The abuse bucket

A little bit over a month ago, the last drop dropped into my  Abuse bucket.
I have carried my Abuse bucket all my life. Dutifully lugged it around so it can be filled and refilled and if for some reason the levels of disrespect, shame, guilt  and inadequacy ran low then I certainly would run and found someone to fill it with some kind of atrocious emotion towards myself.

So as I lay in bed, dripping crocodile tears as to why I allow myself to be treated this way, I thought I had dealt with this, I started to wonder....  I believe that I deserve to be abused. For the simple reason that that's all I have ever known.

So I didn't, and may be still believe that I do.
But why?
Rather than remove the cause for abuse at that very moment, I decided to sit with it.

Stare it down and dig deep deep down into myself where I have never dared venture.

Why?

The truth has many layers. I am still uncovering new ones.
The human psyche seems to be an endless labyrinth. The moment I think I have discovered a way out, it turns out to be a doorway to another level. At this point I am too deep to wish for the exit. And I have no desire for it, anyway.

So why do I believe so strongly that I should be abused?

I think this is not just mine. Not just my belief. Not just my dilemma.
Everyone's abuse looks somewhat different.
But we are all addicted to it in a strange and pervert way.

We don't believe to be enough.
We believe ourselves to be ugly, undeserving and lacking something.
Something that everyone else seems to have.
Except that is an illusion as well.

We are all in the same shit-hole.
And we all carry our abuse buckets as beggars's bowls for alms.

Because when someone finally gives us the abuse we so devotedly think we deserve we smile in glee.
"I was right. I am not enough" and then we can easily continue our deprived lives, punishing ourselves and hiding under false identities, treating others in the same way we want to be treated.

So in the end it doesn't matter who the abuser is and what the abuse looks like.
Until we uproot the belief that we deserve it, it will not halt.
It will shape-shift, but will continue following us not matter where we run, as a shadow.
It is our shadow, until we stop, sit with it and learn about it, nothing will change. Until we truly believe we  deserve respect and Love, until we brave the fear to show the world our true face, we will be haunted.


So the questions that beg to be asked are:
Are we willing to stop running?
Are we interested in  forsaking our miserable little lives for the discomfort of being seen?
Are we fed up with carrying on stereotypes passed on by hundreds of generations, sick of perpetuating patterns that shouldn't have been allowed to exist in the first place?

Are we willing to stand up for change? for our selves?

And what would happen if we stopped repeating that which we have heard spoken before and form a thought, a word, a sentence, a feeing all on our own?
What if we gave birth to that which hasn't been birthed before?

What if we reach so deep down inside and touch own essence, our authenticity and then hold it for the world to see?
Not as the ugly duckling seeking attention or validation, the right to existence.
But as pure, unconditional Love. As other-wordly beauty, that brings us down to our knees.
As the ultimate truth, the stands for no definitions.

So, Anger

So, anger, yes, Anger.
There is a lot to be said about anger.
Where  do I even begin?
We have been taught, that Anger is no good. That it should be controlled, repressed and curtailed as to not hurt anyone. That we should be afraid of it.
But then where do we put it? What do we do with it if we are not to express it?
How are we to control it when it threatens to annihilate our own existence.

So many emotions are swirling in the air right now. Sadness, grief, shock at the despicable. I feel them all.
But most of all I feel the Anger.
The Anger is boiling in my veins.
And I want to do nothing to curtail it or make it small.
I want to feed it. Hold it.  And sustain it.

I want to see it give birth to something. Something new. A change. A radical change.

Sometimes I feel like a revolutionary without a cause.
Sometimes I feel so small.

Sometimes I am crushed under the enormity of everything that is wrong in this world.
And my inability to change it. Yes, change the World...so silly of me.

Sometimes, I am just brought to my knees  by the beauty of humanness.

But Back to Anger.

I have started to notice that there is beauty in anger too.
Lots of it.

Pure, white seething, destruction seeking Rage.  Rage that seeks to uncover and protect the Truth.
Because it has been too long since we have stared Truth in the eye.

The Truth is the System is broken. And we are doing nothing to change it.

So Yes, I am angry about what happened in Orlando.
But I am also angry that that's what it takes for us to say something is not right.
Nothing is right! Yet may be I am a little too radical.

I am Angry that people have labels, that there are these defining lines that say I belong here and you belong there and may be I like you but you are still over there. The only definition we can try to squeeze in is HUMAN. And at this point even this is questionable.

