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STOP RESISTING. STOP FIGHTING. STOP KICKING. I lay there after 10 minutes of breathing and stretching last night, trying to calm the nervous system and work out the kinks of a long-time illness. And immediately it was there: STOP RESISTING. And that thought wouldn't leave my mind. It's like God/ the universe has been waiting for one quiet moment in my mind to send me a message. I ask and ask and ask, but I have a very hard time listening. So the minute my mind silenced, there it was: STOP RESISTING. The illness has poked me and poked me until last night I officially felt like a martyr. At least that's what I figured out after musing on it for an hour. That explained the frustration and anger. Why my students' apathy and belligerance was getting to me. Why I walked the cold hall of that school, feeling betrayed somehow. Then I realized after my last awful class that I had been trying to find someone to blame. I was looking at those kids and those teachers with the resentment of "you've done this to me." And so because of my attitude, it all became and felt that much worse as the hours wore on. But this took some time for me to understand. I kept telling Scott, "I know that something needs to click in my mind for me to stay here and be happy, but I can't quite make that jump." It was much easier to just feel put out and angry and irritated. But I've learned a thing or two, and I knew that the reality itself wasn't that bad, nor the kids that threatening, nor the teachers and administrators that evil. No, i knew it was the way I was approaching the situation that was causing me pain. After an hour of discussion, I finally wound my mind out of the labyrinth (sweet Scott listened, but we both acknowledge that I find my own answers--those are the only kind that work anyway). With much relief, I might add. It is extremely easy to feel trapped and angry and that it is all unfair and betraying. Very natural for me, I suppose. I've been sick and stay sick and then still have to go teach in a cold dirty school (there isn't a system for subbing that actually gets used very often--unless you cannot speak and so cannot teach). The relief of the discussion and the power of being able to pull my mind out of its hole (like literally taking it by the hair and yanking it out of where it's lodged) both left me feeling quite real and honest. Honest with myself. When in the labyrinth of the mind and old habits, it's easy to Believe that you ARE actually being misused and maltreated. It takes some doing to see that you actually have 3 choices: 1) stay miserable because of the way you perceive it and so cause yourself a lot of pain, 2) actually decide that you ARE being mistreated and so either leave or change the situation, and 3) realize that the situation isn't harmful (difficult, maybe), but the way you're ingesting the world is what's hurting you. In sum, take responsibility for your feelings and see what's REAL. And seeing what's real is always liberating. Because then you can act on the truth in ways that are best for you. Lita taught me that. So the poke poke poke of the illness had finally broken down my sense of what is REAL and what I need to do for myself--my responsibility to either take care of my own needs or know when concerns need to be voiced. Instead, I had become whiny and pouty and angry and all sorts of sloshy, dribbly emotionally. STOP FIGHTING, I heard again. I realized all that I could do and feel here, if I stopped spurting out all my energy in all of these many wasteful directions. I thought of what I wanted to learn about meditation, about Korean yoga, about oriental medicine. I thought of the Korean language I'd need to know to really access those things. And then I thought of all the energy I'd free up to do just that if I merely stopped fighting. If I stopped spinning and kicking. And suddenly I was filled with the reassurance that my father had blessed me with the day I left. That if I had FAITH, it would all work out. I felt the voice again reminding me that all these great avenues would continue opening if I'd just calm down and let them. If I'd just stop trying to feel tortured and to dish out blame and anger, then there'd be enough time and energy for Korean learning and meditation and traveling and yoga and herbs and whatever else I'm here to experience. I stood up with tears. Scott looked just as peaceful. We both smiled. And ya know? The best thing is that I refuse to blame myself for having slipped into the martyr mentality. For having fallen into the depths of the labyrinth. For that happens sometimes. Especially when you've been sick a long time on a little peninsula in Asia. And it will happen again. The triumph is always that I'm able to SEE it happening and then CHOOSE to change it. And that ain't easy. Yay. Yay, ck [2002-12-12]
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