, do you even know? Is it freedom or truth, perhaps peace -- could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson, vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself. Although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson, you must know it by now! You can't win, it's pointless to keep fighting! Why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why do you persist?
NEO: CUZ I CHOOSE TO.
Peace,
Eric
(if you're interested in contacting Eric for a healing session or re-writing the limiting belief softwares of your brain, you may contact him at eric.majeski@gmail.com)
"What the FUCK!!!" "OWWWW!" My back is spasming in a type of excruciating pain I haven't felt since a reconstructive ankle surgery, circa 1992.
It's so early in the morn I think it a bad dream for a moment. I am a healer, and and an empath. In other words, it's real easy for me to "pick up" on O.P.P., other people's problems. To intuit other's people's energy. Intuition, it's all of our given birthright, and in many, it simply has been dulled by the static of our busy lives.
Me? Yeah, I'm down wit O.P.P. Except this time, this pain is all mine.
FUCK! I am in intense pain at this particular moment, and recall working out too hard yesterday and carrying my guitar and case 2 miles to the guitar shop because I was locked out of my house. Surely, it's neuromuscular, I say to myself.
FUCK! I can't feel my left hand. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Nope. Sorry. I'm a semi-expert at breath, I teach the shit, for fuck's sake, and the only breath thats seemingly gonna do any work here is my potential last one, or so it feels.
It's hard to collect your thoughts when your whole body is in massive pain. I have a high tolerance for pain. My left arm is numb. I have a daughter. The choice is pretty clear. I go to the E.R.
The intern nurse sees me and speaks up, "you probably have carpal tunnel syndrome"
Clearly this young female is some sort of Jedi master(sarc), realizing that nothing is going to take away my pain at this moment, but she can distract me by saying something completely asinine as suggesting people go to the E.R at 5 a.m. on Tuesdays to get carpal tunnel treatment.
I reply, "Listen bitch, I've been eating pain omelettes for breakfast for 30+ years, been to hell and back, and had demons rip off my head and shit down my neck, so put chapter 3 of your nurse handbook down and get me someone who knows what the fuck they're talking about" (on the inside)
My real response: "look, i highly doubt this is carpal tunnel syndrome, my whole left arm is numb, and I'm in unbearable pain. May I see a doctor please?"
I know the nurse is doing her best. I simply share my felt-sense of the moment and process in hopes in may add to yours. This notion of enlightenment isn't all faeries and pixie dust.
To be sure, the senior nurse, and the resident doctor were absolutely amazing. 'Becca', actually did keep me distracted with conversation as I was in agonizing pain, even though it was the end of what she said was a trying shift. The physical explanation is it turns out to be a massive strain, with some entrapped nerves. My ticker is fine.
My first hint is this is something a bit more metaphysical than that comes when the morphine doesn't dull the pain one iota. They do a neck X-Ray as a precaution, say I might need an MRI, and send me on my way.
Nine days later, 2 doctor's visits, 2 acupuncture treatments, and a shitload of self-healing and introspection later, and we come to the present day. I wake up and I'm still in so much pain I'm punchy. I let out a helpless chuckle. It's like masturbating with a cheese grater, slightly amusing but mostly painful.
This really has sucked. Haven't been able to strum the six-string, write, exercise, or most of all, engage in active play with my daughter.
I'm exhausted. And this exhaustion is actually a key component here in being open enough to receive the medicine, or wisdom from this particular situation. When one achieves exhaustion, the ego can't help but surrender. It stops holding on for dear life, trying to be relevant, and then, and only then can one receive the deeper message.
I've always had this spot under my left scapula(rear shoulder), and no amount of treatment, massage, reiki, acu, psych-k, or any other modality has ever been able to release this one knot, this one pain, this one trauma.
I realize this release is what is now occurring. I'm in the best shape of my life, pushing myself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually over the past 15 months. I've finally peeled enough layers of the artichoke to get to the "tasty" heart. It's counter-intuitive, but I've finally become healthy enough to receive this pain. To be with it. To sit with it. To 'hold space' for this trauma to be released. So why 9 days of it?
Sometimes things are more of a process rather than a point. Each clue builds on another. One night, my healer friend Jess does some work on my emotional body through kinesiology. I muscle test weak for the statement, "It is OK to make mistakes." Which in lay terms, means I am "programmed" subconsciously, with a filter that says I have to be perfect at all times.
I don't know about you, but consciously I've come to associate perfectionism as completely fear-based.
Imagine being a DJ at a radio station spinning tunes, and your station manager says, "Spin the wrong tune and you're fired."
