The Critic & Writing
I was really touched by a comment on a recent post from a friend from my Sangha. I thought it was really interesting to know how another person could spot my inner critic at work. I didn't even think of it that way, but as soon as I read Patrick's comment I thought, "Ah-ha, there you are again!" I could suddenly recognize the same voice of my critic stopping me from using art supplies until my creations were "good enough".
I am trying to be mindful of this critic when I look at my writing and learn not to dismiss my writing in the same ways I tend to dismiss my art, my voice, and my own needs & desires. I'm trying to look at writing as a practice for learning how to spot my critic, hear her words more clearly, and am then able to work more effectively with her. It is also remind myself that writing is a means for sharing with my community.
Honestly, I've always enjoyed writing. Pretty much since I figured out that I could do more than merely read the books I dove into at a very young age. I would draw my own pictures and write about my life. When I began to learn about poetry, haiku first, I wrote that too. I even enjoyed writing papers in college, especially researching for them. At work now I enjoy creating clear, concise, helpful documentation.
The past year seems to have been about my voice. From the very literal way of become one of the chant leaders for my Sangha, being asked to write about my experience with mindful eating, to writing about the places I visit -- all of it deepens my connection to this practice of words.
Lineage of Yoga & Elephant Jackets
Yesterday I spent the day at the Portland Dharma Center as part of a small workshop on the theme Upholding the Sangha Treasure. I've been drained from the intensity of yoga teacher training and this was my only Saturday off since beginning of the year. In some ways it was the most focused discussion I've ever been a part of with Sangha members and I finished it just aching from the attention, the searching, the thinking, and often feeling like I wasn't doing a very good job.
CK had come down with a cold Friday evening and I was exhausted mentally & physically when I returned from the workshop. After minimal discussion I phoned Dalo's and placed an order. Once we'd enjoyed injera with the veggie platter (spicy lentils, mild split peas, cabbage/carrot/potato, and spinach/onion) we felt up to popping into the video store. Wall-E in hand we went home and curled up to watch it.
I'd wanted to catch Wall-E in the theater, but it didn't work out. I've heard and read nothing but good things about it since the release. I'd already purchased a copy of 'Down to Earth' to put on my iPod (well, that's more due to my decade-long appreciation of Peter Gabriel). It was really comforting to finally get to settle down and watch it, especially when I really felt the need for a quiet night. It was as beautiful, charming, and thoughtful as I'd heard.
Today I woke up feeling kind of shaky, not sure if I'm coming down with CK's cold, but my head hurt and I felt drained. I did not want to go teach yoga. It was certainly a morning where the commitment to teaching, the fact that people will show wanting me to teach them, sustains my practice. Without the knowledge that students would arrive starting at 11AM I would have easily crawled back under the covers the rest of the day.
That knowledge propelled me into the shower and out the door to Dishman. A brand new student arrived who'd decided to try a class out since she'd gotten tired of her DVDs at home. Dove's Mom, Claudia is visiting from Eureka. It is always a delight to see both of them. We did some side opening, hip opening, and several poses for the core muscles. I ended the class with the challenge of half-moon pose.
After class there were smiles and people telling me how much better they felt than at the beginning. I too felt better, I nearly always do feel better after teaching a class. It is those classes where the disciple of practice and the respect for my students brings me to the mat, but I just let myself be a vehicle for the five thousand years of history. At those times I am grounded, centered in the practice of upholding the lineage of teaching asana.
When class was over, as people were gathering up their stuff to go, Zoe held up a marvelous white jacket asking if anyone would like to have it before she donated it to Goodwill. The jacket has embroidered patches featuring elephants, beads and small bells. It had been a gift to her from a friend but she no longer wore it. I asked to try it on and everyone still there smiled, saying I had to keep it.
And so I did. I believe I'll be wearing it at the "graduation" party when teacher training ends. I look forward to a suitably festive ZCO event to wear it to in the future.
Investing in Self
I was chatting with CK today about technology. Well, my want of newer technology. I have an iBook that came to me 4 years old... a year ago. I said it was OK, really I mostly just write, blog, email, but it gets boggy & hard to work with... a lot. In fact, as I as I try to write this.
With the way my back bothers me carrying around a laptop gets really tiring. For travel I've been considering a micro, maybe something running Linux. Really, I've coveted a Macintosh Air.
