They Don't Call, They Don't Write

** The title of this column is a tongue-in-cheek reference to something people of a certain age will likely understand, and others maybe not so much. Also, I imagine it depends on your cultural background and experiences, so I will attempt to explain it since I do have a worldwide readership likely made up of different age groups as well.

Typically, the words "They don't call; they don't write" were spoken by a Yiddish elder and referred to his/her adult children who were too busy with their own lives to stay in contact with their parent. It was generally used as a punchline, a serious-but-not-serious reproach, a loving wistful reminder that "Hey, I miss you; touch base."

The expression was/is also ironically used when referring to people not in a position to call or write. For instance, in the film "Dances With Wolves," the muleskinner uses dark humor when he points to arrow-laden skeletal remains lying on the prairie, and remarks, "I'll bet someone back East is going: Now, why don't he write?" ~~GH

Someone asked me why I got divorced, and I flippantly answered that my ex had met and fallen in love with another woman. But those of you who know me by now, know if there’s a twinge of untruth in something, it nags at me until I listen. I hate being nagged so I tend to listen. Life is too short to carry around backpacks full of hassles.

Why did I get divorced, I asked myself. I got divorced because I didn't love my ex. I didn’t divorce him nearly soon enough, and put us both through a great deal of grief because of my neglect. Instead of acting on my heart, I relinquished my agency to the “authority” of the institution of marriage. I was “supposed” to be married: I had committed to being married, and by gum, I was gonna fulfill that commitment.

But I’m not past that ridiculous submission to false authority even today. And it bothers me. I realized that despite the fact the marriage had effectively been over for years as far as I was concerned  (and functionally over for many months as far as both of us were concerned), I still waited until the “official” ending signified by the final divorce hearing. THEN not only THAT, but I had to have the physical divorce decree in my hands to feel truly free. It was only after realizing that, that I knew how silly that was. I haven’t felt married in seven months. 

I started examining what other areas of my life I wait for external authorization in order to take action. (Not going to bore you with those details. It's a work-in-progress).

Whose authority am I waiting for? It depends on the situation. For instance, I now know I can write any damned way I choose to – don’t have to submit to the rules – and people will read and enjoy my work. And yet I wait on the man I love to “tell me” what he wants to do -- or do I? 

I am living my life, going where I want, doing what I want to do, and enjoying my activities. But I feel a deep void where I’d like him to be. (And no, I don’t just mean sex because, as much as I’d enjoy him filling that void, there is one deeper still that would benefit even more from his presence). 

I don’t want him to tell me what he wants to do so much as I want to know I am in his thoughts, and his heart. I don’t require a lot of attention; I’m pretty self-sufficient. But I do require a certain amount, and I’m not receiving it. 

Actually, I think the real issue is the lack of a clear declaration. I could float for a staggering chunk of time on the wings of clarity, but this dense fog of uncertainty is uncomfortably grounding.

I’m intuitive but still hesitant to fully accept my intuits. My heart tells me all is well. My LRM (logical rational mind) tortures me endlessly with “facts.” It feels like if I could wave an email or a text in front of my LRM and say “See? Now shut the hell up!” that I could have peace and enjoy my happy feelings. It is ridiculous that I expect Emotion to satisfy Logic with facts. This is an underlying flaw of my Western mind.

My metaphysical work continues. So I keep peeling off layers, dismantling bricks, pulling back curtains that mysteriously close themselves out of habit. I consciously practice openness, receptivity.  I am still tender, but much less afraid than I used to be. And I'm closer to softness and further from tenderness all the time. 

I dialogue with my inner child. She talks a lot these days. She’s pretty cool, and I like her. I work to integrate body with soul, to become whole. But I still check my inbox. Tumbleweed City.

Thanks for reading. ~~GH

Spare Change

Maybe we're like clay. It has the potential to be malleable and change shapes, to be warped or formed or crushed and then re-formed. Maybe when we experience these metaphysical epiphanies, our clay shape shifts -- a little, or a lot, depending. Maybe this shape shifting isn't damaging, but it is painful letting go of the old shape that we've become accustomed to holding -- like how your muscles complain when you get up after sitting for a long period of time. Or how a baby, after being cramped in a folded position for literally months suddenly is forced from its dark warm claustrophobic world into cold light, its body suddenly unsupported, limbs flailing that are used to being tucked around its own form. No wonder babies howl when they're born.

Maybe this is why we tend to resist change. And yet, the whole purpose for our clay being malleable is so we can shift shapes. And still, we fear. It is like feeling anxious the sun will come up tomorrow -- it will surely happen whether we fear it or not, so why not relax and accept the eventuality? Because we are not rational beings. And I don't mean that in a negative sense. It isn't that simple.

