Less Than Enlightened

Today I feel a little out of sorts. My heart hurts and some sadness pervades. I had a weekend that was both lovely and strange. Jerry and I celebrated our anniversary and I'll have a few pictures to post in a day or two that reflect some of what we were up to. Friday was our actual anniversary and I ended up getting a very severe headache and intense muscle soreness in my shoulders. I had been eating mostly fruit and no caffeine for a couple of days and I must have been cleansing out some toxins. I ended up soaking in a hot bath for awhile and then Jerry massaged me and I felt well enough make it out for our 8:00 dinner reservations at the Red Tavern, a lovely little upscale restaurant in Chico with a bocce ball court. We shared a nice meal and each other's company and then came home to watch a DVD of West Side Story. I was asleep in minutes and I hadn't even finished my one glass of wine over dinner. It was tasty too. Not expensive, but good. The only ritual I was physically up to was the yearly lighting of our wedding candle that was on our wedding altar when we were married. This year was it's 12th lighting.

Saturday was a whirlwind of activity. We slept in till about 9:30 or so and then I made myself a cup of tea before we walked over to the Farmer's Market which is right out our back door. Jerry got some coffee at our friend's coffee cart to go with his Saturday morning pastry. We visited with various friends and I actually shopped for some fruits and vegetables which I often don't do as it ends up being more of a social event for me. Jerry played music with the band, Seckund Naychur, that plays there most every week. My brother showed up from out of town, and we hung out and chatted for awhile before he headed over to our mother's house and I left to do her weekly grocery shopping. Who knows were the day disappeared to but before I knew it, it was almost 5:00 and time to head over to a friend's Cuba themed party. She just recently returned from Cuba and is returning again next month. There was tons (like 12 pounds or something) of coconut shrimp, rice, beans, salsa, and other yummy food as well as a bottomless pitcher of mohitos, my favorite.

We had to leave the party early as we had tickets to see George Winston who was playing at the Laxson Auditorium. George is a friend of mine, a very sweet man who I met in Hawaii in 1993. I only see him when he does a concert in my area but it's always nice to connect with him and hear him play his music. When we got home form the concert I found myself tangled in an emotional web between two people that I love dearly. I probably ended up more distraught than either of them. I went to bed nauseous, had a restless sleep, at one point waking myself sobbing, my face wet with tears. One of these friends had done something that struck me as so incredibly mean that I was just bereft with grief. I was also furious at what I perceived as the injustice of the attack. I allowed my ego have a hey day and spewed forth my anger in an email the next morning.

I originally had plans to spend the day with some other friends but I felt the need to stay home for some quality time with Jerry, connecting and doing some ritual I had planned for our anniversary. One thing that we did was a Broom Ritual which oddly enough, I learned at a housewarming party for the friend I had just spewed my anger at over in my morning email. The broom is often a significant part of a handfasting ceremony so I adapted the broom ritual to be a metaphor for Jerry's and my union. I had bought a lovely new corn broom and we ripped colored material into strips which we used to decorate the broom handle. As we wrapped the strips around the handle we spoke blessings of what we wanted to bring into our life together and also of what we wanted to release (sweep away).

Some of what came up for me had to do with communication and was related to the one with whom I had been so angry with. A huge part of my spiritual path right now is dedicated to making my communication more compassionate, with my intent bent towards the understanding of another. I've been noticing my tendency to defend, or judge when another perceives something as "wrong". I've been more and more interested in dropping self absorption in order to understand what is going on for another, extending compassionate attention towards whoever is communicating to me, focusing on their feelings and what they are needing rather than overly identifying with the particular details of their story. I find that while the particulars of the story sometimes need to be shared it's really about connect with the person behind the story and getting their underlying message of emotions and unmet needs that is the crux of compassionate understanding in communication.

The theory of being a compassionate communicator goes like this: We respectfully listen to another's story while connecting with the actual person, their emotions and unmet needs that underlie their story. These unmet needs usually contain a call for help of sorts, a request which is often expressed inappropriately in an emotional person. The person may be ranting and raving, making demands rather than requests. Because an emotional person may not be capable of clearly communicating their emotions and needs, they may be ranting and raving and making demands rather than requests. It is my job, the one whose intent is to be a compassionate communicator and to be of service to another, to caringly reflect back all of the factual details of the story minus all assumptions, judgements and opinions (theirs or mine) along with all of the emotions and unmet needs of the distraught person. Actually helping this person to have their needs met is a whole other matter but usually, once compassionate communication has come this far, a resolution is near at hand.