I'm getting a bonus at work, which both surprises & delights me. I thought maybe I'd just set a chunk aside for my birthday in August and if there was enough left over buy one. Not think about it too hard, just go do it.
The day after I found out about the bonus the hot water heater went. What I then discovered as a home owner is that the cost to install the hot water heater professionally was going to cost more than the unit itself. We talked about it and picked out the most energy efficient unit we could get, with a 12-year warranty, and $1120 later the house has very hot water again.
And so go the thoughts of an Air. Only this afternoon CK was talking about how we should get one for me. What I came to see how my worry about the money, that I was spending too much, frivolously, was based in not seeing myself as worthy, devaluing myself. I finally commented to her how until the last year or so no one had ever commented upon my writing as something useful to them.
In the past year people have told me how much they've enjoyed, found useful and even meaningful my writing has been to them. This week my teacher Chozen asked me to write about my experience with mindful eating for her blog. Something I already wrote for her was included in her recent book.
Despite this evidence of merit, that my writing isn't merely some frivolous thing I do, I still am questioning if I really need such an expensive piece of technology. Regardless of the improvement to me, the help to my back, or any of those positive things it is hard to recognize that it is OK to want something like this and have it. What it really makes me wonder is why it is so hard to really invest myself at that level when it is easy to spend truly small amount of money on myself frivolously. To really spend money on myself that isn't absolutely necessary, like a hot water heater, that I judge as not being responsible.
Money
All my dragging of feet over talking to CK about how much debt I have right now came to an end when AM wrote a blog entry (public), not considering how I would feel about people knowing that fact. Suddenly it is out there and I felt anxious, ashamed. Finances are an area where I never have felt quite like I really get it. I get that I need to pay people certain amounts by certain dates and through painful error learned I must do this.
That I bought a house in 2006 is astounding and a little frightening to me, still. I never lived in an owned home growing up and within a few years of my parents finally buying a manufactured home my Dad was dying and my Mom ended giving the house back to the bank after all the planned upon pension payments dried up. When I was young my Mom and I lived in early Section 8 apartments, the first Christmas there we were one of the families "adopted" by the local fire department. I believe I got a tea set for present.
Cash was always short when I was a kid and the resulting tension was a constant companion, even while playing in the apartments of other kids I was friends with there. It got better when there was some more money, but I've come to have the perspective to see how poorly finances were managed. How sometimes decisions were made to spend money not because it was the right time, but because something was wanted. It was an environment impossible to learn good skills in.
Enter my first husband who ended up putting all the effort of household finances on me, not helping out when things were tight if it impacted his bills, quick to suggest that my bills be short changed, and even quicker to anger when things got messed up. I would try so hard, but even he provided the example of impulse spending to be made up for later (only later never arrived). When a roommate (his idea to have move in) began forging checks, stealing from us, once causing a short-fall and bounced check that then caused a utility to be turned off he was livid with me. After the truth came out, why there was a short-fall, that it wasn't my fault, he never went back and apologized for yelling at me. I still feel like at any moment I'm going to be screamed at for doing things wrong.
And into another relationship where immediacy was more important, impulse and gratification. During a time when there were two good incomes I managed to just stay ahead of the debt and what money I did save paid for a wedding. We would talk and talk about budgeting, getting better at staying within our means, and it wouldn't happen. Decisions would be made, effort wasn't made int he right place, and a couple of major feelings of disappointment over the fallout. So here I am hugely in debt, embarrassed about it.
CK has been calm, loving, supportive and positive. So much so I am unnerved by it. Here I am looking at things to cut out of my life, telling myself "no" to purchase after purchase, and feeling deeply ashamed of not being good with finances. Like I'm a very poor sort of grown up.
And instead she's talking about going to Hawaii for my 40th birthday in August. And she means it, if finances go well, which she thinks they will.
I've gone on very few big trips in my life. My parents sent me to one with my older step-sister when I was 13. An "American Heritage" tour of the D.C. area. It was probably debt they couldn't afford but did anyway. We took several car trips and would go camping, but most often my summers were spent partly with my Aunt J or, after she married my step-dad, with my Aunt D and Uncle J in Bremerton.
AP and I talked about a trip. I even got a map and hung it on a wall, pinpointing the journey. After a while I came to see that it would never happen, would never be a priority. I saw it at first with AM, but then he stopped working, wasn't really able to find anything and we adjusted. I knew we weren't going to make a lot of trips after that.
