Calamity Dreams
This morning I first work up around 5AM when Phoebe, the youngest cat, decided it was time for her snuggle. I dozed off again once she settled down against my chest. When my alarm went off an hour later I had drifted into a nightmare of sorts.
I was at a team meeting for work, however, there was imminent flooding happening. People had been evacuated, however, there was not enough room to take everyone and I was one of the ones still remaining. I could see waters rushing though the street outside, rising rapidly. As I was frantically gathering together what items I felt would best prepare me to survive outside and opening a window to climb out. That's when the alarm went off and I awoke with a start. Hours later I find I can still distinctly recall feeling somewhat frantic, that I did not want to die, however I was also very calm, efficient and methodical about preparing to escape on my own. I also had a sense of acceptance if I was going to die, I just sure was going to try and prevent it if at all possible.
Work has been filled with upheaval, so the bit of work thrown in there makes sense. In Portland we've had 6 people retire due to downsizing. They all got very good retirement incentive packages, but two of the 6 were people I genuinely felt like were my friends at work. I've felt a little lost without them, especially in team meetings where sometimes the other part of our team in Denver ride roughshod over the Portland folks. That the dream was a face-to-face team meeting too doesn't surprise me as those often leave me feeling uncomfortable and hits into all those ways in which I feel awkward and uncomfortable being a part of a group.
I shared the dream with my boss, who gave me a concerned look. She's the one person I've always felt was my friend at work, it helps that she's only recently been my "boss". In the past two years I also started to open up to her a little bit about my PTSD. Moving in 2006 really set off a lot of things and I needed the space to work from home a bit more often, finding being in the office too much to handle sometimes. Especially after having had some flashbacks trigger during a team meeting; I figured she really needed to know what was going on since it was starting to affect my work to some degree.
When I told CK about it later she asked if I thought it was related to all the stuff about Mom churning around. I thought it could be -- when I look up a little online about dream interpretations I find that having a flood in a dream may represent emotional issues and tension or possibly feeling as though circumstances are out of my control. Dreams of escaping might signify good health and prosperity -- not sure if I was going to escape, but I certainly was making my plans for it and was fiercely driven to survive. I also find reference to dreams of escape being about feeling the need to discover new potential in myself, drop old habits, or that I've encountered some self-imposed limitations and feel the need to overcome them.
I suppose all of those things fit pretty well. I absolutely have a huge amount of tension around my relationship with my Mom; how to maintain as healthy and positive relationship as possible given the history there. This is tough practice. A few years ago I saw how heavy the aspect of a "hungry ghost" that hangs over my Mother and most of my family. Sometimes it gives some reason to, but never an excuse for some of the ways she behaved. Other days I really despair at how willingly, desperately she clings to delusion, resentment, and dissatisfaction. On those days I try and stick with what my teacher reminded me of, that my practice on her behalf helps her even if she refuses to help herself.
That I need to discover my own potential... If I were to say otherwise AM and CK, not to mention my Zen teacher and therapists (psychotherapy, massage therapy, physical/craniosacaral therapy), would be quick to point out this out to me. Not necessarily discover, so much as feel grounded in, believe in my own potential. Last ango my teacher suggested I work on developing pride in what I've accomplished. Months later I still struggle with it.
Sometimes I get a glimmer of it. Tonight I convinced my yoga students to try shoulderstand. They gave me dubious looks after I showed them pose, but I walked them through it carefully. After a few minutes I looked around and saw several wavering pairs of legs up in the air around the room. All of them attempted the full pose and did very well, most of them doing the pose for the first time, after I'd given them options to do only part of the pose if they felt that would be more comfortable.
That's big and obvious, it easy to take pride in that. I have confidence in my ability to teach a challenging pose to beginners while encouraging them that they could do it. I do recognize pride in the rush of positive feelings upon seeing them all trying and succeeding.
