Recognizing the Shadow Self

A few posts back, I ruminated upon force.  I spent a week, or two, eschewing the word - contemplating its role in my life; actively discussing the topic with others; and then, finally, coming to a catharsis in which I recognized that there can be "good" in force.  However, what I neglected to mention in that posting was the shadow side of force - abuse.

I had to experience some of its affects, such as a loved one grabbing my arm in a forceful manner and then proceeding to emotionally berate me (I understood that this person's behavior was not personal, he was simply responding from a place of deep hurt and fear) before I made a long, overdue emotional break.  What was most poignant about these moments is how I, through my own processes of introspection, meditative thinking, and curious questioning, was learning to honor myself.  "I do not deserve that touch, nor do I deserve this behavior," was a deafening call that I had finally learned to both listen to and heed.  (Yes, at 32 years of age, I am just coming into my own.  Shall I be ashamed of this, or shall I revel in it?  Considering the fact that I now have over half a lifetime left to make different choices, I think I will choose the latter - thank you very much.)

However, this posting is not about abuse.  Rather, I wanted to write of the shadow self, especially in regards to how it relates to physical and sexual attraction.  If you have not already made the connection, I was referring to my now ex-partner in the above.  I do not share this because I want to convey any ill will towards the man.  Quite to the contrary, he is a beautiful, amazing being whom I love and care about deeply.  We simply were drawn together during a period in each of our lives when we were feeding the whims of our shadow selves on a daily basis.  After all, no one can "abuse" us unless we are actively abusing our selves first.   (Just as no one can set us "free," if we do not create our own liberation first.)

With that said, I have been a single woman again, after four years of a monogamous coupling, since July.  I have not spent this time looking outside of myself - for any thing.  My intentions, for the most part, have been focused inward - on a pursuit to teach myself how to fill ME up with all that I need so that I no longer project any longings in an outwardly direction or suffer through any ideas that what I seek is with/out.  What I have been doing is observing my whole self in motion, and noticing where my energy is drawn, to who, and why.   

Just this past weekend, two instances revealed themselves to me in which I noticed that I was once again, strongly and with animal force, attracted to a shadow self.  In the first case, I had been harboring painful feelings of attraction for another, for years now.  Yet, there has always been a schism in how this person and I interact.  On the dance floor, our engagement is flowing, intuitive, juicy, and generous.  However, in the day to day, our interactions are awkward, disjointed, and there appears to be a serious void when our bodies touch. 

Ironically, only a few months back, I noticed how split my own self seemed to be.  There was the me who moved around a dance floor with grace, ease, and lacking fear, and there was the me who moved around the "real world" deeply afraid of judgment, denial, and rejection.  I have been resolved, ever since, to mend this divide - to actively engage in as many moments of life from a place rooted less in fear and my vulnerable defenses and more from an open and expansive vulnerability that is softer, gentler, more yielding.

In this person, I also recognized my mirror image.  More specifically, I saw my fears of my own sexuality and sexual attraction reflected back.  What I mean by this is simple: for entirely too long now, I have been afraid to speak my desires, to give voice to that which I want.  Yet, I deserve (just as you do) to give myself the chance to receive.  Even if the receiving is a, "No, thank you.  I am not interested and I do not feel the same."  At the very least, this kind of feedback allows me to let go of my attachment and to move on with my feeling body. 
Next. 
If I do not verbalize my thoughts, however, then I am passing up on an opportunity for growth.  When I do not give voice to my authentic desires, then I am stunting my own well-being.   
No mas, por favor...

The second instance was more intensely charged for this other was a stranger with whom I spent a mere few hours in shared company.  In his eyes, I recognized my shadow self - my dark side that includes forcefulness, aggression, rigidity, and apathy.  I raised my piercing browns and met his, time after time and ignorant comment after ignorant comment.  There was no backing down.  There was only these two animals, meeting - with horns raised, hooves clashing, and nostrils panting.  It was pure, raw attraction.  It was potent.  And, it, he, invaded my dreams that night.  The force was truly that palpable.  It was...scary.

Scary because I could have very easily (fortunately circumstances did not, nor would not, allow for such a thing to happen) acted upon the desire.  The following day, however, after the two glasses of red wine had worn off, I once again came to understand that my own fear is still subconsciously affecting my carnal yearnings.  For, in each of these cases, I had been attracted to elements of me.  However, engaging with these sides of me on a more intimate level would do little to foster my own intrapersonal growth.  More than likely, what they would have provided is for me to continue running circles around myself, and hitting my head against the same old, closed door. 
No thanks. 
I'll pass.



