I’m learning that when we lose faith in our feelings, we lose faith in ourselves and become outer-directed. That is, we look to the world to tell us how to feel and what to do. We seek approval and love from others so we can prove to ourselves that we are worthy. Paradoxically, to be outer-directed is to be self-absorbed. How can this be? We feel so unsure of who we are , that we cannot let go, be spontaneous or real.
We can reclaim ourselves by becoming inner-directed. This means looking within ourselves for the direction we need. When we’re just beginning to learn to trust our feelings, this can seem to be truly agonizing. It means trusting the reality of our needs and our right to express them. Only then can we find the faith in ourselves and in life, that we have lacked.
Becoming inner-directed takes self-acceptance and self-love. It also takes time. Until then, there will be no real peace because it is the only way to find ourselves.
How do we connect with other people? Do we rely on conflict, suffering, manipulation, gossip or one-up-man ship? Do we create relationships that can be controlled safely and then call that “reality?”
Real connection requires two people, both wanting to be in the relationship, to approach each other as equals. A good relationship brings us happiness, growth and a satisfying feeling of closeness. We are able to be ourselves, without adjusting our beliefs or behavior to please the other person or to maintain the relationship. The moment we abandon our equality, we have a power struggle, not a relationship.
Previously,the only connections we made was between us and a hunger and an appetite that was never filled. Once we began our process of personal growth we began to enjoy the real connections with people; the true joy that comes with giving and receiving.
What I fear most about dying, is not knowing for sure where I’m going. I remember when I was in training as an orderly at a nursing home in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the training instructor taught us to never just get behind the wheelchair of a patient and start pushing. She explained that while a resident is sitting in their wheelchair, perhaps even dozing off, that the initial start can frighten them half to death, and that not informing the resident beforehand like this, “I’m going to take you to the dining room now, Mr. Schmitz”, erodes the dignity of a resident. They may feel a loss of control.
Would mother Universe please tell me what it will be like? I have begun to form my own concept. By working on this gradually, I’ve noticed that my anxiety over transitioning has lessened to a degree. My version that I’m comfortable with for now, goes something like this:
My version is much like what the renowned psychic, Sylvia Browne suggests in her books, which is gleaned from her own psychic journeys beyond with her spiritual guides and from her impressions during psychic readings. In her version, which I easily claim as my own belief, is that the actual transition itself is painless, and that there is no further attachment to this physical world in the mind.
A tremendous and brilliant white light is our Guide and we will have an overwhelming sense of trust and love in our Guide. Others who have gone before us are there to greet us. Even those beloved pets we lost are there! I’ll see my grandfathers, my mom, even my dogs Heidi, Jessie, and oh my dear CoCo. And my cats Samantha and Maya!
Everyone on the other side looks the way they did when they were around 35 years of age. Communication isn’t through words any longer but rather telepathically. There is a continuous beautiful melody of music everywhere. Time on the other side is different from this world that we know now. What we know as a lifetime to us here is a mere blink of the eye on the other side. Before we know it, those that we left in this world, are right behind us. That comforts me knowing that Christopher won’t be too far behind. I worry about how he’ll manage when I’m gone.
It has been explained to me that we didn’t know where we were going when we were born, or came to this world, and that it is OK not knowing or fully understanding where we’re going when we make our transition. That’s something I’ll have to work on; trusting in mother Universe’s ability to take care of me. Even the last leg of life’s journey is packed full with lessons. Right up until the bell sounds for the next class to begin.
I love the Broadway musical Wicked. For those readers unfamiliar with the story, it is based on the best-selling novel, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory McGuire which runs parallel to the classic novel by L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Wicked tells the story of Elphaba, the future Wicked Witch of the West and her relationship with Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. Their friendship causes them to face their opposing personalities and viewpoints, rivalry over the same love-interest, their reactions to the Wizard's corrupt government and ultimately, Elphaba's public fall from grace. The plot is set mostly before Dorothy's arrival from Kansas and includes several references to well-known scenes and dialogue in the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz as a back-story.
Wicked is running here in the Phoenix metro area at Tempe’s Gammage Auditorium throughout the month of July, 2009. Find out if Wicked is coming to your area and check this musical out. In the meantime, I wanted to share the lyrics to a song from Wicked. The song is sung between Elphaba and Glinda, just before the finale. I've shared the lyrics to Defying Gravity from Wicked in an earlier post.
For Good
(Elphaba)
I'm limited Just look at me - I'm limited. And just look at you You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda. So now it's up to you For both of us - now it's up to you...
(Glinda)
I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them And we help them in return Well, I don't know if I believe that's true But I know I'm who I am today Because I knew you
Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes a sun Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you I have been changed for good
(Elphaba)
It well may be That we will never meet again In this lifetime So let me say before we part So much of me Is made of what I learned from you You'll be with me Like a handprint on my heart And now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine By being my friend...
Like a ship blown from its mooring By a wind off the sea Like a seed dropped by a sky bird In a distant wood Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you
(Glinda)
Because I knew you (Both) I have been changed for good
(Elphaba)
And just to clear the air I ask forgiveness For the thing I've done you blame me for
(Glinda)
But then, I guess we know There's blame to share
(Both) And none of it seems to matter anymore
(Glinda)
Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes a sun Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood
(Elphaba)
Like a ship blown from its mooring By a wind off the sea Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood
(Both)
Who can say if I've been Changed for the better? I do believe I have been Changed for the better
(Glinda)
And because I knew you...
