"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
When I was a kid, I would use my imagination to escape the fear-based reality given to me by adults. The rules, the sins, the “eat your lima beans or you’re not leaving the table.” Of course, using one’s imagination was deemed inappropriate not long after age 6, reserved only for books* and movies, so I kept most of my day-dreaming to myself. The woods were full of fairies, magical creatures, and talking trees. I was happy to wander for there for hours.
*Perhaps why I have always found solace in books and was THAT kid in school who would be found reading while walking down the hallway.
My own fantasy land right in the middle of the grey skies and the unhappy adults of Ohio.
But now…
…I wonder if I’ve had it all a little backwards.
Maybe my fantasy world IS reality.
And what I thought was reality is all made up. Maybe it’s still in physical, tangible form, yes, but created from the perception of a fear of an unconscious mind.
Are you following? If not, take a moment to let your mind play and your perception shift. (No, you do not need to take drugs to do this. Really, this is what all the spiritual teachers talk about it, I’m just simplifying it a bit in my own way.)
I may not have yet met a fairy, but there are literally butterflies everywhere this summer. I’m also positive that I know several human angles in my life that are supporting me on my journey, allowing me to fall but never break. Obviously, I live with a magical creature (Pacer). And science proves that trees do talk! (Thank you Suzanne Simard and the many other wonderful scientists/researchers exploring the inner lives of plants.) I’ve also got something better than castles…really, why would I need 500 rooms? To hoard more stuff that will only ever keep me trapped? I’ve got mountains, open space, and stars that wink to me in reassurance. Places to run free.
Pacer, the magical Narwhal of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
Sure, there are some villains and demons out there. Most are in my head. Or created from someone else’s head.
In my college dorm room, I had a printed piece of paper hung on my wall that said “Life is what you make of it.” I think I’m starting to get it.
Reality is what you choose to believe in. It’s not ignoring the bad stuff…I’m still going feel my heart sink each time I hear about another school shooting. I’m still going to vote, donate to animal rescue organizations, recycle, and support women’s rights advocates. Yet I am going to choose to believe in love and joy over fear and hate.
Because when I can sit still long enough, let my thoughts settle, and calm my anxiety, I know at my core that love, joy, and light are the basis of reality.
*I’ve want to give credit for this post to my Reiki therapist, who gave me the prompt for this and then told me “now go home and write the rest.”
I am at a waterfall. I am meant to go through. The answer is on the other side.
Why am I hesitating?
Fear.
Fear of what?
I know joy and peace lay just beyond the water’s permeable walls…
I fear myself. My perceived unworthiness. I need to suffer more- to erase the shame- to prove my worthiness.
I need to walk a thousand miles with bloody knees- no, sweating blood as Jesus did. I need to be so tired and broken- having given every once of myself- to deserve to walk through the falls. I am only worthy when in pain.
Yet my heart (Pacer) pulls me forward, anyway. I dig my heels into the ground, breaking against her pull. She tells me it doesn’t have to be this way. Pain isn’t the way to joy. Joy is the way to joy. Pain simply shows us when we’re not in alignment, when we’re separated from Love, joy, an our true selves.
She tells me, “Those false beliefs that have been ingrained in you, your family- it is your Light that is meant to break the illusion, for you and those you love.”
I remember the beginning lines from one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems:
“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” (Mary Oliver, Wild Geese)
So I let my heart pull me forward. Through the waterfall that has transformed into rays of light. I step through and exhale…
And then for a moment I step back out. “Actually, what if it’s not that good?” I wonder. “What if none of it’s true and there is still pain and suffering on the other side?”
I guess there’s nothing to lose…
I try again, Pacer impatiently waiting (“patience” is her least favorite “P” word).
All there is is light, even as I keep walking. It just keeps going, almost holding me even as I take another step. It feels like safety and I just want to collapse and rest for a bit. And so I do.
I’m not sure if it’s moments or days later, but eventually I wake up. Pacer and I shake out our sleepies together, but I have the feeling she was watching over me the whole time. Suddenly, we’re at the edge of the fall of lights. I can see the blurred other side through the rays. This time, I let my heart (Pacer) pull me forward without hesitating.
It’s all the same, really. Almost.
Just brighter. Vivid. More intense. Yet the colors don’t blind me and the love doesn’t overwhelm me. It feels like Home.
I am the same too. Just brighter. Clearer.