"How do I know what's a wrong tune?"
"You'll know it when you've been fired."
The good news is we can actually re-write the "softwares" that have been downloaded into the hard drive that is our brain. Yup, we can choose which program or belief, we want to hold onto or let go.
Argue for your limiting beliefs and fucking A right, you own 'em.
So I keep the positive polarities of all behaviors/beliefs, and release the negative ones. All of it is simple perception anyway, i.e., this thing called life is an illusion.
Jess and do an exercise(balance) to "take that tune off my playlist", and I'm one clue closer.
The exhaustion serves. The ego, which is holding on for dear life to be relevant, surrenders. Today I was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, too. I literally didn't want to write, and questioned just about everything I was doing spiritually or artistically in the last 48 hours.
I also just got a job opportunity that were it a year ago, I probably would've cut a finger off for. I said no to the opportunity. It wasn't easy. The job would mean added levels of 'security' and financial freedom, but at a cost. To my soul. To my spirit.
How much is enough?
This opportunity was the equivalent of wanting to date that special someone, who you "know" you have a strong connection with but has been non-responding, then finally you just resign yourself to "it ain't happenin' ". You let go, you trust the lessons you've learned, and move on. And at that very moment, they call you on the phone, or show up naked at your doorstep.
Only you're not interested anymore.
That was then and this is now.
It's an exercise in what Buddhists call that place of non-attachment(to outcome). Letting go of the possibility that was, to allow room for the possibility that IS, with another. Oftentime, we'll rationalize a person's behavior because we think we love them, but what is really occurring is we love the thought of loving them. At the time, it feels like you are connected beyond belief, and that is OK---it is wonderful to see the possibility in anything. It is a gift to be able to view the world in that way.
The place I've evolved to is to choose to make manifest any possibility I decide. It's a subtle change, and one that has involved taking responsibility for my path, and responsibility for my own healing.
There is sometimes a moment of sadness in letting go, when you feel or see something that the other does not. We humans sometimes let things get or go too far before we realize what was right in front of us, and ultimately, that turns out to be an essential part of our growth. We all have our path, and we learn and navigate said path to the best of our ability, or at our highest level of awareness at the time.
Letting go is liberating.
Back to the present day: I serendipitously lost my car for 1 1/2 hrs today, and got tired physically as well from walking. This is a nice metaphor, to lose one's car, or "ability to drive" temporarily. I would find, that it wasn't until I re-planted my flag, or re-declared my intention to the universe that things would sync up again.
i will write in, as, and with Spirit
It's 4 pm on a Wednesday. I'm still in pain. I pound an ibuprofen or 7, and a shot of whiskey.
For just a moment, I feel like I'll never write another word. As if I'll never have the physical capability to pick up my guitar, or much worse, my daughter again. Like what's the point of all of it anyway.
AND THEN I REMEMBER:
I CHOSE ALL OF THIS.
It's been 9 days, and with that one recognition, the tears start flowing, and I have instant recognition where the trauma came from, what the lesson is, and the release occurs quicker than a female Asian blackjack dealer takes all of your money(trust me on this one).
Getting to that point, is the point. The purpose of the journey is the journey itself. It's not good or bad, it just is. There is no "right" way to be grateful. I am grateful.
And ever more so, now that my wing was 'broken' for 9 days. I am ever more grateful for the ways in which I am able to participate in this thing we call life. I have even more compassion for those who will never be able to pick up their child, or those who cannot exercise due to some physical malady.
Maybe next time I'll get the memo before this pain actually happens. But then again, the medicine, or wisdom, wouldn't be the same. I would find out later that astrologically, over the past couple nights, both Mercury and Mars have formed annoying quincunxes with Chiron the Wounded Healer, bringing up issues that make us emotional vulnerable.
Did that make the little dickhead gnome on my shoulder order the trans-fat philly steak rolls at dinner instead of the healthy collard green salad with avocado?
What the fuck is a quincunx?
Here's what I do know:
Muscle memory is greater than what we refer to as our normal, or mind memory. Translation: we may have traumas---emotional, spiritual, or physical, and they are stored at the cellular level, and we may have consciously forgotten about them, as a defense mechanism.
Western society has been conditioned to fear pain. To mitigate pain. To stay away from pain. That pain is bad! We receive this message from economic policymakers who try to stave off natural economic contractions. From doctors who write prescriptions for symptoms rather than addressing source problems. From an image-conscious society that creates false idols.
A shift in perception is needed.
