Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Accused of Softness

Last week I received an email from someone who had learned and participated in shamanic ceremonies with me many years ago. She said she’d been reading my blog and Facebook page and wanted to know what had happened to me, wondered if I had gone a little “soft in the head” with all my writing about tenderness toward our struggles and opening inner doors with curiosity. She wanted to know what had happened to Oriah the Warrior Woman. She was not pleased.

I have to admit, my reaction was one of delight. Truly. And that reaction thrilled me because I thought it might reflect at least a smidgen of progress in the not-caring-what-others-think area of development. But I took her questions as genuine, as prompts to have a look at how and why I might have changed, may have softened (in the head or in the heart?)

As I sat with her questions, I realized that the truth is that almost everything in the world breaks my heart open these days. Someone on Facebook writes that she hates herself for not being stronger, and I write a response with tears blurring my vision of the screen, aching a little for her- for me- for the parts of us that meet our own struggles, losses and pain without mercy, with judgement and criticism heaping suffering on top of pain.

Someone tells me of a friend who is working to set up community gardens in a city, a man who starts conversations with neighbours with the observations that since vegetable gardens grow vegetables and flower gardens grow flowers, they need to decide together how they want their community garden to grow community (instead of just assuming that dividing the land into small private plots is the only way to go) and my heart breaks open with hope for the infinite ways we can create the world right where we are.

I do a telephone session with someone and she confesses that her daily practise has not been going well- that the meditation she is doing feels boring and painful, that she spends her time wanting to be anywhere else. And my heart breaks open to our human struggle to live up to some kind of ideal- spiritual or otherwise- and our genuine desire to live fully present. Together we explore ways to remain true to her intent to centre and listen deeply without hurling herself mercilessly against methods that are just not working for her.

It doesn’t take much to break my heart these days: the way the sun lights the sky as it crests the horizon at dawn, the promise of another day given to us; the way strangers stop to help a woman whose grocery bags have broken, men and women scurrying to gather runaway oranges, to scoop up foil-wrapped butter and packages of spaghetti where they have fallen on dark pavement; the thrill of slipping into the quiet of a university library to write for a few hours away from my seductive internet connection, and the way the words spill out of me like living things, telling stories I had not noticed before; the courage of human beings facing loss- of homes, of loved ones, of health, of partnerships- to take another breath, another step. . .  

The woman is right- I didn’t used to be so easily broken open. But some of the certainties I held when I was younger have crumbled in the face of life’s unpredictability. And other certainties- of the beauty of the human spirit and of the gift of having one small human life- have taken root.

I feel I cannot explain it all, so I just write one line back to her. My heart is very full as write: “Your wonderful questions have made me aware of changes that have happened so gradually I hardly noticed them- I am deeply grateful. Thank you.”

Oriah (c) 2013

15 comments:

  1. Having read your book a few years ago, I too see the difference. Personally, I love the gentle approach, the tenderness in your words. They reflect a peaceful approach to life not often experienced these days. Having lost our home in bushfires a few years ago, I struggle to find acceptance of 'the stuff that happens' to us. I believe I have hardened and put a good moat and drawbridge around myself. I'm not sure why this has happened. I will enjoy following your blog now that I have found it. Perhaps a little place of shelter for a while. Thank you

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    1. Thank you. Loss of home is one of the hard ones for sure- can make us feel a sense of threat where we did not feel one before. May the drawbridge could just be let down once in awhile to see who might wander by and want to say hi. :-)

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  2. I resonated with this Oriah. It's as if the bracing I did against heartache, against disaster and pain, has given way to a moving- toward the places where love wants to come through. My body required it, my soul craved it, and the world needs it, so here we are, us middle-aged weepy women, warriors in our own way!

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    1. Sarah, lol- middle-aged weepy women, warriors- Yes!

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  3. Oriah, I'm not sure where I started connecting with your words, but I know I felt the connection because of how accurately and beautifully you described and shared feelings of pain, yet there was a determination and grace in facing it. And now, I feel there is love in your words. Tremendous amount of love. I always feel as if I open up more and smile from the heart when I read your words. Thank you for sharing yourself so openly.

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    1. What a lovely description- my journey has always been about holding all of what comes and reflecting that in my words. No final destination, but a perpetual expansion and deepening- a journey that nourishes my heart. Thank you.

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  4. This post breaks *my* heart open. I see myself in your experience and I realize I've been missing this reflection. Thank you for making me cry in recognition

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  5. What I like about the response is that the recipient will think you agree with her (unless she reads the above post, of course ;-)

    The warrior ideal is too often about being strong and immobile, like rock; I see your changes to being more open and receptive, like water, to the world. And of course, water wears away rock....

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    1. She told me that she had only just discovered the blog and was reading quite a few posts so I don't think she checks it regularly. I did think of that and hoped she would not think of this as a passive aggressive move. I really did appreciate the contemplation her question/accusation stirred. :-)

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  6. Oh, Oriah. As usual, one line cuts right through to the point. "But some of the certainties I held when I was younger have crumbled in the face of life’s unpredictability." Yes. Thank you.
    Carol
    www.carolcassara.com

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    1. I think there is so much more strength in vulnerability than in being tough and hard. I assume that this soft kind of power is very appropriate for middle aged woman who have met and learned a lot - I have a clear image in my head of those old wise people, the archetypes of the Crone or of a Mr Miyagi who are quite assertive while being kind and soft at the same time, and who can be our goal for the future. I think you can't stay a warrior woman through all of your life. That's an appropriate image for younger persons. If you remember something about "The Lord of the Rings": the warrior woman Eowyn becomes a healer after she has matured (married and got children). The Path leads us through several stages and it is healthy to go forward.

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    2. Nora, I like the idea of the Warrior becoming the Healer. Thank you.

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  7. I read this post in my email this morning. I'm still not sure how my email gets organized, but what I thought was for today, 11/21, is actually this October post and I really loved it. My heart breaks open so easily these days. I am having a hard time seeing this as a positive and I appreciate your post and the comments of these other remarkable women. I feel like I am tottering on a line of late. It's even on the ground because I certainly balance off the ground anymore. On one side I could fall into the embraces of these vulnerable yet infinitely strong words of yours and others resonating with you. On the other side I want to fall to the ground in the fetal position, wishing the earth would just take me.

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