Demons and Fairytales

“We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don’t” Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

I remember being disheartened when I read one woman’s statement from a site she’s dedicated to healing from PTSD, “You will never be the same. Ever.” I’d like to say that statement is false, but the more years I live the more I experience that statement as a truth. I pass the same face of the mountain several times as I make my way to the top. Sometimes this brings up issues I’ve struggled with before, and sometimes it’s an entirely new set – which is what I’m facing now and this set in particular is something I never wanted to think about. Ever.

Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice and I'm coming out of this storm with boxing gloves on!

I guess I have to stand and face the music sometime, because my psyche really won’t leave it alone. Intrusive memories that trigger a mild relapse . . . . and the skittishness and neuroticism returns. Damn. It. I’ve been told on more than one occasion to remind myself where I am. It’s easier said than done. I know where I am; it doesn’t stop the memories. The only thing I know of that really works is a hell of a lot of self-care and telling myself on a daily basis that I’m okay – and I am okay. I could have easily been just another statistic; I’m still beating the odds because I am one tough mother f-er.

So where does this leave me with this particular set? Sometimes memories feel like the heaviest thing, even when you’ve shaken them out they leave traces, like a permanent wrinkle at the very core of your being. I’m getting out my iron. I guess I’m just going to have to talk about the abuse even though it grips me with an odd concoction of fury and sadness. This means I’ll be doing a lot of handwriting in my journal . . . . which I will more than likely burn once I’ve purged myself from my current plague and then I’ll put on my smiley face knowing I’ve conquered yet again. There is a way through this – I just need to find the most effective method. For now, the only approach I know is more self-care . . . expressions of gratitude, reflections of the Universe, believing in myself and dancing. Most likely bellydancing.

Note that smile. If I were my demons I'd start running. Just sayin'

“You might not feel it. You might not want even want to grow, but you will. You will grow back that part  that broke off, and that growing, that blooming – cannot happen without the pain.” – Kelle Hampton, Bloom

I’ll be reminding myself of all of the glorious and good things in my life. I have many. In addition to two doting dogs and many other things, I’m fortunate to have someone in my life that chooses to see the best in me and has exuded a calming patience towards me that I can say with all honesty I’ve never experienced before. He says he’s lucky. I think I’m the lucky one. I’ve never felt more at ease with myself in the presence of another human being. He’s given me more beautiful, perfect moments in life in the short time I’ve known him than I could ever ask for and every day I’ve spent with him has always been another ‘best day of my life’. True story.

You've already given me one. 

I never knew someone would walk into my life and I’d finally realize why it never worked out with anyone else. No one else could ever compare to him. I thought it all was a lost cause and he walked (literally – tango style) into my life and reaffirmed my faith in everything that I needed to know and believe in. I feel like I’m living in some sort of unexpected fairytale. He always tells me I’m beautiful. Always. I can tell he means it and a little part of me breaks away from my self-conscious, disbelieving self and I know I can believe him because he means it. While I can’t say he’s fixed me, he’s certainly sped up the process. I don’t have to ask him to be there because I know he always will be. 

It's you. It's always been you. 

Ignorance is Bliss

“The mad man drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight” – Joseph Campbell

I arranged for a planned encounter with the former beloved recently. It suddenly dawned on me that it had been well over six months since we drew daggers at one another and I was very much missing my favorite pair of turquoise feather earrings that I left in his room. 

I chatted away, asking him about life and the former beloved was stoic as usual. I mentioned my work with one of my former professors and getting to sit in on his psychology of spirituality course. Something the professor said gave me one of those ‘wow’ moments: Photons move in the same direction as DNA. I was explaining this to the former beloved. He gave me the look that silently told me I was feeble minded and said it was like comparing soft to black. I told him ignorance is bliss.

I don’t really believe that ignorance is bliss. However, I do recognize the need to keep a sense of wonder about the world. This is what moves us. I feel sorry for the beloved. He told me once he was trying to find his heart. I don’t think he will unless he’s willing to keep an open mind and that makes me sad for him.

As it turns out, Mr. Former-beloved-denial-pants, science and spirituality are beginning to find common ground and we may be witnessing a new renaissance; an awakening of world asleep for far too long. I imagine he’d still frown on what I’m about to say and find some flaw in my form of logic or the research I’m about to mention. To each their own, I guess.

I’ve heard the title ‘Father of Light’ bestowed on many, usually artists of some form. I think the true champion of this title is Dr. Fritz-Albert Popp. For the record, his research in biophoton emission has given weight to many spiritual claims that we are beings of light.