Okay, maybe I’m a little taller too.
Joy, emanating off my form. Clarity. The worry lines on my face have disappeared. Here, I Know.
In attempting the CDT, I journaled my intentions: following Sunshine (joy, intuition, Pacer) and being a witness to the beauty of the world. It was a combat to the shadow part of me that felt ambivalent about life. If I was going to live, I was going to LIVE. My older sister, and I say this in the most loving way, feared life. I was going to embrace the fullness, the magic of it for the the both of us. Plus, I thought attempting to hi across the country mightbe cool to do in a lifetime. I also wanted to embrace my FREEDOM- that I could make such a brave and bold choice for myself. And, while hiking for potentially several months didn’t exactly fit my all of my 4 core values (kindness/service, family/friends, growth, adventure/freedom) I thought I was at least being a good example for my clients. I wanted them to know that they too should follow their hearts, despite what others thought.
Only I’m not 100% I was following my heart.
I don’t think I could have knew that in the beginning. I needed to learn the difference between listening head and versus listening to the heart.
Perhaps I needed to start out by highlighting the areas of my internal world where I still wasn’t free.
“I thought the brave thing to do was try…but the braver thing to do was to listen to my heart.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love spending all day outside with my dog and cuddling with her all night. I don’t mind sweaty hair and 5 days worth of dirt caked on my body. Completing the Colorado Trail with Pacer is still one of the highlights of my life, even if I romanticize it a bit (or maybe a lot…to my credit, it’s impossible not to with the backdrop of the San Juans).
But I do enjoy a hot shower. Modern conveniences. Fresh food and going out to eat. A good glass of local wine.
I also enjoy..am filled with joy…going on runs with my sister and Pacer. Those days are always the best parts of my summer. My year-round happy thoughts. Really, I was just hiking to get back home: the Collegiate West into the San Juans.
My intuition knew this, asked for the re-route. Pacer new this. I made the decision to stop (after an anxious week) running downhill in Glacier National Park. My sister, Sandi, and her partner, Sage, were ahead running a loop. I had just finished hiking 90 miles in 2.5 days the day before and just happy to move without the weight of a pack. It was my 35th birthday. At the time, the decision FELT free, my body at ease.
It seems as though 35 is leaving me no room for bullshit. I wasn’t meant to be among a group of people who were mostly finding themselves. “Ray, you already know who you are. You and Pacer are Magic and Sunshine. You are Ray of Light. It’s time for you to go BE yourself, not to shine in hiding*, but SHINE for everyone to see.”, was my interpreted message from the Universe.
*To my credit I did have some good conversations with other hikers, particularly Day Hike and Happy Endings (trail names).
Right now, a week after my birthday, this is all coming through clear. At the moment, I am once again feeling free and at ease. I’m at the end of the waves…
…because as much as I would like to say everything is easy once you choose to follow your intuition, it’s absolutely not (although I am assuming it gets better with practice). My ego (fear, doubt, endless “what if”s, compulsive thoughts) fought back, HARD.
In the afternoon of my birthday, I was in the shower when I first heard my ego start to chime in again. With both my fingers in my ears and shouting (well, shouting in my mind…I didn’t want Sandi and Sage to worry) “I’M NOT LISTENING!” Now, I’m not one for suppression of emotions or shunning any parts (internal family systems reference), but I wanted to show my ego who was boss. And I wanted to enjoy my birthday dinner.
Really, I was doing well until the next afternoon. Then, heading back south and driving past CDT signs, my fear voices got louder and louder. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I should have at least tried? What if I’m missing the opportunity of a lifetime to have this adventure with my dog!? What if, what if, what if…over and over and over.
I wish I could say that I was able to return to my center, trusting myself, and knowing that regardless if there even was a right or wrong decision and I made the wrong one, that I would be okay…but that is not quite the case. Although I did still have the newly developed unshakeable self-love to fall back on, even admist the chaos in my mind. In actuality, I worried, stressed, and while helpful…texted and called way too many people. (Thank you especially to my guides Sandi and Tara). I cried after calling my dad, who was at a family party. He had been following my gps tracks and I felt a tinge of disappointment…not necessarily from him, but from myself. I hadn’t realized-or at least admitted- that even in my 30s, even after going off the beaten path since college, I still craved my parents validation.
