Another World is Probable

I suck at transitions, especially when I’m not the one gallivanting off on the adventure. When my world stays the same minus one aspect – a friend moving away, for instance – then it’s as if I’ve entered the “Twilight Zone.” Life is the same but different. It’s this piece that drives me crazy, the instability, the insecurity, the ground shifting beneath my feet because things are not what they once were.

Every goodbye carries with it a new hello.

I’m not sure I have anything inspiring to say except I keep hearing an expression ringing in my ears: “You have to let go of the old to make way for the new.” When things are good, when I like the old, I don’t want to make way for the new. But I also recognize there could be some really good things up ahead. I could become close to someone new and my life could be enriched. I could experience something amazing I otherwise wouldn’t have been open to. Life could be so beautiful it would break my heart.

I guess where I’m at is grieving the loss, saying goodbye to the old, but understanding the new could be fantastic. And because I believe in an invisible hand, a guiding force, I know it will be in my best interest.

Am I sad to say goodbye to old friends? Yes, I am, BUT distance doesn’t mean the friendship dies and really, who knows what’s next?

I dream of a world where we clear the old to make way for the new. A world where we grieve for the past yet welcome the future. A world where we live each moment feeling grateful for what we have because we understand it won’t last forever.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

There are some qualities about myself I do not like – namely insecurity and anxiety. Partly, I feel a lot of insecurity and anxiety due to my heightened sensitivity as my adrenal glands normalize, but the qualities are still within me. I’ve been struggling with these two for a long time as you’ll have noticed from reading this blog. My affirmations of late have been, “I release my need for insecurity and anxiety, I release all resistance,” but there hasn’t been any traction. The affirmation hasn’t held.

Friday morning I decided to take a new approach. The Queen of Self-Love, Christine Arylo, recommends loving the things about yourself you do not like. I’ve done this with great success – every morning I say, “Rebekah, I love how sensitive you are because that means you’re better able to accept and receive divine messages.” So I tried conducting the practice on insecurity and anxiety: “Rebekah, I love how insecure you are because that means you’re interested in connecting. I love how anxious you are because that means you care deeply.”

I love this! Fish with love!

My battered, war-torn soul sighed in relief from no longer having to engage in conflict. “Really? Do you mean it?” I asked. “I really do,” I replied.

A very wise monk, who unfortunately passed away in November, used to say that all anything wants is infinite, unconditional love. That means my insecurity just wants to be loved, my anxiety just wants to be loved, my fear just wants to be loved, etc. All innate characteristics want infinite love. However, I also know, “As you think, so you become,” which is why affirmations are so powerful. Do I really want to keep affirming my insecurity and anxiety? Do I really want to keep these things around?

No. I do not. So what I’m circling back to is releasing them, however, this time I release them out of love. And I think that makes all the difference. Instead of saying, “Ugh, I hate feeling so insecure and anxious. Go away and leave me alone!” I’m saying, “I love you for what you’ve done for me, but now I recognize I don’t need you anymore. I release you and let you go.” I don’t need anxiety to care about people, places, and things, nor do I need insecurity to tell me I crave connection.

Maybe nobody cares about this except for me, but it feels pretty big. To love something I used to hate and then still let it go. To love all parts of myself but recognize some of them do not serve me. To release the bad and hold onto the good. To be open to new ways of being. To love myself so much I say goodbye to the old and welcome the new. I’m walking into a new paradigm and I dream of that for others as well.

I dream of a world where we release the traits that aren’t working for us with love. A world where we love ourselves so much we know when it’s time to say goodbye to some of them. A world where we keep the lessons we’ve learned but discard the rest. A world where we’re open to transformation and then receive it.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

When I ride the bus it opens up my world and forces me to mix with people I might not otherwise. On Wednesday, I rode the bus and felt like crying hearing the stories around me – the snippets of people talking about being addicted to weed, the demeanor of the woman who looked ready to punch someone, the homeless people camping out at bus shelters. My heart broke a little because I care so much. I care so deeply. Yes, my sensitivity is probably over the top at the moment, but I can’t help that.

As tears started to leak from my eyes, a woman walked on the bus and sat in front of me. Her shirt said “love” down both the sleeves. In that moment I cried even harder because it struck me love is the container for all things. Even while I was crying, love was still there; in this case, literally. Love means it’s safe for me to cry, safe for me to be angry, safe for me to feel whatever I want. All of my emotions, all of my everything, really, are held in the container of love.

