Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 51

Last night I set the alarm for 7am. I rarely set an alarm, as my partner usually gets up before me but they were so tired last night I insisted they try and sleep in.

Regardless, my partner is awake and before my alarm goes off, they are bringing me my coffee. I suppose old habits die hard, but I’m not complaining.

In our first morning session of an online retreat I’m leading the sound is still not working for my co-leader who lives in a caravan. She’s dialed into Zoom to try and get a better connection, but there’s feedback, an echo to be precise followed by nails on a chalkboard.

It sounds like she’s leading the meditation from a galaxy far, far away.

Drop your awareness right down into your feet, feet, feet…

Paying attention to the out breath, breath, breath…

Weeeeeeee, wahhhhhhhhh, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…

Finally she stops to ask us if we are hearing the same thing she’s hearing. We all nod yes. I suggest she try speaking more slowly and leaving more space between instructions. Then our other co-leader has a better idea.

Turn off the sound on your computer.

That does the trick and we proceed with the rest of the session no problem.

For breakfast I have porridge with all the fixings; fresh berries, granola, almonds, sunflower seeds, flaxseed, soya yogurt, and a teaspoon of manjar (condensed milk boiled until it turns to caramel).

I spend the morning writing and then it’s time for lunch, fake meat burger and salad.

Dappled afternoon sunlight is streaming through our big bay window. I lay down in it, like a cat, rolling around and enjoying the comfort of our front room. I do a few stretches, letting my body decide when to stop.

 Afterwards I catch up on email. Lately there has been a lot of appreciation coming in over email.

I’ve had to work hard to accept appreciation, to really let it in and fully let myself feel it. I find it a crackly working ground, full of energy and potential but also scary.

How to let it in without clinging to it? How to appreciate appreciation without allowing it to stoke the old ego? Or the flip side, how to not bat it away?

It’s a rich exploration, this middle ground between identification and suppression. I’ve learned that if I’m aware of the potential to make it about me then I’m more able to stay with the tension of it. I’m more able to engage with the fullness of what is being shared and not slip into over-inflation.

Suppression is harder to spot. Before I know what’s happening, I’ve poured a cold bucket of water on something warm and beautiful. I don’t want to feel that good because I’m afraid I’ll grasp onto it, so I squash it before I ever really let it in.

I remember on my ordination retreat lying in bed one night feeling completely inspired. There was an incredible energy running through the entire length of my body, I was practically shaking with it.

It was unbearable.

When I finally allowed myself to open to it I realized that the emotion I was feeling was joy. Pure, unadulterated joy surging through me. As soon as I named it, I immediately wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t simply let myself feel it.

There’s nothing wrong with me, I just haven’t yet learned how to let joy in.

I decided then and there I was going to try and let myself feel it, fully feel it, and let it fully feel me. It was one of the most exquisite and excruciating nights of my life. And afterwards I slept better than I’d ever slept before.

There is something important about accepting appreciation from others. It takes energy and thoughtfulness to appreciate someone, to take the time to say or write words of gratitude.

It is also an act of appreciation to accept appreciation.

It’s important to recognise that even though it isn’t about me, there is something I am doing that is having a positive effect on someone else. That is worth appreciating.

I often take the time to appreciate past versions of myself who made choices that I am now reaping the benefits from. That is worth appreciating.

It serves no one to belittle the things I’ve done that are of benefit to others. It still doesn’t have to do with me, AND I can enjoy how it feels to be appreciated.

Now there is the soft sound of reggae music floating in through my bedroom window. I decide to stop and listen, appreciating the memories of my younger years when I used to get high to Bob Marley on the beach.

In the early evening I’m back on Zoom leading another meditation. Just as I get the group into breakouts rooms a man out on the street just outside my window starts screaming. It’s a loud, guttural scream, desperate and angry.

Then he starts shouting, “Show yourself! Show yourself!”

And then, “I’m fucking dead! I’m fucking dead!”

I think about going outside to see if he’s in trouble and needs help but then I hear other voices, people engaging with him, trying to find out what’s happening. I sigh with relief.

A participant in the class requested that we dedicate the practice to someone they know who is in an ICU with COVID-19, probably not going to make it. I decide there is enough merit left to dedicate to this screaming man as well.

I do the extra dedication while the groups are still in breakout rooms, close the rooms, lead a quick discussion and finish up the class.

We have dinner, Thai noodles with stir fried veg and a peanut sauce. Then it’s time for our walk. Another roamin’ in the gloamin’ in Hackney Downs. It’s later than last night, the sun’s already set, and the moon is high, bright and almost full.

The man in the moon is as clear as day. I ask my partner if they’ve ever seen him so clearly. They say no.

I want to make it so that he never gets hidden behind a veil of fog again. I breathe out my heart wish as we head back home.