• In Fear or In Love?

    The sun salutes the mountains with its golden rays this morning.  These are the last breaths of warmth before the snow comes to stay.  I will return home from London to the winter.  The minuscule heat of the day is fragile, like a man that is dying and spends his last days reminiscing on the summer of his life.  The fall time in Park City lasts weeks at most.  These between seasons seem to be gone before they came.  One day the air conditioner is on, the next, your heater is on and the ground is covered in frost.


    The town is transforming itself in preparation for the grand opening of all of the ski resorts this month.  The immense numbers of foreign youth hired from other countries to teach skiing and work the various ski resort jobs have all come for the season.  Being mostly from Australia and Brazil, they have friendly, loud and excited demeanors and as such, they breathe the first breath of life into the town before all of the even more excited tourists arrive.  The US teams of every different winter sport discipline can be seen jogging on the roads, gearing up for the up coming competition season.  I miss the feeling of being on a sports team, the feeling of being a part of something bigger than myself and of belonging.  It is fun to represent excellence everywhere you go.  The ego loves it and that isn’t a bad thing, especially when you’ve spent the majority of your life soaking in a climate of steady self-hate.

    Winter (my son) has come down with a stomach virus.  Since I cannot afford to get sick and miss the London workshop, I have taken to wearing a face mask around the house.  Given the past month’s events my vibration is not high enough to trust that I am immune.  I find it is impossibly hard to focus positively when your child is sick.  It’s acute torture to watch your child suffer, much worse than suffering yourself.  I made a large pot of kale, quinoa vegetable soup for when he’s ready to eat.  Beyond that I feel fairly powerless to help him feel better.  It’s difficult to decide if energy work is the best idea when it comes to nursing a child through a stomach related illness.  It speeds recovery and enhances the body’s self-cleansing process, which isn’t usually pleasant.  With a stomach illness, energy work is notorious for increasing symptoms and causing the body to vomit violently and repeatedly.  This means, it’s difficult to decide if the benefit of the increased rate of healing is worth the side effect of throwing up more often and more violently.


    It’s not helping my vibration either that the situation between my biological family and I seems to get more painful every day.  It’s like we are all waking up to a nightmare that has always been in the room with us, but that no one wanted to own up to.  But we are not talking to each other, so we are waking up to it alone and isolated from each other.  It is a perfect vibrational match to the estrangement that has been the underlying shadow between us the whole time.

    I’ve started packing for London early.  The more organized members of this community are feeling more relaxed and proud of me because of it.  I never pack early.  I’m a last minute packer and I’m not neat about it either.  I don’t see the point of folding clothes.  It just seems like a waste of time when I’m going to mess them up the second I get to my destination.  My French bulldog, Caput was staring at me while I rifled around in my closet and chest of drawers with a look of dejection on his face.  He hates when I go on trips without him.  He has a sixth sense for when there is an impending separation between us.  I have a difficult time sleeping now without the background noise of his snoring and the feeling of his warmth and his fur against me.  I love French bulldogs.  They are one of the best breeds of dogs on this earth.  I wanted one so badly when I got Caput 6 years ago, that I drove all the way to Kansas to get him.  Best decision ever!


    On anther note, I have decided that I will not close myself off to love.  I will not shut the doors to feeling vulnerable again.  I am as vulnerable as I can get right now.  And yet, I am not broken.  That is proof enough that I have what it takes to remain open.  To love is to allow someone to reach your center, your core.  And that is a frightening proposition because in truth, you have no idea what they are going to do to you.  Until you are willing to risk this kind of deep and complete exposure, the other person is just an acquaintance to you and you are just an acquaintance to them.  There are husbands and wives who have never been more than acquaintances.  There are people who have been having sex for years, but whom never know what making love feels like, because they are just acquaintances.  They have never had the courage to let each other into the center of each other’s being.  Making love is not the meeting of two bodies.  It is the meeting of two hearts.  When lovers are afraid of one another (which is almost always the case), they do not know love.  They only know the shell of love.  The longer I live, the more convinced I become that there are two ways to live… either in fear, or in love.  The person, who lives in fear, lives with walls between themselves and the world.  The person, who lives in love, lets the world (like a lover), penetrate them to their core.  It is a fearless state of being.  And to develop fearlessness, takes practice.


    Most of us, myself included, live a life of fear instead of love.  He who lives a life of fear is always planning for the future.  He or she spends their life trying to arrange their future so that it will feel good when they get there.  But they never get there because the future by definition can never be reached.  If it is reached, it becomes the now.  And so the now-ness of their life is lost.  He, who lives a life of love, lives here and now.  He or she spends their life unafraid of results and consequences.  The threat of annihilation, to them is irrelevant.  But we could not know love without fear, just as we would not know white without the contrast of black.  It is the contrast that lets us know what love really is.  Many people think that the opposite of love is hate.  It isn’t.  The opposite of love, is fear.  By knowing fear, you have the opportunity to know love.  Take that opportunity to know love whenever it presents itself.  Open yourself and let this world penetrate you to your core.  Let it do its worst.  Because the worst it can do, does not compare to the pain of staying closed and building walls between you.


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