I even called the aforementioned ex-lover* (from part 1 and part 2 of this series). I’m still not sure if it was intuition or impulse.
*I should mention, he is a good guy and I trust his thoughts and advice. Actually, I’m lucky enough to have dated several good guys (well maybe besides the one, who jus had too many demons inside eating away at his good) that I am still friends with. Knowing they care about me and Pacer, I’ll often seek their advice.
My former landlord (I’ll call her Carol for now since I didn’t get permission to use her name), whom I’ve started think of as a bonus mom, helped settle me more. Being an avid hiker and adventurer herself, plus former search and rescue member and a dog mom, she tends to understand parts of me better than my own parents. Often, I think my parents see me as an alien, questioning “Who is this child who refuses to live life by the status quo and talks about emotions, who has never saved a dime for a house but makes sure she buys her dog expensive vegan kibble? Where did she come from?” I’ve also always admired Carol’s inner strength and intuition as well, so when she said “Better safe than sorry.”, I knew she wasn’t saying it how the way most midwesterners say it (“Play it safe. Never take risks in life. Stay inside the lines.”), but in the way adventurers, explorers, and dog moms use the term (“Before taking a risk, remember what is most important in life, and consider what you are risking.”)
Still, this ego attack* lasted for the better part of several days, and I regretted stopping in Idaho and Utah on the drive home from Montana. When lost trying to find a trailhead in La Sal Mountains, I thought “I just need to go home” and drove until 9pm, passing through the end of the Swatch Range and back to Salida, to Sandi and Sage’s home.
*An ego attack is similar to a panic attack, but with the flair of existential crisis.
The funny thing? I KNEW I made the right decision. I knew by both facts and feelings. That voice, the one who knew, what I will call my intuition, was always there, just often drowned out by the SOS calls of my ego.
Why was my ego freaking out to this extreme?
I can’t remember if it was before or after hiking through Glacier*, but I remember saying to my sister, “I don’t want my ego to win.”
*Which I am very grateful I got to do…really, between Glacier, having previously gone to The Winds in Wyoming, and backpacking the Colorado Trail, I’ve done all the prettiest parts of the CDT.
And, while this wasn’t the first time I followed my heart, this did mark one of the first times in my life I didn’t listen to my ego, my fear (which surrounds my not-enoughness wound). This insight allows me to easily forgive myself for hurting my body earlier in life, first with an eating disorder and then pushing myself to long-term damage in ultras, because honestly, I wouldn’t have been able to handle the internal turmoil inside. Of course my ego was going to freak out. You see, it had protected me from so much pain earlier on in life, been with me since I left the god-like state of infant to toddler. All those attachment wounds, being misunderstood, my little empath self not knowing how to handle the confusion of the world on my own. My ego had kept me safe, and now, here I was, telling it I didn’t need it anymore. So I changed strategies and softened my tone when I felt the tightness in my chest and the “what ifs” creep back into my mind. “I know you’re scared”, I told my ego, “but I’ve got you.” “You’re enough as you are. We’re creating a new life. One full of endless love of and magic.”
The other message I received was that I was meant to “transcend my ego”. (“I don’t want to do it! It’s too hard!” I told a friend during one of my panicked moments.) By transcend, I simply mean “rise above”. By rise above, I mean that it was time to energetically put my heart before my head, to trust the voice within and not the voice of fear.
(I have heard someone claim they know a spiritual teacher who was able to soley live from the spiritual self, but on the other hand, I also know that friends of Ram Das (Elizabeth Lesser, Broken Open) will tell you that he was still very much human, perhaps until he had a stroke at age 71. My belief is that when you are able to step back, you simple realize that the ego is the human self, imperfect and fallible…and God, what a great experience, to be human.)
This is where bravery turns into freedom. Listening to your heart, trusting your inner knowing, following your dreams…being yourself, these are all THE bravest things you can do in a world embedded with and often ruled by fear. Or, risking getting it wrong, failing…this is brave too, because the ego will come back with the “shoulds” and “what ifs?”. This will be your opportunity to offer yourself compassion and shine a light into the fear. Love is the only thing that can ease the tension of fear, perhaps even dissolve it.
At the end of this brave path, there can only be one thing: Freedom. The ability to live beyond the ego, to live from the heart. Will the fear always be there? Maybe. I am still very an explorer on my spirit-human journey.
