|Posted on November 3, 2015 at 7:05 AM|
Tuesday, November 3, 2015 - Morning pages
i ... I...I...- Me...Me...Me...- Work...Work...Work. Okay, now that's out of the way, the morning can reveal to me her magic and mystery. To stop thinking and start feeling, to give last rites to a part of me that I no longer acknowledge, this is what the morning teaches.
After sleeping, dreaming, in the hours before the sun arises, when it is dark and sleepy outside, and the house is still and quiet, this is where the magic happens. Great thoughts come tumbling down the slope of my mind, crashing into each other, some being smashed to dust, others gaining momentum and picking up speed and mass. All of it colliding at the bottom of the mountain, at its base, a great field of thoughts. I wade gingerly through careful not to slip or slide or step on one that shifts under my weight and gives way, knocking me off my feet, tumbling to the ground, startled, hurt and alone.
Even though we can share these thoughts with another or try to pick up the pieces and sort them into piles of useful thoughts and garbage thoughts, ulitmately we are the only ones inside our minds to do this work. There is no other human being who can know the true meaning of what we are feeling. Writers can articulate and readers can try to experience it, but alas, no one knows the depths of our suffering but us. Even our angels look on dumbfounded sometimes to see a person feeling sad or confused. They rush in to remind us of our true nature, the virtues we are at our core, but we don't believe them. We doubt their validity even when we have been validated many times. We are skeptical.
It is only in the mind that scenarios play out, for better or worse, and we are made to confront our fears by having to make choices in our outer world. "To Do or Not To Do", that is the real question. Being is always there in the background, a program that hums along which makes all the other apps and software capable of running. Being is the platform, the operating system without it, we cannot function.
So where does this lead me today? A man asked me for help - to work along side of him to clean his home. He is lovely and kind, funny and generous, fastidious and somewhat fanatical about cleaning. To him, cleaning is an art, a covenant between homeowner and home. It has a sacred qualiy. To me, it has become a necessity, a common thing that is more utilitarian than divine. And as we walked from room to room, gazing at marble floors and mirrors that reach from floor to 16 foot high ceiling, I thought - No. Perhaps this time I will say no. Even though I like him (he does my eyebrows) and find him charming, even though it is too much for one person, even though he is looking for more than a crew to descend upon his home and assault it with people and equipment and products and sweat and music, even though he wants the intimacy of a one-on-one relationship, a cup of coffee and a quick eye-brow waxing with some spraying, wiping and vacuuming thrown in all for about $130 for a few hours every other Monday, I feel like I can't, won't or don't want to put myself in that role.
Moving out of the person I was into the person I am becoming is work enough. To take that job would step me back down the ladder to rung 3. I'm on rung 5 and it took me 5 years to get here. Imagine what 6, 7, and 8 will feel and look like. No... Monday mornings are for me - to wander, to dream, to fill how I choose. My dance card with Life is full. No more partners, please! Let it come to its natural conclusions, let the music move me where I want to go, let me be drawn by its melodies into the dream life I envision for myself with a healing room and a space for meetings, with chatter and song, mantra and movement, yoga and Tai Chi, love and poetry.
Seriously, where did this come from? My morning pages never felt so good. Maybe I'm seeing for the first time the way I feel about my life. Maybe I'm done cleaning - in a sense, moving on from here. Detaching. Honoring myself. That man needs someone. He hopes it will be me. It cannot be me. My body was twitching, my face, flushing redness in my cheeks as I articulated objections, steering the thoughts away from me as a choice. Then the money. The number $130. That's generous and anyone would love to do this job. I baffle myself with my indecision. $130 sweetened the deal - took me out of my aversion to polishing granite and dusting the piano. I betrayed myself with the thought, "Well, $130 for a couple of hours, that's $65 per hour, that's not bad for a little physcial exercise." I'm selling myself on "Yes", but my body and my heart say "No! Don't give up any part of your Monday." Keep it and use it to learn Quick Books, to solidify the business, to manage the information, customers and schedules so that one day, you can tie a neat bow on it and bequeath it, or sell it to another and it will buy my center, my home with the room to do my work with people, to do my videos and teach webinars and grow into the spiritual teacher/leader I am here to be.
My fears keep me from that dream. Opportunities like this one arise to force choices that define which way to go. What am I creating? Am I still hiding behind a cloth and a mop? Am I still adjusting to life without the safety net? Or am I realizing the net has been there all along and I cannot fall to my death? The real risk is not dreaming, staying trapped. So with power and conviction, I say No and stay focused in the direction of my dreams. And I don't have to feel guilty about it.