The trick is recognizing and cultivating that positive side of it elsewhere. That's what seems so much more difficult at times. I spend such amount of time not even thinking about myself. Not in a mindful denial of self or an endless litany from the inner critic. Not even that much attention to self. To learn how to have pride takes being more mindful of myself and that is challenging to learn. When I maintained a persona it was easy to be mindful of the self I thought I was, I spent a great deal of time on being caught up in the idea of self. With the persona gone, with finding the path to who I really am -- maybe who I was as a child or who I was before this lifetime -- there is a disconnect from a sense of self that makes pride or recognizing potential challenging for me.
The Path of Confrontation
Today was a bit rough. I woke up feeling tired, cold and aching in my back and legs. I'd planned to get up at 6AM to catch the 6:46 bus downtown but I turned off the alarm and slept until then. AM drove me downtown and assured me that I should consider working from home part of the day.
Normally I work from home Mondays. October through May I read for SMART on most Mondays nearby my house so it makes sense to catch up on email, read, then come home and work the rest of the day. I'll bring my work laptop home with me on Fridays so I am able to access the network via the VPN and can access all files, run Crystal Reports, etc. Most tasks I'm able to do via the Java client I can get to via a secure website, the reports are the big thing. Today just had many things that needed me to take care of in person, so in I went.
Some of it felt like the post-weekend blues on top of hurting a lot. Going to bed thinking about Mom meant for what seemed to be somewhat restless sleep. I forgot to take a melatonin so my mind jumped around in dreams that would be barely recalled when I did wake up. The temperature dropped quite a bit and sometime around 4AM I felt chilled, woke up, turned off the ceiling fan, and tried to get comfortable again.
By 12:30 the vague nausea was not going away and every time I leaned back in my chair to stretch my left hip spasmed. I phoned AM and he came down to get me. I feel bad being driven around. I hope the balance evens out that my vegan diet offsets some of the rides AM & CK give me. More than anything it just gets old hurting to a point that I want those rides. Mostly I just try to be grateful that neither of them seems to mind running me around.
I was thinking I don't know what to do with all the Mom stuff. At times I just feel fed up and angry. I've felt so tied to her all my life, a message she's spent countless hours reinforcing. How I'm her "miracle" and how she's done everything for me. That's how she sees everything, through the lens of her sacrifices. She retells things she's worried she may have done wrong as mistakes made while doing the best she could.
There's times I just want to start yelling at her and not stop. I know it is futile. Even if she were to stay an listen she'd rewrite everything I said before she committed it to memory. More than that when I weigh that action against Zen precepts I really find it lacking. It isn't that I shouldn't expect to never get angry, I should not give rise to spewing forth that anger. I should just stay with the anger to see where it comes from. Much of the time the anger at my Mom arises and I just accept that it is reasonable for me to be angry.
Anger is stressed by some as a path to healing, the backbone of recovery. Anger frightens me and I am physically ill when I feel the searing heat of it, seemingly to me that my hair shoots straight up from the temperature and energy of it. So it is easy to not give rise to that, just for that reason alone I'd rather not follow the path of anger to heal.
More than that it feels wrong to ruin whatever delusions of happiness, perhaps even moments of real happiness (I sincerely hope) my Mom has left. I believe that's why she rewrites everything to cast herself in a good light -- the overburdened, poor, single-mom who has a heart of gold even if she makes the occasional mistake. I know too well the reality of the overburdened, poor, and divided attention & absence of a single-mother in the early 1970s. I just also know that her choices weren't always mistakes and were certainly not founded in compassion much of the time. But to cope with her choices she rewrites it all so somehow she sees herself as a heroine in one of her romance novels.
I suppose I see too clearly the obvious sadness in her doing that. Seeing that I know releasing my anger with her choices at her would be so harmful. I know it wouldn't change history or really leave me feeling any better. Nor would it further any kind of progress or growth. It would merely be giving rise to anger and, although I've not made that vow formally before my community, I'm trying to practice it.