I am also still very much in the wanderlust phase, the state of in-between, embracing it. Others may call it “rock bottom”, needing to live with their sister and figure out the next steps. However, I know I’m in good company. Elizabeth Gilbert, Lewis Howes, they’ve been here too. Plus, I’ve been here enough that I know the best thing to do is embrace the opportunity, knowing I have everywhere to go and nothing else to lose. I have love. I have freedom. I have Pacer, family, and a few good friends. And, wouldn’t you know it…I got offered my Jedi Knight/wizard training basically for free (to be paid back when I get my book deal). Freedom, love, and joy. In that, I have everything.
Big Love,
Ray “Magic” & Pacer “Sunshine”
“If bravery is the ability to follow your heart in the midst of fear, freedom is the ability to find peace within yourself no matter the circumstance. Freedom is choosing joy.”
Ego: Feels like: Contraction, fear, anxiety, heavy, dread (often in chest or stomach). Sounds like: Critical, bossy “should”, and/or doubtful, uncertain, confused “What if…?” “Are you sure?”. (The ego is made up of several different parts on either end of the ego spectrum.) Loud.
The next key is to go with your initial feeling. For those of us not used to listening to our intuition, and maybe starting to do so for the first time ever, the initial feeling may only last an hour- or 5 seconds -before fear and panic come in. Remember that it is simply part of the process and to offer yourself compassion as you go through the waves. Remember that you are brave.
Pacer “Sunshine”…my hearts extension, always knew the answer. This allowed me, for perhaps the first time ever, to choose joy over suffering.
Actually, I’ve been terrified about most major life and big adventure decisions that I make.
My stomach churned the week before I flew to Tanzania on my own at the ripe old age of 23, and I was constipated the week before I started the Colorado Trail. The week before starting grad school, I was nauseous, even though I was starting the school year with a hiking backpack rather than one for books. I sweat through my first t-shirt during the 8 hour drive across the state to see the guy I had a crush on for 10 months, although I had luckily thought ahead and brought a change of clothes. EVEN before getting Pacer, I worried. More recently, before moving into a yurt for the winter, my mind anxiously debated (taking up most of my mental space) for nearly 2 months if it was the right move. Then, after deciding to take a sabbatical (the professional word for an extended vacation) when my bank account was already low in an attempt to hike the CDT with my dog, I often teetered the line between terrified and trusting. Luckily by this time, I had learned some inner tools on what bravery and self-love …but really, I was just at the beginning of the process.
Currently (as of 6/20/2023), I’m petrified (truly, nearly frozen in place) on making the decision of whether to continuing hiking or not. There’s fear of being stuck in the middle of nowhere in Montana with Pacer, or the fear of having no idea what to do or where to go should we return to Colorado, having no place to live and little income to work off of. After being close to a panic attack, I return to three questions:
Am I not trusting myself?
Am I not trusting (the goodness) of others?
Am I not trusting the Universe/Divine?
While it would most definitely be a big challenge, I know I would protect Pacer “Sunshine” and figure it out if we continued on and did get stuck in Montana (should Pacer decide she was done). Yet I don’t want it to be up to Sandi to rescue us (again). More so, I want Pacer to be happy. This brings me to the heart of my fears: the fear of making the wrong decision.
At this stage of my life, the fear is rarely on either end of the decision, but the doubt in making one. The suffering is in the the liminal state between thought and action.
My inner chatter goes something like this:
Am I making the wrong decision?
Am I being dumb for attempting to hike across the country with a dog?
What if the critics were right?
What if my mom was right?
Am I wasting time on a hike that might not work out when I could easily be playing on my favorite Colorado mountains and going to a local winery after?
Maybe I’m not brave, maybe I’m just ignorant.
Am I burdening others with problems I’ve created for being stupid?
If I choose to stop, would it confirm all the above?
Eventually, I catch a beam of light coming through the darkness. I use ALL of the tools I learned in the last 8 months and wrote about in “Light & Dark: Reflections on the Human Experience”. I return to that which roots me: my values, meditation, prayer, and love.
