Elective Humiliation
Lugging my bags on the long dirt road. Why come to the mountain and put myself in conditions of discomfort? What do I expect? To meet my Self.I'm the first one in the door. The house is empty but I fill it with myself, as the Buddhists say. I watch the arrivals. Who's that strutting around like he knows it all? Unlike him, I don't know much. (Oh, maybe a little something.)
That evening I'm asked to speak in front of ninety people. Heart pounding. Trying not to show I'm nervous. Inner attention feels thready. My voice, so in earnest, and then, suddenly, along with the words, I hear the lie in them, recognize the attitude behind-can everybody see?-
Look who thinks she's Somebody.
Afterward, I race around asking, "Was it all right?" I need comfort. I need spin! People are so kind. These same people.
I get ready for bed. I just want to go to sleep. I'm a fake. An idiot. And now we all know. In bed at night, I cry under the covers.
Look who thinks she's Nobody.
And watch myself cry-how odd-to feel the wetness of every tear roll down my cheeks. To watch the event as if seen from outside-a body crying-releasing all that's been bottled up unawares. Such a strain, holding up a front, protecting... what? Self-image. You mean, I don't have to live in that one little room any more? A fresh burst of tears-of gratitude.
The next morning, I wake up glad to be here with everyone. No more hiding. No more pretending. If you see through me-good-maybe I can, too. Are we not alike in this? At any moment, ego either dominates or serves.
Exposure brings a state which is appreciated. I write a poem to record for myself what it feels like to wish only to let the seeing continue.
Ruffled Feathers
Perched upon an attitude
of "I know-and-you-don't,"
my lark will hear her song as best-
until, one day, she won't.
Then sorry tears give way to bits
of plumage on the ground,
and mute even my mockingbird;
my peacock makes no sound.
And now a certain stillness
that rustles in the leaves
can thread a silken tendril
from heart to heart with ease
And bring translucent skies of blue
which may not long remain-
though many more reminding tears
may light the way again.