Festivals, Evangelicals, gardens, and Mom thoughts
I've had such a nice couple of days! I'm trying to allow for one day of the week where I don't get an entry down and that is fine. So far it turns out to be Saturday night. Makes sense as that night I've often had a busy day and either all of us are up late hanging or CK & I are over at her flat or out. Either way, in late and it seems far too late to try to and write too.
Yesterday we all got up. I had nodded off again and woke up at 8:30 when AM called up to me. He said he wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be able to join CK & I volunteering at the main gate of the annual Waterfront Blues Festival. A volunteer organization associated with retirees and employees of my company work together every year to process donations of money and food for the Oregon Food Bank. Since both CK & AM had expressed interest in going I suggested we all volunteer. After our stint we could enjoy the festival for a little while.
I was a little frustrated with AM who was suffering a headache he thought from sleeping downstairs on the futon, next to Bodhi's crate. CK & I had said we'd sleep over at her flat so AM could sleep upstairs, but he'd wanted us to be at the house and not driving home late after fireworks (and drunk drivers). I thought we needed to be downtown a full 30 minutes earlier than we were expected so I was feeling rather anxious as CK was still sleeping! AM ate some breakfast and felt well enough to go, CK got ready and AM discovered I was wrong on the time!
We managed to get downtown, find our group, and get dispatched to our jobs for a few hours. AM stood at the gate end dividing entrance from exit and helped security get people in through the correct gate. CK and I stood out in front of the gates handing out festival programs to people arriving. The sun wasn't out much so it was not as bright nor hot. One of the volunteers brought a bubble gun and filled the area with bubbles between trucking boxes of food from the gate to the truck.
The only thing that made for a day of practice was an older man with a younger one who were handing out pamphlets for "Jews for Jesus". A Jewish friend of mine had once told me about this group and how angry they had made her during college. She had realized that anger stayed with her beyond college and colored her impression of a lot of Christians. We'd find out later, watching the group leave in a van, that they were associated with the evangelical Apostolic Faith Church. Having that history in my background I immediately felt myself closing off to these people and watched the reaction of judgment I felt welling up in me.
The older man tried to engage both CK and I. I could feel anger rise up hot in me when I heard him say to CK that she didn't have an open mind because she wasn't willing to listen to what he had to say about Jesus. I strongly felt the urge to jump in and berate him and tell him to just shove his religion. After some moments he would try to engage me. My telling him I practiced Zen gave him just a pause before launched into my listening to the way of Christ. I tried to just breathe through my desire to tell him I'd tried that way and found it overrun with unethical men. I finally turned to the approaching festival-goers and told him that my job was to be handing out programs. He didn't try to engage CK and I much after that. AM would later note how he too had been fighting the desire
Later I would over hear him telling the younger man how he had to push past the resistance people put up. How to just make people take the flier. How to ignore what people were saying about having a faith and insist they listen to this evangelical message. How to get in front of CK and I so people would think they were getting programs, just get the fliers into peoples hands. "You've just got to do it anyway, just get in there and make them listen." I would hear him say.
When I talked about it later with CK about how angry and judging I was. How I tried to be compassionate in frankly turning my back on that man. Perhaps turning my back to him and focusing on the task assigned to me was the most compassionate act since it took away the danger of my engaging further, possibly vocalizing my anger. Compassion is the key here; CK noted that what was lacking in the way this man engaged people. She actually had a copy of the flier they were giving out; rather poorly drawn and some message about a truly "cultured" person was following the path of Christ. I found the flier to be very disingenuous.
What's strange is that when I try very hard to think from that man's perspective I wonder if he does people he's being compassionate. That he believes we're all going to go to Hell and by forcing us to Jesus, "Saving" us, he is doing an act of love. I just don't think any way that tries to use what I see as unethical methods to be a real act of faith. At times I feel like the evangelical Christians are using a "quantity" approach and the "quality", the true cultivation of deep faith, isn't as important.
We all would reflect on how the way in which Zen makes Dharma available, but does not take a stand on most topics, does not proselytize is something that attracts all of us. There is such deep, deep truth in this. Each person must find a Way. If they are forced, coerced, or done through a less-than-clear message than how can the Way be true?
