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but no time to say it. i will briefly summarize with the following image:
Sri Sri Radha Kalachandji, ki jaya!
Is there anything sweeter?
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So this is the big bad monster that’s invaded my house. OK, this is not actually him/her/them (eek!) but one of his/her/their distant, perhaps more photogenic cousins, but you get the point. Soooooooo freaking cute.
Aaargh! (shaking my fists in the air because the cuteness is more than i can physically bear)
How could I possibly kill little Fievel here? Even if I got a cat, and the cat was the one who actually did the killing, how heartbreaking would it be to see Sheba the Destroyer chewing on this little biscuit?
And I did move into a house that’s in the middle of a field, so the border kind of crossed him, ya know?
But he/she/they are pooping in my cabinets.
Sigh.
Is peaceful coexistence possible? Will my soft heart mean that Boogsie and I succumb to the bubonic plague or the Hanta virus (whatever that is)? Should I just set up a cage with a little gerbil wheel, food and water tubes so I can feed them and hug them and love them and call them all George?
Aaarrggghhh!
I have a tendency to rush towards things. I’m a little like the three-year-olds that I teach in that way. Whenever they see me carrying some new toy, I’m assailed by a rush of zombie hands (I want it! No, me! No, me!) that nearly knocks me over. It was in that way that I set myself up for a recent disappointment.
You see, I’ve recently taken up spiritual life again, after a long period (three years or so) of neglect. And when I say I’ve taken it up, I mean I’ve really TAKEN IT UP. Since the new year I’ve stopped eating meat, given up all intoxicants (except caffeine for now), and become celibate (yes, I mean it). I’ve added an hour of chanting each day , a weekly Gita class and weekly kirtana to my already full schedule.
Phew.
And in this heady intoxicating enthusiasm, I felt like I was falling love. But not with a regular mortal man, no no no. With what I thought was to be my spiritual master (i.e. Guru, or the enlightened person who shows you how to be a real devotee, basically). I read his articles, watched videos, listened to mp3 lectures and literally felt like my heart was going to jump out of my body. This is it, I thought. I’ve found him.
Long story short, he is mainly based in Europe so he doesn’t take disciples who live in the States.
An objective person would instantly see the wisdom in this. Actually an objective person would have realized that two months is not enough time to be ready for the lifelong committee that is initiation. But I’m not an objective person. Upon hearing that he doesn’t take disciples in this country, my lower lip started to quiver and I cried like a baby. “I’m being rejected by my Gurudeva”, I thought. “First James, now God. What awful karma I must have..”
And in that moment I realized I’m still heartbroken (duh). And that I’m using my spiritual path to try and fill that hole. In a way that’s what you’re SUPPOSED to do. Turn to God, because He’s the only one who will never disappoint you. But the way I was doing it was sort of missing the point. I wasn’t really turning to God. I was using God (via his representative) like a rebound boyfriend. Way to go, Melissa, that’s real spiritual…
So while this particular spiritual master was not actually rejecting me for any reason other than my physical location, my reaction to what I perceived to be rejection showed me that I am not actually ready for a Guru. I have some healing to do yet. There’s a process at work that I’m trying to rush. But my habit of rushing through things is simply not going to work in this arena.
So today I do my chanting and I follow my regulative principles, but instead of doing them as a means to get to the next step in my five year plan (find a Gurudeva, get initiated, find a devotee husband, have devotee children, etc. etc.) as is my habit, I am doing them for their own sake. I am trying to slow down and settle in. And maybe by doing that a real transformation will occur so that I’ll actualy be ready for my Gurudeva.
If it so pleases Krishna…
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i am immersed of late in spiritual topics. i am having a torrid love affair with God. and this is wonderful. but in order to say what i want to say i will have to split my personality for a sec. (it will also help with making me look crazy.)
*****
bhaktin melissa: i am so happy to be seeing the truth.
mayic melissa: yes, but now that the jig is up the party isn’t any fun anymore.
bhaktin melissa: but that “party” is empty.
mayic melissa: i know. but i feel a little lonely.
bhaktin melissa: which is why we need to hang out with devotees.
mayic melissa: but i miss james.
bhaktin melissa: you can’t have him and you don’t really want him. he is doing that thing that people do with that new girl. “the old one’s broken, let’s get a new one. “he’s a noncommittal person in a noncommital world, a slave to his senses, etc.
mayic melissa: i know. but i’m still sad.
