Sacred fire

    What would it be like if I learned to harness my intensity and sensitivity? What if this highly reactive nervous system could become less a disability to be managed, and more a super-ability to be tapped into and used for good? Can I learn to open up to all the -- all of it, all the feelings, to manage them self-compassionately, intuitively, unflinchingly? Without always shying away or curling up (figuratively -- maybe also literally) to hide from the intensity? What would I be then? 

    Aurora Remember Holtzman (link) (which, just can I first take a second here to cheer her parents for "Aurora Remember"? poetry!) talks about "embracing intensity." Her tag line is "use your fire without getting burned." Gregory Boyle, the Jesuit priest who has been opening doors to and for gang members in Los Angeles for over 30 years, talks about letting his heart be broken open in compassion, or rather, in kinship with people on society's margins, and in so doing he has channelled God's grace to change thousands of lives for the better. The Sufi poet, Rumi, said lots of wonderful things, including, "The prophets accept all agony and trust it. For the water has never feared the fire.” And, "Dance until you shatter yourself." And, "Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion."

    Intensity confined, intensity suppressed, must become destructive of the self. My intensity, I guess, was simply dampened most of my adult life, by the anti-depressants I truly needed to keep from wanting to die all the time. Now that I am no longer depressed, and no longer medicated against depression, I am finally beginning to learn to feel all my feelings, to tolerate them, to explore them, to get to know more of myself. And I begin to have just an inkling of what I could be, or do, or become, in the process. What could I accomplish in my life if I weren't always trying to escape being uncomfortable, anxious, broken-hearted, insecure, or just plain bored to tears? 

    I'm still just at the beginning of this. I have a lot to learn about balancing self-nurture with unleashing my own power. About, as Aurora Remember says, using my fire without getting burned. Or even, yes, burning, like a phoenix, with faith that through the fire there is new life, new creation, bigger love, love that can reach out beyond my tight little boundaries and open a way to growth and healing, for myself and maybe, God willing, for other scorched souls as well. 

 

Simplicity

    In the last few weeks, I have written about the first two of my three vows, Solitude and Silence. The third is Simplicity. In a sense, they are all just different aspects of the same thing. It's all about cutting down on the normal bombardment of exterior stimuli, to allow more space and focus on the interior life. It's especially crucial for someone like me, whose mind and senses do not naturally filter or focus easily. Also, though, our modern culture is biased against simplicity too much even for most neurotypical people. Everything is more, and now, impulsive and impatient and directed. When do we stop and smell the roses? When do we daydream? When do we wander? When do we create something new? 

Silence

     I've been out in the countryside this week, at a nice, quiet little retreat house. Quiet! Oh, how sweet the silence! "Silence" here meaning singing blackbirds (sounds like an American robin), larks, finches, cuckoos, and a lot of others I haven't learned yet, and the breeze in the borders, and the droning of bees, and the skittering of geckos and rat squirrels (not rats ... rat squirrels. It's an Andalucían thing) across the roof tiles. 

Happier Hermit

     Six years ago, I chose the religious name "Felicity." Not in honor of the 3rd-century martyr of that name, but because it means "happiness." And it wasn't aspirational, it was thankful. After many years of depression, and more years of anti-depressant medication, in 2016 I found that burden unexpectedly lifted. My life was better than it had been in decades. Depression had been a foundational, defining fact of my life, since I was in elementary school, and finally it was gone. And when I finally made the decision to accept the calling to consecrate my life to God alone, that added even more to my happiness. 

    So, reflecting back on the occasion of renewing my vows again, I've been thinking about how that choice of name has held up. How does the name "Happiness" fit me now? And I am very happy to tell you that I am so much happier now than I was when I changed my name. So much happier, that looked at from the perspective of now, back then doesn't even look like happiness at all. 

Solitude

    I renewed my vows this month. Since I've been re-reading and reflecting on my Rule of Life for the occasion, I thought I'd write about some of it for the blog this week. I got as far as the three vows of Solitude, Silence, Simplicity, and my word-count was already about twice what it needs to be. So I'm just going to talk about Solitude, what it means to me, how I define and delimit it, why I love it, why I choose to renew the vow for a fourth year. 

    First, though -- since, lately, I see just about everything through the lens of "neurodiversity" -- let me make this really clear. Solitude is a religious calling. I may talk about how it suits me and my hyperreactive nervous system, and I how I understand the two together, but this is just my picture. This is really important: neurodiversity poses all kinds of unique challenges for relationships, but most people across the spectrum want intimacy, and -- with self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and good communication -- there is no reason why they cannot have it. Plenty of people, introverts like me, with neurocognitive systems just like mine, have happy, mutually enriching, long-lasting romantic partnerships. I want to be a hermit, I'm not settling for it.

Adios España ... where to next?

    I've decided to move on to another European country. I came to Spain first because it's my best second language, so it was a lower barrier to entry. Now, however, I have discovered a barrier to settling here -- getting a Spanish driver's license -- that is much lower for some other countries in my 3rd and 4th languages (i.e., Portugal, France, Belgium). Spain does not have reciprocity with the US or with any US state for driver's licenses. I would have to start from scratch, like any teenager. And it's a process I'm not willing to go through, now that I know that any of those other countries would just trade my old Maryland license for a new national one with no drama whatsoever. But I have gone through some internal drama on the way to making this decision.... 

Fantasy Me --> Real Me --> Ideal Me

     I've spent a lot of time, since becoming a hermit, getting to know who I really am, letting go of the perfectionistic fantasies of who I could be if I just tried harder, and embracing the reality of myself with all my inborn weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Separating Fantasy Me from Real Me has been a thread through this whole blog. Coming to accept myself as I am has involved grieving the loss of who I wish I were.

    Now I am in a new phase of the journey, beginning to explore Ideal Me. What's the difference between Fantasy and Ideal? 

    Fantasy Me is built out of ideas that come from outside of myself. Images of an iconic, mythical, holy hermit; a mash-up of all the things other people have seemed to want me to be, gathered together over the last 55 years; an angry or desperate denial of the parts of me that I wish weren't there. Fantasy Me is the mask I have used to try to hide my weaknesses from the world; but I've ended up hiding myself from myself.

    Ideal Me is built on the foundation of Real Me, out of all my own individual strengths, weaknesses, passions, values, and possibilities. Real Me is at a halfway point: I've learned a lot about who and how I am today, and a lot about why. But I have still a ways to go to get to know who I might become in the future. Who do I even want to be? What are the things about myself that I love? What are my gifts, my talents? What do I love to do, and to think about? What do I care about the most? How do I want to live? What conditions do I need to thrive? What energizes me, and what saps my energy? What do other people see in me, that I can't see in myself? 

    How have I shrunk over the years, because my weaknesses (unacknowledged, misunderstood, unsupported) undermined my strengths? What did I think, when I was a child, that I would love to spend my life doing? And where did those dreams get derailed? Are some of them still shiny dreams, that I regret abandoning? And are there valuable clues still in the old Fantasy Me, clues to what I value and admire?

    There is a whole new learning process to go through, to rediscover who I might be if I believed in myself, if I'm willing to try and fail, to learn new things. Including learning how to support and cushion my vulnerabilities, so that they don't hold me back from becoming more. Learning to believe in myself has to start with a leap of faith. It takes understanding that growth is gradual, that it takes more than a mindset shift, it takes stretching and strengthening parts of me that had been disused and disconnected. It takes trial and error. And it starts with a clear vision of the goal, a vision of Ideal Me.

+++ PEACE +++