I spent yesterday in silence

Yesterday, I didn't speak. Well, I accidentally said, "yes," while we were at the swimming pool, but I was otherwise quiet. It was lovely.

I know that it frustrated my husband a bit. He had questions for me. He wanted to know how to pronounce things and what things meant, but I just touched my lips and shrugged. Sorry.

It was really lovely though. I saw how often idle chatter ends up with us fighting, over silly little things. He was upset because someone at the bus stop had been talking to him and I didn't intervene. He told me this. I looked at him. I listened. I cared... but I didn't reply. And so the conversation moved forward.

He was frustrated with the fact that he can't make calls to El Salvador and commented how things are crazy here, how we pay for the phones and can't use them. I could sense myself wanting to talk about things are crazy in El Salvador or explain how our phones work... again, with frustration. I just had to shrug though... and when I am able to talk to him, I will do so with calm.

I woke in the middle of the night and was able to see the points during the day where I had been judgmental and the times when I wanted to react based on old patterns. With a little bit of gentle quiet wisdom from Grace, I was able to see how I could be a little bit calmer and a little bit more loving.

We went to the pool and hung out together and I had the energy for it and it felt nice.... often times it feels like there isn't enough time for doing the responsible things I need to go, spending time with him, and dedicating myself to my spiritual practice... but yesterday I took the spiritual practice with me.

I was tempted to explain some of this to him, but I realize that this isn't where he is at... and that is fine.

He is about to get up... we shall see how this day goes. Oh, how I would like to maintain the silence.

Death

Death became a friend when I was fairly young and it is interesting to watch as our relationship changes. First, my grandfather died and this sent me reeling for years as I looked at how I lived my life and I wanted to change things based on the fact that anyone could die suddenly, including myself.

I spent many years telling people how I felt about them and making sure that I had no loose ends. I wrote the letters and made the calls that I wanted to make. I made peace. I let go. I didn't take things for granted.

Then my grandma died and it was sad, but I was able to work with that experience to look at how others reacted to death. I remember seeing the preacher smile. He didn't seem sad at all. That seemed odd for a second but then quickly seemed quite nice. It made sense based on what his religion said.

After many years I finally approached The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, one that I had seen for many many years.... and I felt compelled to be closer to those that were dying.

Then workshops that dealt with grief and loss. And I sobbed and felt cracked open. My walls fell and I was vulnerable to the world and loved everyone.

Now, I read about death and it is calmer. It is no longer an emotional experience. It is no longer something that makes me run to complete tasks left undone.

I lie in savasana and I, however briefly, am willing to let go of this personality, this ego, this body, to connect to something bigger than myself.

And I know that death does not have to be the only motivation to let go and surrender, but it is such a sweet one.

Where the words will take me, riding on the back of a silent scream, and a hug the size of the Milky Way

Here is the difference: Before when my heart was aching, there was usually drama in accompaniment. There would be weeping and anger. I would call everyone I knew, telling them my tale of woe until they felt sorry for me. My internal dialog vacillated between anger, depression and sorrow. I was the victim.

Right now, my heart hurts again. I still feel the urge to call my daddy or to change my status on facebook to let everyone know just how hard this moment is.... but I'm trying just to breathe and to notice.

The quality of light in my living room is beautiful right now. I have food. I can take a bath.

My heart hurts.

Much of what is happening right now is not my drama. It is the drama of Daniel and the people in El Salvador. The drama that I have comes from my reaction and from my pattern of wanting to play the victim.

I hear myself worrying about his safety and then exhausted with the process and then angry at him for not spending 24 hours a day locked in his room. Then I move to worried about what types of friends he might make here and how exhausting it could be to have him here.

And there is a silent reminder that all of this feeds into me wanting to play the victim... and all of this doesn't really show true Love directed at him... and that nothing has really changed from a few hours ago when I was brushing the cat and watching a movie.

And I remind myself that, yes, I am exhausted... but only because I am trying to do it all. I am not letting Grace do it.

And I listen... and Grace quietly suggests a bath, meditation, some writing, maybe some yoga... but just one small thing at a time. One moment... One second... One instant at a time.

And this conversation continues as I type. There is a desire to wail and cry and give up... to sleep until a day arrives when nothing difficult will happen. And there is an awareness that I am connected to something much greater than this room and this tiny little bump in the road.

Part of me wants to yell and scream and say, "Fuck you world, I haven't even had a real hug for three months!" And part of me quietly and calmly knows that this is just another thought to garner pity and rob energy... that I can connect to the whole universe and be hugged by all the stars....

