I came down from Lama Mountain not quite three weeks ago. In the usual flow of things, Living Life has taken priority over writing about it. Full on adventure these days. Or as I’m fond of reporting, Never A Dull Moment Down Here On Planet Earth.
Call this the rear view mirror shot since this photo is acutally taken from the base of Lama Mountain on the road up to the Foundation. Shortly before taking this picture a 8-point Bull Elk sauntered across the road. So, use your imagination and insert MASSIVE creature with very impressive head gear.
Coming down mountain has been a great test. For all the inner calling to stillness and refocusing of energy, I set my self up on a course to be back on the road for two weeks–not because I couldn’t stay where I first landed, but because I wouldn’t let my self rest yet. The amazing synchronicity of travel did nothing for the growing fatigue that had called me down to a lower elevation if nothing else; and it, like much of the dynamic of energy management I worked with at the Foundation, was self created. Rest and restlessness, trust and safety, belonging and home. I came down mountain because I recognized that these issues were up and discerned with the reflection of the community that if I needed the kind of down time and integration I thought I did in order to sustainably function within the expectations of work and community life, it would not be an honest fit nor within integrity to stay.
A hard decision. And watching myself take away the community expectations and agreements and flounder with similar patterns of energy management and the resistance to softening, deepening, stilling, and resting, I vowed to make a change.
So I e-mailed one of my most beloved mentors, teachers, and colleagues and said, “Let’s go on a hike.” I was hoping for help to create a little context for the adventure not only of leaving a beloved community but also honoring what seems to be a radical shifting of my own sense of self, my own identity. We met at a nice park on the edge of Santa Fe, and walked among aspens and wildflowers still blooming in this mild autumn.
We completed out hike in less than an hour–and in that time my car window was broken and the one bag full of the most useful and crucial and comforting things of my external identity were gone…hairbrush, wallet, journal, current book, shiny rock, iPod etc.
Days later, sitting outside the Social Security office trying to round up enough proofs of my existence that some day I might be able to board an airplane again, I finally connected with my dad about everything. He said, “I hope you’ve learned a good lesson in all this.”
And I ponder this statement given the radical experiment in faith and hope and trust I’m in. I ponder it in terms of sinking deep into my own underlying fears of being safe and wanted in the world as who and what I am, and at a time where the question of how to support the soft animal of my body becomes increasingly noteworthy.
In the face of my friend who scooped me up, changed her plans, stood by me, gave me the cash in her wallet, fed me, and brought me home with her and her husband for two days, the police officers who patiently took down my information, the countless insurance reps, auto glass folks, gas station attendants, friends, and strangers who have stepped forward and offered me information, sanctuary, assistance, patience, understanding, empathy, food, cash, places to stay, and shoulders to cry on, I wonder what lesson I am to learn.
Am I to learn that the world is not a safe place? That I am a victim of circumstance? That I cannot trust other people? That I shouldn’t lock my door? That I shouldn’t go out? That I shouldn’t make it too easy to identify myself? That I should never carry cash or that I should lug with me on my person every thing of potential value? Am I to learn to question my decisions if, on best clarity and advice I make a choice and then find that the resulting situation is not immediately better or different?
Kingdom of Heaven: the current welcome sign at Casa Ananda (Bliss House) my Santa Fe perch.
Or am I to learn that there is generosity? That there is kindness in strangers like the guys from the utility company who must have pulled in the parking lot right after the event who bent over backwards to help me make the phone call to the police when I was too flustered to do so? Or the insurance agent who could do little (because of the limited policy I have) but stayed patient and kind even when I put him on hold three times to talk to the police? Am I to learn about safety and vulnerably from the Social Security agent who never once shamed me for being there trying to deal with ID cards, didn’t blink when I almost broke down and cried from that kindness, and called me back to the window as I was leaving to say gently offer some suggestions to make the next steps easier? How about the value of the community resources which made replacing my library card the first and easiest success on my long list of things to replace? (Or my own sense of what is most valuable, ie free books, and friendly people behind the circulation desk?) Maybe the lesson is about smiling even when it’s hard and watching another’s face brighten? Or the lesson about softening and finally landing in a place that while perhaps not ideal is safe, and welcoming, and warm, and where I can be a big blubbery mess or a serene and fantastic cook and still have a place no holds barred? Or maybe the lesson is that the goodness and grace are there all along even if the outer circumstances appear to say otherwise.
The first time I've been able to light a candle on my personal alter since May. Very sweet.
Really, there is so much grace abounding. And perhaps I could learn the first lessons, but the rest are more interesting. Certainly blind naivete and wishful thinking don’t pan out, but the deeper lesson is that the things with which I show my identity (name, drivers license, car, journal) are not really real, nor are they guaranteed to stay in my possession. More importantly, in the perhaps 25 people in various levels of bureaucracy with whom I spoke or interacted, perhaps 2 or 3 were anything but magnificent and helpful, and the many “lay” people with whom I shared my story have been angels and cheerleaders…so it’s statistically improbable that human beings are unworthy of trust and honor and curiosity.
And then there is the lesson that if God is all Goodness and All Pervasive and All Knowing (the common definition of God) there must be something of Goodness and God at work.
Enough said.
Moreover, what I can see now is radically different than what will appear in the rear view mirror. Ultimately it is my choice to learn or not, and to choose which lessons I’ll accept, and which I’ll challenge for deeper and more useful learning.
What are you learning these days?
