Haven’t posted in awhile. This goes back to a previous chapter.

“From the Universal to the Personal” is a key chapter for me. The whole book speaks to me and feels momentously instructive and supportive for where I am these days, but this chapter, in particular, answers the question I started with this year. How can I be more lighthearted?

I can relate to the story Kornfield tells about  the woman whose instinct for self preservation was triggered by the threat of boiling water. Maybe some people awaken to their lives gently, but some of us — me, for example — need louder, more  dramatic wake-up calls.

My wake-up call came in December 2008, when the weight of thoughts and feelings I had been avoiding hit me with full their force, all at once, overwhelming me. I can’t go into the detail here, because I couldn’t see the detail of it, it just felt like one big overwhelming force, as if I was  threatened by that pot of boiling water. Thank god, thank my friends, and thank my hardy immigrant heritage, but my survival mechanism, my resilience, kicked in.

Last  year was all about releasing pent up stuff. Lots of stuff I thought I’d released and understood before, but really hadn’t. Lots of stuff I thought I’d dealt with but hadn’t. People I thought I’d forgiven but hadn’t. Feelings I thought I had felt, but hadn’t. Feel, feel, feel. Release, release, release. I think that’s all I did last year. That, and a whole bunch of crying. Private crying, crying in public in safe circles, and crying in public in not-so-safe places. Feeling, releasing, crying, and talking about my story, my self — the world of form.

It was necessary. And I am better for it. But I am done now. I can’t fool myself into thinking that I am done forever. (Here is the only thing I know for sure anymore, I am not as blind to my life as I used to be, but I will always be blind to my life.) For now, however, I am done, and I have moved to a new space in my life — one where there isn’t quite so much avoiding and a lot less crying and (perhaps) a lot less urgency to tell my story. It’s a huge shift for me.

My story matters, but it doesn’t matter.

I get that. I feel that. And I think right now I am living it as much as I am able. I have felt a weight lifting from my heart. My heart and my spirit are lighter, my relationships with others are lighter, and I am enjoying this plateau. (Even though I know it will probably not last. I feel like I have learned something huge in my life — and there is no going back.)

A  2/20/12 note to you, dear self. You were not done.