In Zen Buddhism there is a quote that heaven and hell are one tenth of an inch apart. The back and forth of this particular oscillation is all so familiar to me.
The heavenly for me is a mighty river current of peace, joy and love and a tremendous saturation of color and light.
It is the hell however, that is most known to me. It is an indifferent groove of doubt and longing. I am pissed that I am pissed off, and in a cranky wondering of where all of the light went. I am in the mud and all I want is back in the river.
Indeed, what is it with the fucking emotional lows?
I could fantasize that none of this is real and suppress and repress the truth, yet I know the futility of shoving pain and ornery emotions under the couch cushions. I could medicate and live in the side effects, senses dulled. Instead I choose sobriety and when the deluge comes, I tread water.
For years I didn’t know what I didn’t know and lacked the clarity, insight, skills or experience to navigate my way out of the mess. I had no understanding of the intuitive wisdom and knowledge within me that could alter my life in the greatest way imaginable.
Truth be told, I am still weaning myself off of an adrenaline-based life. I spent years ski racing at 80 mph, chasing beautiful, unattainable women, working on-air in television, and writing screenplays that I hoped might catch the eye of someone powerful within the film industry. I was a junkie.
For the great percentage of us, joy or suffering are a choice. My choice is that a fine state of bliss needn’t drain off without some say so. This is where personal power carries the day.
There is a sly insight into this consideration of light and dark in a Netflix series called “Living With Yourself” starring Paul Rudd. He plays a depressed mope at the end of himself. On a referral and out of desperation he visits the funkiest day spa ever and clones himself. His new self is everything he is not; upbeat, funny, loving and beloved. After witnessing this version of himself put a shine on everything he touches, the beat down original visits his sister and asks, “Why can’t I be more like him?!” “Because you haven’t earned it” is her response. Now there’s a sister to hope for.
And so I am my own advocate, tracking, monitoring, journaling, calling on a higher power, seeking, asking and leaning on my skills in order to hold onto a glorious lightness of being.
I continue to find what fills me in spiritual pursuits and rituals. Cranial sacral massage, movies, friends, family, writing, infrared sauna, holding a same wonder the ancients did under the stars of a deep blue night sky, a campfire in the deep woods, the savory release of oxycotin, serotonin and dopamine in a 30 second hug. Holding the dog close. Deep, meaningful and healing dialogues with a sister. Call it a joyful, accessible and sustainable state without expectation or attachment to an outcome. There is a nifty personal power and higher state of consciousness in the act of setting honorable intentions, of entering the world looking to give love.
As a bonus comes an equally elusive peace. A peace of stillness, a quiet surety that I am fully in this moment with love in my heart and no call from the past or future. I am not in negativity, not judgy, grim, nor impatient. In need of nothing more.
There is no free ride nor short cut through this particular canyon in pursuit of greater consciousness and our highest, best self. Pain and suffering arise because they are the only agitations that hold our attention, and none of us are free of their icy grip. But beyond suffering lies unlimited rewards of the examined life that are rich beyond measure and not of this world. It’s the alternative, the unexamined life, that truly pains me. It is a suffering without purpose.
And the lows? Call them my higher power speaking to me in tongues, stating “You have more within you. More love, more to give. Grow up and be a greater friend, brother, sister, parent, partner. With your energetic, beautiful self go and change your small corner of the world. Now rise up and earn it.”
And that friends, is what’s with the fucking lows.