(Elphaba)
Because I knew you...
(Both)
Because I knew you... I have been changed for good.
This song has inspired me at a time when I have been feeling challenged by my relationships. Some of my relationships seem static and difficult. I have begun to wonder if it would be in the best interest of both of us to move along.
The Mask of Mental Illness – By Christopher Dale Eshenbaugh
I can see that my new life will be full of the unknown, but that is what can make it exciting and creative.
Many great artists were neglected or even abused during their lifetime because their work was considered too provocative. Painters like Van Gogh, poets like Blake or Poe, and novelists like James Joyce were pushed out to the margins of society because their vision was too disturbing.
Most of us like a comfortable life, and those of us who are addicted to one high or another may not want to be troubled by new ways of seeing and imagining the world. Yet, the day comes when our addiction no longer satisfies us and we begin to long for a new vision and version of our lives. Art can help us in our recovery.
Art allows us to change our way of looking and living, even if at first the change is disturbing. Like artists, we can create new images and new patterns for our lives. At first, it may be painful. Old, comfortable habits die hard! But, as we move forward, taking our little baby steps, by baby steps, we come to see that it’s exciting to be on the move and even at the frontier of new, creative endeavors. Creativity, after all, comes from loving ourselves and others.
The Mask of Domestic Violence – By Artist, Christopher Eshenbaugh
“Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world (our own), we see it multiplied.” -- Marcel Proust
I’ve been looking at the therapeutic nature of art to one’s recovery lately. In our active addiction, we tended to have a single, narrow view of ourselves and the world we live in. We thought that everyone was obsessed by using, fantasies and erotic images; we saw others perhaps as mere doubles of ourselves.
One of the great joys I find in reading is the ability to enter other people’s lives. We often come to know fictional characters even better than our friends because a novelist can give us the illusion of being all-powerful and all-knowing. So we get a special “inside view,” and many people in books become familiar and very dear to us.
Reading can take us out of ourselves and expand our views of other people. We learn that, indeed, “it takes all sorts to make up a community in this world of ours,” and our lives become less isolated through contact with others. The power of art is to deepen and enrich this perception of ourselves in relationship to the world. Through reading, watching plays and films, or exploring a painter’s world, we begin.
“It is the creative potential itself in human beings that is the image of God.” -- Mary Daly
Within each of us is a creative person. Getting comfortable with our creativity often means letting go of tight, rigid thinking so that the spontaneous, artistic side of ourselves can emerge.
Whether or not we think of ourselves as artistic, we are. To be artistic is to create , an instinct that we all possess as human beings. Each day, as we make our way along this path toward personal growth, we find the courage to create ourselves anew. One way to encourage our creativity is to find an outlet for it. I love learning to play the organ, digital photography and editing, writing short stories for children and poetry. My friend Albert enjoys beading and Native American dance. In my last two posts you’ve enjoyed the art of Christopher Eshenbaugh. For you perhaps you’ll find your creative self through embroidery, furniture refinishing or gardening. Most anything that allows us to create something outside ourselves can be good.
The joy of working with our body, spirit, mind and feelings is truly a joyful experience with an amazing reward at the end: we have finally created something new, and in it, we can see ourselves.
"It's not that I'm afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens." -- Woody Allen
Even after a recent near death experience, I tend to think of death in the abstract, as a fact rather than a reality. I know that everything passes and that we are bound to die, but I rarely allow myself to accept the reality of dying and being dead.
Is this my way as well as that of others who refuse this fact our way of avoiding the reality of death? It may be that we can only think of more worldly, mortal acts as a new beginning, a false sense of perpetual renewal, even a kind of rebirth. Especially in fantasy and maybe even in our relationships, we are always "falling in love" all over again. Always young, always beginning again, always keeping our options open. Never settling into the contentment of a commitment.
As we begin to mature and develop through our efforts of personal growth, we can learn to integrate our thinking and feelings about death into our daily lives. We can sense death as an integral part of life, and not just as an abstract finality. This can become part of our process of learning to experience reality in all its stunning diversity. Life can become more precious as we realize that we must leave it.
"And when I see you happy, well, it sets my heart free. I'd like to be as good a friend to you as you are to me." -- Joni Mitchell
Friends are one of the greatest gifts and they come as a result of a life that's sane and manageable. It takes time and energy to make and keep good friends, but the rewards are worth it. To these most special people we can gladly give our honesty, our fidelity, our trust, and our unconditional acceptance.
As friendship grows, we find ourselves more able to understand our friend's needs. Is there a child to be watched or perhaps a kitchen that could really use a cleaning? Can we listen emphatically, without judging, to whatever a friend is going through? When a friend is sick, are we ready to help out? Can we put aside our needs because a friend's need is greater at the moment than our own?
Through our efforts toward personal growth, we build the skills it takes to be a good friend, we can let go and let our friendships develop naturally. Then, we will be able to trust the bond of love between our friends and us.
This blog is dedicated to three very special friends who have given me much support: David, Keith and Teri. Thank you, my special friends!
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