So it's all fine and dandy to understand the theory of compassionate communication but here's the rub its practical application. Oftentimes what comes up in communication is highly personal--it's about your life and it pushes your buttons. Unmet needs that have been buried often surface and strong emotions ensue. If a loved one comes at us with their issues, whether it's specifically related to us or not, it's way more difficult to set one's self aside and be there for them. It's imperative that when two people are communicating and emotions are high, that one of them is willing to set their own issues aside for the time being. Two emotional people, trying to be understood and make requests to have their needs met at once, usually does not bode well for the outcome.

When this particular situation arose between two people whom I love and I was right there in the middle of it, it pierced me deep on my insides and I obviously wasn't willing to set my own issues aside at that time. It was between the two of them and I could have (should have?) left it alone. If not left it alone, I certainly had the option of being there as support for the one who was attacked (that was the one I was physically present with at the time.) I could have stayed with his feelings and helped him process them. If he had any needs that arose from the situation, I could have offered him help in dealing with them. Afterwards I could have supported his efforts to understand what was going on for our mutual friend and what needs she had that were being unmet and what was exactly being requested of him. Well, I actually did do this with him to a point and although he was clearly shaken at first, he took decent care of himself, felt his hurt feelings and annoyance, and then recovered fairly promptly and dealt with it in the best way he knew how. His intent was to ease the pain and support the love between them.

Mostly what I did was dive directly into my own stuff. The sense of injustice that I perceived was overwhelming. Someone I loved, with the sweetest intent in the world, was being unfairly accused and spat upon. I sprung into action with a sense of righteous indignation, intent to set the obvious record straight. I wanted to show the accusing party the error of her ways, to shame her, not only into submission but to show her the light of day. Kind of like that slap in the face you see in the old-time movies, shocks the person back into their senses. It was a tough love sort of intervention using the boomerang effect, I vomited back at her all the chunks and pieces she had just spewed all over the other and then I added some of my own. I sprinkled it with judgments, opinions and "you" messages up the yin yang. Definitely not an example of compassionate communication.

I felt better. Kind of. For awhile. I had made a fairly conscious choice to indulge my ego so after it was indulged I didn't want to start beating up on myself about why I didn't take the "higher road" and communicate more responsibly. Or why didn't I just mind my own business, at least for the time being. So now I'm pondering...

It seems that the truth is often co-mingled with shit, you know, our ideas and concepts of the way things are or should be; unprocessed trauma and emotions; unhealed woundings; this, that and the other things. Being human and getting caught up in the dynamics of human relating, oftentimes we are confronted with situations that just beg immediate response. Sometimes the truth "needs" to be spoken, someone "needs" to be "enlightened". Or so we think anyway. And there the truth is, hiding within this mess of shit. Time is of the essence, or so it seems as the ego is so impatient. What is one to do when they are less than enlightened? Sometimes I just hope to have something of value to offer even though it's mixed up with shit with some shit. So I just sent it all along, hoping that the one I sent it to will take the time to find the gems of truth and wash them off so they will shine and then flush the rest down the toilet.

At first I felt righteous for force feeding something with nutritional value because after all, it was for her own good, wasn't it? I also felt somewhat relieved to have purged. Then I started questioning the value of what I did and wondering how much love was really present in the toughness. Then I thought about how I might want to do it differently if ever confronted with such a situation again. That night though, the one who was attacked thanked me for protecting him. That's how I imagined myself too, like a lioness protecting her cub. Not that he was defenseless and needed my protection but it was sweet that he said that to me and it made me feel better, some compensation for how bruised and battered I was feeling after entering into a war that wasn't even my own. Not that I'm that sorry for doing what I did, or even about the way I did it. Like I said before, I did make a fairly conscious choice to do what I did in giving my ego free reign to express itself. Besides maybe he did need my "protection", he got it and I'm of the persuasion that we always get what we need.

The other part of this is that I think I was experiencing some post traumatic stress. This situation of her vehemently spewing intense anger towards him is not new. I've lived through this unpleasantness before and was feeling safe, thinking we were through with that dynamic and then it reared it's ugly head again. So I feel a little shell shocked and depressed because I love her and I love him and it was dramatic and ugly and there is more to go through before we are done with it.

The communication part is some of what was coming up for me as I wrapped my blessings into the broom, of what I wanted to create in my relationship with Jerry, as well as what I want to sweep away. There was lots of other lighter, fun stuff too.