I was sitting in a bar last night, watching Ohio State play one of the best games of football I have ever seen–I was rooting for Clemson by the way, but they got outplayed in all ways–and it hit me that most of us have frozen parts within us, lumps which form when we are young, and which in some respects get carried through every day the same way, and which can be so carried across a lifetime.
We seek routine, the known. And the known reinforces within us our self identity, and this loop can be carried indefinitely.
This frozenness is what I think the Buddhists meant with the notion of Anatman. “You” are the flow. Certain essential “flavors” are carried through all permutations, but the shape, the Gestalt, will change often, if you allow it.
I wake up most mornings fearing the day. It’s a primal thing I am trying to work on. Life has always been more work for me, I think, than most people. I am afraid of literally everything; rather, my traumatic alarm is sounding in all circumstances whatsoever, so it is just a part of the background noise of my normal experience which I have to deal with. It is like a car which veers to the right or left, but which you have to constantly correct. It takes effort. It takes work. It takes focus, and all of that is tiring.
And I wake up wondering what I should have done yesterday, what I should do today, and what I should fear in tomorrow. It is continual. I ask God for wisdom and sight, and courage and the fidelity to stick to my job, whatever it is.
This morning I woke up and a little voice said “you are mustard seed-ing.” And I knew immediately what was meant. I am allowing some flow in me, without knowing where it is coming from or where it is going. I am trying just to ride the day, ride the time, and to not reject things, and not cling to tightly to anything. This time in particular is a strange one. It is bad time to depend on anything. It may all change, perhaps literally overnight.
This is the faith that moves mountains. And actually now that I think about it, I was looking at all the frozenness in me, which feels like granite. It feels too large to ever really change. It is fixed, solid, immutable, forever. This is what trauma feels like at a deep level. It is way, way beyond talking, and most of the time even beyond conscious recognition. It colors everything, but stays hidden. I think there must me many millions of people like me who are scarred in ways they can’t even see, and which they have never really been able to explain when they erupt in unexpected and dysfunctional ways, which would include being cold, cynical and callous.
We are not meant, I don’t think, to routinely attempt the large. Our goal is to allow flow through us, to allow processes which happen naturally in life to do the work for us. This is the Nye of Kum Nye, the circulation.
We do not move mountains. Staying in the game by remaining open to experience moves the mountains. We do not need to be saints or martyrs for this to happen. It is a gift given to all of us, if we do nothing more than not reinforce daily to ourselves who we “are”.
And I continue to believe curiosity is a key element in all this. Me, I am always poking around in everything. Every day, in every way, I am trying to see and feel and hear and smell and taste everything I can and understand it. This is the path to learning to see life as a miracle, I feel very sure. I get flashes here and there, but only that. Moments, when everything expands in a joyous way. Melting. Maybe that is the word, melting of something hard and mean, cold and tired.