Bonding and Collaborating

It can be quite something to individuate from entanglement for uncomplicated relationship.

It can be quite something to loosen self-sufficiency for regenerative synergy.

So from there, how do we continue to relax our defenses against the world…

…after we’ve found a couple sturdy enough people who won’t cling desperately?

…after a big band of endearment breaks our avoidance?

…after someone’s big tender respect for us breaks our excessive congeniality?

…after feeling the humility of our learning errors?

…after we’ve acknowledged who and what got us here?

When we grow, we have to change. It can take a minute for the benefits of costly change to outweigh the costs of staying where we’re at. And in change, we might have to revisit and compost some more the wounds of our original belonging - the tendency to get too close, run away…to shrink…get defensive or inflamed…or some other symptomatic revisiting of our systems rearranging.

So maybe we’ll have to take a refresher on those balancing acts that freed us from an original imbalance.

If we lean too far into the vision and away from the people who got us there, we might tire and tend to lazily-yet-hastily employ the soulless games and gimmicks of greed…unconsciously sabotaging what we’ve been building.

If we get high off of our progress, we might forget to thank and give back to our allies and accompanists, going at a pace that honors them or keeps them with us. If this goes on too long, we might lose our progress as we endeavor to expand and then we’ll find ourselves without the necessary width of our belonging to keep going.

We can be brilliant with many faculties but if we become hubristic and aren’t humble about the humans helping us, we’ll find ourselves all alone again.

We don’t need to be ashamed of our desires to grow and expand and be one with our vision. However, our freedom is paradoxically bound up in others. Our emergent freedom can grow when we’ve collected the capacity to withstand feedback and risk rejection asking for what we need.

On the other hand, if we get too close with too few too fast who are emerging with us, we’ll get enmeshed and entangled and implode from the inside. We must not give away parts of ourselves in over-devotion to the other. Our own connection to the forces of love and life must come first. So in this case, more of the cozy visionary within is in order.

We can be really great at relationship building but over-focus on the connecting and not enough on where we’re going does not serve the forward-facing harmony with the people we are so excited about.

We don’t need to be ashamed of our excitement to unite forces with the other but if we don’t remember to slowly build the weight of our synergistic formation, we might find ourselves collapsed or imprisoned.

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So for some, it’s a balancing through a little bit more of the rapport building and the vulnerable communication that calibrates and navigates the complexity of relationship.

For others, it’s a balancing through a little bit more sovereign stepping out and forward without everyone in our lives in perfect understanding and agreement to us and our vision.

Of course, there are many other balancing acts, too. What is it for you?

To balancing between “where’d everybody go?” and “there’s no space for me anymore”!

courting the collapse of control

I cradle this collapse in my arms,

Arms strengthened by years of chest presses

Fortified by the shouldering of incubatory compressions

Years spent in a thin cocoon, never quite in or out of it

As I caress the once-but-no-longer-serving abstractions and fantasy-fueled attachments,

I simultaneously and quite tenderly loosen and untie them

And then next

I Allow them.

First a reprieve and then a release

I further kindle the undoing with a bit of ash and tinder

A post-heat-wave cool 67 degree breeze

With the dirt that’s happily secured inside my wide nail beds,

I kiss it with lips which touched lifetimes of apocalyptic-utopian air

The kiss turns cough, conjuring up preverbal grief

The grief is what’s most nitrifying here

Next, the most precious element for a full sun

The flooding, a wellspring-level watering

For flowers, and not just cacti

But for mesopotamian-ancient pickling-emergent apple blossoms

To complete the concoction fertilizing the soul’s sacred orchard,

A too-long-minimized going-back-through, a recycling back to bypassed self-indulgence

And now, a post defragmentation neural reprogramming

Psycho-celestial acupuncture

Threads and tentacles return to roots and shoots

Control collapses to spontaneous paths of authenticity, guided by soul-led agency

Blue Hydrangeas for her Grandmother

“You fucking idiot.” She said aloud to herself self-soothingly.

There he is again. Ugh. Why does he so often show up as I lean into a little more ease and success?

Flick. “Stay down little girlie!”

“Menacing self-talk is the only way to keep it together!” Prick.

Whew.

Stepping back into her freedom, she embraces the fresh opportunity to affirm:

I’m doing it differently.

Pesky legacies.

Her two big green feet step in.

This is me. I’m doing it differently. She weeps feeling the relief of calm and the absence of racing thoughts. Her belly warms. Tinglingly prepared.