We were all relieved when they finally left the festival gate.
After our stint we strolled around having some food (not truly worth reviewing) and beer. Listened to some music and enjoyed each other's company. Afterwards AM dropped both CK and I over at her flat. We should have made dinner. I'd eaten very little during the day, especially not much protein. We ended up doing other things instead and then dozed off. CK had said just before falling asleep that she felt weird -- somewhat of a code that some memory or emotion may have triggered.
I had tried to stay awake. I dozed off myself after seeing that she had taken her arm off her face and was sleeping. I woke up a little while later feeling disoriented as I very rarely nap and a nagging feeling of unease hit me. I tried to get up to check the fridge, sort out stuff that had been tossed aside, and felt rather unwell. CK awoke and saw that I wasn't feeling well. She assured me that she was fine, just over tired and drowsy from having beer.
We soon realized our respective blood sugar levels was crashing! Neither of us are diabetic or hypoglycemic, but following a fairly healthy vegan diet means that our blood sugar does drop pretty low. Both of us tend to not like the idea of eating when it gets pretty low, which isn't very helpful when all you need to do is eat! We tried to get together enough to go eat something but couldn't think it through very well. I finally said I was making tofu sandwiches, since all the ingredients were on had. We ultimately got to making salads topped with grilled tofu. Once we sat down and ate we were feeling better. We listened to a recent This American Life and a story from David Sedaris' newest book. Then ended up crawling into bed and falling hard asleep.
We were able to sleep in a little bit this morning, I finally got up a little after 10AM to shower. CK made me toast and a smoothie (which I usually have a little of to go with my toast). Then we went to my yoga class. She is going to take it this summer along with trying to go with me to Joy's class on Wednesday's. Afterward we went to my house and picked up AM. After lunch and shopping we worked in the garden. AM & CK worked on stripping the lawn out of the third raised bed and I worked on getting all the tomatoes caged, sprayed down the cucumber & summer squash with a neem solution, and did a little weeding & dead-heading.
DW came over and hung out with us. We made some tofu burgers for dinner and sundaes for dessert. DW really liked the shirt I picked up for her at Paranada while on vacation. She told us about the plans she's making to travel cross country for a while. I thought how I never had the chance to travel like that when I was young. I immediately had students loans after getting out of college, very large ones. I was rushed off to college right after high school. I paid for all my books, took out loans, and was generally broke. My parents didn't help at all except for a little bit of money once in a while. My mom also had a real insistence that if I lived with them at all I follow her rules; I cannot even imagine her ever supporting me in just taking off from the "real world" to travel around the countryside taking odd jobs!
Some strange odd things about Mom popping up this week. The memory of her trashing my room, sometimes just because I didn't fold clothing in my dresser drawers the way she insisted. Or that I just shoved stuff into the drawers, even if they closed completely and the mess inside wasn't seen. She'd just dump everything all over my bed and across the room. Emptying drawers, the closet, clearing things off of dresser tops.
It popped into my mind while making the bed at CK's flat. She had once commented on how I almost always make the bed. It made me laugh to think of this thing I do now, not over done, just really neatening the bedding, was such a war ground with my Mom. Then tonight thinking of the way she tried to point me, direct me always. I really would never have gotten support to leave and had I left she'd have told me I couldn't come back. She practically forced me out of the house when I started dating Anthony, even though I wasn't ready to live with someone. If I hadn't been pushed out I'd likely have never married him, then divorced.
Fireworks!
I'm finally getting to my post for the 4th on the fifth since just now the house is settling down. Turned out to be a very full, busy, good day.
I woke up at 8AM feeling groggy from going to bed at nearly midnight and having taken some melatonin to be sure I rested better than I had Wednesday night. My back hurt, I felt slow and a little nauseated. AM and I got up and went to New Seasons to get some shopping for the day in ahead of crowds. We wanted to get things done early too so we would have food to take out to the monastery for the Fourth of July, pan-Buddhist picnic.