I know this is a trash can but there’s a heart on it. So love is literally acting as a container!

Often I think love is separate from icky emotions or things I cast judgment upon. I think there is love and then there is everything else. What I’m coming to realize, however, is that’s false. Love is not outside of all these things, love IS everything; it’s omnipresent.

Nothing escapes the purview of love, nothing is outside of love. There is a Sanskrit mantra I sing every day that translates as “love is all there is.” For the longest time I couldn’t wrap my head around that definition and preferred the longer version: “Everything is an expression of an infinite, loving consciousness.” But today I finally “get” it. Love holds everything, even war, disease, famine, and poverty.

This blogpost may not make sense to many of you, but I hope someone understands what I’m trying to say, which is, even when we think it’s not, love is there. In truth, this concept transcends language so to really understand what I mean, I ask that you take a second to feel what I’m saying.

I dream of a world where we feel love in all things. A world where we understand it’s safe to feel however we’re feeling because we’re being held by divine love. A world where we understand nothing is outside of love because love is all there is.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

I’ve wanted to write about this for a long time so I’m glad the opportunity finally presented itself. According to one theory, there are three relationship styles, also called attachment styles or systems. Usually, when we’re talking about attachment theory it’s in terms of parenting, i.e. how “attached” a child is to a parent. Since attachment theory was developed, researchers have started applying it to all relationships, not just parents and kids.

Here is a brief overview of the three kinds of attachment systems and how they play out:

In the strange situation [an experiment developed to study attachment styles], 12-month-old infants and their parents are brought to the laboratory and, systematically, separated from and reunited with one another. In the strange situation, most children (i.e., about 60%) behave in the way implied by Bowlby’s [the inventor of attachment theory] “normative” theory. They become upset when the parent leaves the room, but, when he or she returns, they actively seek the parent and are easily comforted by him or her. Children who exhibit this pattern of behavior are often called secure. Other children (about 20% or less) are ill-at-ease initially, and, upon separation, become extremely distressed. Importantly, when reunited with their parents, these children have a difficult time being soothed, and often exhibit conflicting behaviors that suggest they want to be comforted, but that they also want to “punish” the parent for leaving. These children are often called anxious-resistant. The third pattern of attachment … documented is called avoidant. Avoidant children (about 20%) don’t appear too distressed by the separation, and, upon reunion, actively avoid seeking contact with their parent, sometimes turning their attention to play objects on the laboratory floor. Source.

Like I said, this applies not only to kids, but to adults as well and comes out most prevalently in romantic relationships. For me, I’ve noticed my attachment system is at work in ALL of my relationships. (If you want to read more about this, and how your “bad luck” with romance could boil down to picking avoidants again and again, I highly recommend picking up Attached or checking out this article.)

How you feel internally is what you project externally and vice versa.

You may have already guessed, but I have anxious attachment. What that means in practical terms is if a friend is late and they haven’t told me they’re running late, I immediately start to feel anxious and envision them lying in a ditch somewhere. I start to fret and am unable to calm down until I hear from said friend.

I’m not nearly as anxious as I used to be because I’ve done a LOT of work on myself to become more secure, but sometimes my anxiety gets the best of me, like this week.

A friend of mine dropped off the face of the Earth for two weeks and at first I was fine with it, but then the thought came into my head that something could be seriously wrong. I am so embarrassed I acted out of my anxiety and sent him an email expressing my concern. Through the process, however, I’ve realized the external is internal.

My anxiety is not really about another person, I’m projecting because I feel insecure. I (unknowingly) flash back to childhood and being rejected or abandoned by my peers. I relive feeling anxious and insecure about getting my basic needs met. Hearing back from the person I’m worried about only temporarily fixes the problem, much like putting a band aid on a wound that requires stitches. The best thing I can do is reframe my past and heal myself.

Instead of replaying how certain people would be my friend and then all of a sudden stop talking to me, I can remember “rejection is God’s protection,” so perhaps those are people I wouldn’t want to be in my life anyway. And I can remind myself of how many friends from my childhood I do have. I have a busload and many of them live in the Bay Area. Sure, I only saw them one or two weeks out of the year at retreats, but the bond is there. Instead of focusing on the few people I never heard back from, I can feel gratitude for so many people who are still in my life. Most importantly, I can create security for myself by affirming I will never abandon myself and that I will always be around to take care of me.

I know this post is quite long, but the point I want to drive home is sometimes we think external things will fix us – if only so-and-so would call we’ll feel better – but we do not control other people and trying to do so only makes us feel crazy. The inner peace we seek only comes about from doing internal work, which is where the real healing is anyway.