My core values (family/friends, adventure/freedom, growth, and kindness) orient me back to the life I want to create myself, one that does not offer certainty, but does require fully living and offers personal expansion. In the form of prayer, I offer up my pleas for help and guidance from the divine and the spirits who walk withe me. (Okay, often I’m asking for answers and really hoping that an angel comes to me in a vision or I receive a vivid dream where I am given me the specific, detailed, outlined, double-spaced in size 12 font answer… and then I just remind myself to surrender.) I meditate (after much procrastination and googling all possible solutions), coming back to my center in the midst of the chaos of my mind. Slowly, I return to my heart and the new found love (although I can feel its ancientness) I have for myself. Even without the answer, I can trust that whatever happens, whatever decision I make, that it will be okay.
*************************************
I am a big believer in both psycho-emotional-somatic inner work that I do in therapy, as well as energy work. In using both, it almost amazes me how fast things can move (albeit, the rush of intensity of the “negative” energy can be a bit overwhelming before it clears out). I wrote this piece and part two (currently sitting partially in my journal, partially in m mind), in the few days around summer solstice and driving through 3 national parks, using nature and intention to quicken and aide my healing.
A wanderer is willing to face death in order to be reborn. A wanderer respects the power of her emotions. A wanderer accepts her pain. A wanderer honors her healing.
Sometimes, a wanderer stands still.
A wanderer chooses the path of joy, knowing it will require great suffering. A wanderer enjoys good company, but loves her own the most. A wanderer knows how to befriend her fear. A wanderer’s path is a spiritual path. A wanderers best compass is her own values and her heart. A wanderer both awaits and creates.
A wanderer willingly steps into the unknown, but is rarely lost. [If she is, it is only for a moment, for she is guided by her dog. ] A wanderer stays true to herself in the face of doubt. A wanderer is led by her intuition, knowing light will always lead the way.
My then boyfriend, now friend, can tell you exactly how I looked when he dropped me and Pacer off to start the Colorado Trail, just a few months after moving to the state and having only done one very, very, short overnight backpacking trip on the AT. He’ll tell you that I looked like I was about to cry, that he could see the fear written around the worried lines around my smile. I actually didn’t know he could read any of my emotions in that moment until he repeated this scene to me a few months ago, because at the time, he knew what he had to do. He remained stoic, not allowing me to linger too long in our embrace, and sent me and Pacer off down the trail.
My tears are usually a mixture of emotions. Sadness, fear, and excitement all wrapped into a ball, moving from my chest to my throat.
The sadness is partially still from the ending that transitioned right into the beginning, but also a grief for the people I can’t take with my on my journey. It’s a love, really. The tears if sadness also mix in with tears from pure fear…a new beginning is stepping into the unknown. And, even while at this point in my life I know all will turn out okay, the fear of the unknown seems to be embedded into my DNA. Its grip has simply loosened. Blending in with the fear then, of course, is the heart of my adventurous soul singing out loud in excitement, for there is surely much beauty to be seen.
So is the cycle of my life. An ending, a beginning, and all the emotions in-between. Beauty in every step.
For a month, we have been doing some on and off running, but mostly hiking the dirt roads from our yurt.
But today, on a chilly spring morning with the clouds hanging low over the mountains, we ran! Yes, still hiking up most of the hills (we do live above 8,000ft), but running everything else.
At the halfway point, I was reminded of how I officially started my healing journey 6 months earlier at the labyrinth of the hospital where I was getting the PRP injection into my Achilles heel, where I gazed out at the Indian Peaks. Yesterday, Pacer and I paused at the labyrinth at Joyful Journeys Hot Springs, where I had just soaked in the mineral rich and sacred waters with friends, this time looking out at the Sangre de Cristo mountains. I knew that I was looking out at the mountains with a new perspective, a true, more whole version of me.
Realizing this, I started to cry. Actually, let’s be real. I don’t cry. I sob. So I stopped on the dirt tracks, let the joy-tears come, and kissed Pacer on her snout.
We did it. We made it through the pain. And now, it is time to fly again.
The old debate among the spiritual community revolved around the question: “Is the opposite of love fear or hate?
When examined closer, we realize there is no need for debate.
We only hate what we fear, and we only fear what we don’t understand.
The reverse is also true.
When we shine a light on what we don’t understand, we begin to know its truth, and we can only love what is true.
We find that to know the darkness is to know the light.
**************
I can still remember the first time I heard the song “Accidentally in Love” by Counting Crows.
I can almost picture myself walking out of the movie theater after seeing Shrek with my dad and sister, when Parmatown Mall was still actually a mall and had a movie theater.