AM checked in with me if I still wanted to go all the way out to the picnic; I had to admit I didn't look like I felt like I was up to it. But I pressed on ahead with the cookies I wanted to make and AM worked on making some potato salad. We realized that it would work best if he stayed home -- AM wanted to clean the house and get some things done that wouldn't otherwise get done if all three of us went to the picnic. CK and I ended up heading out to Clatskanie together, enjoying the day of food and sharing.
CK's mother phoned while we were out at Great Vow, leaving a worried sounding voice message. CK had sent her a letter on Wednesday telling her mom about our relationship. On the drive home CK and I talked a lot about choosing a relationship path that is so widely different from the cultural norm. Not only does it require us to be very creative and painstakingly honest, but it becomes a challenge to everyone we meet and share this information with.
I've been moving forward to tell members of my Zen community about my relationships and the state of things. On Thursday my therapist noted that the responses I've gotten must be very validating. I hadn't recognized it as such at that point, which isn't out of the normal for me. Now, after a couple of days I'm starting to feel that. The idea that I'm really going to be able to be truly authentic and the world won't blow up in my face. It is so hard to relax into idea, the instinct to brace for impact, to make myself small, is so ingrained.
CK ended up talking with her mom for a while, sitting out in the car so she'd have quiet. KW and D came over. We got together veggie brats, tofu & tempeh burgers, AM had made more potato salad, I sliced up some watermelon. All the while I worried that the conversation was going poorly, worried that CK was having to suddenly defend something that is a source of happiness and nurturing in her life. After nearly an hour I couldn't stand it and tried to peer inconspicuously out the dining room window into the car. I felt huge relief when I finally was able to confirm a genuine smile on CK's face.
Fireworks of a personal nature. Lighting something, throwing it up into the air and hoping the world greats it with appreciation. There's a chance that you'll throw something up and it will go all wrong; either a dud or sparks flying dangerously close to important things. There's also a chance that everyone will have a glimpse of the true possibility in the world.
Fireworks and Thumbprint Cookies
I'm finally getting to my post for the 4th on the fifth since just now the house is settling down.
Attempted the chocolate thumbprint cookies from Vegan with a Vengeance and found that the recipe didn't really work the way it was described in the cookbook; luckily I've done a bit of baking. I opted to put the very batter-like cookie dough into mini-cupcake paper liners and I ended up with something that was rather like a brownie. CK doesn't care much for jam and there are strawberries & cherries in season, so I put a few chocolate chips in each "thumbprint" and then pressed either a half berry or cherry in each brownie/cookie. They looked lovely and tasted delicious. Unfortunately we forgot to take a photograph of them, although we did discuss that we should take pictures of the dishes I make.
So running late I made it over to CK's and she did the driving out the Clatskanie. We listened to Gigi, Mimi at Dalo's was playing her when we had dinner on Wednesday after yoga, and then some of David Sedaris' new book. We got out the Great Vow just before meal chanting began and enjoyed the afternoon there very much. We ate lots of food, walked around the property, played mancala, talked to people, and then made our way back home.
Chanting, O My
Tonight I sat in the front of the zendo and chanted service. I didn't look at anything but the chant leader materials, I just tried to think about projecting my voice, and I didn't pass out. I was very nervous when I found out via the Dharma talk that the chant we're doing had changed last week while I was in Canada and was NOT the one I'd been practicing!
Afterwards several people told me how well I did. CK commented on this as well and asked if I was able to take note of the compliments. I noted that right now I'm still feeling the anxiety of being in front of everyone, not only that but using my voice in front of everyone, and the general relief of being done! She noted that afterwards I seemed a bit like a balloon that had been let go of, all the air rushing out of it, and deflated. I agreed I felt pretty drained.