I dream of a world where we recognize our external feelings are often projections of our internal ones. A world where we understand the real healing comes from reshaping our internal thoughts and beliefs. A world where we confront our traumas and then release them. A world where we understand to fix our external world we often have to work on our internal one.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

This blogpost is an extension of “Being Taken Care Of.” There are many things in my life that I thought were random, that had neither rhyme nor reason to them. They happened just ‘cuz and that was the end of it. As I’m slowly unpacking my boxes (I’m mostly finished!), I’m seeing that’s not the case. There is rhyme and reason to everything, even the seemingly random and illogical things.

When I was in Tucson (which is a case of rhyme and reason in and of itself), I spent a good 10 minutes at Best Buy vacillating on whether to buy a small, portable speaker or a car stereo thingy that I could use to hook up my ipod. You see, I possessed a cassette-to-ipod device, but the woman’s car I was borrowing did not have a tape deck only a CD player. I had no desire to lug all of my CDs with me, and listening to music when I drive is a must, so there I was, debating which to get because the likelihood of me using either a speaker or car stereo thingy in the future seemed slim. I settled on the portable speaker and called it a day.

Life can be really poetic sometimes.

Now that I’m unpacking, I find myself using my portable speaker all the time. It’s so much easier than firing up my computer. Who knew that seemingly random purchase would come in handy down the road? Also, five years ago (I kid you not) I bought a cable bone to organize my cords and cables. That purchase has been sitting in its plastic wrap with the price tag on it for FIVE YEARS. I’ve been meaning to give it away or return it to the store for store credit because I’ve never found any use for it, and I’ve lived in multiple places since I first bought it. And now, it’s finally being put to use. My inner packrat feels vindicated.

These are not very good examples, I know, but they’re indicative of my larger life pattern. In a review of my book Just a Girl from Kansas, my friend wrote in a private message:

“I know it’s difficult to have hope when everything around you is falling apart or not going as planned, but reading your journey really filled me with a sense of no matter what there is a plan for you and everything will be OK and work out for the best.”

When I use my portable speaker or my cable bone or realize I’m experiencing x because I did y, it reminds me of that notion, that there is a plan for me, that everything will be OK, and that everything will work out for the best. I believe in fate AND free will. Really though I believe there is an invisible hand, a guiding force in my life, and when I take a step back for reflection, I see its presence. I see there is rhyme and reason for everything and for that I am grateful.

I dream of a world where we understand even the seemingly random events are connected by a thread leading to one thing and then another. A world where we appreciate that even if we don’t know the rhyme or reason now, we will. A world where we enjoy the poetry of our lives and watch as the rhymes manifest.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

I’m hard on myself (maybe you’ve noticed) so this week has been extremely difficult because there are so many things vying for my attention — work, unpacking, laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, working on my blog redesign, recovery meetings — and I want to accomplish them all. Right this minute. Obviously I realize that’s impossible, and I understand the value of doing tasks little by little, but there’s more to it than that.

While on the phone with my recovery mentor on Friday I said, “This work, life, play balance is a bitch.” She laughed because she knows exactly what I mean. She said to me, “Something has to give and sometimes that’s our expectations.” Holy guacamole batman. In my mind, when she said “something has to give” my immediate thought was the cleanliness level of my house, i.e. taking that off of my to-do list but accomplishing everything else on it. So when she said instead that my expectations can give, my mind was blown. You mean I can throw away my expectation that I’ll have unpacked all of my belongings by now? You mean I can throw away my expectation that my blog redesign will have been completed by today, Sunday, the day my new posts go up? Whoa there. Just whoa.

I feel like this woman sometimes.

What I love about this is I can take myself off the hook. I allow myself more wiggle room. I allow myself the understanding sometimes things take longer than I think they will. And that’s OK. It means I don’t have to take anything off my to-do list but I do get to adjust the when. My self-will is subtracted out of the equation because instead I acknowledge some things are out of my control, even if they seem like they should be in my control! Unpacking, washing dishes, doing laundry, it seems like these things are in my hands, but I’m realizing they are and they are not because they are working in tandem with many other factors, thus when they get done is in this instance not up to me. I’m only human and I can only accomplish so much in a day.

In essence, I’m trying really hard to practice the acceptance part of the serenity prayer. I’ve heard many times that:

“Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God’s world by mistake … [U]nless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes.”