I’m doing it differently.

His big red feet. She steps into them.

Shockingly unstable. Insecure. Suspicious. Reality, distorted. The rage, a mask for terror. The tower crumbling unceasingly.

I’m doing it differently.

Two little pale blue feet step in, in front of the big green ones. They settle in securely.

“Ouch. He is not safe,” the little one rests with knowingly.

I’m doing it differently.

“I’ve got you,” The big one says.

I’m doing it differently.

With each acknowledgement, his feet move farther away.

I’m doing it differently.

His parents step in.

“Will you take him from here?,” the big one asks them straightforwardly.

I’m doing it differently.

“Absolutely,” they reply in unison.

I’m doing it differently.

Order brings some relief to the system.

I’m doing it differently.

The Dinghy Tender

What’s a dinghy? 

It’s a little dinghy!

Ruff ruff! You mean like Arnold has a dinghy? 

No, like a small little boat dinghy! 

I grew up around boats, I know about boats. I’ll take it from here, m’ladies. That’s it now! Take it from the stern!

What? What are you talking about?

Oh never mind, it’s boat talk, you’re still new to all this. 

The quartet cruise into the sunset breeze and employ the salty air to reset their ease.

OK, the smell of fish is making me hungry! Back to the dinghy thingy! 

You’ll be fine alone with the whole dinghy situation, right? I’ll just be in the way, I imagine.

Well gee, if you don’t mind…since you know about boats and all.

OK, I’ll steer the ship!

Well no, you don’t have to go that far.

Ah OK, I’ll just grab the clip then…got it. 

Accompaniment 

All of a sudden, the wind picks up and catches the dinghy, carrying the two farther and farther away from the dock.

Two people. One oar. Their comrades and a three-legged dog ashore. 

Just make it to the row of kayaks and from there we can think more clearly and reassess! 

OK well done, here we are. Now, we’ve got a few options. Maybe we could make it to the dock stilts and slowly haul ourselves up against the tide….or….

Hey, look! The wind caught us!

Yah, no shit, I can see that!

OK, maybe if we throw you the line!

All of a sudden, they notice that there’s less thwarting wind now. They’ve found their place in a pocket of reduced hardship and more resonant resource. They proceed earnestly to their destination.

When in doubt, break up the dyad!

Goodbye Vincent

You greeted me so graciously when I moved into the building. I asked how long you’d been living here and you replied, ”Longer than you’ve been alive, Honey!” We both doubled over with laughter.

“I’m eighty-one years old, can you believe that?!”

When we saw one another coming and going, there was always great affection and delight. “Oh it’s so good to see you!” “Oh isn’t that funny seeing you again!”

Some of my strongest memory from the pandemic is sitting outside of our building together. We were on the same wavelength, a rarity under the circumstances. We would confess our fear and also find levity together. While watching some women run inside for the curfew, you protested, “I’m not following any curfew, the sun hasn’t even set yet!” (We stayed three feet from our building’s door, however.)

We didn’t exchange phone numbers nor did we ever knock on one another’s doors. “I think about you often but I respect people’s privacy.” We might drop off a little something or message here and there. I once dropped off some Christmas tree chop from the park and you dropped off a wax-sealed note of thanks. Stamped with “V.” I told our neighbors that you are a living icon and deserved some special treatment on your last birthday. They left cards, flowers and baked goods. “Oh Vincent? Of course!”

A retired stylist with a closet full of high fashion suits, you would tell me “try to dress decently just one day a week.” And to wear “just a little lipstick and tiny bit of blush.” Only from you could I receive such tips with fondness. The two days a year I get dolled up, I’d always just happen to run into you. “Oh wow, you look fabulous!,” you exclaimed with significance.

I didn’t know just how much our chit chats meant to me until they were in jeopardy. I found myself grasping for more stories, more insight, more wit. More intrigue, more serendipity, more time.

In the ambulance, I held your hand and you said, “I feel your strength, don’t let anyone take it for granted.”

The day before you died, you asked me to take out the rest of the air in the helium “I love you” balloon at your hospital bedside. You said that the balloon was a bit depressing because it was now only half inflated. I inhaled the rest of the helium and squealed “Vincent, it’s time to get serious!” The gleaming luminosity in your laughing eyes was surely earned.

When I returned home, waiting for me in our building’s vestibule and just outside your apartment’s door, there was an “I love you” balloon that my brother sent me for my birthday.

How To Stick The Landing

So now you’re free.

