Moment of Clarity

A month or so ago I would have never predicted spending my vacation from work, over the holidays, thick in the middle of drama with The Man. I never thought I would separate myself so thoroughly from one I loved, mourn so deeply one I lost, or turn such a distrustful eye towards those in authority over me, us, each other. The System, the gears which grind us down to submission, to eating the goob of the propaganda machine clothed in delusion and distraction of every kind...

My reality came into sudden focus as I sat in the middle of Day 2 of my run-in with The Man. The sudden shock of every story every client ever told me overcame me in a wave of disbelief as I was questioned, detained and treated like any common criminal. The psychology, the secrecy, the assumption of wrong-doing. The show of force (against me...., right). Today was the long detective work with my stellar adviser, thanks so much..! And jokes about what felt for many moments like the hot breath of Big Brother on my neck. Those numbers, that data was more real and important than anything I could say or do of my person. My reality was hijacked into Theirs. I was overwhelmed by the sense of futility and helplessness.

Bridge to Mom, whom I took with our trusty Jamaican angel to the doctor's today, to the store, to the condo and her safe harbor. The moment of clarity was suddenly realizing just how present her reality is in mine. How the co-op of my complete attention to ridiculous but persistent misinformation is somehow like her feeling of being kidnapped into a strange reality she didn't choose. And how brave when she finds those moments of coming from herself, which she has safely tucked away into the far corners of her experience, safe from the stroke, the embarrassment, helplessness, fears...discomforts.

She is my reality. My little mother. The manic push I had to put together the practice, the next steps, the quick unfolding of some new post fantasy chapter, came to a screeching halt. And the burden of pressure was lifted. With a clinical eye I realized it's time to focus one foot in front of the other and quit looking at the finish line. We are still smack in the middle of this race.

Yesterday, in an exuberance of frustrated hope, despair, and a healthy dose of sublimated rage, I took to the streets late in the day and caught a pretty quiet 6 miler, taking the bigger loop to the north drive over towards the park. I am still waging my war with post marathon limitations of all sorts. The stellar shape I aspired to, and maybe had for a bit before the race, and which compensates for so much other inadequacy, feels gone. So I am left, like pretty much every one else, with the reality of my own mortal ground.

If ever there is a time to feel The Spirit, to pit oneself against The Man in righteous revolution, its now. The run won't leave me altogether, much as I sometimes want to quit. The thread that holds my inner discipline, to love and engage my Self in some thorough manner - to hold my own authenticity outside the definitions of possibilities...to break down, break through, move on beyond expectation- or knowledge. To jump. To leap away, break away on down the road, persists. It will take me there if I just hold on.

see you there.

The Longest Night

Winter Solstice can be the toughest door to approach, even as the momentum of the year builds to the temporal frenzy of mass delusions...the incessant uber message to shop, spend, consume -whether food or goods- and the need to meld with all the others doing the same thing.

In my mind I am lost in nature. The arms of large trees with wide expanses of sky come and gather me up in the cold layer of air, setting me adrift in my own dreams, my own beautiful cloak of invisibility. It is night, after all. The coming of the day, as we find our way through the door, sets us free for another view. Where we land, what we do, can be changed in an instant, even as the forces of light and dark grind their eternal cycles along....

I am grateful to have the run under me, no matter how long or short. For the brief moments pain subsides, I can fly like the angels and see far, far along the line of my own development, steady as she goes into a new year.

Yes, I DID!

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Running since the marathon has been increasingly tough. Trying to balance sudden increase in workload with the push for the exam, together with the need to recover left me with a case of high anxiety I haven't had for a while. The day before the exam, while the temps rose to record highs along with the humidity, my computer grinding to a halt during final simulation, and insidious aches and pains drilled through my body, my head, I plummeted into uncharacteristic despair. What if? What if I don't pass, don't heal and don't make it out of BC intact? What are the alternatives, where will I put my energy to train, work, invest in the future?

As always, its high-level problems, which I realize even as it feels like my head is exploding and my patience running out of my ears. Friday, I get lost. I pass every landmark as if I can't see what's in front of me, and all the while I think: I must FOCUS on CLINICAL material! I must FIND the RIGHT ANSWERS....I must settle this anxiety. Like any race, it's the last few miles that become imbued with the mission of nothing but completion. After the Team saw me for the last time in Crystal City, at around mile 23, I remember thinking "piece of cake"...just get to the line, this is an easy 5K left. What happened as I dragged through the last few miles was the same as yesterday; the tension, pain, pressure, the unreality of time, the sudden associations and thoughts with gauntlets and doors past when I needed to muster it up and walk through.

I am nothing if not brave. I may panic along the way, but I'll get there. The drama which is my nervous system always seems to forget: we have done this before. So while the exam unfolds, I realize I am apparently getting those diagnoses. And the simulations are flying by. And the moment comes 6 years after I began as the proctor excuses himself for but a moment to retrieve my score print-out. He doesn't give it away, but points to the single word "PASS"...and everything else, the scores - like a finish time - is just gravy.

I beat myself up for finishing slow at MCM. And now, I wonder what life with a license could have been about 20 years ago. But hey! the currents of curiosity, creativity and compassion somehow merged, somewhere on the riverbank of the Shenandoah, many years ago. The ageless sprite that was our beloved teacher, Mello Rye, gave me a mandate and a promise to abide by the truth of myself to set others free, and to join along in the journey of our yellow brick road. Somewhere, in our togetherness, I managed to find a way. With Her. And Them, and yes, IT IS SO!!!

Threading the needle

There are few things in life in which I need precision; in my line of work, there is a wellspring of intuitive and deeply rooted concepts and skills which enable me to work with my clients. In running, I came too late to the party to capitalize on the 'need for speed' and the usual obsession with times and distances, much as I'd like to. But Friday, I need a sharp focus to pass my state exam!

Lately, in every run, I have been forced to dig very deep to find a core of strength to handle the discomfort I still have from the marathon. This is deeply disappointing; I would like to be back to my normal routine, and hoped to run Miami, at least the half! But I'm letting go of all my expectations now...yesterday, a 5 miler out and back west of here was torture until the last mile when my body finally settled into its groove.

Sitting and studying. Sitting and listening. Hyper-focus on the computer, at work and home...my poor eyes are blurring out and still I need to see what I'm doing. Precision comes in documentation, in finding the right words to describe the right perception of symptoms, behaviors, affect....mine included!! I have struggled this year to focus myself on the road to the goal...which is one more door, one more needle to thread to stitch together this life.

Some of you flagged; I understand. Others are still standing by my side. Maybe I know, now, that no one does the run for me, no one holds my hand when I stumble down the road in pain. And this is a necessary discipline to strengthen my reserves, endurance, competence. Because no matter who comes and goes on the landscape of social supports, the universe continues to compel me forward. It's my willingness to keep following that impulse to go, to find the way through, and place myself in the care of larger forces which understand the Big Picture so much better than I.