When I love you, I don't love you because of your nationality, color, gender identity or sexual preference. I don't Love you because you went so a fancy school or have a cool job, I don't Love you because of where you buy your shoes or the brand of beer you drink. I love you because you are you. Because you make my heart sing. And YOU, your essence, cannot be fit into a word. YOU cannot be defined. ME cannot be defined.
How do you define where I end and You begin.

And this is why I am Angry. We Have exchanged our authenticity for labels and definitions.
We have lost ourselves.

We allow this broken system to run our lives and we do nothing.
We post rants and moving pictures on social media, we speak angry words, and sign petitions... and we continue our little lives just as they are. Nothing has really changed.
In a few weeks this too will subside, until the next time and the next time and the next time.... for how long?

I don't wish for Bandaids, for littles fixes here and there that cover the bigger leaks.

I want change. I want radical change.
What does that look like? I have no clue.

This is where I get lost. And I become even more Angry, because I see the problem and don't know how to fix it.
So here I am seething in Anger and at a loss for action.

But may be Anger is not all about doing and fixing. Sometimes may be Anger just wants to be witnessed and acknowledged. May be any action right now will be premature.... I don't have answers.

Only questions. And, yes that is infuriating too.

I imagine that Anger is a wild stallion. And it will run me down and trample me, unless...
Unless I grab the reins and ride it like the wind.

I don't claim I am in control but I am also not willing to shrink in fear of the anger any more.
I let the wildness, the rage, the storm carry me and show me that which needs to be witnessed.
Take me where I have not dared go before.

Because this Anger is not from yesterday. It is ancient, it old and it is embedded in our psyche.
So how long  can we pretend it is not there?

The Change  I want is not out there.
The change is in us.
That feeling of me versus the other, the separation, the defining lines, that is the wall that needs to be broken down and deconstructed. So we can all be Human together.
And may be then I will find those who have the answers to my questions. May be they were looking for the questions all along.
May be then I will know what to do with my Anger.
May be then we will know how to hold each other in authenticity.

May be when I sit and witness my Anger without Fear, then I can do the the same with yours.

Or may be I am just a incurable idealist, lost in a dream.

Anger

Anger is something that has been coming up a lot lately. Both in my personal life and in people around me.

For a long time I have been terrified of it, my own anger and that directed towards me. 

Just witnessing anger has made me feel small, threatened and to shrink.

If I can't face and hold my own anger, how can I ever hope to witness another's ?

If I am afraid of my own anger it only makes sense that I am afraid of confrontation with another. 

What is anger? 

An emotion. A feeling, a provoked sensation of energy moving upward and outward. We very often block the movement of this energy outwards out of fear of hurting others, of consequences, of chaos, ultimately of loosing control. 

Anger is a catalyst towards new things. 

I can't deny that anger is destructive. I may have some affinity to Destruction. My inner Kali always  comes on top. And I need to take into account that Destruction is frightening, yet sometimes very necessary. 

Destruction and loss of Control often signify Change. Release of the comfortable boundaries that no longer serve, but instead imprison.

And if I don't let the Anger express itself outwards it inevitably turns inwards. Towards my  own self. So I become more angry. 

I become angry at being angry. I become angry for not allowing myself to be angry. 

It reeks havoc in my internal environment and eventually causes a disconnect  within me. 

A disconnect from my anger. And our anger is a propeller of creative and change. A disconnect from myself

I become stuck. 

Often that leads to depression. They say unexpressed anger turns into sadness. 

I often fear expressing anger because I feel empty and exhausted afterwards. But that is only because I am so used to holding the unexpressed emotions all the time. 

I am accustomed to holding rather than letting go. I am in the habit of fixing rather than letting it be. 

Anger doesn't require throwing chairs and blasting walls. At least not all the time.

The anger is looking for honest expression and recognition. 

Simply stating I am Angry. To myself and to another as the first step to the acknowledgement of the emotion. 

Accepting that I am angry and that I have the full right to feel so. 

Right away Anger becomes a creative force rather than unwanted child. 

Anger is an indication that something is not right and it needs to change. Rather than escaping or changing the feeling, it begs that I face the circumstances and situations that made me feel this way and take steps to shift that which makes me Angry. 

Anger is an unapologetic Force. It is honest, It burns and demands.

Instead of shrinking, I now call on the Anger. For protection of my boundaries, for letting go of that which is no longer needed, for my own sanity, for my own self-Love.

I have fallen in Love with my Anger. 

And I now demand yours too.

