Oldie but Goodie: Why I’m here

Written Feb. 4, 2008

I’ve come to believe that part of my life path is to release the habits of perfectionism, hyper-criticism, judgment, pettiness and control–especially of the world and people around me. That behavior is so “last lifetime.” As my friend Rob keeps telling me, it’s time for me to learn to go with the flow, to stop fighting to be right at all costs. I am fully able to admit when I’m wrong and apologize and make amends. I am also fully able to look at my behavior as it is happening and notice its effect on those around me. And I am fully able to figure out what is triggering the behavior if I have enough time and I’m not mired in fury–the coverlet for hurt.

I also know that the work I need to be doing–instead of trying to fix everything around me–is inside of me. I need to create some order inside of myself, trust that other people can take care of themselves and the world will carry on just fine without me hawking over every detail. Part of this is learning to be more present in the moment instead of worrying over (pre-controlling) the future or ruminating the past. First things first is developing some actual compassion for myself, give myself unconditional love and work toward a peaceful me instead of the harsh, critical, tumultuous inner life I now lead.

I find it interesting that this is exactly where my whacky therapist has been taking me for the past six months. He recommended a book, “The Wisdom of No Escape” by Pema Chodron. I haven’t gotten very far, because I keep re-reading the first page.

“There’s a common misunderstanding among all the human beings who have ever been born on the earth that the best way to live is to try to avoid pain and just try to get comfortable … To lead a life that goes beyond pettiness and prejudice and always wanting to make sure that everything turns out on our own terms, to lead a more passionate, full, and delightful life than that, we must realize that we can endure a lot of pain and pleasure for the sake of finding out who we are and what this world is, how we tick and how our world ticks, how the whole thing just is. If we’re committed to comfort at any cost, as soon as we come against the least edge of pain, we’re going to run; we’ll never know what’s beyond that particular barrier or wall or fearful thing.”

That last emphasis is mine. How much of my life has been spent being committed to comfort at any cost? How many situations and things and people have I tried (successfully and unsuccessfully) to control to avoid that least edge of pain? How many miles have I run to get away from that barrier or wall or fearful thing, only to find that my finger is still stuck in the proverbial dike and the thing is still there, I haven’t moved at all, and nothing has changed but wasted time like water under the bridge?

I like this Pema Chodron, who is a Buddhist nun. I have a meditation CD of hers I’m starting to use, and I know that learning to get still will help me. But her way of meditation is not close-your-eyes and block out everything but your breath, as I’ve been taught before. She teaches that you must be aware of your surroundings, and put your mind on an object (the breath), but keep your eyes open so you’re IN the moment, rather than escaping from it into the darkness of your subconscious. And she teaches that you notice only the exhalation, and especially the brief gap of letting go at the end–the moment just before you inhale. In that moment, you must trust that another breath is coming. You have no choice. It’s a lesson, that moment, about all of life.

I grew up with enough stuff. I rarely wanted for a thing–except for the stuff I really wanted. Those things: unconditional love and acceptance. So I learned that controlling situations and people got me some of that. But I believed–and still do–that I do not deserve to be provided for or taken care of. I don’t believe I’m good enough to have the things I want, that someone will ever just give those things to me, so I coerce.

I don’t need to change that behavior. There is nothing wrong with it, and it has served me well. What I can do is begin to be more patient and gentle with myself when I exhibit these behaviors, to be more peaceful with myself. To give myself the unconditional love and acceptance I’ve always craved.