From http://kichigaikikyokagome.deviantart.com
We run from the imperfect. We want everything to be flawless. We praise beauty; we seek it out; we convince ourselves that we can’t live without it. Ruin is something we have come to dread. To feel ruined it to feel busted up, disappointed, and taken advantage of. We desperately cling to the perfect – in ourselves, in others, in a moment of time. We try to rush through ruin as quickly as possible, and with closed eyes. By running from ruin we are missing so many opportunities for growth and personal evolution.
Dancing with our disappointment
I know this dance well. I have been running from ruin and toward perfection for many, many years. Brian calls this my intricate skill of “maximize this, minimize that.” In other words, I make the most of the good things and try very hard to ignore the bad things, hoping that those bad things will just magically go away. For the record, they don’t. They accumulate until their collective voice is so loud that they must be reckoned with in one way or another.
We can learn a lot from sadness if we’re willing to sit with it
I received a lot of positive feedback from my last two posts – the first about how my dad taught me that the only advice we can take is our own and the second about how a chance encounter with an ex taught me about feeling and transcending anger. So much so, that I’ve decided to take my writing in a very personal direction. I’m at a point in my story where some previously disjointed pieces are starting to fit together in a very powerful way. Steve Jobs said that, “We can’t expect to understand our lives living forward, but only by looking back.” That’s why reflection is so important, why writing it all down and sharing it is critical to our own understanding. All burdens can be borne if we can put them into a story.
Some of the pieces of my story are jagged and uncomfortable and some of them are smoothly crafted. Somehow, they’re all finding a way to come together and co-exist side-by-side, not stealing the limelight from one another, but sharing in it equally. It’s quite a surprise, even though I’ve been working on this very hope for such a long time. I never thought I’d realize it, and certainly not so early on in my life. And while this surprise is of tremendous benefit to me, I want it to benefit you, too, because I want you to have the same experience of holding up a mirror to the parts of you, of others, and of your experience to see that the good, the bad, and the ugly are all extraordinary teachers.
For a long time I vilified my dad, and many of those reasons were justifiable. What I shunned for too long were all of the lessons he taught me, albeit in a manner that I would never wish on anyone else. He was a cold, austere, sad man, and my family bore the brunt of that for a long time. What I didn’t know as a teenager, what there was no way for me to know, was that his behaviors and his personal history that caused those behaviors, would give me the tools I need to do the work I was meant to do with Compass Yoga.
This is about honoring our whole self, not about making lemonade
And this is not some pathetic attempt by a hopeful gal to make lemonade out of lemons, to make the most of what she’s got even if that isn’t much at all. It’s about honoring every part of our past; it’s about recognizing that in every moment, in every experience, there is a very deliberate, necessary teaching that sets us up to live our dharma, our path. We need the painful, sad parts of our past just as much as we need the joy and light. And I would argue that we need them in equal measure. The poetic Dolly Parton is famous for saying, “The way I see it, if you want rainbows then you gotta put up with the rain.” Truer words were never spoken.
So here in my promise to you: you will learn about my own personal story, layer by layer, piece by piece, even the ugly parts. Especially the ugly parts. It will be revealed in as thoughtful and sacred a manner as I can muster, and you will eventually see the complete picture. None of it will be gratuitous and all of it is intended so that you can benefit from these two learnings:
1.) where and what we come from has every bit to do with who we eventually become
and even more importantly,
2.) the depth of our roots does not determine the spread of our wings. We can fly as high as we choose to fly regardless of how far down we find ourselves at any point in time. It’s all based on our will to find our way. And I intend to find mine.
nice post!
Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed it.
Everyone has a past. Everyone has the uglies as well as the beautiful in our lives.
They say that “Gratitude is Attitude”. This is how I live my life; to be in gratitude.
I also have come from a past not always easy, but I have sprouted my branches and have seen over the horizon for fulfulling my life. Yesterday for instance I took my Mom to the Dr and then afterwards picked up dinner and went to my Aunts home and spent time with them. They were thrilled for the surprise. In speaking with them their health is such a set back in their life and the fact of losing siblings, etc. has tarnished the joy out of them. It did sadden me that they lost their joy and their attitude of gratitude. I listened and then spoke and said “It’s important to see the beauty and the good in life. Life does have lots of hardships and sadness, but each and every day to be thankful for another day to be with the ones you love that are still alive. You can miss those that have past and feel the sadness but remember also the good parts and the good times. But, each day, be thankful and it will change how you feel. It will be the gift of joy back and the gift of gratitude back.”
Hi Frances – I love that! Gratitude is attitude. It’s so true. It took me a long time to reconcile a lot of my experiences, particularly the very painful ones, and gratitude was the key that started that journey for me.
Christa,
Thank You.
I have been a reader of several blogs for the longest time. Your blog, in particular, captured my attention. Something told me–I had a hunch–there was much more to your story and your father played a central role in it. I have known this for some time now, but I did not have any proof. Just a sixth sense.
I am glad you are now okay with sharing your personal story, especially about your father. I still sense a lot of confusion about your family history: there is drama there for sure.
I find this similar to the “drama” of my relationship with meditation. For several years, I was in denial and could not accpet meditation into my life. I was taught that meditation was mumbo jumbo: this had to do with my upbringing. This is what happens when you put your trust in people who are older–but not wiser–than you.
It is only after I trusted my intuition that I was able to carve out a positive relationship with meditation. Now, I am moving forward with it, but these transitions are difficult. Hence, your story is also quite intriguing. Cheers.
Hi Archan,
You are so perceptive. There is so much writing I’m working on now that is really starting to bring together all of this experience and information that is so radically informing my future. In Buddhism there is a tenant that when the student is ready the teacher appears and the every moment we are given the exact teaching we really need. That has always been true for me, especially now.
I love the story of you wrestling with your meditation practice. And look at you now – a PRO!
thank you for this. your writing and insight is really valuable.
Hi Amanda,
I’m so glad this post was helpful for you. It was for me, too.
Looking forward to reading more!
Thanks, Nikita. More to come very soon!
Thank you so much for sharing this post with us. It cought me in a moment in which exactly the same thoughts and feelings are coming up and where I realize for how long I have been running away from the ugly. This post encourages me to look back and face the ugly openly! Thanks a lot for that! lots of love, Juliane
Hi Juliane,
So glad the post was helpful to you. I’m learning just how valuable our ugly experiences are to our personal growth.