An Initiation into Joy

I never knew that becoming joyful would be so painful. Or rather, that true joy and sadness are often inextricably linked, or hard to tell apart.

My heart is glowing either way.

Why have I held myself back from experiencing joy and happiness in many ways? I know we learn in life coaching not to ask the "why" questions, but somehow it feels appropriate. I am calling myself forth!

No really, I mean, what's the point of refusing one's heart desire? I'm living life sometimes in a yucky, dead, grey complacency, full of escape, denial, and addiction. I'll allow myself to experience joy in some ways, but not in others. I'll buy myself that naughty chocolate peanut butter sundae, but I won't read the book on alchemy that I've wanted to read forever. I'll go for a hike in nature, but I'll procrastinate with unpacking my moving boxes, that would make my life a little easier every day. What's the point in drawing the line between what appropriately joyful, and what is too delightful, or not enough? It seems rather arbitrary, and stupid.

I guess I still feel separate from my source of joy -- like it's outside myself somehow -- which doesn't make any logical sense. I guess it takes time for a notion to travel from our spiritual and logical bodies, down through to our emotional and physical bodies. I get that part of it. Why isn't that joy lodged somewhere in my heart, radiating out? It is -- sometimes. Even when I have been crying (try five minutes ago! ) it still has a sense of resonance. Even when I am in a "down" learning cycle, I feel joy because I know that I am growing and I can see that I am learning. But what's up with that crappy feeling of just not caring about anything? Maybe it is "just" karmic junk and congestion that is clearing.

I had a huge headache today - one of those fat, juicy migraines. Wait, I still have it! Funny how one learns to ignore something painful that is just always there. Maybe that is the key here, that I am missing. I need to identify and scalpel out the sources of pain, AND take a laser light beam to illuminate the sources of joy.

I know I love to write. What about all the other things that I have enjoyed in my life-- do I really still enjoy them? Maybe that is why I have put off unpacking for the last couple of weeks. It means that I actually have to be brave, aggressive, fun, and fiery, and actually DEAL with the literal and figurative CRAP that I have built up in my life. I have to decide -- or, at least, own up to the decisions I make. I get to be experimental, which is extremely attractive, taboo, and scary to me all at once.

God, I sound so repressed, now that I am thinking out loud on this proverbial digital paper. No wonder I was told by my CTI colleagues that they'd like to see me as a volcano! I'm just holding so much in -- or down -- in that murky place that's neither here nor there. They say that we don't know what a high percentage of our DNA is (like 95% is junk DNA?), or that we only use 5 or 10% of our brains -- and I'm thinking, "I know what it is! It's crap storage! Undifferentiated primordial goo, and therefore potential!" Sometimes one just has to stick one's hands down into the freakin' scary mud, and deal with whatever seaweed and leeches and twigs and slimy tadpoles come out. We're humans - we're not going to be 100% perfect in this life, yet -- so why not make a mess? Then survey the scene afterwards, and make notes.

Having a sense of humor and laughter are helpful. They give us perspective. I think I've just taken myself WAAAY too seriously, as I think a lot of us do. We're here to learn. Grab life by the balls! Yeaaah!!

I think I may have been getting a little too enthusiastic there with the cliches. One's energy often comes in ridiculous spurts, when one is used to being down or depressed in the hole, even if for a while. And then, on the upswing, the positive energy can be hard to control. We're ALL on a spectrum of manic depression. So here I'm just trying to stay balanced, and ground the energy of the previous paragraph!

I still haven't figured out what's up with the "slave" mentality - the notion that I find myself having, that I am just here to work, not to enjoy life. I don't hold that standard to others. What makes me think *I* am so special that I can have this double standard? Many of us, in varying degrees of consciousness, live life in servitude to others, our parents, our religion; or a cause, the material word, our homes, cleanliness, orderliness, etc. We have these false gods that we bow down to, and call out for our attention. This dynamic, this compulsion, is a mystery to me, that unfortunately seems to stand directly in my way of enjoying life oftentimes. There's that notion of separation again -- being separated from what I love. It's just a perception, dammit! Do I really think that cleaning the fingerprints off the door jamb or changing the lightbulb in the kitchen is a matter of absolute extreme urgency that will forever and completely alter my life, when it's not even something I feel like doing at all right now? Why do these tasks keep popping into my head like a hyperactive leering clown marionette?