Look, I am not into being a pain glutton, in fact, I think pain sucks the royal karmic ass. I'm simply acknowledging it's role in making us a concentric whole being. I'm simply discerning that we grow from pain, and pain can be healthily transformative, while suffering is oftentime a choice we make for ourselves to keep ourselves in mental prisons.
I may have allowed myself to suffer a bit.
In the past, I may have drank the pain away. I may have kept myself sooooo distracted I never had to face said shadow.
And if that was my highest level of awareness at the time, that's fine too. Wherever you go, there you are. (wow that's deep, Forrest)
This time I leaned into the pain.
Why?
My experience has been that when we are able to "lean in" to the pain just a bit, we are rewarded with oh so much wisdom.
I'll leave you for now with a quote from a movie I just watched again, Matrix Revolutions, one that resonates with me.
From the Matrix Revolutions, Agent Smith: why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something, for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is, do you even know? Is it freedom or truth, perhaps peace -- could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson, vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself. Although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson, you must know it by now! You can't win, it's pointless to keep fighting! Why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why do you persist?
NEO: CUZ I CHOOSE TO.
Peace,
Eric
(if you're interested in contacting Eric for a healing session or re-writing the limiting belief softwares of your brain, you may contact him at eric.majeski@gmail.com)
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tradition, Not Antiquated
I'm sitting on a green blanket in the middle of the grassy field at Pritzker Pavillion in Milennium Park, Chicago, Il. It's 5 o' clock, and I am 2 1/2 hours early for a free concert to be held here later this evening. Being early is relative as I am "write" on time to put pen to paper.
Fifteen minutes go by, and I realize though my mind is bubbling with ideas, so far there is but one paragraph written on the page. Yup, here we go. Complete static. There is a veritable traffic jam of words and phrases in my head, and the traffic cop(me) isn't sure where this one begins or ends. A bitch of a quagmire, and already I'm way too much in my head. For me, it feels like I'm driving on a street that is a 2-sided cul-de-sac, with no exit. Something has to shift, so I recall immediately the only set of rules I enacted for this still young writing journey, 1)Writing is to be a joy 2)When writing is not a joy, re-read rule #1. With that, I take out my medicine bag, offer a pinch of tobacco to the land, and say a quick prayer of gratitude for all that is. I meditate for a couple minutes.
I chuckle at how I used to think one needed to be on a mountain with a robe on to meditate. Or that I couldn't possibly like watching Bears football on Sunday AND be spiritual.
I feel my feet in the grass, the warm sun on my skin, look at my hands and am thankful just for having hands.
Shift happens.
My creativity pipe has been snaked, and the energy is now free to flow. I spend a moment admiring the pavillion structure. It is modern and metallic, and though I'm not entirely sure of what I am looking at, the feeling it evokes is that happy point of all places that is simple come full circle through complexity. Like a good chili that has many ingredients, and many tastes that converge into one delicious dish, the building transits seamlessly into the cement jungle that is the city skyline. A bridge from the science of the material world to the artistry of nature. When I consider all the artistic creation that the pavillion has birthed, calling this structure a portal that connects the celestial heavens to the Earth, the stars to the ground, doesn't seem so far-fetched.
The day has been one of symmetry, synchronicity, and flow for me. I went to study and just be with the butterflies at the nature museum. On my way there, I stopped to get a smoothie at the local Jamba Juice. My smoothie is delivered 45 seconds after I ordered it, and I realize the barista was working on it before I came in the store.
"Did you know I was coming?", I ask, "or are you simply the Luke Skywalker of smoothie baristas?" She smiles, and gives me a mischievous wink that says, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." I smile and walk out. Suddenly, the whole, "what came first, the chicken or the egg debate?" makes sense to me. Neither. Or both.
I am the chicken. And the egg.
After leaving the museum, I go home to clean up, and have an intuition to head down to Milennium Park. They often have free concerts at the downtown outdoor ampitheatre, so I check online to see what tonight's fare is.
A band named OTTO.
Palindromes are cool. Sold.
I get to the park and see 2 drum sets and lotsa brass instruments. Double sold. I've been to hundreds of music shows and double percussion(2 drum sets) is at the top of my list for, "This band is not gonna suck" clues. A brass section is a close second, followed by electric violin, and then a backup R&B section with 400 lb black women.
My leg falls asleep from sitting on it for 30 minutes. I ponder for a moment if it was REM sleep, and if legs can have dreams.
I digress.