I have held mine, wept in its arms, made Love to it. 

I know now that I can face another's anger too.

 And if it becomes too much, I will hold it. But I demand it nonetheless. It is a part, a vital part of the Authentic Self.

And I want nothing less.

Boundaries

When my whole heart  is so tenderly and sweetly held how do I draw my boundaries? And do I want to?

When I witness an essence  so deep it becomes infinite, how do I sustain my individuality?

When I completely melt the layers of my existence and submerge so deep there is no separation, how do I define myself as a separate being?

When I feel the web of creation pulsating with my very breath, how do I unplug to become an "I" again?

When I witness my deepest dreams, so mirky, not yet defined, how do I reconcile my vision? Is it a mirror or am I simply witnessing myself?

When I am handed the key to my heart, safely guarded for eons of times, and I am wrapped in such powerful, yet gentle wings, how can I ever return the favor?

When I no longer know who is the teacher and who is the student, who is the witness and who is being witnessed, who yields the masculine  and who sustains the feminine, when everything becomes one giant spiral of energy and I am met over and over again in multiple dimensions simultaneously, how do I know I even exist? Or where do I exist?

When my energy travels unobstructed to the depths of the soul, so deep it is my soul, how do I find the blockages to release? 

Or may be this is the way to be. Simply exist in glorious Joy, bathe in infinite Sweetness, dream a reality if it doesn't exist and expand from there. 

Create,  sustain and annihilate all in one endless moment.

May be there are no limitations, no boundaries, no separation. 

Then why do I feel the need to create them?

Stillness

I have always thought that stillness requires emptiness. 

Not that I even thought about it that much before, until a few months ago. 

It was simply implied that stillness equated shedding, letting go, emptying.

A few months ago I went to dance with the rhythms.

A swirl of a day, emotions running high, anticipation, excitement, fear, for millions of reasons. I REALLY needed to Dance!

And yet, we make plans only to step into the chaos of having them torn apart.

The Dance was different than I expected. 

A last minute substitute! I don't do well with subs, especially last minute!

The teacher, the music, the mood was different. Another chance to meet another part of me. 

I stepped in.

I was met with wild energy. 

Exuberant  Love for every being in that room, ecstatic with the frustrations we all shed,the dross we burned, the cosmic wave we rode. 

Pulsing, masculine, linear, limited, charged rhythm that made me taste the chaotic, feminine, wild swirling parts of me. 

Tasting the infinite, mysterious, delicious darkness of my existence. 

Different and free, I felt different and somehow free of expectations. Wildly emancipated in my own limitations. 

 A new perspective on the Dance, the Rhythms, Life. 

After all, that is why I Dance.

And something stuck with me. 

"Stillness" he said" is fullness, wholeness,completeness"

I never thought of it that way. 

I always thought stillness requires us to empty ourselves and detach from who we are. 

To become an empty vessel of stillness. 

I realized I equated stillness with emptiness. 

I was wrong.

Stillness suddenly filled with joy, mystery and intensity. Stillness filled with emotions. 

Stillness became utterly profound, vibrating with possibility. 

Stillness.

Everything, every part me, examined or still undiscovered, well known or mysterious, brightly colorful or darker than midnight was held inside. Held still, yet pulsating with intense possibility. 

Stillness. The moment before the action. 

The sweetness of timelessness, the frustration of immobility, the anticipation of opportunity, the delicious release of what could have been, all dancing together in me in a moment of infinite possibility. 

Stillness- the wholeness of existence gathered in one potent moment, ready to be born in an unpredicted, never before tracked, unknown direction. Stillness became the moment of unmanifested, unlimited possibility.

A few nights ago, I met stillness again.  A different side of it.

Stillness was clad this time in wild confusion.

Confusion of what I was experiencing, what I was feeling, what I was thinking.

Shame, desire, curiosity, fear, embarrassment, indecision, guilt. 

Everything scrambled together in one furious ball of intensity and came at me roaring, threatening to overwhelm. 

So many feelings all at once.

I felt frustration at my inability to direct my thoughts, at my confusion, at the need to think and control my emotions. 

I wanted so badly to release and empty myself of all this craziness. Of all this confusion. I couldn't comprehend. My mind fell to tiny.

I dropped to the floor in tears.

There was no relief in tears.

And as I sat there, in torment, I considered the possibility to simply hold it all. And allow it to exist together.

Inside of me.

All of those emotions.

All of the thoughts.

All of the frustration.

Just pause and sustain.

Stillness.

