I am sitting in the middle (literally) of a busy cafe. Above me, on the 3rd level, is a 6 sided horizontal wooden wheel thing. Pretty cool architecture here.
Yesterday was a very blah day. It was as though all my energy keep bleeding out into the ground where I had no access to it. I found myself being very distant, objective, unconnected. It was not fun.
I had a dr's appt and then I went to my "Hemingway's Short Stories" class 45 minutes late. I was uninspired, to say the least.
The teacher talks so much. He has knowledge out the kazoo but not very good teaching skills. It is clear to me that knowing too much about one subject can be boring.
I am not sure if I will keep going. We hardly talk about the writing itself which was what I was interested in. I don't need to hear how the teacher interviewed the woman who takes care of Ernie's house in Cuba nor how athletic the teacher is. (plays tennis with Butch and retired to NH to ski)
I was woken up this morning by my 18 year old son telling me, "I overslept, can I take your car?"
Ugh, what an opening to a day.
I got in the shower and as we headed down to the community college I tried to be skillful in what I needed to tell him. It would be too easy to just be angry. I know he is struggling. He is a fabulous person but he is always trying to be better. It seems he has been trying to be a better version of himself since he was 12.
He is naturally artistic and sensitive. Oh no, the S-word that he cringes at when I speak it. I guess being a guy and the S-word don't go together in his world.
Why do we all try to dictate to ourselves who we are? Why do we think that we get to edit and sculpt ourselves?
I suppose we all have these inner images of ourselves that we cherish yet they are not real. Our imperfect selves cannot compete. Having a rich imagination is a tricky business.
With meditation, it is just as important to recognize the fantasies as it is the self deprecating dialog. They both pull us away from the truth.
I hope that my son can one day accept who he is and find comfort in his genuine nature. He has so much to offer himself and the world. Being sensitive is not a death sentence.
What is it about men and this emotional component? My brother is the same way. When he was 19 he wanted to become a teacher who helps autistic children. What did he end up doing? He took a job sealing gas tank on airplanes and then moving into house building profession. He was wildly successful and yet I wonder, what happened to that part of him that wanted to reach out the autistic children?
This makes me wonder about myself, where do I do this dance of "who I should be vs. who I am"?
I do it in the field of work. I have been imaging myself to be CEO material for years and years. A go-getter, logical, efficient, and respected among my peers. I have moments of this when I am organizing or making plans to travel but to do this day in and day out? No way.
I am more 'granola' or 'crunchy'. I think those are the terms people use. I am someone who is worried about the universe, about how people feel, about who is suffering. I am always picking up on energy and vibes. I can feel what people feel without knowing how I do it. I have no desire to work 9-5 Monday through Friday. To me, that sounds like death.
As I am looking for work these days, this is good to remember. Where can I work and be myself? Where can I plug myself in? I don't fit in the mainstream very well. I mean I can, but I can't do it for long as it is exhausting.
I feel compassion for my son. It isn't easy coming to terms with the truth of who we are, especially when the truth makes it harder to fit in. But if we pretend, if we deny, where are we then?
No comments:
Post a Comment