Help Yourself

Reading through the past couple of blog posts I've become discouraged by the direction this seems to be taking. So far the apparent agenda has been of a spiritual self-helping nature. The very stuff I can't stand to read myself. There is so much of this out there that I don't know how to even escape it. I've also started to notice myself strongly disagreeing with much of it - even stuff I used to believe wholeheartedly. I find I really want to withdraw and ignore the stuff of the 365-day inspirational calendar.

I also find myself steering away from books/newsletters/teachers/peers that preach about how to "fix" yourself. Fix your thoughts, your behaviors, your relationships, your feelings. Ideologies that teach how to be. This bothers me, and sometimes I find myself slipping into this trap with my own writing. "Here's the right way to think. See, it's great!"

I find when I write this stuff, addressed to some external group, that I'm doing my best to create a tribe of people who think like me. Who have read what I've read, believe what I believe, so that my human side can feel safe and cozy inside a group of like-minded others. If they've read my stuff, if it resonates, they're offering their support of me, I can mold a tribe who won't expose me to the elements and leave me to starve. The more I can build these walls of comforting agreement around myself, this security blanket, the safer I'll be, and what? I'll never die?

I've noticed quite a lot lately that I'm not actually all that accepting of differing world-views. I've recently become part of an intentional community that comes from all walks, all neighborhoods, all generations, and I find myself eager to share my way of thinking with them for the same reasons. I find myself with an urge to fix everyone's point-of-view, rather than hold space for it. I want to steamroll over this discomfort with helpful platitudes. Platitudes that, among a certain faction, are commonplace. The stuff of email signatures and bumper stickers throughout free-thinking metropolitan areas. Or I want to get people alone so I can impart all this wisdom and, dare I say it? Control them into thinking like me.

Seriously. This is all the dark, gooey stuff that lurks underneath my most sage advice.

Now, do I think I'm alone in this? I doubt it. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I do know that it's human nature to want safety and comfort. That's kind of a survival thing, at least probably. I don't feel like looking at that one too closely right now.

I do know that when I gather, one-on-one with peers, especially those in the healing/psychic professions, that any stagnation, any soul-searching, inward, dark moment is met with a helpful fix. An analysis of what's really going on with me or my situation. In the past few months especially I've met with friends and noticed that if I mention I'm in a searching phase or I'm depressed or am experiencing something that's in some way uncomfortable, the instant impetus is to offer advice, readings, "fixes" for what appears to be wrong with me. However, space-holding is exactly what I'm looking for. No resolutions. I'm alright with the journey.

It's extremely difficult to hold that kind of space. It's uncomfortable. I know this discomfort. And what I find when someone is sharing this kind of squirmy information I want to offer advice and solution, rather than simply honoring that person's path and trusting that they are perfect in God's eyes, just like me. Even if they don't like me tomorrow.

I don't like the discomfort. Not one bit.

But when I am in a dark night of the soul and I'm really okay with the lights off for a while, what I seek and search for in these conversations is not so much help with feeling better, but simply holding space for the darkness. By commiserating, by sharing similar fears and concerns, with connecting with the other person in a way that says "Hey! I get where you're at because I've been there, in fact, I'm there right now!" For example. Or maybe they haven't been to the dark place, but we certainly share the uncertainty, doubt, fear or sorrow. That's what empathy is. It's where compassion finds its roots.

By meeting me where I'm at in that moment, I'm acknowledged as a part of that clan. I'm assured of my share of the food and warmth. By trying to fix someone else, it's easy for me to give the impression that the person opposite me is somehow inadequate. A sure way to close the connection between us.

So I want to be really careful about what goes up here. I don't want to preach. I've recently stepped down from the pulpit, so-to-speak, by giving up some public circles I've hosted, and now I'm exploring this new territory of what it means to not be a teacher. Not to want to fix. I want to learn to accept and connect now, and to become aware of the fears that drive me to put up words-of-wisdom like wallpaper on a window, blocking out the light. Because that's not really wisdom, is it?

I don't really know what this here blog is, actually. Sometimes I just want to vent. Sometimes I want to share an "aha" moment. Sometimes I'm working things out on virtual paper. It's just a step toward the public eye, mostly, and for the four or five of you who actually read it, maybe it's a launching-point for a different dialogue, or an argument, or an "aha" place of your own. But I like the haphazardness of it, when it gets that way.

It's not meant to be a place of self-help, though. Good Lord! Please slap me if it starts to sound like that.

I really believe that we're absolutely perfect just the way we are. There is no darkness. There is no duality, just things as they are. No good or bad, just the experience of it. And part of my experience is learning to let go of the concepts that breed that duality of thought and just let the light in.

Easier blogged than done, I suppose. But one has to start somewhere...