This means I also accept I’m not perfectly practicing this passage. It means I’m letting go of my expectations that just because I want to no longer feel fear, insecurity, lack, or what have you, doesn’t mean the feelings will necessarily disappear this instant. They could, but it’s foolish (and troublesome) for me to expect them to. I’m doing my best and that’s good enough. And in this instance, I’m releasing my expectation of what “my best” means.

I dream of a world where we release our expectations. A world where we understand sometimes things take longer than we planned. A world where we realize life is messy and chaotic and dramatic and doesn’t always fit in neat, orderly boxes. A world where we live in acceptance of what is while also understanding some things can be changed. And sometimes that thing needs to be us.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

I’ve had this idea in my mind that if something is effortless for me it’s not valuable. Because if it’s effortless, than anyone can do it and it’s cheapened – we all know it’s only when something is rare, like gold, that it becomes valuable. For me, the things that come naturally are writing, being loving, and acting as a counselor.

I’ve held the notion that because I wrote and published a book myself, it’s not a big deal. Anyone can do it; it’s not such an achievement because it’s not like I sold my book to Random House, or Penguin, or any of the top publishers. It’s not really a triumph. And being loving, sending love to everyone, doesn’t make much of a difference, it’s not like I invented a cure for cancer or something. And so what if people call me up when they’re having a rough time? Because it’s easy for me, because I’m a natural at all these things, they don’t hold much value. In my mind, only if something is difficult does it have worth.

What I love about this picture of me meditating is just looking at it I can *feel* the good vibes I'm emanating.

I’m sure my friend Amal, who’s big into astrology, would say this is my Capricorn rising rearing its ugly head. The sentiment for Capricorns is to find satisfaction in hard work. My lifecoach and I explored this concept of something being valuable only if it’s difficult. We pretended I was a debt collector and played out how I would feel about it (horrible) and how I would be of service to the world (I wouldn’t be). We also pretended I was a math professor – I’m not bad at math, but it’s definitely a subject I struggle with and have to make an effort if I want to succeed. What would I contribute to the world if I was a math professor? Nothing, considering how much work it takes for me to grasp basic concepts.

What I’m getting at here, what I’m coming to understand, is we were all given certain gifts for a reason. We were imbued with our talents not so we could squander them, but so we can use them, so we can make a difference in the world with what comes naturally to us. Our gifts are not worthless because they’re easy, they’re precious because they’re gifts. This has become very clear to me in the physical realm because I lost an earring my sister got me from Prague. I’m not upset the earring itself is missing; I’m upset because it is an irreplaceable gift from my sister. Similarly, the gifts we’ve been given are from the universe/God/Brahma/the divine and are irreplaceable.

What I’m saying here is who I am and what I have to offer are valuable. My gifts are precious. They may be easy for me, but that doesn’t mean they’re worthless. It’s important to be me, to use my talents, to serve with them. My gifts have been given to me for a reason. Just like Rosie gave me earrings to wear, the divine gave me words to write, a big heart to love, and a sound ear to listen. My lifecoach wrote to me, “You don’t get to make up that not being you is somehow serving you anymore.” Nor is it serving anyone else.

I dream of a world where we realize just because something is easy doesn’t mean it has no value. A world where we hold dear the gifts that have been given to us and we use them. A world where we let ourselves be who we are, understanding there’s nothing more precious than our gifts.

Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.

On Independence Day a friend of mine texted me a quote about being in recovery: "It's a million-dollar program that we get a nickel at a time." I both love and hate that concept. I'm sitting in my cottage surrounded by boxes — although not as many as last week! — and what I want is to unpack everything now. I want to be settled now. I want all the organizing to be done now. I want my big payday right this minute, not little by little.

I quite often forget this concept of baby steps, slow and steady wins the race, etc. because I'm attracted by the big and bold, by pomp and circumstance. I love hearing about seemingly overnight success and Cinderella stories because, well, I'm impatient. I heard today that impatience can also mask self-centeredness and a controlling tendency. That's certainly the case with me.

True story: The consistent pressure of water can make even the hardest rock smooth.

Little by little is important for me to remember because more often it's the case someone is wealthy because they know how to save — they sock away money a little bit here, a little bit there. More often it's the case an actor has been auditioning for years before they become an "overnight" success. Truly it's the baby steps, the hard work along the way that builds up to something great. Rome wasn't built in a day and nor will my cottage be unpacked in a day. I want to be a best-selling author this minute, but when I focus on the big goal I forget about selling one book at a time to one person at a time.