******
and this is how these things go. i have dreams about one twin killing another one and i realize that part of me is dying. i am killing her. without all the violent connotation but yes, she is dying. i don’t want what i used to want. i don’t think what i used to think. i am no longer in step with the general public. this is the dirt from which the plant will spring. and i feel like i’m in the dirt.
this is how these things go.
boogsie’s behavior makes me worry. it makes me worry so much that i make frantic calls to other mothers. what is wrong with us? with him? with me? in my heart i’ve known it was something with me but for the life of me i really couldn’t figure it out.
during the last panicked episode, i called b’s paternal grandmother, hoping that she would have something for me. anything. turns out she did. she put me in contact with a family friend who’s a child psychotherapist and this woman agreed to speak with me for free.
it was kind of a miracle.
in our fifteen minute conversation, she answered my question. what i was doing wrong was being too busy for him. with work. with school. with the house. with making dinner. with everything. she said, melissa, he wants your attention and he’s acting out to get it.
and, yeah, that made me feel a little guilty. but it was also a huge relief. this is something i can do something about. this is something within my control. if i want my relationship with my son to be better, i don’t have to blindly battle some monster called ADHD (or ODD or OCD or anything else). I just have to give my son some of my time.
it was a stunning realization to me that i am really that important to him. it is the strangest aspect of motherhood to me. that to be a mommy is to be vitally important to another human being. in most of my life i strive away from self-centeredness, self-importance. i try to be humble and simple and to serve because i’m not that important in the grand scheme of things. so much suffering arises from thinking you are the center. (you as the center is the center that cannot hold). but in this venue i am intrinsically important. and to not recognize that is to do harm to my son.
anyway, the good news is that we’ve made changes. i’ve made changes. and while we have many many miles to go, we’ve started in the right direction. and i can tell by the way he holds my hand when i hold his.
i remember one time lying next to james overwhelmed i cried. “it’s just that time is like this sea of moments. they’re all rushing over me. they’re too fast for me to hold onto. and right now with you i am so happy. but one day this will just be something we remember. i can’t hold onto it. it’s already gone.”
i may have actually said that or something like it. i may have said nothing at all.
but that’s how it is. chasing pleasures is like chasing ghosts.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: God, heartbreak, human nature, krsna, love, lust, religion, suffering
it’s been messy for a while.
with james, who continues racking them up. a stable of damaged women loving him because he doesn’t love us in return. he is the father that went away. no matter what you do. he’s not coming back. there are so many like us he’ll be in business for years.
with the other one, who cries at me. in our thing he wants to be the bird and for me to be the boy with the bb gun. “please don’t shoot me and by that i mean please do shoot me, so i can cry at you and beg you to fix me, which you of course won’t do, so then i have something sad to hold onto until the next boy with a bb gun comes along.” i know the game really well. i’m just not used to being the boy.
these things we play out are so exhausting, you know?
so, as my aching hips can attest, i’m spending a lot of time running away from it all. as i pound against the concrete, as i run rabbit run, i realize i have grown weary of-as the saying goes- sex, drugs and rock and roll. i’m tired of my pain and i’m tired of all the things i put in my body trying to numb that pain.
it’s a totally predictable path. like a made for tv movie. the little lost girl with the mangled heart fills up the holes with anything she can find. the medicine turns on her. she hits the dirt, hits her head, falls in a hole.
from down here, the only way to go is up.
see, there’s no way to say it without hitting cliches. because it’s just that predictable. for thousands and thousands of years it’s been the same story. we humans are a hardheaded bunch.
and so the little girl tuns to god. she says, okay okay, i get it already. help me please. you’re the only one who can.
because i’m too stubborn to have come to it any other way.
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My heart is exploding and all i can do about it is peel potatoes.
At some point there’s not much else you can do. You stand there in that column of anger and heartache and hope because there’s nowhere else to go, no one else to see, nothing else to do. So you stand there. But there’s still a house with people in it, people who get hungry and expect dinner at a certain time. It is that time. So you stand there and you peel potatoes.
And it looks normal. It looks routine. But it sounds like this.
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i don’t like endings. instead of flinging myself at new experiences, i hide in my mommy’s skirt willing myself back to what i know, to where i just was. so new year’s eve is inherently sad for me.
logically i know i should be glad this year is over. it’s been like one of those huge wooden roller coasters that make your boobs and hips hurt. you come off thinking, i know that was supposed to be fun but i think i might need to go to the chiropractor now. but i’m too attached to really be glad. i’m afraid of change. i don’t let go.
logically i know that james is a dead end. but my heart is too attached. my heart is afraid of change. my heart doesn’t let go. i’m throwing him into the fire because that’s where he belongs. but i do it awkwardly and with an embarrassing amount of tears.
in the coming year i will finish school and quit the job i have to get the job that i want. an overwhelming amount of newness looms over the horizon.
yeah yeah yeah i know that everything’s going to be fine. but what i know isn’t the problem. it’s what i feel. endings make me feel anxious and sad and resistant.
part of my spiritual practice is to try and move through those feelings, instead of letting them move me, so that’s what i’m doing. i’m trying to be the mommy, not just the child. i pry the child’s hands off the past. i let her hide for a moment in my skirt. then i tell her everything’s going to be okay and send her out into the world.
we say our goodbyes and keep moving.