Sitting on the fresh green grass, I feel pretty connected. Seven different people in a span of 20-25 minutes walk up and introduce themselves. I recognize this past weekend was the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock peace and love music festival. It feels like many are tuned in to that vibrational frequency, or "radio station".
The show is still 30 minutes from starting. Fifty yards to my left, there is an operatic singer informally practicing her arias in front of an entranced audience of thirty people. Children to my right are playing and laughing. A cute couple straight ahead are play wrestling in what seems to be some strange mating ritual. There is another man with his shirt off doing some form of bizarre interpretive dance. He looks like a rhino trying to have sex with itself is the best way I can describe it. This field is alive with all sorts of things.
There is one man who has a real curious energy. He glances at me, and gives me the "stink eye". Sorry, Charlie. No room for that energy here, that is all yours. He looks like he's just done something wrong, or is about to. I remind myself not to judge. Mostly, I can just see the pain in his eyes, and I say a prayer to myself that his pain not be suffering.
I reflect on the notion of "pain."
Pain, like life, is temporary. Pain can be one of our greatest teachers if we just lean into it a little bit. If we can sit with it. Be with it. What happens when you have a kickass workout at the gym? The next day muscles are incredibly sore. This pain is from the process of the muscle breaking down, scarring, and building back up even bigger and stronger.
The same thing happens with our emotional body, too, as long as we let it. Emotional scars can morph into emotional muscles. The name of this blog, 'The Gift is in the Wound', means exactly that. There is medicine, or wisdom, in all of our traumas, or wounds. And they are gifts. The universe sends us 'teachers' in many forms, so we can learn, evolve, and be even more connected to our true path. Western society, in my humble opinion, has been conditioned to mute pain, or make it go away, or run/escape from it. Treat(drug) the symptom, rather than sit with the source. Us humans often do that with the emotional body as well, only we find distractions, diversions, escapes, rationalizations, heck, how 'bout a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a cup of hot fat to go with it? Retail therapy, anyone?
Pain is Ok. Pain can be transformative. Suffering is often time a choice we make. We make choices based upon our belief systems, systems that are inherited from generation to generation. These systems can be incredibly limiting, and many times, don't represent who we truly are. We then go through our life journey trying to remember. Who we are. Why we're here. When questioning my belief system, I ask simple questions: Is this a joyous tradition, or is it stuck and antiquated? Is this for the best and highest good of all? Is this coming from a place of love, or a place of fear? Traditions, customs, rituals that are handed down from one generation to the next are the essence of life. That said, they can also outlast their utility in an ever-changing world.
The great paradox of tradition, is that every tradition starts with a first year. And that we can make a choice at any time to change or shift how we perceive the world.
I am in sync right now. I am outside at a concert, with a beautiful friend who creatively inspires me. I am in nature. There is music playing that moves me. I am creating. People all around are happy and smiling. I'm really feelin' it. I am just being. Feels like the seeds of a new tradition. A shift.
This moment is truly perfect.
And I couldn't be in this perfect now, without all of my previous less than perfect 'now' moments.
Which kinda makes those moments perfect, too, doncha think?
Aho.
Eric
Fifteen minutes go by, and I realize though my mind is bubbling with ideas, so far there is but one paragraph written on the page. Yup, here we go. Complete static. There is a veritable traffic jam of words and phrases in my head, and the traffic cop(me) isn't sure where this one begins or ends. A bitch of a quagmire, and already I'm way too much in my head. For me, it feels like I'm driving on a street that is a 2-sided cul-de-sac, with no exit. Something has to shift, so I recall immediately the only set of rules I enacted for this still young writing journey, 1)Writing is to be a joy 2)When writing is not a joy, re-read rule #1. With that, I take out my medicine bag, offer a pinch of tobacco to the land, and say a quick prayer of gratitude for all that is. I meditate for a couple minutes.
I chuckle at how I used to think one needed to be on a mountain with a robe on to meditate. Or that I couldn't possibly like watching Bears football on Sunday AND be spiritual.
I feel my feet in the grass, the warm sun on my skin, look at my hands and am thankful just for having hands.
Shift happens.
My creativity pipe has been snaked, and the energy is now free to flow. I spend a moment admiring the pavillion structure. It is modern and metallic, and though I'm not entirely sure of what I am looking at, the feeling it evokes is that happy point of all places that is simple come full circle through complexity. Like a good chili that has many ingredients, and many tastes that converge into one delicious dish, the building transits seamlessly into the cement jungle that is the city skyline. A bridge from the science of the material world to the artistry of nature. When I consider all the artistic creation that the pavillion has birthed, calling this structure a portal that connects the celestial heavens to the Earth, the stars to the ground, doesn't seem so far-fetched.
