Finding my Way

From dictionary.com:

in·se·cure
   /ˌɪnsɪˈkyʊər/ Show Spelled[in-si-kyoor]
–adjective
1.subject to fears, doubts, etc.; not self-confident or assured: an insecure person.
2.not confident or certain; uneasy; anxious: He was insecure about the examination.
3.not secure; exposed or liable to risk, loss, or danger: an insecure stock
portfolio.
4.not firmly or reliably placed or fastened: an insecure ladder.

It's true. I am subject to fears and doubts. I am lacking in self confidence and self assurance sometimes. I am not always confident or certain. I am uneasy relatively regularly, and have experienced deep anxiety. I don't even need to venture beyond the 2nd definition of the word "insecure" to see that I must be. It's true. I am Angela, and I am insecure.


val·i·date
   /ˈvælɪˌdeɪt/ Show Spelled[val-i-deyt]
–verb (used with object),-dat·ed, -dat·ing.
1. to make valid; substantiate; confirm: Time validated our suspicions.
2. to give legal force to; legalize.
3. to give official sanction, confirmation, or approval to, as elected officials,
election procedures, documents, etc.: to validate a passport.

When I am feeling insecure, I seek validation outside of myself. I long for acceptance and approval from others. I long for confirmation that what I know is known by others, that what I feel is felt by others, that what I think is in the minds of my fellow human beings. I seek validation from those around me, those who I trust, those who I resonate with. I deeply appreciate when the people in my life can reflect to me my own light and truth in those moments when I am feeling rusty and dense.


vul·ner·a·ble (vŭl'nər-ə-bəl)
adj.
1. Susceptible to physical or emotional injury.
2. Susceptible to attack: "We are vulnerable both by water and land, without
either fleet or army" (Alexander Hamilton).
3.Open to censure or criticism; assailable.
4.Liable to succumb, as to persuasion or temptation.
5.Games In a position to receive greater penalties or bonuses in a hand of
bridge. In a rubber, used of the pair of players who score 100 points
toward game.

I am totally susceptible to physical and emotional injury, and totally susceptible to attack from other human beings, both those who intend me harm, and those who unconsciously bring it. I am definitely open to censure and criticism, and feel tremendous hurt sometimes in the face of that. I am not likely to succumb to persuasion or temptation really. I have a strong will, and the moment I decide to walk away, I will. Within the realms of black and white, I am not vulnerable at all. I can make a hard, life-altering decision with relative ease, and can say "no" to anything I feel a strong mind about. But it's the infinite gray spaces between deep, knowing intuition and deep, clear thought that leave me defenseless, vulnerable.

I am insecure. I require validation. I am vulnerable. Not always, though. I am not only insecure, I am open. I not only look for validation, I look for authentic connection. And in vulnerability there is a softness, a touchable quality that consciously surrenders defense. I am all these things.

I am unearthing things within my psyche at breakneck speed. I am uncovering dark, foul parts of myself that haven't seen the light of day since childhood, or before that. I am entangled in a web of stuff within my mind and body and heart that I have a hard time making sense of. I am in a continual process of learning and unlearning. I am in the least stable place I have ever been in my entire life. I don't have any answers anymore. What I am learning is that sometimes having a breakthrough means having a breakdown. It's not pretty, it's not contained, and it's not predictable. It's messy and chaotic and fiery. It's like a detox for the mind and emotions.

I am no longer in a period of breakdown. I have been shattered thoroughly. I have fallen to my knees, and have been humbled completely. Here I am, sifting through the rubble. Old beliefs, old patterns, old habits, old ideas, old pain, old fears, old poison. Even though the form that once held it all together inside of me has been broken apart, all this still remains.

When I was in Peru in December 2007-January 2008, I was volunteering for earthquake recovery in Pisco, south of Lima on the coast. This is coastal desert land, and as we worked to finish tearing down homes, haul away rubble, and begin the process of rebuilding, we inevitably unearthed things in the sand. One day while working on leveling land for a temporary home, I was asked to dig post holes. I used a shovel and a pick-ax, and as I began the project, I found all kinds of things in the first foot of sand. Underwear. Newspaper. A child's artwork. A gold tone watch. And photographs, like the kind from school photos. The family whose land we were working on were housed in a giant army tent adjacent to our work site, and as I found these things, I made a heap of them right beside their doorway. As I found each object, I wondered, who did this belong to? Was this person killed in the earthquake? Will this object mean something to someone in this family? And right now, as I am thinking about the rubble in my own life, I am thinking of how much care I offered each of those found items in the sand. What would happen if I offered the same kindness to myself as I uncover each new wound, each new pattern, each new belief - all old, but newly unearthed following my own internal earthquake.