         

   

 

"Lessons Learned"

Last Sunday morning, I awoke early for mango mimosas shared in the company of Sara, Ann, Greg, and Alice. We spoke of Goddard, art, theory, and more, as the sun rose over the Inlet and as the organic fluid emptied itself of one container, into another. From there, we all parted ways. I ambled over to the Madrona Mind and Body Institute, an old refurbished gymnasium that serves as one of the heartbeats for the Port Townsend community. At 10am, this vibrant group of Pacific Northwesterners celebrates with a dance church that they call "SoulMotion." On the hardwood, lacquer floors, I reveled in the opportunity to warm up my aching body (it had been a whirlwind trip, and I had yet to really take the time to stretch). I attempted to connect with the three dozen, or so, other bodies that were in the space - with my eyes, my body, my senses, and my spirit. I tried to work through my own tension, stress, anxiety, and blocks. I moved with the sun's warm rays as they filtered in from eastern facing windows. I observed 'pain' sitting around the region of my solar plexus (in the center of my chest and near my heart.) I recognized that time spent absorbing some of my parent's (and my own) disrespect affected me and brought some discomfort. I breathed in, and sang in
to the deep,
dark,
inner recesses
of
the
smallest
little
me.
And, I felt so much better.

By 11am, I was distracted by thoughts of my impending graduation ceremony (I had 30 minutes until the day I had spent the past four years building towards finally culminated). It was time,
to depart,
to move,
to leave,
to locomote,
to open another door and walk through it.

Here is where the lesson learned comes into play. On Saturday, after my presentation, I felt strange, odd, funny, and I could not understand my feelings. Maybe, I felt like a bride - so much anticipation for something that is over in a mere matter of minutes? Or, was it something else? I began to realize that I felt hollow, empty, needy. I wanted, I craved, I NEEDED, feedback, approval, advice, a pat on the back from the powers that be - from my advisors, and from these authority figures whose external voices will most certainly light and guide my way.

On Sunday morning, I expressed some of this to Deb. Deb then turned to Ellen and said, "Cara needs some feedback, Ellen." Ellen responded with the exact same words that she had offered up to me the day before, immediately on the heels of my presentation. "That was so generous, Cara," she had said. "Thank you," I responded. "You have just given me the absolutely best feedback because generosity IS a major part of my practice." Somehow, I had forgotten this little exchange.

In recent contemplation of these events, I recalled one of my first interactions with San Diego's hottest Swing dancer, Meeshi. After he inquired about my planetary alignment, he shared with me how my chart indicates that I struggle with the voice of authority, and that I need to learn to listen to my own voice. "Ha!" my defenses flared as I responded with a sweep of my hand. "I am actually just the opposite - rebellious," I defiantly claimed.

Yet, here was proof that I was still seeking outside myself, that I was still waiting for someone else to tell me that "your work is amazing, and worth sharing. Yes, you achieved your goal of engaging in a contact dance with the work that you had created, as though it truly were another living, breathing, being. You have talent, and your voice is needed in this world."

Indeed, this is what I have learned.
That I can choose to believe
that I have succeeded
that I can dig down
deep
breathe, feel, sense, and look inside
and KNOW
FEEL
this
all of this
because it all is
(true)























(and, it all isn't)

Practice, Take II...

The Practice is...

Presenting Myself

to as many moments as I possibly can.

Turning and facing

listening and breathing

feeling and sensing.

The practice is...

ongoing, and daily.

The practice is easy to





forget.

Yet, the practice is simple.
It is nothing more
than the breath
a breath
this moment
now.
This is the practice.
See -
it's easy.

The Trappings of Ego

spirit empty
body heavy
unhappiness weights a soul.

bereft of any desire for change
tortured from the inside out
stuck in a desolate wilderness
a pear-like shape crashes to earth
it plunders in impatience and fear.

touching upon this before
timidly, fingers have traced an outline
wearily, a mind has detected a nuance
a small fragment of something grander.

gracefully, i dance around the issue
running from it, i have hidden in the shadows
of looming institutions, and places to be
of pedestrian choked sidewalks and stale airport terminals.
i have masked it, in the everyday
of my mother’s love and the attention of others
of 9-5 school, work, family, celebrations, and death
i have pretended that the light is on
i have been faking it all along.

what is this
this great freedom of being
that with it comes chains
cold, steel links of slavery,
shiny, rose tinted illusory worlds,
and a confinement of thought?
what is this,
this deep, weeping wound that bleeds
out of every crevice, nook and cranny?

i have rolled it up and tried to smoke it
i have peered into a bottle and tried to drink it
i have kissed it wholeheartedly and made love to it on a bed of nails
i have eaten it until my stomach felt close to bursting
i have drank its wine and pissed its stench
i have read about it, talked about it,
sat in parishes and prayed about it
i have gotten down on my knees for it
i have even jumped out of an airplane for it
still, it persists and it pervades

this existence


it is numbless

it is unknowingness

it is the division of a whole
in the depth of the gut
it exceeds all definition
all words on paper
all emotion
all expressed feeling
what is this?