The day has been one of symmetry, synchronicity, and flow for me. I went to study and just be with the butterflies at the nature museum. On my way there, I stopped to get a smoothie at the local Jamba Juice. My smoothie is delivered 45 seconds after I ordered it, and I realize the barista was working on it before I came in the store.
"Did you know I was coming?", I ask, "or are you simply the Luke Skywalker of smoothie baristas?" She smiles, and gives me a mischievous wink that says, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." I smile and walk out. Suddenly, the whole, "what came first, the chicken or the egg debate?" makes sense to me. Neither. Or both.
I am the chicken. And the egg.
After leaving the museum, I go home to clean up, and have an intuition to head down to Milennium Park. They often have free concerts at the downtown outdoor ampitheatre, so I check online to see what tonight's fare is.
A band named OTTO.
Palindromes are cool. Sold.
I get to the park and see 2 drum sets and lotsa brass instruments. Double sold. I've been to hundreds of music shows and double percussion(2 drum sets) is at the top of my list for, "This band is not gonna suck" clues. A brass section is a close second, followed by electric violin, and then a backup R&B section with 400 lb black women.
My leg falls asleep from sitting on it for 30 minutes. I ponder for a moment if it was REM sleep, and if legs can have dreams.
I digress.
Sitting on the fresh green grass, I feel pretty connected. Seven different people in a span of 20-25 minutes walk up and introduce themselves. I recognize this past weekend was the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock peace and love music festival. It feels like many are tuned in to that vibrational frequency, or "radio station".
The show is still 30 minutes from starting. Fifty yards to my left, there is an operatic singer informally practicing her arias in front of an entranced audience of thirty people. Children to my right are playing and laughing. A cute couple straight ahead are play wrestling in what seems to be some strange mating ritual. There is another man with his shirt off doing some form of bizarre interpretive dance. He looks like a rhino trying to have sex with itself is the best way I can describe it. This field is alive with all sorts of things.
There is one man who has a real curious energy. He glances at me, and gives me the "stink eye". Sorry, Charlie. No room for that energy here, that is all yours. He looks like he's just done something wrong, or is about to. I remind myself not to judge. Mostly, I can just see the pain in his eyes, and I say a prayer to myself that his pain not be suffering.
I reflect on the notion of "pain."
Pain, like life, is temporary. Pain can be one of our greatest teachers if we just lean into it a little bit. If we can sit with it. Be with it. What happens when you have a kickass workout at the gym? The next day muscles are incredibly sore. This pain is from the process of the muscle breaking down, scarring, and building back up even bigger and stronger.
The same thing happens with our emotional body, too, as long as we let it. Emotional scars can morph into emotional muscles. The name of this blog, 'The Gift is in the Wound', means exactly that. There is medicine, or wisdom, in all of our traumas, or wounds. And they are gifts. The universe sends us 'teachers' in many forms, so we can learn, evolve, and be even more connected to our true path. Western society, in my humble opinion, has been conditioned to mute pain, or make it go away, or run/escape from it. Treat(drug) the symptom, rather than sit with the source. Us humans often do that with the emotional body as well, only we find distractions, diversions, escapes, rationalizations, heck, how 'bout a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a cup of hot fat to go with it? Retail therapy, anyone?
Pain is Ok. Pain can be transformative. Suffering is often time a choice we make. We make choices based upon our belief systems, systems that are inherited from generation to generation. These systems can be incredibly limiting, and many times, don't represent who we truly are. We then go through our life journey trying to remember. Who we are. Why we're here. When questioning my belief system, I ask simple questions: Is this a joyous tradition, or is it stuck and antiquated? Is this for the best and highest good of all? Is this coming from a place of love, or a place of fear? Traditions, customs, rituals that are handed down from one generation to the next are the essence of life. That said, they can also outlast their utility in an ever-changing world.
The great paradox of tradition, is that every tradition starts with a first year. And that we can make a choice at any time to change or shift how we perceive the world.
I am in sync right now. I am outside at a concert, with a beautiful friend who creatively inspires me. I am in nature. There is music playing that moves me. I am creating. People all around are happy and smiling. I'm really feelin' it. I am just being. Feels like the seeds of a new tradition. A shift.
This moment is truly perfect.
And I couldn't be in this perfect now, without all of my previous less than perfect 'now' moments.
Which kinda makes those moments perfect, too, doncha think?
Aho.
Eric
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)