Like Smokey the Bear...
Image of "Only you can", Oil on Canvas, artist Aaron Cook, M.D.
Before I begin, I want to be mindful and respectful of the devastation caused by wild fires currently in California and throughout the country in 2017. During my travels, I saw the aftermath of wild fires, whether from this year or previous years, and it forced me to look beyond myself; instead, I came face to face with the nature of destruction. It is disheartening to consider the loss of life that has occurred in these areas. My thoughts and prayers are with those sacrificing their own well-being to save the magnificent beauty I often take for granted.
"If I had known then that we were destined to fall in love, get married, and have a beautiful daughter together---given my mind-set at the time, I definitely would not have let her move in." It was at this point in Michael A. Singer's book, The Surrender Experiment, that something in my head snapped. Prior to my migration to Grand Rapids, a friend lent it to me, suggesting Singer's words would help me on my journey; however, each time I opened the book, I learned something new about Singer that turned up my internal heat a notch. Like how he didn't experience any real trauma to awaken. Or how, after just a few times meditating, he had a vision of his destiny. Or how he is now a billionaire. It was in the upper reaches of New Mexico that Singer and his musings finally broke me. I read this sentence, a pinnacle of his incredibly successful life, and launched the book out of my hands and into the side of my Jeep. "What the f*ck?!?" I screamed toward the sky, "why was it so easy for him, but so difficult for me?! What was wrong with me that I couldn't have everything just fall into my lap? Is it because I'm gay? Because I'm headed down the wrong path? Why me?!" All I could see were flames while smoke emitted from my ears. Smokey the Bear would have extinguished me by pouring water over my head till the hissing stopped, but why did anger seem to be burning through me as I traveled?
I suppose I could blame it on the horseflies chasing me through the Ozarks or the caterpillar burrowing into my head in New Mexico. I might argue the suspect longevity of my Jeep served as embers refusing to be drowned out. Maybe it was Ernest Becker offering up his opinion of homosexuality in The Denial of Death, arguing that gay men are weak-minded perverts. Perhaps it was the unexpected Fate and Destiny or my shoddy phone service. As you can see, there were plenty of burning issues igniting my anger that often left me asking the same question: why me?! I set out to reach a level of peaceful balance with my authentic voice (a.k.a. my soul) on my travels yet I was transforming back into my scorching, rageaholic self.
This is why we can't have nice things...like Smokey the Bear.
The holidays are a fantastic time to bring together loved ones and celebrate the joy of the season; however, it can also induce what I will call Grinchiness because the close proximity of clashing ideals combined with the stress of decking the halls sometimes equates to a sour attitude. How did the Grinch come to HATE Christmas so much, though, that he wanted to obstruct others from experiencing the jubilation? The classic song, "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" (sung by Thurl Ravenscroft), offers up quite a few reasons: "Your heart's an empty hole...You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile...Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable mangled up in tangled up knots!" These certainly are symptoms of Grinchiness, but was the Grinch (and his soul) always "full of gunk"? I think back to the days when I felt like an outsider...it would be difficult to stick out like a green thumb among the residents of Whoville. Much like this "nasty wasty skunk," I've isolated myself in the past to escape from the seemingly happy, comfortable world that I believed didn't accept me. I adopted a defense mechanism (sarcasm) and lashed out at those who didn't understand me. Was I a Grinch?
I reach under the tree and find my belated present from Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way: "Anger is meant to be listened to...Anger shows us what our boundaries are...With a little thought, we can usually translate the message that our anger is sending us...Anger is the firestorm that signals the death of our old life...It will always tell us when we have been betrayed. It will always tell us when we have betrayed ourselves...Anger is not the action itself. It is action's invitation" (61-62). Often, I focused on the pain associated with betrayal when anger began to ignite, sending even more kindling into the fire. Resentment, jealousy, rage, and shame billowed up, and my authentic voice was smothered. I began exploring these ideas in Maturity prior to my departure southwest, yet I had not understood what this voice was communicating to me. When I finally doused my anger and let the smoke clear, I heard it loud and clear: "your destiny is to help others uncover who they are to reach higher levels of consciousness." Though I didn't necessarily understand how I was supposed to accomplish this, I was ready. I rediscovered my passion for bringing joy and laughter into the lives of others, so I figured that would play a crucial part in my destiny, and I vowed never to allow the smoke to stifle my authentic voice again...
Unfortunately, in my return, I was confronted by more significant challenges than what I was anticipating. It seemed like the perfect storm of financial, relational, personal, and national/global problems were all awaiting me, and the embers began to spark again despite my resolve and awareness. Then it happened: I began questioning my authentic voice like I had in the past. Could I trust what it was saying? What if I was rejected and became isolated? What if I never find success or love? The questions continued to pile on, anger compounded, combusted, and then...flames: why me?! Addictive behavior reared its ugly head again as shame, fear, and resentment clouded my better judgment. I was regressing quickly---the experiences that guided me toward clarity in the wild were becoming distant memories; I was burning up with no Smokey the Bear to put me out. The Grinch was coming back, but before I ruined the holidays, I remembered the tool that saved me from self-destruction on my journey: my web. Did you think Web Unspun was just me being whimsical? :)
Yes, while I was learning how to remain calm throughout my travels, I was guided toward seeing the Big Picture, which in my case was a web. So, I spun it as I meditated, ensuring that the threads would catch any and all negative thoughts that threatened to ignite. The flames (my ego) fought hard against me, but much like a spider, I remained patient and waited for the smoke to clear again. Then, my biggest dilemma was revealed: my authentic voice (a.k.a. my soul) wanted to be heard, whether by the universe, my family/friends, or myself; however, I failed to listen effectively to what it (and those around me) had to say in the presence of so many added voices. I realized how much we all want to be heard, particularly when we express our authentic voice, yet so often we either fail to be vulnerable or we fail to listen closely because we are caught in the betrayal of the past or the uncertainty of the future. I was unable to live in the present moment and unite with my authentic voice because of fear, which devolved into the flames of anger over time.
Was the Grinch just afraid to share in the joy of the holidays because he was different, then? I'm not sure what Dr. Seuss was symbolizing through this characterization, but the Grinch helped me understand that I am still on my journey toward soul acceptance. By stepping outside of my anger and finding the underlying cause, I was able to uncover the map (or web) that Cameron refers to in her book; moreover, I was able to extinguish the fire that threatened to burn up all I learned so that I can enjoy the present moment. For 2018, I will launch the trek on my web, beginning with living fearlessly by testing the limits of my body, mind, and spirit. What is your resolution?