And this dizzying vertigo as I dance around the addictive drama of my ego and feel the connection to something impossible to lose, this reminds me of the way I used to feel when the desire to write would become so strong that I would stop along the side of the road and let whatever came to me pour upon the page.... and I never knew where I was going or what the words might say or who they might want to speak to... and I never stopped them... and I just let them pour out...

And I wanted to be Jack Kerouac, taping the pieces of paper together so that I would never have to be distracted by putting a new piece into the typewriter....

And I wanted to be brave just because I didn't censor... and I used to think that meant that I would tell everyone in the whole world every secret I ever had. I wanted to be bold and dashing. I thought that meant the courage to write like Poppy Z. Brite about homosexual cannabilistic serial killers, but without a pen name. I thought that I had to be willing to be something that might not be accepted... and at full volume... screaming my braveness from the highest mountain top.

I wanted to suffer and plead upon the rocks... as long as my pain could stop one heart from aching... oh dear... dear Emily Dickinson.... And then I realized that I was completely fucking wrong.. maybe.

Honesty doesn't mean offensive and abrasive. It doesn't mean saying things that break your mother's heart. It can be quiet and calm and happy..... Honesty can be content and useful....

And here I am screaming the cry of a deaf-mute out onto a digital page... giving it all I got and I don't even know if anyone will ever read it... And it might not even matter... because here I am... brave enough to love, brave enough to not be the victim and not be the prince in shining armor... brave enough to just let go... to not be scared.... and to not run away from fear.....

To be the one that hugs my ego... as I do the back stroke in this pool of love....

Yes, even though I want to cry and even though I don't know what is coming in the next 10 seconds, let alone the rest of the week, month, day, year....

I am here. I am okay. I am calm. I am open.

Thank you.

This moment of silence is beautiful

It isn't because I'm busy that I don't feel like socializing. It isn't because my schedule is so packed with meetings and graduations, birthdays and celebrations, fiestas and paperwork. It isn't because I'm afraid or uncomfortable. It isn't because I can't carry the small talk or tell an entertaining story. It isn't because your event is draining or because I'm in a new town.

I can't explain that I just have no need to hear your little stories to get to know you. I don't need to know your favorite color, where you went to school or what type of music you like to see into your soul. We don't need to giggle over a little joke that we can reminisce over next week when are back at work.

I don't need that to feel a connection to you.

I don't need to bond over burgers and beer so as to not feel lonely.

I just like being alone. I just appreciate this time and place in my life. I cherish it but don't cling to it.

This is where I am at... this part of this retreat... this part of this life...

I hang out with the cats.... maybe we take a bath... or meditate... or stream a movie on netflix.

Oh, yes... I am here blogging to myself. Writing without a witness.... Witnessing only I....

And the sister was pretty and the son was funny and the deck was well-made, but that was then... 20 minutes ago... and now.... well, I'm here... in my quiet.

And, I don't know if I can explain it... or even if I want to, but I appreciate it and I love it... and this moment of silence is beautiful.

Staying in the present.....

When I step out of the present, I get tired. Too much thinking and I just want to go to bed.

I got a raise yesterday, and then part of me was thinking about the new amounts of work and how I could keep up while still taking care of myself... and how much more money I would make per month... and when the new pay checks would start..... and how there might be room for growth in this little non-profit.... And, then, oh the sleepiness. By 7pm I was ready to crawl into bed.

I kept listening to Grace, but the ego was shouting. I was calmer than I think I would have been just a few months before. There was less of an emotional roller-coaster, but I am just becoming more sensitive to these ups and downs. Even the few (dozen) stray thoughts that stayed longer than they were asked was tiring, but the good news is that I recognize this.

My anniversary was Sunday as well.... and I just couldn't cry and be sad because we weren't together. It just seemed to me that I had lived him the day before and the day before that and would continue to love him the next day... and why just this special day? Why just this day to build up expectations and be more likely to be let down?

Why remember the past that had good things but that also had problems, which are better now as we have continued to grow and become calmer? I didn't even need to look forward, yearning for the day when he will arrive. I was just comfortable as it was.

And when I did have those few moments of my heart aching... after listening to him and his bit of sorrow. Well, I listened to and paid attention to that tight pain in my heart, but I also listened to quiet Grace.

I took a bath. I read. I played with the cats. I meditated.

The more I just stay present, rather than drifting in dreams, the calmer and more content I feel.

It is harder to fight when you can't talk about what may have been....

