(This week, click here if you’d like to listen to the audio version.)
Many years ago, I had a conversation with one of my closest friends about enlightenment. We compared our approaches – how I live in idealism, fantasy, and move toward the light. He told me his approach is more like crawling down the back of a scaly beast until he comes full circle at its snout. I heard what he said but I didn’t understand it because who wants to go down the scaly back of a beast? Who wants to peer into the seedy underbelly?
It turns out that I do. I’m currently experiencing the astrological transits associated with the mid-life crisis (and if you were born in 1984 or 1985, you are too). If you’re interested, that’s Pluto square Pluto, and essentially it means looking at the shadow and everything that remained hidden. It’s doing what Carl Jung suggested when he said, “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
I’m realizing how true that is. In my post from the other week about meeting the self, I talked about the importance of looking in the mirror, and sometimes, when you look in the mirror, you don’t like what you see. Some people become well-practiced at avoiding the mirror. It’s too scary, it’s too threatening to witness the parts they want to hide but that’s not me. I’m devoted to myself and that means all parts of myself.
As if to underscore this point, I pulled an oracle card called “Diving for Light.” The author Alana Fairchild says, “It can be so much simpler to seek light in the heavenly, in that which is blissful, sweet, loving, and kind. To look for the light in that which is dark is an advanced task that only a rebellious and brave heart will attempt. You may not feel that you have taken such a journey by choice. Yet you have taken this wise challenge from deep within your soul. Your innermost being has evoked this situation in your life with the intention that you grow in power, wisdom, and creative juice. It also wants you to experience a bold and fearless trust in life and become further empowered to live it with zest and courage.”
That’s true. I want to live fully. I want to liberate myself through expansion, and that means every situation, every struggle, every everything is an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved or further away. My spiritual teacher says our path is an all-around fight, both internally and externally. That means facing my fears, protesting injustice, and always asking, “How can I use this situation or experience to grow?” It’s not only the happy, joyful situations. It’s also the ones that have me crying every single day.
I’m diving for the light by mining the darkness. I’m sifting through the muck looking for gold, not because I particularly want to, but because I recognize there’s something of value in doing so. On the other end of this is more power, more wisdom, more creativity, and being one step closer to enlightenment.
I dream of a world where we understand to become enlightened, we must make the darkness conscious. A world where we use everything as an opportunity to move closer to the Divine Beloved. A world where we dive for the light because we understand that something powerful and transformative is waiting for us in the shadows.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I think it’s pretty clear I want to be famous. Not “get my picture taken while eating a hamburger in a car” famous, but “win awards and have people share my content” famous. I know fame doesn’t make anyone happy, I know the goal of my life is not fame, I know aiming for fame goes against all of my spiritual beliefs, and yet it’s still here.
I’ve wrestled with this aspect of myself for decades trying to reason with it, spin it, battle it, push it away. But it’s still here. On Wednesday, I listened to a radio show loosely about surrender and I burst into tears because I finally accepted this part of me. To surrender means to stop fighting and I stopped fighting this aspect of myself. I also started journaling about it, asking why I care so much.
This picture is perfect. Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash.
I seek fame because I want to prove myself, I want to showcase my “enough-ness.” I spoke with a friend about this and he suggested I make a list of all the ways I’ll finally be enough. I’ll be enough when _____. I made my list: “I’ll be enough when I’m a bestselling author. I’ll be enough when I go on Oprah. I’ll be enough when a celebrity retweets me.” I kept going until I reached the point when I wrote, “I’ll be enough when I feel worthy.”
As if to hammer the point home, I listened to another radio show by Nancy Levin, who used to be the events coordinator at Hay House before she transitioned into writing and coaching. To paraphrase, she said nothing on the outside will make you feel worthy if you don’t feel worthy on the inside. I know this. In fact, I’ve written this. But when I look back at my post on self-worth from nearly nine years, I hear a lot of judgment. A lot of dismissing. I didn’t honor my desire then or now.
When I look at the basic philosophy of my spiritual tradition, I have more perspective. The philosophy states we take everything and channel it toward the divine. It sounds like a lovely sentiment, but what does that actually mean? I’m not sure I know, but what I’m starting to understand is I can’t run from anything, including my desire for fame. I can’t escape anything. Maybe to use everything as a vehicle toward my unification with a power greater than myself means first that I have to accept what is here in a loving, compassionate way.
This blogpost deals with my desire for fame, but the concept is applicable to anything. It could be the part of ourselves that’s scared of others, or is greedy, or ashamed, or whatever. We can’t pretend that side doesn’t exist as much as we’d like that to be the case. We have to work with what’s here in order to have any power over it. I’ve likely used this quote before, but Carl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you’ll call it fate.” I’d rather be an active participant in my fate and the only way to do that it seems is to stop running from the things I don’t like.
I dream of a world where we accept all parts of ourselves with compassion. A world where we realize just because we don’t like something doesn’t mean it goes away. A world where we embrace our inherent tendencies and still work to transform them into something else. A world where we channelize them toward something greater than ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve come to believe that to be alive means to experience trauma; and I don’t mean things like war, or car accidents (although those things too) — I mean things like death, divorce, and anything else that shakes us up and makes us feel unsafe physically or emotionally. Trauma can also be secondary, by the way. It can be hearing or seeing someone else’s traumatic experiences. When you take into account the majority of news stories, I’m pretty sure we’re all walking around a little traumatized.
We all deal with trauma in our own ways, but I’ve noticed I deal with trauma by minimizing it, dismissing it, or doing whatever I can to distract myself from the depths of my feelings. Who wants to feel sad or angry or insecure when there are movies to watch, people to call? Who wants to feel sad or angry or insecure when there are places to visit and dreams to chase? I certainly don’t. But the reality is, we can’t outrun our trauma; it clings to us like a shadow. Carl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you’ll call it fate.”
Go with emotions like flowing down a river.
Carl, why you gotta be so spot on? I don’t want to make the unconscious conscious, but I’ve reached a point in my life where I can’t ignore it anymore. As someone said to me once, “What you resist, persists.” I wanted to punch them in the face when they said that to me, but I found, yes, it’s true. I kept working so hard to resist, but my resistance didn’t banish the problem, it only served to keep it alive. The question then becomes, how is a professional emotional runner, so to speak, supposed to all of a sudden stop running? How can a person face their demons instead?
When I brought this up to my therapist, he said to me, “Just lie down. Instead of actively trying to skirt the perimeter, yield, and let the flood wash over you.” And wash over me it did. When I stopped actively trying to do anything, all of the emotions overtook me. I didn’t enjoy it, it wasn’t “fun,” but I feel relieved. It takes a lot of energy to run away from feelings. A LOT. By stopping, by turning around to face my feelings instead, I feel drained, but in a good way. Like after a full day swimming.
To tie all of this to a spiritual concept, people talk a lot about being in the flow of life – me too – but I think it’s important to remember, getting into the flow is not always an active process. Sometimes being in the flow is allowing ourselves to be carried by whatever is here. Just like flowing down a river, it’s a lot easier if we don’t resist, and also, we have no idea where it will take us.
I dream of a world where we yield to what we’re resisting. A world where we feel our feelings instead of pushing them away. A world where we put ourselves into the flow by understanding sometimes that’s a passive process.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.