Solitude, Sadness, and Self-Love

At some point of time, all human beings feel a deep sense of aloneness. Such a universal experience, and yet, it's experienced in painful isolation, at least internally even if we are surrounded by people who really love us.

I believe that's the point that we need to turn inwards, and be okay with what's there. The fear is many a time greater than the actual experience. Facing inwards, being okay with a vast expansive space. Perhaps similar to floating off into the outer space in an unknown galaxy, no gravity. Where are we, if not anchored by a pulling weight that keeps our feet on the ground? Who are we, if not in relationship to other human beings? What are we? Why do we exist? What is the purpose of our lives? These are big scary questions. And we often stay outwards in the daily hustle to avoid questions that can seem unanswerable.

A few years ago when I had just moved to New York, I was looking for a great book recommendation and a friend gave it to me - Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke. There are 10 letters in that book that Rilke wrote to a young mentee he had never met. I think everyone who reads that book feels like Rilke has traveled across time and space to join us in this realm, and that he wrote that letter to that particular reader. I too felt deeply spoken to, deeply moved by his words. He spoke to me of solitude, of the vast expanse we have inside of us. To paraphrase, he said that most of us spend our whole lives in just one room of the house, whereas there is so much more to discover. He spoke of sadness too, with such respect for how it is to be treated and how it changes us in meaningful ways. Sadness, like solitude, is a universal experience and also like solitude, many of us spend our time in hyperactivity to avoid those feelings.

Through this book, I came to make peace with my sadnesses, and came to love the spaciousness of solitude, that can allow one to feel as expansive as time itself.

Nowadays, I lose myself in hyperactivity fairly regularly, but then something reminds me of this question - what or who am I trying to avoid, when I could be with all of myself all of the time?

I invite you into yourself. Sometimes that can look like meditating, or it can look like taking a walk, or dancing. Meditation changes too, it is a medium to access something eternal and still, and anything we lose ourselves in can create that pathway. Do not be attached to one path, but take the step now that moves your whole being forward. You can enter yourself from many realms - the physical, the emotional, the spiritual all are connected. You can touch your body in a new way and discover that you have changed. Your own hands may be touching differently, infused with awareness of self. You may look in the mirror everyday and not really see yourself deeply. You could do that now.

Whatever you do, invite love into it. Love is attention, time, presence, unconditionality, no judgements. Bring love into yourself, from yourself, to yourself. When we are filled with love, it is what we offer out too. And within us, it can help us hold all our experiences with compassion. 

Letting Go

A while back T and I were moving and we were in a purging frenzy. I donated so many clothes, shoes, household items, kitchen things, and more. Asking myself daily - Do I need this? Do I use it? Am I attached? - I got into a practice of letting go. I had mentally been preparing for this for some time, because I am a recovering sentimentalist. But I was ready. So we purged a LOT. And on the other side, in the new place, it felt good. There was less stuff to unpack (could be lesser still), and less space so it all fit better too.

At times though, I wonder if we went too far. Whenever I am wondering what to wear that I don't need to iron and and will keep me cool in the summer, I might have a flash of memory of a dress I let go of. And I might regret that decision. Or I might stand by it. Either way, I've been reflecting on letting go, and both the joys and pains of it. I've been wondering what it takes.

What does it really take to let go of someone, or of something? Of an experience, or an expectation, or a memory....First I think it takes that mental commitment, the readiness to move on. Second, there has to be an active component - perhaps there is a dropoff to Goodwill, or the burning of a letter. Perhaps it's deleting pictures, or someone from your facebook friend list. And then third, is the rest of the journey with no finite end, which is practicing letting go over and over. Each time you are reminded of the thing or longing for it, you remind yourself why you needed to let go in the first place, and why it was bold and brave and true to do so. Perhaps you have to remind yourself a lot. Perhaps you never look back.

And sometimes you need a fourth stage - if you're truly unable let go, then try acceptance instead. I'm sitting with all of this, from the mundane (missing my old sneakers and excited about new ones!) to the deeply emotional (wishing some of my relationships were deeper or closer, but accepting and being present to what is).

Even our skin sheds completely every twenty-one days. How can we refuse to participate in a process so natural and adaptive? If we didn't, we literally wouldn't heal and be able to recover from wounds. So, in that spirit, I am facing, learning, and trying to let go a little more every day.

I hope there is something you can release today. Maybe a regret about something you did or didn't do,  maybe it's a mug that you don't need anymore. Tell yourself what you need to let go of, and more importantly, why. Then release, and notice how you feel. Or if you're not ready to let go yet, that's okay too, notice that and explore what's underneath.

Write to me about it, if you like.

When I'm Happy!

I'm happy when I write and I write when I'm happy!

Today I write after many months of not.

I reflected recently in a "sharing about ourselves" that I didn't share I am a survivor of sexual violence. I considered it and I forgot or I chose something else to share. For some reasons. I'm reflecting now on what those reasons were.

One, these words do not define me. Yet, the experience has been significantly shaping of my life path and in fact, laid the groundwork for a later politicization. But that was actually my first politicization.

I have worked long and hard on my journey with shame, throughout my life. It is only now, at 33, that I've come to another place that feels more restful. I have struggled, so I know my own strength.

I think the same about chronic pain. The struggle expands one's worldview and deepens and experience of self. You cannot help but question (God, why? Why me? Can people die from pain?) and you cannot avoid the spiritual or physical work, for that experience is so intense. Then you become very strong. And once you have seen your own strength, you only get inspired to keep working and becoming stronger.