That mother comes to mind again. She is the controlling parent, telling me the sensible thing to do, what people expect. How much better to realise that I am beautiful, and worth presenting at my best advantage, and presenting myself well because of self-care? That became so real for me just over a week ago; and now, having coffee with Sabina, putting it into words again does me good, especially when she agrees. It is not a lesson I can just see the truth of, then put seamlessly into practice. It needs my attention.
I tell her something about which I feel guilt and shame. It took courage to tell her, getting over my projection: I imagined her face going blank and hostile, and turning from me. I imagine you doing the same. I know what I will do, I have a right to do it, and still I need absolution for it in one or two more conversations. The shame has poisoned my last two years. She tells me I am quite right; there is no need to be ashamed. I feel absolved.
-People need- word beginning with A. She could not think of it immediately.
She was thinking of the word Approval. That is far more threatening. It gives away my power, appoints someone as my judge- and yet, it is attractive. I want someone to rely on, someone bigger than me who says “It’s going to be alright” and reassures me. I could I suppose fantasise one of a number of women I know. In my mind I tell her my problems and she looks at me gravely with those wise eyes which miss nothing, and nods: understanding, not condemning. Were I Catholic I might select one from the Lives of the Saints.
That moment of presence. I think now of a moment at Greenbelt where a branch and leaves caught my attention completely, and I was Present. Is it spiritual or neurological? I don’t think it matters- even if this was an effect of a neural circuit I share with all mammals, even all vertebrates, it gave me joy. Wanting that experience again would be resistance to the Now; but I could get the same feeling of perception and delight in the yellow of that taxi over there; or in our conversation.
The difference between synchronicity and coincidence is how you see it: meh, or joy. This is a choice.
The trouble with D’s idea of Spiritual Growth is that it is all so linear. You move from stage to stage, whereas I have learned some quite advanced lessons and am yet to learn simple ones- you too, though which lessons will differ. Another would think of them as life lessons, not spiritual at all.
We touched on this, and I still want an answer. My CV is comically dreadful.
-So, Miss Flourish, I see you worked as a solicitor. Wouldn’t you get bored working on the checkout?
Not an answer to endear me. Or,
-You want to work in law? You last worked as a solicitor in 1992, and I see that three times you have left a job with no job to go to. Even twice might be unlucky, but three times?
-Well, what I was doing in 2009 was sort-of legalish–
So I keep on, with the spiritual lessons, and the analysis, and the ersatz human contact of facebook and wordpress. I despaired. No longer despising myself- WHAT TO DO, NOW?
So much laughter this morning! Delight, and communion!