An old documentary filmed in the laboratory at the International Institute of Biophysics shows an experiment conducted by Dr. Popp. He opens a chamber approximately the size of a bread box and in this dark chamber he places a fresh cutting from a plant and a wooden match inside a plastic container and closes the light proof door. Dr. Popp then immediately switches on the photomultiplier and an image is shown on the computer screen: the match stick is black while the green, glowing silhouette of the leaves are clearly visible. Dr. Popp then says, “We now know, today, that man is essentially a being of light.”

Another claim backed by Dr. Popps research, “Biophoton emission and absorption are empirically measurable phenomenon of all living systems . . . There are about 100,000 chemical reactions happening in every cell with each second. The chemical reaction can only happen if the molecule which is reacting and excited by a photon . . .  Once the photon has excited a reaction is returns to the field and is available for more reactions. . . We are swimming in an ocean of light.”

Come on in. The water's fine. 

Popp applied his findings of electro-magnetic molecular signaling to acupuncture. According to the Chinese practice, the human body has a system of meridians, running deep in the tissue, through which flows ch'i, the life force. The ch’I enters the body through these acupuncture points and flows deeper into the organ structures, providing energy. Illness occurs when this energy is blocked at any point along the pathways. As Dr. Popp examined this Eastern practice, he noted that the meridian system transmits specific energy waves to specific zones of the body. Research has shown that many of the acupuncture points have a dramatically reduced electrical resistance compared with the surrounding skin. Dr. Robert Becker, an orthopaedic surgeon, has done extensive research on EM fields in the body and has designed an electrode recording device. His many studies have shown electrical charges on every one of the individuals tested corresponding to the Chinese meridian points.

We are beings of light woven together by a fabric we don’t yet fully understand.

I know a number of people who study varying forms of science. While differing practices love to bicker over which discipline is best, I hear the same thing said over and over again: The more I try to understand, the more I realize I don’t know and we’re all part of some unseen pattern. What exactly it is that they’re trying to understand is their study of the human body, biology, astronomy and physics.

The holistic way of perceiving the world mirrors the teachings of ancient civilizations such as the Inca. Buddhist and Hindu teachings have long told us that everything is energy dancing in form, and that the dance is a continuous weaving of the form and the formless. Now research from the frontiers of science is telling us the same thing. I am personally convinced that the close embrace in tango opens the heart chakra to one’s dance partner. I haven’t spent time researching, measuring levels of oxytocin, endorphins and other ‘feel good’ body rush chemical reactions, or conducting personal interviews – it’s just a hunch.

My favorite way to connect with the Divine.

I’m not saying my view of the world is correct, either – only I like to keep my mind open to the possibilities, even if science has not caught up with them yet. I can only glean from my personal experiences. When I quit trying to figure it all out, when I stopped and just listened - the answers began to come. 

The Haunting

“Lately I’ve been thinking

Lately I’ve been dreaming of you

I’m so resistant to this type of thinking

Oh, now it’s shining through

I was alone for the last time

Before my night’s vacation with you

Alive from the first

Now I’m denied by the ghost of you” – Howie Day

I told myself forgetting him would be easy. It’s not. We both tried to patch things up despite my attempt to sever what we had; it just didn’t happen. For the sake of my sanity, I had to let go. I realized this situation had been stretched out for far too long. There’s no turning back from that and this was something that seemed to have no end in sight. He’d be back in two weeks, his schedule would be jam packed, I’d be finishing the term and it would drag out for another 3 weeks. It’s madness and the constant grief and anguish that I was experiencing was just too much.

Since doing everything I can possibly think of to get over him, I’m haunted by his memory instead. I see things that remind me of him everywhere. Everywhere. I went to dinner with my mother. She took me to the same place I met him one afternoon and I remembered the feeling I had that I may burst and die from happiness. I wasn’t bursting with happiness that night with my mother.

I took a walk last week during a study break. I’d passed that place a million times before and hadn’t noticed it until then. I’m assuming the construction to the building is what drew my eyes towards it – that’s where our reunion took place. I remember my heart danced at the sight of him and when he held me. I didn’t want him to let go. I had mixed feelings looking at the corner coffee shop; part of me wanted to hurl rocks at it and another wanted to collapse on the nearest bench and cry.

Sometimes there aren't enough rocks. 

I passed the building where I first met him several years ago. He was a vision; he still is.

I walked past the church where we sang together for a few months only for the joy of loving music.