what is this when even in the midst
of all of the rehearsals, plays, and performances
in the midst of the finals time, and the first days of classes
in the midst of travels to foreign destinations and exotic locales
even in the midst of new friends and flirtatious romances
a nameless void festers?
i would prefer some temporary sort of contentment
in exchange for this gnawing, aching, endless nothing

it is the why and how obesity is reached
baggage to be pulled along in this life
it is the accumulation of material goods
the ball and chain of civilized life
it is the busy-ness of soccer practice, piano recitals, and part-time jobs
it is the cutthroat world of advertising and sales,
it is the eat shit and die, fake ass smiles of politicians and bureaucrats
it is the harbingers of new sciences
it rings in medical breakthroughs and it smashes through the glass ceiling
it originates in this immensity.

pleasure found
in watching babies grow
in seeing dogs bound from sea to shore after a beloved stick
reminds, but fades away
for i always return here, to this state, to this great country
of lack and servitude.

a lighthouse on a distant shore
i cannot locate
and although i know that i can best access that revolving beam
when i am fully present in the moment
when my skeleton is moving through this spacetime warp
i still somehow refrain
from dancing
i still somehow
forget to sing
to free my breath and allow it the chance
to dance with angels
to frolic with demons
to be pure energy
and to be free of the trappings
of ego.

21st Century Human

i climb a mountain,
and meet a blind man, together
we sing refrains,
favored cat stevens tunes
while our bodies feast
on clear san diego skies
and our moonshadows dance
out and over
an azure pacific.

i miss the warm presence
of a certain bald monk
who would read to me
the centuries old prose
of rumi
while we laid under
arcturus
on dirt dusted driveways
in recently washed workclothes.

i dig in soil in my mama's dress,
my hands,
reverberate
on the land, together
our pulse becomes
one. slowly,
a yard that is not my own
becomes.

i dive in backwards
and upside down
i wash with strawberries
and chocolate syrup
i hold conversations
in sound and words
in music and meaning
in dance and action.

i love a man whose tongue
is not my own
whose words can cut
like a seven-inch blade
and whose behavior can sting
like a good gin and tonic
i acknowledge that he is my/shadow
my counterbalance,
the darkness
i had been running from.

i crave connection
i seek humility
i desire nothing
more
than to reach out
and touch.

i feel desperately
alone
confined
trapped within
skin and bone
muscle and memory
nostalgia and fear.

still, it is the adventure
that keeps me
moving forward
walking new paths
pursuing electric connections
exploring fruitful ideas
and excavating
deep seeded emotions.

9-5
monday-friday
24/7
365
65 years of this
then what?

death
is written in these numbers
and figures which figure
nothing
into my well being
into my depth
of spirit.

success is living
life as adventure
journies taken
relationships pursued
and the pageantry of drama
spelled out explicitly.

life as adventure
is more than just a tenet
it is more than just some ten cent philosophy
that one can pick up
down at the local barber shop.

life as adventure
is not found in the hum drum
of the unconscious
it is not discovered
at the bottom of a beer bottle
in a broken down old bar stool.
life as adventure
is lived
in the rawness of your humanity.

i have stripped myself bare
right down to a bald noggin
with a disregard for panty wearing
and a preference to bleed
without a barrier without
some stupid piece of cotton
stopping me up like a dike.
i have laid down
on some god's marital bed
without a band
and with the only wish to steal
a mere pittance
from the riff raff's jean pockets
in the morning.

i have been caught
transporting hashish
across a foreign border.
i have spent upwards of 36 hours
in an american jail
listening to the tale
of a woman who smuggled crystal meth
via her vagina.

i have bedded down in the shadows between
a boardwalk and a beach
in the darkened corners
of a city at night
and behind sandy rocks
on an elementary school's property.

i have made friends with street urchins,
beautiful, young men who would sell
even their own bodies
just to earn a few disappearing dollars
together, we would throw a beloved toy,
a frisbee disc, around the gardens of a harare park.

i have come to understand
that there are not any actions
that are either above
or below
for my uncle's fate
of calling the streets of los angeles home
for the past twenty years
could just as easily be my own.
i have learned that there is nothing
that separates heaven and hell
from earth.

for i am mammal, flesh and blood
cut from the very same cloth
as my other earthly neighbors
i am homo sapiens
descendant of homo-habilus
wielding tools of milenia past and creating
nothing new under the sun
for i am the son, i am atom,
child of that revolving star
of brilliance and great magnitude
found at the center of our solar system
and i am the father, my seed will beget
more suns, to continue along this great march
of time, for i am also spirit.

i am 21st century human
i live in the future
i have lived before
and i am of the living now.


"and if i ever lose my land,
lose my plow and lose my hand
said if i ever lose my land,
oh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh
i won't have to work no more.
and if i ever lose my legs,
oh i won't moan and i won't beg
said if i ever lose my legs
oh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh
i won't have to walk no more.
and if i ever lose my eyes,
if the colors all run dry,
said if i ever lose my eyes
oh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh
i won't have to cry no more." --cat stevens