But the stronger memory is of the felt-sense I had of the closing song, how the high vibration of Accidentally in Love still reverberated throughout my body. The first Shrek was released in 2001, which marks the “post period” for me. Post death of my uncle (the firecracker of the family), post parents divorce, post Dad’s nearly fatal heart attack. Every once in a while, I still had the wild feeling of love, of zest for life still in me, when my mom let me wander through the trail-less woods alone or after seeing a movie in the theater, but for the most part, this light had disappeared. So when I heard Accidentally in Love for the first time, it was more of a longing that I felt within me.
Would I ever get that feeling back?
When I decided to take a deep dive into my healing journey a few months ago, I didn’t really understand what needed healing. I didn’t know something was missing. I didn’t know how deep I would have to go into the dark. I just knew I didn’t feel how I wanted to feel, and so it really was my emotions that pointed the way.
As it turned out, it all came back to returning myself, to the joy within me. To get truly excited about the little things, to the excitement of just being alive. Allowing my imagination to once again run wild. Getting back to art and creating, just for the sake of playing.
So when Pacer and I found ourselves at Great Sand Dunes National park, paws and shoes in the sand, without thinking about it, I just followed my urge to run. Then, on the drive back, I just started to sing to the songs on the radio, without hesitation in my untrained voice.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was me returning to my light. It really all happened accidentally. Falling back in love with myself and life.
By surrendering to my darkness, I was reunited with my light.
This feeling of joy, of course, isn’t constant. For like every other human on planet earth, I suffer from the collective amnesia. I still miss the man I fell in love with over two years ago, but simply because I miss his beautiful soul, not because I miss my own (insert Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney here). Sometimes I still wake up with a sense of unease, and not giving into doubt is still a daily practice. Yet I return to the knowing that I will always be okay. I look up and see the love around me, my sister and brother-in-partnership who let me join them on full moon skis, my dog, my Sunshine, who will follow me wherever I go, my dad in his willingness to fly across country, eat “weird” vegan food , and tells me and my sister that we are his “happy thoughts”, my mom who will text me jokes on a “FriYay!”, my sibling by magic (I’m a Gryffindor, they’re a Hufflepuff) in Denver…
…”You are immensely loved” the psychic told me. For the first time, I believed this. I felt it for myself. The more I come back to this feeling, the more I remember, and the easier it is to return to a state of joy. Of gratitude. Of love. Of light.
Pic 1: Me and Pacer (Sunshine) at Great Sand Dunes National Park Pic 2: It really is the little things…completing this puzzle with my family came with so much joy.
Not even 10 minutes into my Reiki session, I burst out crying “but why does it always have to be so hard?”
What I really meant was “why does it always have to hurt so much?” I felt like I had been cycling through periods of intense pain over the past several years. Even in just the last 7 months, I had been closely attentive to my body, battling to stay in it though I badly wanted to dissociate, and letting all my emotions arise as they came up. Yet it felt like it was never ending. And I was exhausted. While I never wanted to end my life, I had been ambivalent about living it. The voice inside of me that said “I don’t really want to be here anymore” was no longer unconscious. I heard it. Yet I quickly dismissed it with thoughts of Pacer, living in the mountains of Colorado, and having a loving family.
So, when at the end of the session my Reiki teacher told me the clear message that he had gotten for me was “Fight for Yourself”, I was confused. What did that even mean? I don’t even like using the word “fight”, anyway.
At my next session, two weeks later, even as he explained it again, I still didn’t understand. I would stand up for myself, I thought. I’ve fought against societal norms and resisted living a traditional lifestyle (not that there is anything wrong with that), and I had begun to actively speak my emotional and intuitive truth on social media. Somewhat frustrated, I said “I still don’t get it.” My Reiki teacher gently reminded me that I would, but that my focus should lean towards finding joy and not needing to having the answer. I left feeling somewhat better, less but still frustrated.
It was another week later, when I was listening to someone else tell their own story via a podcast, that I understood. It was that voice in me, that small, unhealed part of me, that didn’t want to live. That was my darkness. Could I fight for my light?
This may be confusing to some. For anyone who has followed me for some time, you’ll know I often talk about the magic and joy of life. And I 100% feel that that magic and joy. But I also can feel the contrast just as intensely (also finally understanding when Abraham/Esther Hicks talks about contrast).