I felt unsettled by the discussion. At once excited, hopeful, and yet still feeling like I couldn't trust it. My mind was equally certain that something wasn't right and thinking, "after all I've messed up, why am being rewarded? Why isn't she yelling at me?"
Maybe just all along I've needed someone who is willing to share knowledge with me. Show an example of another way to approach things. Like so many things in my life I feel like I've had good ideas, but with no support or guidance they have never come to be what I imagined they might. From school projects, to artistic endeavors, to saving money.
A Gift of Sharing Pain
It has been a week since I saw my Mom, gauged the depth of fear in her eyes. I have been trying very hard not to freeze up myself in fear. I've also been trying not to fall deeply into any kind of blaming or anger as AM & I move towards our divorce. It has been especially difficult since I was already really feeling a lot of hurt and anger around that relationship so adding the worry about Mom has felt very hard. I've tried to create space for myself, letting go of even more of the things I think I need to do.
Going to sign the paperwork for the divorce really unsettled me a lot this past week. That it included a discussion around finance made it feel especially difficult. All the choices I made two and a half years ago, counting on things staying the same, don't make as much sense now. I keenly feel the weight of the debt I am in and it is painful.
After signing things the tension between AM and I was pretty great. We ended up having a painful discussion about the ways in which we've both been let down by the other. In the end it doesn't change anything, I'm still a lesbian who needs to not be married to a man any longer, but perhaps it was good for us both to let the light into the shadows between us.
I really want to see AM succeed and I don't think he would have done so with me. It is painful to think about and hard not to resent. I see him making efforts now that we're in the process of a divorce that I've wanted to see him make all along. As happy as I am that he's had any kind of catalyst in his life, it hurts that it couldn't have happened when I was there to appreciate it with him - as selfish as that sounds.
He's angry that my promise that he matter, he was different, was wrong. AM understands that at the time I made that promise, I meant it. That I continued to want it to be true, was unwilling to see that it wasn't earlier because I love him and don't want to hurt him at all. I wanted to not him more than I wanted to acknowledge that I felt hurt knowing that I was unsatisfied with him and unsatisfying to him.
That was Tuesday and after that painful conversation I had to pull myself together to go teach yoga. I was hugely relieved when only one student showed up, a student who's game for anything she can learn. It made it easier for me to only have to pull my attention to the present for one other person.
During that private class this student revealed to me that some of her neck and shoulder tension arises out of being abused as a child. I felt silenced by her sharing, touched that she felt comfortable sharing with me. After what felt like some long moments I revealed to her that for me the fear from abuse settled into my hips and lower back. We worked on gentle ways to get her shoulders to open and on some breath. I made sure to thank her for being willing to share with me and for letting me learn from her as well.
The power of yoga to settle one into the body in compassion and awareness is why I think it will be helpful to teach it to people recovering from trauma. This act of open sharing with my student, coming after such an emotionally raw day, helped me feel grounded and focused. It is a path of deeply knowing the body from the inside out and inviting compassion to flower for the body, the self.
A lot times I don't feel capable of teaching in this capacity. I'm afraid that in the middle of a workshop I'd start crying uncontrollably, overcome with grief and fear. I doubt my ability to teach and question if I am stepping beyond the boundaries of being a yoga teacher, assuming some kind of knowledge of psychotherapy when I clearly lack that training.
The act of sharing with my student on Tuesday showed me that I was safe. I was able to reveal my own PTSD and abuse to someone else and have it be met with acceptance and compassion. I was able to hear someone else and respond with love, gentleness. I am reminded that I know the asana and pranayama that help with PTSD on an intimate level. I do not offer counseling, I merely offer the space for emotions to arise, a container for the pain, and quiet space in which to observe that pain & cultivate compassion right where it hurts most.
What Good is Revisiting
I woke up feeling heavy, cold and anxious this morning. I got out of bed early thinking I'd take a hot shower, sit zazen a little, and then I'd be up to going to work. Instead I felt worse in the shower, no amount of heat seeming to help the cold grief I felt. After drying off, feeling small, I crawled back into bed, crying.
I'd gone through yesterday feeling tight with the tension of the news I'd received in the morning. A close friend's marriage, which has taken her into isolation in Kentucky, has turned abusive. My mother's received tentative diagnosis of retinal carcinoma and a suspicious shadow on her right lung. She'll be seeing a Kaiser oncologist for the right lung and arrangements are being made for her to be seen at the eye institute at OHSU. I just felt a kind of shock at it all. On top of getting ready to sign the divorce papers it is a lot to take in.
