I spent much of Saturday in a compression, feeling the world crushing me. I was small, almost invisible, and the dangers of life were towering over me. Traumas of the past came rushing in and the future was invisible. All was lost.
I woke up early Sunday morning and just lay there for an hour. In my mind, I saw a little boy sitting on the floor, arms pressing upwards to ward off the terrors. I lay there and loved him. I didn’t furrow my brow and force him to lower his hands. He was doing what he needed to do. It was such a new experience, not trying to fix things, to turn my world into roses and champagne. Just being with what was true in the moment.
And lo and behold, there was peace. There was breathing again. Within the slowing, the little kid remained, still pressing hard. I smiled, the first for many hours.
When the seminar started a few hours later, I spoke to the group about little Bruce. I told the folks that I was scared of them. “Scared” says it so much better than “afraid”. And my friends in the chairs were with me. One person said “Your voice if different.” Over the day, I received several “Welcome Back”s. I was alive again, powerful again, connected again.
I need to address the drowning eight-year-old boy, to look him straight in the eye. One of the leaders of the Evolutionary Collective is a psychologist and I will meet her on video conference for as many sessions as needed to make friends with my moments of terror. I’ll do this not to be a better person but to ensure that far more of me is available for other human beings.
On I go.