This thought came to me from a fleeting memory in which I was a frustrated and emotional young woman trying desperately to fight with her husband, but literally unable to talk about what might have been. For the lack of certain verb forms (the conditional and the past tense subjunctive), I was only able to talk about what really had happened.

The fight was unable to progress because I could not clearly communicate my fears about some imaginary situation, probably to the benefit of us all.

Now, of course, it is easy enough to pick a fight over things that have happened or are happening (or at least how we have interpreted them), but it seems lovely to at least take out the fights, the worries, and the tears.... all caused by things that only happened in our minds.

Hmm... The funny part is that when I start to look at that last little paragraph, I quietly realize that all of the fights and problems have not been caused by the situations (real or imaginary) but by the whining and whimpering, or stomping and screaming of my ego.

Whenever I let go of Love and forget to pay attention, whenever I get caught up in the drama of situations that might have been or that might be, whenever I start imagining the repercussions or insinuations of each little word and action, then my ego takes center stage - rending hair and beating a deep and powerful percussion that whips everything up into a Dionysian frenzy. And while I play the part in that emotional Bacchanal, I am distanced from truth, and I let myself suffer (probably becauses it feeds into my "poor me" drama that keeps my ego going).

I guess the trick is to be unable to fight about these things that might have been, even when I have the words to do so, to see how pointless and silly it is to rage against the ghost in the machine, to just breathe and let the words come from that quietness of what really is.

A little shift

If I were to take a walk today or ride my bike or dip my toes into some cool river, what would be the important part of each of those seconds, each of those possibilities?

The truly magical thing is that I am really starting to trust and to believe and to let go and to have faith. Worries about money will appear or how I will submit my weekly quota of hours worked, but I can just gently say to myself that Grace will take care of it... that I will just pay attention and listen and that it will all be fine. The fact that it does work out fine is obvious and maybe doesn't need stating... the fact that I can release that little knot of tension is the part that seems like a subtle little miracle.

And so I think that now the trick is to just pay my demons a little less heed and, again, to really just listen quietly.

Oh, it feels like I am repeating myself. I imagine I just say the same things over and over again so that I don't forget or maybe they are little revelations each time.

And, really, even with the same words, each time I have a slightly different meaning. When I said the same thing three months ago, it hadn't sunk in quite like it has today.

I am really starting to feel fear drop away. I am really starting to loosen my grasp upon expectations and fantasies.

There are still a thousand games for my ego to play and a thousand ways in which I will learn a different version of the same lesson.... but things really are shifting.

Old routines of self

I am becoming so aware of the ways in which I am addicted to myself and my ego. This addiction, this battle that my ego wages takes a dozen different forms, but they are all variations upon a theme.

Recently, it has been a novel. The screaming ego child inside me pleads to read, even when my mind is already abuzz or when I can barely keep my eyes open and I know that it is time to sleep. I choose to bring it with me when I go to take a bath, rather than meditating.

And when the irritation from the novel becomes a little too overt, well, then I think a movie might be nice, or another clip of Rowan Atkinson performing live, or maybe I should write another review on Yelp.

I have been warned of motion that might come in as my mind starts to become (just a tiny bit) quieter, and oh, how true it is. In my mind I ask myself what I will do today... and there is never the possibility of just taking care of my body, my mind, and my soul; there is always some desire to achieve, to organize, or... as stated above, to fill my mind with even more words.

But, of course, I cannot fight. The battle would just be between the obvious ego and the one that pretends not to be the ego, so as to preserve itself with another emotional encounter.

No, instead, I must simply be aware. I must simply listen to that quieter, calmer, stiller part of me.... and not just fall into those old routines of self.

A little reminder for myself

I wrote to my teacher yesterday, slowly, carefully.... I was connected. I was honest. It was beautiful. My migraine went away afterward and my own words keep appearing in my head whenever I find myself obsessing and getting lost time, space or matter.

Before I wrote, I wanted to see last week as a failure. I talked too much. I told jokes and stories to be cool, funny and interesting. I let myself get excited and then stressed over immigration issues. I didn't take care of myself as well as I should have. The list goes on.

But I wrote and saw that I was paying attention, that I was learning, that I was loving myself. I had to admit that I knew almost immediately that my words were not useful, necessary or kind. And this awareness is something new.

I did choke on one sob this week, but I just loved myself and felt it and connected. And I had to remember that it was not that long ago that I was having daily panic attacks and couldn't handle anything.

So, the kindness and the surrender seem to be seeping in. And the writing helped so much.