Life never used to feel this way. So much uncertainty, so much impermanence. I used to have such a strong sense of self, and such strong "boundaries" - or walls, anyway, I used to be fierce and powerful. I was insecure then, too, but I had so many layers of defenses built up around that soft place within me that no one could tell. But beneath all those defenses, I was still cowering there, longing to come out into the light of day and be seen, beheld, loved for who I really am. I wasn't so vulnerable, not really. Nothing could touch me. I was the pilgrim, the wanderer, the seeker, the one with the epic book collection, the epic travels, the epic philosophies and ideas, all the answers. I was solid and clear. There was power in that. And in the intensity of facing death and loss, all of that crumbled. Every last little bit of it crumbled. All the philosophies and ideas in the world didn't matter. All the stories of travel, all the spiritual books didn't matter. All the assemblage of ideas about who I am didn't matter. Death swallows all of that. And being the one left behind here, I am finding that grief is the gaping hole left behind - leaving me insecure, vulnerable, and seeking validation. I seek validation not for my ideas and my personality so much as for my true need to understand why I walk here in this life. Death swallows it all, so why are we here walking through this life?


David Deida says it well: No matter how much money or love you have made, one day your legs will become cold and numb, your heart will stop, your breath will cease, and all will disappear. In some now-moment as real as this present one, your life will end. Are you ready for your death? Are you ready for the death of your children, your parents, and your friends? A picnic with your loved ones. Fried chicken and cold beer. A gentle breeze. Laughter. Suddenly your heart stops. A final glimpse. Fade to death. I am insecure because I know that one day I will drop dead. Guaranteed. I am vulnerable in that. Deida continues, Are you ready? Have you loved fully and given your deepest gifts? A life lived well embraces death by feeling open, from heart to all, in every moment. Wide open, you can offer without holding back, you can receive without pushing away. Wide open, heart to all, you are openness, unseparate from this entire open moment. Every part of the moment comes and goes as openness. And that's where I know I keep failing. I keep trying, hoping that my effort will gain some solid ground here, that if I try hard enough, I will be able to feel like I am not slipping into the void. And right there are the void's hungry, wide open jaws, pulling me in...

Nothing short of profound grief and loss could have brought me here. Not a 500 mile trek across a holy road in Spain. Not all the Ayahuasca ceremonies in the world. Not the most incredible holy sites. Not even the most incredible, blissful love. But the trek showed me that inside of me is this indomitable strength that can move mountains. The Ayahuasca ceremonies have showed me that living from the heart is the only way to experience true connection and joy in this world, that there is profound interdependence that transcends anything my human mind can comprehend, and that I am inseparable from that interdependent web of life. And the most blissful love can magically suspend time and mind in a place of eternity and pure connection that make life worth living. And in the face of grief and loss that has been all-consuming in my life, these things sure do add up to something.

I am feeling in this moment that what I need more than anything is people who can be stable, solid, loving presences in my life as I find my way. People who can receive me in my learning and unlearning, and who can hold space for that intense process. People who see the light in me in the midst of the darkness that is raging. People who can offer gentleness and firmness in truth and love as I make my way along this path. People who will help me to see the truth and love in me when I forget. People who will stand by me gladly as I falter, and who will extend a hand when I fall to the ground. People who will lift me up into the highest, finest version of myself, and who will allow me the gift of offering them the same in return. Day by day, I am standing here on this Earth, finding my way. The road is not clear or certain, and I feel alone a lot of the time. Sometimes I don't know if I can do it. Sometimes I don't know if it's worth doing at all, and I collapse into despair. But within me is strength, power, knowing, creativity, love, radiance, joy, truth. I pray that life continues to send those to my path who can help me remember that when I fail.