Visiting with my therapist yesterday we talked about my ability to compromise myself out of something I really need. How I'd felt really shut down when AM wasn't able to share my practice with me. How I have a weakness for being talked out of my needs, for being convinced that something else is just fine. She pointed out that I was going to compromise my sexuality, not experience a fulfilling relationship with a woman because I was able to not look at my needs.
In part it is conditioning for often being told that something else was good enough and I was being selfish for not seeing it. I grew very adept at knowing the good in situations, trying to focus on that because the times I didn't my Mother could be very angry with me, even striking me across the face once.
I can feel that part of my brain, immediately upon noting how she once hit me. Instantly going to re-frame, make that sound better. I note how it only happened once, minimizing the damage. It is the part of my mind that will insist that I was never injured by any of my family members, never had to seek medical help for anything. Like somehow the the lack of greater trauma made it all OK.
I asked CK to come to my physical/craniosacral therapy appointment with IW, trying to listen to the voice that needs. It was good to have her there and IW taught her a few releases for some of my recurring trigger points in my back and left hip. I decided not to write at all last night nor did I end up sitting.
This morning, crying in bed I decided to take the day off. Well, CK helped me to decide, helped me listen to the ways in which I just needed to cry, to rest, rather than listen to my inner critic who kept telling me to get up, get dressed, and go to work, be a grown up. Even suggesting that I was selfish and stupid for being so upset, that I was going to waste a potentially happy vacation day in the future I could spend with CK. An endless stream of reasons as to why I shouldn't just tell work I was taking a day off.
After logging in and seeing I had no meetings, I sent out a message that I wasn't feeling well. CK made me some toast and tea. After finishing those I slept for quite some time, utterly exhausted. I've resisted the urge to do more work beyond logging into my email a couple of times. I have knit a little and we're going to go for a walk out in the sunshine soon. I may even take another nap.
GM noted yesterday that she still thinks I'm expressing grief I've felt and held back for a very long time. I asked her, especially from my Zen perspective, what good is this to go back and look at this, to revisit these things. She said that in going back an feeling the grief I didn't, couldn't allow myself to express I can also look at why I felt that way. In the case of not getting to share a practice with Andy I can look at my need to share a spiritual practice with someone is important and use that experience to remember why I must express my actual needs, rather than rationalize myself, or be rationalize out of them.
What You Don’t Want
"Worrying is praying for what you don't want" says Bhagavan Das in the second production by 1 Giant Leap, What About Me?
It is a direct summation of the futility of being caught up in the future-moments, wasting the present. Worry is such an ingrained habit with me, I was raised in a family of worriers (in addition to the grasping and hating that went on). If I let it be there is a nearly constant chatter of revisiting what I have done, and wish I'd done better, or about what might go wrong.
Worry is the manner in which my Inner Critic communicates with, controls, keeps me from being present. Quite often it isn't even fully formed sentences or thoughts, just unchecked anxiety and shame. GW has worked with me to try and recognize the out-of-control emotion surges as damaging energy to be turned around. To mistrust the emotions and seek for the truth in the present moment.
With all the changes going on right now it is very difficult not to get sucked into the habit of worry. I'm concerned for AM, for his well being now and in coming years. I so want to see him happy and in a relationship where he can grow. I am very concerned for CK, for our relationship together, for me and my fears of something all going terribly wrong. When I go to far to those places I'm not here for the sound of Atari's kibble clinking in his bowl, CK illuminated by her laptop's glow, the taste of fresh pear in my mouth.
I used to think worrying was a kind of planning, not avoiding what could go wrong but planning for it. As if I could plan away pain. In staying with the sounds of the room, being present to sensation, I'm not avoiding the possible challenges of the future. I know we'll have challenges, but staying in the present moment helps to remind me that we're equipped to face them.
Routine Visits with the Inner Critic
Today was the start of getting back to routine. I worked from home, conducting or joining four meetings throughout the day. Spent a fair bit of that time showing users how to use tools. Some of the time was devoted to clarifying some questions about automated messages a tool will send out and in the late afternoon I was able to settle into some productive coding.
It felt good getting back into routine today. I enjoyed sitting in my little room with my headset on, laptops both handy, and plugging away at my projects. Zonker came upstairs around noon and kept me company for the rest of the day. When I got a chance to grab some lunch Phoebe came and lay on her back beside me while I at, patting me with her paws so I would rub her belly. I missed being around CK, I've come to realize that her energy around me, even when she's working on her projects, just feels good to me.