Until that moment, I didn’t understand what a strong hold that part of me, even if small, had on my soul. How, sometimes unconsciously, it could stop me in my tracks. It could make me small and prevent my light from being fully expressed. Actually, I often hid between the shadows of my hermit archetype and introvert labels.
Yet, even as I understood that this was actually the part of me that needed the most healing, that I actually needed to fight to keep my light both going and growing, I didn’t know how. I still associated with this darker part of me. “How do I just make it go away?”, I wondered. I knew, deep down, I wanted to live and to live fully, but I wanted more peace and clarity inside of me too. Less pain, more joy. So then the question turned to, could I believe that was even possible?
It took me awhile to understand this part of me and how it showed up. In the morning, this was the taint I felt in my soul. In the previous years, it showed up as a heaviness in my heart and a shortness of breath that I described as “existential angst.” As I continued to heal and released some of the heart pain that wasn’t mine, it simply felt as if someone had taken a dropper, filled it with a dose of pain, and let it drip into my essence. Like a cloud inside my light, keeping it from shining at full capacity, from waking up in the morning excited about my day, even when I living a life I thoroughly felt grateful for.
Tracing this feeling back, I remembered the panic attacks I had in high school. Waking up early to run but not really wanting to face another day. The times I never felt good enough, the fear I held in my body at every basketball game, every social event. Luckily, I had a few good friends who never left my side and let me be me, but I still kept my pain away from them, and from my parents and my twin sister. We just weren’t a family who talked about these things. The one time, my twin sister, brave enough to say anything about her own pain, I clearly remember my stepdad saying “What do you have to be depressed about?” (I have so much compassion for my stepdad now and can see how he still holds on to and buries his own emotions.) And so, my pain became my secret.
Plus, even before high school, my pain was evident just by looking at my appearance. Anytime you see someone who is skin and bones, or becomes large enough that you can no longer decipher their true form, you’re looking at someone who’s “I don’t know if I want to be here part” has taken over. It may be unconscious, especially for a 13 year old girl, but it’s evident. And then, I was basically put on medication (that I would spit out), sent to various doctors, and a mental health therapist. All this told me, or rather confirmed, was that something was wrong with me. This was the belief I was already working off of and trying to cover up with perfectionist tendencies. (Obviously, I’m all for therapists now, but even if kind, the majority of therapists in the early 2000s were still working off of the disease model of mental illness.)
The origins of the pain were still somewhere underneath that. Contrived somewhere earlier on in childhood when I was punished or unseen, especially the part of me that has always been a sensitive, empathic soul. A gift my parents just couldn’t know was actually to be cherished, for their own world had been made up of harsh realities. They were simply trying to protect me from the pain. So my sensitivity became my kryptonite, a superpower better to be hidden.
The pain started to leak out in my late 20s, first releasing some of the pain I took on from the world. I’d see a video or get a piece of mail about the inhumane treatment of animals, and I’d soon be crying on my bathroom floor. I think it was easier for me to make visible the pain I saw around me than the pain within me. It seemed more acceptable, more honorable. And to be honest, my soul was truly confused and hurt by the created darkness of the world.
So, the battle in my 30s became the battle within.
My years learning to be a therapist, speaking to my own therapists, processing with my graduate school cohort, using my skills to guide others on their journeys… this all was a practice for my internal fight. Still, I hesitate the to use the word fight. With no offense to our military, I can only see the external wars in our world as nonsensical. How truly ridiculous that we kill each other over power, fear, and inflated egos? Yet defending beautiful, innocent people is another matter, and here I lean on the example set by Nelson Mandela and other great peace leaders. (This is too big a topic to dive into in this blog.)
The first part of my own battle was surrendering to my own pain. It felt insurmountable at times, as it had been built up for nearly 3 decades. Still, I continued to be a witness to my own suffering and eventually the edges wore off and I gained more compassion for myself. Yet even as the heaviness dropped away, the part of me that felt ambivalent about life still persisted. I didn’t know how to release that darkness, although meditations focusing on “breathing out clouds and breathing in sunshine” provided some relief.
Then, I had yet another opportunity to practice.
