Thursday, February 7, 2013
kind of a wreck
I've been feeling dumb, self indulgent and immature about the strong emotions I'm experiencing, emotions linked directly to my upcoming 60th birthday. When I admit how difficult this is for me, people laugh, or they try to reassure me by telling me I look great for my age, or that I'm the "youngest 60 year old" they have ever met. I wonder what that means?
I know these people are trying to help, or maybe the message they're conveying is, "Please stop talking about this." I can't blame them. It's boring - even to me! In an entirely rational world, I would be feeling nothing but gratitude to have made it this far in life. I would celebrate my skin which is not yet wrinkly, or my silvery hair, my physical strength and the tiny increments of wisdom I have accumulated over time. I would celebrate and appreciate the fact that as a Boomer, I grew up in an America that really was #1, came of age during the 60s, moved through early adulthood at a time when it wasn't that hard to get a job, when most people had health insurance. I followed the call of shamanism and became a healer in mid-life, in San Francisco when the Goddess was alive and magic was afoot. Now I live in a beautiful apartment on a beautiful street in a beautiful city, in a neighborhood I adore, surrounded by people I love and people I like.
It's not as if I'm unaware of all that. And believe me - I am grateful, I am. However, my world view is not entirely rational, and may I say, neither is yours. No matter what I do to talk myself out of having these emotions, it isn't working. I tell myself I'm fine, I'm good. I can almost convince myself. But my body is exhibiting every symptom of distress, from skin disruptions to allergy attacks to headaches to digestive problems. My jaw is so tightly clenched I'm surprised I can even speak. My dreams are disturbing or frightening. I'm having such a hard time settling down during meditation.
From now until next Wednesday, my birthday, I'm focusing on self soothing, 24/7. Included in that mode is listening to Krishna Das around the clock, and repeating endlessly my mantra, "I have a Saturn trine." Roughly translated, that means I have endurance, I can go the course.
Even if chanting isn't your thing, it's worth watching the first few seconds, just to see the tree they're sitting at the foot of. Wow. And I love his plaid shirt.
It's ironic, at moments like this, to remember that I spent many years learning to tune in to my sensitivity. I've paid attention to the subtle energies carefully and consistently for decades. I hoped I could avoid this crazy roller coaster of emotions. What in the world would make me think I could ignore this big rite of passage?
I'm very glad I'm not in Paris. It would be so lonely there. Good lord.