I just spent five days with eighty open-eyed people. I was blessed to be in their presence. I knew that I wanted to describe how our time together touched me but I didn’t see the words appearing. I still don’t. So allow me to stumble forward into the unknown.
“How am I doing?” It’s a question that’s haunted me for decades. It’s so symbolic of my belly button gazing, of looking within, of analysis and evaluation. At times during the seminar, all of that floated away. There was service and love, a direction of energy that was out into life, rather than coming from the outside in. The lowered head in anticipation of incoming danger went on vacation. The head was high, looking levelly into the eyes of my fellow travellers.
Then all that goodness disappeared. And then … I was able to locate it again. I had had an interaction with Patricia, our teacher, in which she asked me a question I couldn’t answer. I panicked, and blurted out something that sounded halfway reasonable. Was I touching whatever was just emerging? No. I was smashing into a wall that seemed to hide “the right answer”. No cheese down that tunnel. I collapsed inside, grew smaller in the badness that I’ve so often chosen as a companion.
The release came as I saw Bruce as a very hard and very small squash ball, sitting on a pillow. The pain wasn’t inside me anymore. It was over there, ready to be observed. In the watching, I came back. I lost maybe two hours, which is a marked improvement over two days.
The next thing was that I wanted to talk about the process. I’ve had a couple of coaching sessions with one of the members of the Evolutionary Collective, and she was at the seminar. I sought her out and told of the journey. The “going toward” rather than the “turning away” was a revelation. The mouth opening and disclosing instead of staying jammed shut.
Then there’s the experience of rhythm. I’ve had this naïve thought that someday I’ll graduate from my pain, and will be this totally together human, emitting a stream of love at every moment – no challenges, no interruptions. Ha! Good luck. Partway through our togetherness, one of the teachers was experiencing a feeling of separation from Patricia. I had seen this woman as a shining light, and I still do, just not one who’s swimming in perfection. If she sometimes trips upon the path of life, surely I have the space to do the same. I can accept my periods of smallness and find my way back to a largeness that touches the world. Superman … no thank you.
The rhythm of being also showed up in our daily movement sessions. In one exercise, we were being “moved” by our partner. She would flick my wrist, and I had three choices: to let my arm nudge back in response; to exaggerate that reaction – throwing my arm up and staggering backward; or to resist the touch. Refusing to be moved was so painful. Refusing to let another influence me. What remained was a totally right and totally alone piece of armour. No give. No take. No life. How the body teaches!
The word isn’t just “influence”. It’s mutual influence. Despite my moments of rigidity, I’ve often felt the gifts of others coming towards me. On the weekend, I saw more clearly that I influence them as well. Such a long life before I started to let that one in. I go into the future, perhaps two steps forward and one back, fully capable of giving in a way that allows receiving.
I change the world