In many cases when I have a decision to make, I’ll stay stuck in a type of anxious freeze mode, and I have a debate in my head about my choices, over and over and over again, not making the final decision until I absolutely have to. Then, every once in awhile, I’ll rush into a decision… particularly around tattoos. It’s not that I didn’t want this last tattoo, I just agreed to a drawing that wasn’t exactly what I wanted before having it sketched into my skin. Actually, to make it worse, I only “semi” rushed…I actually had 2 hrs between seeing the image and agreeing to it, with a full opportunity to wait another week since the tattoo artist was heading out for vacation. For me, this was a perfect recipe of wanting to blame myself. While I’ve mostly trained myself out of negative self talk like “you’re stupid”, “I can’t believe you did that”, “why aren’t you better?”, etc., the internal feelings of shame that look like a panic attack on the outside were still very much prevalent. Could I choose to be kind to myself?
Could I choose to forgive myself for acting too quickly? (No wonder why the majority of time I can’t make a decision, if my other practice is beating myself up whenever I make the “wrong” decision.)
Could I choose, instead, to see the lesson?
This practice, too, was a fight. I wanted to go into self-blame. Being perfect and making the so called “right” decisions was what I knew how to do, how I had learned to protect myself from the fear of not feeling good enough. The hope, from my ego’s perspective, from this protection mechanism was so I didn’t make the mistake again, so I wouldn’t be the mistake.
Stepping away from the shame for a moment, I gave myself the opportunity to realize this was a lesson I had to learn. Humans, yes, are fallible. But is a person, a child, ever a mistake themself? Hell no. We simply become better versions of ourselves when taking the time to learn and gain meaning from our mistakes. The more simply stated, common phrase: sometimes we have to learn what we don’t want to know what we do want.
This tiny step turned out to be a big insight. It opened the door for me to forgive myself for a myriad of other poor (so I had deemed) decisions as well as times I had stepped away from opportunities and my own light for fear of being unworthy.
From this perspective, I could see my adult self giving a hug to the little me wearing a sunflower outfit (hat included) for her elementary school picture, who felt confused by the actions of adults in her life (as well a Catholic school that gave her the message that she was less than for being female). Then, to the high school me, who had learned to push so many people away because she thought her pain made her an outcast. I accepted these younger parts of me, showed them love, and brought them back home in my body.
In other words, I fought for them, and I fought for me. I fought for the part of myself that knew life was magical, a gift to be lived and expressed through my being. While pain, yes, may be a part of living, it doesn’t have to be carried with me on my journey. I was not my pain. I was meant to overcome my pain. To shine my light through it and to realize that my light was the only truth.
As I close, I can’t say the fight is over, the battle is just easier. The darkness is less powerful. I can see it for the fear that it is. I have more say in what I choose to believe and what I give my energy to. I can realize that my light, that I, Ray A. Nypaver, am worth fighting for.
May you always realize that your light, that You, are worthing fighting for.
*******
“I’ve come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call “The Physics of The Quest” — a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum. And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: “If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself… then truth will not be withheld from you.” Or so I’ve come to believe.”― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
In the midwest, we like to name the “fun” sections of our routes, like “The Stairway to Heaven” or “The Piano Keys”. If you’re not familiar with Cuyahoga Valley National Park, then you probably at least heard of the infamous “Heartbreak Hill” on the Boston Marathon course.
I like to call this section of the Colorado Trail/Collegiate West/Continental Divide Trail “Death by Switchbacks.” Now truly, this section of the trail is nothing short of majestic, but in these few specific miles, you drop down from alpine via what feels like 100 switchbacks, cross a short marshy section (pictured here- it looks much different in the summer!), only to return to alpine via another 100 switchbacks. If you’re already feeling tired, it’s nothing short of a struggle. The good news, however, is that once you make the death march (hike, run, or cycle) up, you meet heaven. (If headed southwest, towards the Alpine Tunnel and Cottonwood Pass to the northeast.)
The ego (how we feel about ourselves, our self-esteem) death uses a similar model as this section of the trail, although I’m going to offer a reframe that it is not necessarily about a part of us that needs to die, but actually about the part of us that doesn’t want to truly live, or “be here”, as I’ve written in previous post. It’s that part of us that says life is too hard, too painful. It’s the part of ourselves we try to numb and call it depression. The ego death is actually about bringing that part into Light and reigniting your own inner fire. It’s accepting that there is pain in the world but realizing it is not our own. It’s acknowledging that there is suffering, but it is not our truth. It’s reclaiming our authentic expression of self and believing in our divine right to live freely, peacefully, and joyously. This is “fighting for the Light”.
Again, the question is, will you choose yourself (Love) over fear?
A Dog and Her Girl 