You respond to “How are you?” With things like

“I’m busy. I’m tired. And that’s a good thing.”

Or

“Good, all things considered!”

Or

“I’m grateful and I’m struggling. All at once.”

Or

After accounting for all the joy and woe you decide you can honestly still say, “No complaints here!”

You can no longer complain beyond the normal human lamentation of grief, guilt, longing and ongoing broken-heartedness.

You pocket in the little joys way more preciously. “Wow, people are showing up for me!”  The big joys leave you awe-struck for a couple of hours at least. “Oh my goodness, my godson is now dating!” Empowerments bring you more humility instead of “Ah-ha! It’s finally my turn!”

When your cup runneth over, you feel the urge to give back, first those who’ve been part of your success and then others seeding and watering the collective evolution. And others in need of a bit of your special brand of luck, skill and privilege. You know you can go faster alone but farther when you slow down to include the people and groups you care about.

You did some dark nights of the soul…and it got worse before it got better. You see now how you are all of that, too. Yikes! You broke down a couple times. You can be a little narcissist sometimes! Self-loathing! A little up and down…unbalanced even! You know a bit about your addictions, how you cope unhealthily. Maybe you were even lucky enough to get down to something reptilian, something ancient. A ghost, even! Some preverbal grief came up...your amygdala enlarged…you found your wrath and your wail. You remembered the first time you were up against the wall. Some deep trauma bubbled up to dislodge. Your contempt surfaced and you took it out on some poor innocent victim! They didn’t deserve that! But you both made it out alive. Maybe you apologized. Or maybe you didn’t, with good enough reason not to.

And you know there will be more fear and hunger. And you’re willing and able to protect your peace for just a minute as you stay on this plane of contribution. A plateau? Fabulous, thank Goddess.

You’re even ok with still being wrong or bad. Often even! And you don’t stay down there alone too long because you care about your community, you know, animistically!

So sticking the landing. First, do you have a place to land?

Let’s create it. Map it out, maybe.

Who are your people?  Break out the glitter! Even if the webs are thin at the moment, where are you now? From where do you begin? With whom can’t you lie to? Do you have an old ride-or-die? Two? Lucky you! Who is just arriving knowing less about you, giving you space to be different? Those you haven’t had the audacity to be passive aggressive with yet!

Oh wait, first, back up, first came the people who came before you. Bring them in. Behind you. You’re part of a long line. Don’t forget it. You wouldn’t be here without them.

What philosophies hold you? Which ones have weight, depth and strength? You know, the ones bigger than you? And to which industry or institution did you say, “Thanks but no thanks!”

What music, art and healing modalities move you?

What values guide you?

What practices keep you grounded? You know, in your body.

Is there a mental practice too, an affirmation, morning pages or something?

What’s your vision of contribution? Which stage of development, which iteration are you at right now?

Any element, goddess, icon or other muse that you’re worshipping these days? Remember, someone/thing unattainable, never meet them!

Take a slow full breath to let everyone and everything fully in. Make a movement of inclusivity. Let out a sound. A tone. Vuuuuuuu. Create a drawing. Take pleasure in your width. How about that?

Now…held in all that…give space for the hurt, the pain, the suffering.

Oh what babe, bloke or thembot broke your heart?! What abuse and neglect did you experience? Whose heart did you break? Who did you yell at, hit, reject or leave?

Oof. Ouch. A big bear hug to you.

Now don’t linger there too too long. You don’t want to be dragged down into a pit of hell right now. You’ll be revisiting that as it comes.

Is there room for all of that and them too? Breathe out as you unfold your arms.

OK now.

What are your resources? Skills? What have you earned?

Good for you!

Now, what experience or relationship gave you some of your individuated freedom?

Who made you swoooooon like oh I want to be like that toooooo? Who reminded you that envy is a map?

Thank you.

And did someone show you a different way sometime? Did someone have enough that they gave you their extra? Did someone ever stay unmoved as you projected some unseen or unloved part onto them? Did anyone clown some of your silly myopia and in that cackle-back allow you to laugh at you, too? Maybe someone delivered you a nice clean blow, a cleansing and well-earned “Fuck You!” Did anyone give you a secret passageway? An adjustment or movement that diminished your chronic back pain?

Who was generous with you, kept seeing your resplendence with no help from you? Were you ever held, even once, when you had a bad dream?

Thank you.

Did someone let you support them? Received your gifts? Let you sharpen your stuff, improve them, appreciate and amplify them? Did their engagement with you increase your influence and impact?