I want to get that degree of honesty and connection in all of my writings... and all of my words and everything. And the writing really does help. I have perspective.

So, today I have to see that I keep wanting to get lost in how many hours of work I can get done or trying to get my apartment spic and span for my step-mom. Breathe.

The migraine starts to come back when my mind whirs too loud.

It isn't that I can't work or clean... it is that I need to stop obsessing and restricting energy flow. I need to just accept and surrender and enjoy the moment, whether I am cleaning the toaster oven, dancing to reggaeton or eating pizza.

I just need to keep this quality all of the time.

I need to listen.

Intention

No concern, no fear, no gossip, no intrigue. Simply quiet surrendering joy.

I want to connect to and radiate joy and love.

Migraines

When on the verge of a migraine, my brain doesn't work and I feel nauseous. There seems to be a fog between myself and paperwork. A haze creeps around me. Stress increases as I try to make files or type letters.

I persisted though and dealt with immigration stuff, maybe not the best idea....

But I also tried to not fight the migraine. I tried to just surrender, to connect, to be love, to listen to the voice that told me to dance.

When I danced, all was well. When I stopped and breathed, all was well. When I cooked, all was well.

But the computer, the thoughts, the little obsessings, brought stress to my muscles and tension to my stomach.

I want to surrender to Grace. I want to just live as an expression of source. I know that this is more real and necessary and helpful to everyone and everything than waiting on hold with the IRS.

Today, at work, I want to quietly listen and surrender.

I want to stop directing the conversation and talking so much... I don't need to be witty or interesting. I need to be a quiet and magnificent manifestation of the love of God.

Oh, these old silly habits.

Hey, those are my demons!

I was cuddled in bed this morning... half-dreaming, half-listening... I had a dream that resolved around a problematic issue from the past that woke me. I stumbled to the bathroom and realized that the energy from my loved one felt different when he said those hurtful things. Ahh, I realized, it was not him that said those kind of words; it was his demons that spoke those words, that caused that pain, that blocked us off from Love.

I gracefully crawled back into bed and realized... Hey, those are my demons! Yes! As I focus on the pain of the past, as I let the pain of different lovers merge, I realize that they are my projections, my pains, my disembodied demons milling about. The key is not playing with that demon energy. Yes! Yes! I thought and then yes, yes... as I drifted back to sleep.

Then, in the shower, I realized that those demons also play with me when they have me focusing on work, on budgeting, on judgmental things, when I really just want to be meditating and letting go into Grace and God.

So, let go... let go! Let Go! I say.....

Ego Tricks Part One: Time

My ego plays tricks. I play mind games with myself.

A popular one is obsessing over time: Will I get to work on time? I was the first at work, again! How long have I been on lunch? How much time until the end of the day? How long did my commute take me? How should I micromanage my free time? Where did the time go?

The questions swirl in tight little circles and everything sinks into that one heavy moment.

The energy stops flowing and I stop quietly enjoying the moment. I stop paying attention.

This is one pattern to gently disassemble.

11/5/11 Note: Ha! I can't even remember being like this. I know I still care about being on time, but this is one thing that apparently got unraveled when things fell apart earlier this year.

A brief introduction

February seems an appropriate time to start this blog as now is the time when I cut myself off from so many sources of input. Until the end of February, probably until after my birthday, I will not read, not books or news, only things for work and a small book of poetry by Hafiz, I Heard God Laughing. I have also taken away movies, Myspace and Facebook, along with the fact that I keep trying to talk less and less.

I saved at least 400 anytime minutes this month on my cell phone and probably 1,000 more of mobile-to-mobile and night and weekend minutes. Yet still I find myself talking and I become aware that I am talking just to throw a bit of myself out there, just to have some of my energy floating around and recognized by the people around me.

This seems silly, as I know that my energy is out there and that people in other states and countries can recognize it and I can connect to the whole universe, but I guess old habits are hard to break.

I found myself doing sudoku last night, maybe as an attempt to pacify myself. I am not sure if I need to take those away for this month or not as well. I am thinking of going to the library and checking out a book of paintings. I also want to buy some finger paints and some paper. I want to take more photos and more slow walks. I want to change the way in which I express and see myself. I want to go deeper and sideways and see what this life has to offer.

I write here because I want to share, but I don't want to talk and talk about myself at a time when I would rather be listening.

I like writing. It helps me find clarity. It helps me find quiet.

Okay, off to the store..... much love.

11/5/11 Note: Oh! All of what I was working so hard at changing then changed when I lost my mind this year. I have to say I'm glad that so much of me was broken down.