There was a brief moment when I laughed at the irony of it all. While talking to my therapist about this experience with him, trying to make sense of where I went wrong, she mentioned Asperger’s. I heard that word in connection to him several times after that, and not just from her. The photo I attached to the blog where I first admitted I loved him – its source gave the image a caption that questioned the stereotype of whether or not someone with Asperger’s could love.  

THIS. This is the infamous photo.

I’ve been doing a lot of dancing lately – because it’s something that makes me happy. Bellydancing is still something to which I am deeply connected, but I’ve been enjoying tango because it’s an experience I can share with others. Guess who piqued my interest in the dance? Being a country bumpkin for a large portion of my life, I still think Portland is a big city. I’m a fool.

 I’ve been taking a non-credit tango course at PSU. The instructor gives some pretty spiffy discounts to students and I’m still at the stage where I suck ass and really need all the help I can get. So, I get to go to these group classes, meet new people and dance as a crappy tango dancer afterwards with whomever is up for a challenge. I always warn those who ask me – I am guaranteed to frustrate you. Truth.

This is what it looks like when I dance tango. Truth.

 Last night I attended one of these dance soirees. From my conversations with my former flame and my petty understanding of the inner workings of his mind, I assumed this sort of event would be too easy for him . . .  yet I underestimated the sense of community that is part of tango. I was chatting with whomever decided to sit next to me or *gasp* dance with a really crappy tango novice. At one point I struck up a conversation with a lovely gal while I watched in amazement at the grace and beauty of the more experienced dancers prancing about on the floor. She asked me if I knew him. I felt my muscles tense for an instant and then I said his last name. Yes, she replied. He was telling me how awesome you are. All I could muster was that we had a falling out and excused myself because I felt another crying fit coming on.

Poor gal. She apologized a couple of times because she realized she had hit a tender nerve. How could she have possibly known? I silently cursed myself for being neurotic and then decided that it was probably about time for me to go. I had reason – a large group of very fun friends and karaoke. I am so thankful for that reason – because I am a terrible liar.

Note: Not just a terrible liar, but not a very creative one, either. 

The greeting I received when I made it to karaoke will go down in history as one of my favorite moments in life. I was glad to be in the presence of a very dear friend, my radiant light, who has been so encouraging and comforting while I’ve been navigating the waters of falling in love and feelings of a broken heart all within one semester.

This little light of mine decided to flirt with every man in the room on my behalf because she wants to see me 'married off and happy'. Also, she was a bit drunk. Having never seen her in this state, I was amused.

She tells the KJ that I should be serenaded with a song. I request Coldplay. I love Coldplay. The song he chose to sing to me was The Scientist. The Scientist. The lyrics are beautiful and deep. It’s all about a breakup and wishing you could start over but knowing you can’t. F*ck me. So, while the KJ with an angelic voice to match his angelic face sang with a passion to make any gal swoon, I was using every amount of energy I possessed to not run out crying. I managed. This time I managed to shed only a few tears and compose myself quickly enough that no one knew anything was wrong. 

Yeah . . . that about sums up the karaoke experience

After barely making it out alive with a night of tango, karaoke and mass quantities of alcohol I went to a meditation workshop this morning. I couldn’t quite remember the address. I used the navigation on my phone to get there once before and thought I could look it up in the phone app. The very first address listed was in Beaverton. The name of the establishment connected to this address wasn't listed on my phone. It didn’t need to be; I don’t know why I remember it, but I did. That was the last place I met him in person. I remembered experiencing joy and sorrow at the same time. I stared at my phone in disbelief for a few moments while my mind grappled with many questions. Mainly, ‘Why’? and ‘Really'?

I was out with my dogs this afternoon at the dog park. Someone asked me at random if I believed in signs. I used to have an answer for that; now I have no freaking idea. If the Universe chooses to speak to me, it’s usually in the form of dream or meditation. By the way, guess who haunted my visions during meditation? I feel like his memory is being thrown at me from every direction. Is this the Universe or some part of my psyche that I refuse to acknowledge that still misses him? Am I randomly making connections where they don’t belong and seeing only what I want to see?

I don’t know what to make of any of this, really. I have never loved another human being as I loved him and I can only guess this is part of the process that goes hand in hand with these type of things.

Beloved, I thank you for the memories. They are something I will hold with me forever just as a part of me will always love you. Everything I ever knew is lingered by one touch from you – and everywhere I go I see your face in my mind.

He is everywhere . . . the air I breathe. 

To the Universe, Psyche, Beloved – the haunting can stop now.

“What have we given?

My friend, blood shaking my heart

The awful daring of a moment’s surrender

Which in age of prudence can never retract

By this, and this only, we have existed.” – T.S. Eliot