Thank you.

Let this give you more space, freedom.

Can you hold just one of these miracles as a moving image, a movement, as if an ongoing mental martial arts practice? Feel it. From the width of your hips, your pelvis. Up your shoulders. Back down your legs. Your feet on the Earth. Feeling the sensation of aliveness course through your body and emanate being now.

With a grin on your face,

say to yourself.,

“Oh baby! Oh sugar! We’re well-held here. We’ve got some space to breathe here.”

You’re still. Warm. Awake. Aware.

You’re in the micro and macro all at once.

You’re in the hum of your own cosmic-Earthbound resonance.

Yum.

The West Shield

Every relationship of any depth or duration comes to one or several west shields, periods of tension or crisis with an opportunity to expand, iterate or evolve.

Some relationships continually back off from this point because one or both people aren’t available or willing. That’s OK. Not every relationship has to explicitly name its movements of toward and away. Maybe gentle continual connection and tenderness is enough. Many relationships end after one or several west shield moments, before co-creative contribution can emerge. That’s OK, too. Maybe it’s not OK if everyone is lonely, stuck and unwilling to ever submit to the prescient descent though.

The indigenous medicine wheel uses the four directions as a philosophy to speak to the different parts and phases of being human. When we’re in balance with the different directions, we are in good health and have enough. There is the small caveat that this individual model of health is contained in a healthy culture that respects the Earth and other mysteries.

There are four directions or four shields. There are many associations with each one and they vary amongst different places and tribes.

The south shield is childhood and the physical body.

The west shield is adolescence and the psychological body.

The north shield is adulthood and the intellectual body.

The east shield is elderhood and the spiritual body.

The west shield is where the vision fast or rite of passage into adulthood happens. The wounds of childhood are painstakingly confronted so that a person can then grow up and give back. It’s said that Western culture is stuck in adolescence or the West Shield.

The medicine wheel is a cyclical and nonlinear model of human development. We go from shield to shield through community-based ceremony, practice and ritual in different phases of life but we also encounter the different shields in a year, a month, a week, a day, or an hour. We also experience them in our relationships to people, place, profession and communities.

When we aim to align with Turtle Island’s Land Back movement, we are aligning with the indigenous wisdom that aligns with and respects the Earth’s cyclical wisdom.

Emergently-Abled

When most people see my brother, they will often first notice his disability. They might find a label like intellectually disabled. Often, their primary curiosity is about what makes him other and then him as a person. I wonder often about if we first asked what unique abilities someone like my brother has instead of first tracking his disabilities. 

Hey, check out my new catalog! Yah, look what color dock lines do you like here?

When I see my brother, I am relieved. On one hand, because I’m about to receive a big nervous-system-regulating bear hug and on the other hand, because I am seen and loved.

What is your cousin’s girlfriend’s name? Oh, Emily!

From when I was little, I knew that my brother knew things that others around me didn’t know. On so many occasions, he knew how to transmute our family’s conflict and chaos to levity, laughter and joy. Growing up, some hell might’ve been going down around us but he’d whisk me off for some adventure. Once it was playing in the mud outside. I loved playing in the mud with him just as much as making sure we were all cleaned up afterwards. My brother’s instinct to protect, care for and love his little sister was not impaired. 

What’d you have for dinner? Ravioli? Ooooooooo yum!

When part of who we are is marginalized from the societal center, we can be more easily tapped into the collective emergent edge. We can see and exude what those more in the center have a harder time accessing. We can be aware of what’s missing as it’s part of what we know and have to give that’s missing.

In a way what we call intellectual disability now, to me, contains in it an emergent ability for what we need to grow collectively to our edge. Including and integrating who and what part is excluded and marginalized is part of being fully with where we are so that we can move forward emergently. 

Please tell me how you make that sausage bread again!

In my brother’s disability, he is emergently-abled in his shameless big-hearted embodiment that centers the warm intelligence of the heart over the cold intelligence of the brain. Our over-reliance on cold intelligence hasn’t brought our collective consciousness to a place that can adequately address climate change, gruesome systemic oppression, dehumanizing technology, isolation and other pandemics.

Will you come home more often when I have a boat? Will you be there at my wedding?

Is there a part of you that is divergent from the mainstream or a system that you’re a part of that has medicine or a message to lead us towards our evolutive collective edge?

How can you make space for that part to be more fully seen and acknowledged? Perhaps first just for yourself.