Raw Honey

I had gotten distracted enough over the past month (I've been back east for about a month, with all this family stuff), that I had stopped certain meditation and self work over this time. Yet again, it has given me a chance to encounter just my naked, raw self, with no attempts to moderate or soften or adjust or "work with" my authentic emotional life. I think these periods of zero emotional and spiritual discipline or practice end up being very important for me, because, for one thing, I end up just having whatever feelings I have, whenever I have them, and I get a chance to realize more authentically where I'm at. 

There's a need to work with my emotional life, though. I mean, it's great to let it play itself out in its raw and naked and fierce ways. But it's also necessary to show up for it with some skills. I am getting to a place where I don't value one over the other, that is, I don't value the cathartic ferocity of my raw emotional life more than the "recollection in tranquility" of a meditative and moderated life, nor do I value the moderated reality more than the wildebeest realities. I think this weird diptych has been huge in my life, with long stretches of time feeling ugly, fierce, on fire and getting frankly exhausted by the drama, and then long stretches of time "working" on meditation, moderation, trying to practice compassion, understanding, loving kindness. My wildness judges the practice as some fake motherfucking bullshit, and my tender heart judges my wildness as some toxic negativity and only worthy of being "processed." It's good to be in a place in life where the two are finding ways to be friends. The either/or space is becoming more both/and, and it feels more energetic somehow. It's one interpretation of the Strength card in the tarot, represented here in Amrit Brar's rendition. 

As much as I rebel or over-romanticize (two sides of one coin), the middle path is golden. For example, I offered to vacuum and mop the floors in my sister's house this past Saturday, and, without realizing it, I had become mildly ego attached to "what a good person" this made me. When I went over there, and started vacuuming, my sister for some reason had her anxiety go through the roof and responded by having to hover and supervise my work. That really made it apparent how ego invested I was in being a savior for her, as I felt my hackles go up. I kept my rebellious and defensive responses to myself however, and then it became apparent in a meta way that the *real act of service* was in fact just letting her boss me around. This made me chuckle inside. Like, clean floors come and go, but having a person around after one's husband has died who you can get anxious about and boss around? Priceless. This is an example of the middle way. The awareness arising when one can feel those feelings but at the same time step back just enough to get a glimpse of the bigger picture. 

Anyway, I miss spring. I miss people. I am enjoying some friendships with some others that have resulted from stepping back from social media and writing longer emails. I am enjoying isolation. For the most part. But my feelings in general are fucking fierce right now, whether fond, ferociously angry, sorrowful, you name it. And I'm just letting all of them flow like that gorgeous Ten Mile River outside. 

Here's a cactus flower picture, herald of spring in my beloved, forever distant, Sonoran.