It didn't matter where all the thoughts came from. I suspended them in time.

It didn't matter who or what provoked the feelings. I held them without desire to control.

The frustration. I embraced it.

All of it. At once.

Holding a blazing fire ball in my hands.

Crumbled on the floor sustaining the intensity, the wilderness of my heart.

Without attempt to control.

I sat still and waited to be overwhelmed by it all. 

To be washed away. 

To Crash.

Stillness.

I rested on this moment of possibility.

Without an attachment to the outcome.

The Wave crashed without drowning me

My mind wanted me to move.  Wanted to distract. To escape

But I couldn't.

I kneeled there, allowing the rhythms of human bodies to move me.

I kneeled listening  to the groans, the breath, the screams, the stampede of feet.

I kneeled perfectly still. 

Resting on all of the emotions coursing through me.

I let them hold me. I leaned into my feelings and my confusion and let them carry  me through the moment. Eventually time started moving again.

After some time my feet found the ground. My body parts found some movement.

My breath released. 

The stillness stayed with me for a while before I re-entered this reality.

I emerged back here or in a parallel universe.

Slightly frazzled, vastly different, still confused.

Nothing had changed.

Yet everything had changed.

In just one tiny, infinite moment of Stillness.

Held

When I confront the memory of the unspeakable. 

When I open that box that has been laying dusty and forgotten all my life and I hold it staring at it in disbelief.  Something I always suspected is there, but could never touch.

Especially when that memory, the acknowledgment of the hurt that I carry, has had so much to play in the shaping of my personality. 

When that shadow of an event, or an energetic imprint has laid the foundations of who I believed I am, of my personality. And all of a sudden I see beneath it. It is a shock. An icy wave of water. I believed to be that personality,  shaped by events of the past. And if not, then who am I?

It is also a relief. 

I am not that personality and I can let that go. 

I can shed that layer of hurt or guilt or shame. And redefine the contents of myself. 

I see it as what it is. A moment. 

A moment in time. A situation,  an occupancy long forgotten I didn't know I carry with me everywhere we go. 

It could be anything. A person. A word. A conversation. 

Most often it is the lack of words. 

The lack of someone. 

The lack of safety.

The lack of of sacred space. 

The lack of being truly held. 

We all carry those imprints. 

We lug them  around constantly. 

And when all of a sudden one day I am held. Without questions, pity or advice. 

All of a sudden I find that the hurt, the lack, the abuse, be it energetic, emotional or physical, don't define me. 

They are just old bags I have forgotten to discard somewhere along the way. 

They are not to be thrown away mindlessly either. 

I have to meet them. Acknowledge and hold them. Know them for who and what they are. 

Really know and sit with them. 

Sit with them for so long it hurts.  Relive them. And no longer as something that is me.  Relive them as the Witness. 

Until I am ready to not hurt any more. 

Because the hurt, the anguish, the shame they are not mine. 

 And I need not carry them any longer.   

I am not defined by my pain. No one will give me a medal for taking all the hurt and carrying it diligently  on my shoulder.s No most likely I will simply attract someone else's displaced hurt on top of the one I already carry. 

What defines me is my capability for Joy. 

My ability to open my heart and Love beyond words. 

What defines me is who I am underneath the energetic imprints, emotional scars and physical wounds. 

What defines me is my ability to Love and Laugh. 

In that essence I am one with everyone else. 

I melt into another's heart and I am held. Just as I am. I am safe to be myself. I am safe to meet myself. And that is everything.

Everything  one could ever ask for.

Broken and damaged beyond repair. At the same time Divine, Magical and Utterly held.

Witness me

Don't say you are sorry

Don't let pity falter your gaze

I need no compassion

No comforting or advice

Just a place to sit 

With my darkness

and hear

its whispers

Allow me  a moment of weakness

that doesn't define me

Hold me

Just hold me

While I weep  rivers of  tears

Wail at the moon

And curse my own decisions

Meet me when I am down 

and don't feel sorry for me. 

Hold me

Not with compassion

or sadness

But with Joy

That you can be here with me. 

Meet me in Rapture,

With Devotion to Life 

to counter the Death in me

See me as I am

Broken and hungry

For Presence

Lonely, defiant and naked

tormented and blind to the world

of desire and judgement

Witness me

In my darkest place

Where my anguish

is the same as  yours,

Where my pain is no longer mine

But the weight of Humanity

Taken off of my shoulders. 

Meet me 

not as another

but as a part of me

embracing me

welcoming me home.