Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
--Paul Lawrence Dunbar
Today was a mixed bag. I woke up and made coffee, did a little stretching and read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. I am on Chapter 18, "The Bardo of Becoming," and it is so detailed and spefiic about what happens, supposedly, when you die. Some of it is disturbing, like the part that says, if we do not attain enligtenment, which, granted, the majority of us will not achieve, including me, we are instead after death "swept along relentlessly by the wind of karma, unable to hold onto any ground....Consumed by fear, blown to and fro like dandelion seeds in the wind, we roam, helpless, through the gloom of the bardo." I think it's a little better if in this life you've tried to be a nice person.
My problem is not that I have not been nice to people. I genuinely like most people, so that's not a struggle for me. What I have to be careful of is a lifetime of people pleasing. I often know what I want and what would make me happy and satisfied, but when I'm with others, I often to bend to their will. Maybe their opinions are stronger. Maybe I'm just awful at standing up for what I really want. I'm so afaid of disappointing people. But often, if I've bent too much, I come away so frustrated and unsatisfied.
My children had heard an earful of this, me returning and voicing disappointment after a certain excursion or event or date with some person. It happened today, and when I told Charlie about it, he said, Jodate. That's the term I learned in Argentina when I lived there '95-'97. It literally means, "You fuck yourself." A rough translation is "You have no one to blame but yourself." I used to joke that I was going to put "Disappoint people" at the top of my to-do list, so that I could counter-balance disappointing with people pleasing.
They say that's a notorious personality trait of children of alcoholics. It's also so common for women. I've had men be inappropriate with me and almost apologized to them for their behavior.
I'd like to cure myself of this; I'm just not really sure how. It would make life more enjoyable and satisfying and my relationships--and me--more authentic. It's not like I'm lying or being fake. I honestly think it stems from being empathetic and overly emotionally aware. Sometimes I feel like I'm hyper-conscious of what's happening, and it just pains me so much that the person would be embarassed or hurt or misunderstood or ... whatever the emotion is. Why all this care-taking? Is there a way to do it that doesn't compromise my own needs? I find myself preferring to be alone a lot of time, in part to not have to deal with other people's emotions or needs.
When I was at Pacifica last weekend for some workshops, one of the instructors led us through a somatic meditation. For most of the meditation, I was imagining a baloon in my chest, a yellow baloon filling with air and blocking off my throat, my voice, my heart, my pelvic energy. I was imagining it was the fear and anxiety that fills my chest when I'm in front of others, a fear of being judged, of disappointing them. One man in the class sobbed throughout the meditation. Afterward, we were invited to make a drawing or painting. This was my drawing. Amazing, I know :)
When I shared my drawing about my yellow anxiety baloon, the instructor asked me: "Could you breathe calm into it? Breathe in confidence?" I actually practiced that before I taught this last weekend at the Central Coast Writers Conference... breathing in calm and confidence. Dare I say, it worked.
Something happened though, when we closed class and she offered another, briefer "Loving Kindness" meditation. During it, I had an intense vision of my face lifting from my head; I realized it was not my actual face, but a mask, a mask coming off.
After having that meditation experience at Pacifica and making the drawing, I read this in The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying from Chapter 17 "Intrinsic Luminosity":
"At this moment, do not be afraid of the piercing yellow light, in all its dazzling radiance, but recognize it as wisdom. Let your Rigpa rest in it, relaxed, at ease, in a state free of activity. And have confidence in it; have devotion and longing toward it.
Anyway, the idea that it's wisdom rather than a big yellow baloon of nerves inflated in your chest is a little more heartening.
I left out something when I was recounting yesterday. I spoke with Diego for a bit--he called me to say hello. I'm happy for my son--everything is as it should be. But he was feeling sick, and I'm not there to make him soup and tea and nurse him.... But today he called me again and he was feeling better. He was on his way to the marina, to see about a sailing race happening this weekend, to see if he could get on a boat to help out. I'll see him in 10 days for 'family weekend.' He sent me this photo of us bicying around Mackinac Island in Michigan last summer.
Missing him viscerally today. He's on a great adventure and I couldn't be more proud.
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