You don't just make a choice not to fear. Trust me, if that were possible, I would have overcome fear by now. ~~GH

Grace vs, Rationalization

In a perfect Universe, when Doubt stands on your shoulder and whispers sweet somethings in your ear, Grace steps in.

Grace is transforming. Grace offers a safe haven that enables us to gather our courage and take action, but does not restrict us. Grace is an open shelter.

Grace's evil twin is Rationalization. Rationalization is crippling. Rationalization is a wall that blocks us in and keeps us trapped.

So how do we recognize the difference between the roof and the wall? 

First, let me remind you that I am not a psychologist (nor do I play one on TV), or anything else; I am just a person like you traveling the Path. I have no authority or power. These are just my thoughts, expressed and shared with others. This is some heavy-duty stuff. Each of us is responsible for doing our own work. I'm just letting you peek at my paper.

So I am faced with the situation (carrying over from yesterday's blog post) where I need to decide whether I can trust others (Still? Ever? Someday?), or whether it is safer/more acceptable to me to choose not to trust. Note that this has nothing to do with others and everything to do with me.

Grace says, “Rest in me and it will be enough. You are safe. You can do it; you can move forward. It will be all right. I promise and I always keep my promises.” And She does.

Rationalization sidles up and whispers, “Do [or don't]; you can always change your mind later.” Rationalization is the voice that tells you to stop thinking about a situation and put it off until tomorrow. Sometimes we get so overwhelmed and confused that we rationalize in order to function.

Rationalization is like quicksand. It sucks at your shoes and prevents you from moving forward.

I'm thinking Grace allows all parties involved to move freely; Rationalization holds back the one who rationalizes while permitting the object of the rationalization to move along.

The illusion is that you are moving on. Your feet shuffle, the scenery changes, it seems like you're traveling. But in reality, you are marching in place. Rationalization says “He meant well; he wasn't trying to hurt me with those lies.”

Now we're moving into not only Motivation, but Judgment as well. This may well be a neverending series of musings, folks. Every time I think I'm coming to a natural conclusion, I find another butterfly to chase. Maybe I'm drawing closer to finding Truth?

Then again, maybe all of this is total bullshit.

Still, I find myself wanting to forgive, to let go, to refuse to hold onto anger and resentment, to trust. This represents one of Life's paradoxes. While it is simple to close one's eyes and -- poof -- blow away the chaff from one's hand, it is complicated to let go of anger and resentment.

Forgiveness and trust feel a lot alike to me. The sensation I get when I actively forgive another person is a breath of fresh air, a lightness, a positive energy. Trusting someone freely feels nearly identical.

I like how it feels. 

So for Today, with the help of Grace, I choose... to trust.~~GHC

Craving Communication

In no particular order, I am going to post journal entries I've written since April. Maybe not every one of them, but at least some. I shudder on one hand to expose my heart so blatently, but I must learn to stop being afraid and BE. And so I am.

The woman in the SUV talks on her cell phone and gestures wildly with her free hand, makes sure to keep her palm on the steering wheel while the rest of her hand flails. Communication is like that. For all she says, for all the person on the other end of the phone hears, they cannot see her hand desperately gesticulating. They are not aware of her struggle to convey her meaning while maintaining control of the rest of her world.

Is she gesticulating because she failed to convey her meaning? Does she gesticulate because of ineffective communication, because she doesn’t know the right words to say? Or is the person on the other end of the phone not listening? Unwilling, unable to process her meaning? Are they too wrapped up in the traffic in front of them, or the sinkful of dirty dishes waiting to be washed, or perhaps the weight of unpaid and unpayable bills prevents them from hearing her words?

Does it even matter why? Does it matter that she doesn’t know how to say it? Does it matter why he can’t receive it? All my life, I’ve wondered why, why not. I believed that if I only discovered the key, I could unlock the door and enter the land of communication with another human. If we could truly hear one another, know one another’s heart, we could be as one.

Oh God, what a lonely existence this life is. Unable to connect except on such minimal levels. I am a whole body with huge surface area, craving touch but can only accomplish a handshake. As electric as our hands are when they touch, I want more – I want to feel your body against mine, pressed against me in every possible way. This isn’t sex I speak of. It is connection, communication. It is acknowledgement of my spirit, of your spirit, of our vibration strumming along at the same frequency. For just that little while, we are in step, in tune.

And I crave this. My soul aches for it. My flesh trembles in anticipation of the promise of the wonder of this connection, this ineffable blending – no, melding – of the two of us, whoever “us” may be. And this isn’t even physical; it is spiritual. It is a knowing, an awareness of agreement and vibration that thrums in perfect harmony – a promise and a realization simultaneously.

And all of this is metaphor. My flesh is my spirit. I speak not of physical longing although my spiritual longing causes my physical self to hurt. I want that recognition that comes when you meet somebody whose spirit resonates in harmony with your own. I need that aha moment when two souls connect and remember each other. 

I Am Significant