I'd thought about going to Dishman for a swim this evening, but at 5:50 I was just wrapping up a couple of code changes, fixing some bugs. I went downstairs and helped AM make some Thai style curry for dinner; chopping veggies for the pan. It was a nice, companionable to be chatting while making dinner together.
I've spent the evening writing about the fun Friday CK and I shared in Eugene. I also tried playing a bit with the layout and look of this blog. AM have watch episodes of Top Gear, DW has been off babysitting for some friends. I also wrote to my teacher.
At the New Year's party I had laughed when my teacher forgot my name. Mere moments before I had been introduced to someone from the Dharma Rain Zen Center and had chatted with her for several minutes. When CK came up to us I found I was uncomfortable with the realization that in my nervousness I'd forgotten the new person's name entirely.
I was feeling the anxiousness of being in a room full of people I don't know very well, if at all. Tight tension across my chest and my mind feels scattered. Add to it the hum and murmur of many people chatting in a small, hard walled space and it is difficult for me to focus on things like names. It has improved in the years I've practiced with ZCO, coming to trust in the ways my complete self fits into my community, but it is still difficult.
When HB could not recall my name while introducing me to someone I felt so relieved at his humanity that I forgot that he's been troubled lately by forgetfulness. This is the kind of mindlessness that leaves me feeling mortified that I could be so thoughtless as to laugh. Who cares about my relief at the simple humanity of my teacher, it is all about my Inner Critic shaming me for not being perfect in remembering the potential uncomfortable spots for people.
In the past I'd have sat with my Inner Critic. Cringing away as my faux pas was replayed for me again and again. Letting the shame and guilt close my mouth and heart up tight. I'd have said nothing, avoided contact and hoped it would eventually be forgotten, not used to punish me.
Instead I wrote HB an email this evening. I am not sure if I wait until Thursday to very rightly apologize in person I'd be able to do it. Too many days of hearing nothing but my Critic's voice. The email leaves a bridge for me to say something on Thursday, now that it is sent.
What I realized is that I'm not perfect compassion. I forget sometimes because the anxiety can leave me so clouded. Other people forget sometimes too.
I appreciate my teacher for what he teaches me. I know that I appreciate his humanity immeasurably.
End of Year Reflection
Tonight there was a practice circle after zazen instead of the more usual sanzen. As a Sangha we haven't been together very much since Ango ended mid-month; kept away by weather and holidays. That being the case HB thought a circle would let us all reconnect more as a community. He asked us to speak to what we've learned about ourselves over the past year and what our intention is for the coming year.
At first when practice circles are announced I feel deep gratitude for the opportunity to sit back and listen to others. To not have to speak, reveal myself to my community. Given the way the year has gone I voluntarily spoke up about mid-way through the regular members rather than wait to be called upon.
I've learned a lot about myself this year. There have been many hard and painful truths surface. What I settled upon to share, to be brief so all people would have time to talk is that I've realized what a "behind the scenes" kind of person I prefer to be.
I like being generous with compassion, patience, understanding and support with others. I particularly like it when I can do this from behind the scenes, facilitating the progress and comfort of others. Not that I don't like receiving acknowledgement for these efforts, but I prefer that acknowledgement be accompanied with little fanfare.
More importantly I realize how I am not generous with myself. I begrudge myself the same compassion and love that I easily give to others. I set unreasonably high expectations for myself and deny myself when I understandably fail to meet them.
Art Thoughts
I woke up having had unsettling dreams, tired and worn out. It was hard to get going. It occurred to me that I should jot down the dream, but didn't get to do it right away so the images drifted away while I showered.
After having lunch with CK today I finally went over to her new office with her. Although it is so near my own office downtown, for some reason I'd not popped in there at all. The building, split up into smaller spaces, is used by several artists and the scent of the place reminds me of the art hall at Beloit.
I can remember having ideas for projects in school as a kid but no one to work on them with me. Anytime I want to create something with my hands feeling at a loss as to how to execute what was in my head with my hands. I never got to take an art class after 7th grade ceramics. Not entirely sure why, maybe it was too expensive to buy supplies.
Like singing, art is a place where I feel resistance, my inner critic pushing me down, patronizing my ideas and efforts. Refusing to actually apply the word 'art' to anything I create. Craft yes, art no.