For someone like me who's melodramatic and makes big drastic changes quite frequently, doing something little by little is crucial. When I look at all the things that have stuck with me — my meditation practice, my yoga practice, my recovery from addiction — it's because I did things little by little. They've become permanent fixtures in my life because I took action every single day — not because I made one grand sweeping gesture. Sure, the grand gestures are fun and exciting, but it's the little actions everyday that have made the most lasting impact.

I don't know that anyone else will get anything out of this blogpost, but I guess I'm saying for today I realize there is value in the small things. In doing things one day at a time, little by little. That getting a million dollars a nickel at a time means there won't ever be a moment when I'm completely out of cash because I'll have a constant source of income. Yes, I'm impressed by vast canyons, but that's because I'm seeing the end results — many canyons are created by water wearing down rock little by little, day by day. Little by little adds up to something beautiful and grand, and right now is the time for me to practice that, knowing eventually I'll see the results I'm looking for.

I dream of a world where we value doing something little by little. A world where we understand constant and steady pressure adds up to something amazing. A world where we have patience with ourselves and each other. A world where we cherish our baby steps.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

There are a lot of things I could blog about today, but I find people respond best when I'm authentic and share what's really going on. What's really going on is in this moment I feel like weeping. I want to curl into a ball and cry, and cry, and cry. I don't want to admit that to you because I want to share happy things! I want you to feel inspired after reading this! But, in this moment I am sad. I acknowledge this is also because I'm REALLY tired. I moved last night after a very stressful week — I was in Seattle on Wednesday and then came home to a flooded bathroom at my sublet AND had to pack up my life and get prepped for the move all in two days. Not to mention the actual moving bit.

Moving is enough to make anyone cry, I think. I've heard several times moving is one of the top three most stressful things a person can do. I agree. It's not that my new place isn't lovely, because it is. I'm living in a cottage all by myself where I can see trees outside my window, flowers bursting into bloom, and hear birds chirping. My neighbors thus far seem very nice, helpful, and friendly. For the first time in my life, I know who I'm living around. Not just one neighbor, but all of them.  

However, I'm in Oakland so that means I'm hearing gunshots and/or fireworks — we are swiftly approaching the 4th of July after all. I haven't wanted to mention the gunshots because I guess I'm a little embarrassed, as if hearing them says something about me and my economic status, i.e. gunshots mean I'm poor and being poor is something to be ashamed of. I'm not poor — I am so very rich with many, many things, and I know the money is coming. I know all of my needs are being met and I feel very blessed, and at the same time I'm living in a working-class neighborhood of Oakland. The (possible) gunshots are contributing to my tearful feelings because they're stressing me, but here is what I know: 1.) It's good to cry. Crying is a great detox. 2.) Being an adult means understanding nothing is all good or all bad.

Nothing encompasses the concept of good within the bad (and vice versa) quite as well as the yin yang.

You already heard both the good things (quiet, secure, great neighbors, in my price range, near public transportation), and the bad (not such a great neighborhood). But here's the interesting element, the not-so-great neighborhood is the seed that contributes to the pros. The more humble neighborhood is why I live in a gated community, why I can afford to be here, and why the neighbors are so friendly. I've found there is a sense of bonding together that happens in poorer neighborhoods. And yet, I still want to cry, and that's OK.  

I'm writing about this because I'm giving myself (and anyone reading this) permission to feel their feelings. We have a tendency in our society to gloss over the bad stuff. We tout gratitude and appreciation, telling people to only focus on the positive. But that's not real life. Real life is messy. Real life means you can live somewhere totally gorgeous and not love the neighborhood. Real life means you can be grateful for all you have and still want more. Real life means you can feel happy and sad, scared and safe, all at the same time. I used to think I could only feel one thing at a time, but the older I get the more I find I feel a thousand different things all at once.

This blogpost may mean nothing to most of you, but I hope someone is reading this who understands what I'm trying to say: That it's OK to cry. That it's safe to express whatever you're feeling. That we can feel many things and no emotion is better than another. That being an adult means there can be so many good things at the same time there are so many bad things. We are living in a dualistic world so it makes sense we'll feel and experience opposites, sometimes in the same moment.

I dream of a world where we know it's OK to cry. A world where we feel safe to express ourselves. A world where we understand just because we're sad doesn't mean we can't also be happy. A world where we allow ourselves to express our full range of emotion. A world where we accept how we feel with grace and love.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.