There's the part of me that is just so uncomfortable with using my voice in a public way. All through the first sitting period I'd periodically hear my Mother, Aunt Jean, or Grandmother's voice telling me that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket -- a refrain I heard through out my childhood an adolescence. Even after voice lessons, singing in the college choir, the masterworks community choir, and having to do a couple of solo recitals it never felt easy. Those two solo recitals caused me nervousness to the point of illness, just the same as when I read my personal writing or poetry aloud. Thankfully I was able to mostly get rid of those voices during the second zazen period.
Then there's the general disconnect I feel in a group. I have a group of friends I feel comfortable with after over 10 years. Even in that group there are things people didn't know about me, especially about my struggle with PTSD, until just the past year! Trying to look at that with CK on the drive home from the Dharma center I noted that the one group I did have constant, my family, I was invalidated, unwelcome, and often maligned. I have never felt the feeling of belonging in my family that most people describe. We moved so often when I grew up that I also felt like I never got the hang of being with a group -- every time I'd get close to feeling comfortable I'd move away.
To get out in front of a community that feels like I belong, even if that belief seems a little shaky and uncertain, felt enormous. When I started to chant I could hear nothing for a moment but my ears ringing. Then I heard my voice, settled into a sutra I do know even if I didn't practice it. I may be deflated, but I didn't explode into a poof of anxiety.
And now, having resolved the 99% full /home on my production web server (Monday I must look into why my backup prune script stopped working) I'm going to go to bed and try NOT to dream about being in front of people or my family!
Combating Excuse Number Two
Clearly excuse Number One for not writing is, "I don't have anything interesting to write about."
I don’t want to write boring entries
My Tuesday evening yoga class was filled with four new students, one completely new to yoga; eight total signed up. I found that the community center had not adequately alerted students that the class started a week later, fortunately no one seemed too upset over the confusion. So far my Sunday class has been very small, only three people registered with some drop-ins showing up. Usually the Tuesday class is that way.
Although my back had been aching after the drive the past couple of days I was pleased to find my energy somewhat improved for tonight's class. It helped that I've worked from home the past two days. Tonight's class was more energetic than Sunday's because I was feeling better.
I restarted a blog in part to put travel narratives, restaurant reviews, and that sort of thing somewhere and the LiveBlog application on Facebook was not working for me. I also thought it would be a good way to try to get back to keep a journal. I'd been doing pretty well for a few months last year, but as spring progressed and my family grew to include my relationship with CK, I find it harder and harder to write in my journal. I thought perhaps putting it in a blog, which allows me to type would encourage me since I type very quickly.
However tonight I found myself as resistant to writing again as I did going to meetings again. It isn't as if I still want to be away from the routine of my life, there were many things about that routine I was missing last week up in Canada. I believe I resist writing sometimes because I have nothing interesting to say about my day. I like to write about things when I find them interesting or at the very least, entertaining. It is the daily humming and drumming that is hard to get back to, the tedious underpinnings of living.
I'd like to be interesting but there's laundry to be done, vacuuming is desperately needed, the cats need claws trimmed, somehow I'd like to fit in making baked treats for the Fourth of July out at the monastery, I'll be at CK's tomorrow night, then zazen with a meeting for the refugee outreach beforehand, I'm supposed to chant after service on Thursday & I'm terrified inside, I have a therapy appointment Thursday... And I'm not even giving thought to all the tasks on the work list that have come back into play or the rather busy weekend ahead of us.
Details rushing around. The white-noise of how life gets lived. On holiday or retreat you either have none of those details because you're outside of the routine on holiday or in retreat you have a very specific routine that takes care of all details so the mind can be empty of them. And I don't find them all the most interesting things... I can certainly pick out the things I find most interesting on that list and I'd really like to let all the work, chore, tasks lists fall to the side so I can focus on those, but life needs to be lived (which is another way of noting that there's a mortgage to pay, etc.).
So maybe that's why I don't want to journal sometime. I feel I've got nothing to say but the mundane lists that buzz around in my head, that I have to settle again and again. The routine of writing a journal becomes just another item on just another list and when I am not actively entertained on some level by the task, I don't want to do it.