I swing violently back and forth on my feelings towards spiritual matters, as recently evidenced, and as with everything in my life it seems. What I was reminded of today, though, is that when people reach for a stereotypical example of a “good person” , an uncontroversial inspirational figure, it’s almost always a spiritual leader or someone with a strong spiritual conviction. In my own life, I tend to view my relationship with spirituality as a dance with the devil, risking delusion for a taste of life with meaning and hope and divine guidance. Gabbie Hanna and SkyDoesMinecraft’s descent into frightingly zealous Christianity is a version of my future that haunts me every time an expectation set up by a vision or a sign is subverted – even if that is less common then the ones that are validated. I am a victim of my black and white thinking again. They love me or they hate me. I know the truth or everything I thought I knew is a lie. I’m perfectly sane or I’m Alice lost in a mental Wonderland.
I say that because the metaphysical musings have started to creep back in, even though I put them firmly in the dog house. Today’s was a feeling more than a thought, or maybe a hazy theory of what could be. If I indulge the idea for a moment that there’s a separation between the embodied mind, and a metaphysical consciousness that may extend beyond a single lifetime – the human animal is kind of a shitty host, in my opinion. It really does not seem fit for purpose. I feel like if I was firing on all cylinders I could figure out a lot of what is going on behind the curtain, but all I have is a vine-sized amount of information to work with. One tiny cropped vantage point, less than a century to work with….AND. On top of that. My animal body has all of these irrational lizard brain urges that foil my attempts to maximize my time on earth.
Sometimes I imagine this life is a version of the matrix, but there is a higher self version of you that is basically playing DnD and building a character for each lifetime. Thinking of it that way, I can see how my “build” is exactly the kind of character I like to make in any tabletop or video game RPG – an overly minmaxed glass cannon. We are going to take the big hitting gambits without realizing how many penalties are stacking up, and not realizing how one thing not going according to plan will collapse the house of cards, revealing all the negative synergies that came with the positive ones. Crank up the creativity, even though it proportionally increases mental instability. Take the perfectionism trait – high risk, high reward. Make her morally conscious, loyal, devoted, romantic – oops, childhood neglect and abuse decimated her self esteem, and replaced it with a roided up anxious attachment style. She can’t trust herself and puts too much trust in others, and now her perfectionism hinges on external validation. A martyr who dies with a whimper, defeating the entire point of the sacrifice. One of my favorite scenes from the 1970s stop motion version of Paddington is when he is trying to take a bath for the first time, but as is tradition, finds a way to mess up even the simplest things. As he is flailing and drowning in a overflowing bubble bath, the narrator describes him – “He tried calling out ‘help!’, very quietly, so as not to disturb anyone.” It gets me everytime, but if I’m watching it with my dad he will always give me a playful and knowing “hard stare” at that line.
My time in treatment cemented the seed in my head of needing to go cold turkey on problematic coping strategies. One relapse completely resets the clock on recovery. I don’t know if chemical addition is the correct analogy for what I struggle with. I see the parallels, but any time I’ve attempted a total abstinence approach, it’s been like trying to ride my elephant upstream in white water rapids – and I don’t think he can even swim that well. Maybe that’s just a weakness of will. At my lowest points Professor Trelawny will come out and say –
“Your soul won’t let this go because it serves a higher purpose. You just can’t see how yet. This situation is a mirror that reveals your wounds and your weaknesses, it’s a crucible that is giving you the strength to become the best version of you. The pain and fear and hopelessness are not punishments because you took the wrong path, it is the price of admission to the dreams that you dared to dream. No outcome is guaranteed, but know that walking this path will bring you to the things most meant for you. You will have your dream come true, or you will get something so much better and more aligned, that you will realize what you hoped for was not what you really wanted or needed. The only suffering regarding the outcome is from mentally living in the future while still existing emotionally in the present with your unresolved attachment. Trust that when the moment comes, there won’t be the resentment and betrayal you fear, even if that is inconceivable to your heart in this moment. Grief is the debt you accrue when you open your heart, because all things end, but it can be worth it. It can be necessary. And with every ending comes a beginning. Perhaps your soul is stubborn because it knows what you have in this is a phoenix. It is soul wrenching to watch it burn down to nothing but ash, but perhaps it’s worth keeping that ash and seeing what happens. Indulge your woowoo side one more time, it costs very little.”
Thank you, professor, now back in the basement you go. Your input has been noted. The human capacity to reframe suffering and disappointment is pretty remarkable, honestly. But I will keep the ash. Out of sight out of mind, but I am rebelling against my all or nothing thinking. Maybe it’s just another pendulum swing, but in this moment, I think it’s best to let go of the idea that I need to – that I even can – perfectly let go.
>>robyns_ramblings 