Bluntly and simply, the message comes. It's about addiction! The mental obsession of worry has become a crutch for me - an addiction of routine and familiarity. Yes, the conspiracy is unveiled; worry makes us feel safe and in control. How many of us have closed off the creative parts of ourselves, to rather live life in an anesthetizing, safe, and comforting routine - even when that routine is harmful, full of worry, and anxiety-inducing? We'd rather live in a tiny dank cage, than risk the vast mysterious scary forest outside.

I've been through this before! Grr! "How long does it take to clear a block?!" I ask grudgingly. The answer is : sometimes instantly... sometimes frickin' close to forever! I don't need to be a slave to my home anymore; have these lessons arrived at the teachable moment, where they have outlived their usefulness? If so, I can choose to let them go, and give it to Sananda Jesus to carry (or any other figure or metaphor of one's choosing.) Or, on the other hand, this tiring tic of my ego mind may be a great teacher, and I may just be resistant to the insistent lessons. Maybe I can transmute those thoughts through the violet flame, and realize that each compulsive thought is a gift -- a signal that there is a deeper connective thought I need to be making at the time. I can and need to be proactive towards life, rather than reactive. That is the challenge to all of us; to realize that we are the ones who design our lives all along, through our desires and intentions. Tasks are here to serve you and teach you lessons - not you to serve them. And if creating life is all about our joy and desire, no wonder my life has been suffering in indistinct greyness and confusion. I've cut myself off from the very wellspring creative source of Life.

This compulsion of feeling drawn to do tasks that I really don't care about -- perhaps they are an echo of my past lives, or former life. I've closed off many parts of myself in this hotel or mansion that I have called my being. And as a result, I have overused those/these annoyingly designed rooms with the ugly floral curtains and nasty plastic tablecloth. Now it's time to revisit the old favorite rooms again, or some of the new additions. What would it be like if I could jettison that worry, exiling it from my party spaceship, through the stars, into the far backwater reaches of the galaxy, for someone else to discover along their galactic meandering as an interesting souvenir artifact - or roadkill? A provocative, funny, and insightful little book called The Big Sister's Guide to the World of Work states something along the lines of, "It's O.K. to let your life fall into chaos while you are pursuing your passion." What a fabulous permission that we can give ourselves!

We humans like a challenge. In fact, that's often the only way to keep us motivated. That's why life is a continuous evolutionary cycle of lessons learned, and new lessons that we are constantly initiated into, and initiating. (How to distinguish the lessons could be another blog post in itself.) The point is, we find the "sweet spot" of joy at that place where we are sandwiched between joy and sadness - opening up our hearts as we meatily confront the issues that are big and significant for us.

Writing is like that for me. Sometimes it's the greatest joy in the world -- and other times I'm hanging there with blue balls, waiting for that release of that killer paragraph - and then I totally forget what my supposedly glorious point was. This is a recurring theme here -- one can't be too precious. Sometimes even that highly promising paragraph with that great metaphor with the clown and the puppet has to be deleted, if it doesn't meet the current level of high desired vibrational message. Then I trust that all will work out. And in this case - that paragraph, and couple others destined for the slag pile -- turned up useful, and were saved in the end!

Even if it causes us pain in the process - this growing, stretching, and often seeming breaking of ourselves is what gives us a new perspective on life, and makes life worth living. It's like the springtime that is now happening all over, at least here in Southern California. We've been in the calm, dark, contemplative winter for so long, resting and thinking. And now we have to get into action! Blinking in the bright clear sunlight; groaning, straining, complaining, and cursing; we slowly warm up and come out of hibernation. Little leaves burst pass the dirt line, and flowers bust out of the bare twigs.