If the Spirit is Willing
When asked recently, “Have you ever had a dark night of the soul?” I immediately thought of the years I was an exotic dancer, awake at night, detached from life during the day, then joked, “I had a dark decade of the soul.” I’d laughed easily then, a mere month ago, because at that time I had actual moments of peace. My days started joyfully and unfolded exactly as I’d designed: chasing and chuckling over my cat’s antics, writing with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, coaching women in predetermined times that fit into my schedule, and pinching dead flowers and watering live ones in the exhaustive one-hundred-degree heat. Throughout the day, hummingbirds would slow their wings down long enough to take a nourishing drink outside my office window, and I took that opportunity to stop for a moment and take a deep breath while I watched them.
I anticipated September, Fall, my favorite season; a time of transition I’ve had fond feelings for since childhood when new television shows start, school begins with fresh paper pads and neat books, trees acquiesce to winter’s sleep, their leaves turning brilliant reds, oranges and golds, and I celebrate another birthday. I was turning forty-nine—after which comes fifty—a milestone. Being a goal-oriented person I started making notes on what I’d like to have accomplished before I reached the big Five-O.
Then Bart moved in.
After the Labor Day weekend my husband returned to his familiar job he enjoys and I was home alone with the puppy we’d had only two days. “Puppies are just like having kids,” many people told me—after we’d already brought him into our home. I never had children. I’d lived alone for thirteen years with two cats.
With the simple act of a signature on an adoption form my life became unrecognizable. I wasn’t playing with my cat anymore because she was hiding from the new family member. I wasn’t tending to my flowers because the little tyke blatantly demanded constant attention, which I learned when he stared at me pointedly while relieving himself in the living room. (I must admit the carpet is a blue color I’m not fond of—but I couldn’t let him know it.) And I wasn’t writing.
The long list of achievable goals I had before I turned fifty disintegrated into a pile of lost dreams as I scooped up doggie droppings from the backyard, cat poop from three litter boxes (we’d gotten a new kitten hoping the two would grow up to be playmates) and neighborhood animal waste from the front yard. I held my own need to use the bathroom as I catered to the tiny ten-pound creature I felt I had no control of. Instead of working on my memoir, blog or newsletter, my thoughts now consisted of how I was going to keep him quiet and out of trouble long enough for me to take a shower.
Over the course of a few days of being overwhelmed and angry (my husband was the one who wanted the puppy) it felt like I couldn’t get breath past my throat and that I would suffocate. The base of my neck felt screws that were being tightened slowly. It hurt to hold my head up. My shoulders wrapped themselves tightly around my ears and held on. My forehead felt like a damn ready to burst open at any minute from the pressure building behind it. I looked in the mirror and my eyes saw a stranger with short hair they didn’t recognize. (I’d cut all my hair off, like I tend to do once a decade, the day before Bart came to live with us.)
My spirit was disheartened. As I sobbed for the fourth day in a row, my husband told me he was worried about me. “We can get rid of the dog,” he said.
What is spirit?
One definition for spirit is the nonphysical part of a person that is the seat of emotions and character; soul, with soul including in its definition, a person’s moral or emotional nature or sense of identity. Based on this definition I deduce that our spirit is comprised of our brain, our heart, and our soul, and that it will filter information based on these three components.
My brain was now alarmed. It’s wired to achieve and accomplish in order to feel successful but I had piles of unfinished book chapters, blog segments, and a long list of things to do that weren’t getting done. (See Mind over Gray Matter to learn about how our brain wires itself/)
My heart was now frightened. It felt I needed to be perfect in order to be valued and loved but I looked around at the paper piles all over the house and the animal hair and debris all over my carpet, then started rushing to get everything in order.
My soul was now rootless. The meditation and prayer I normally did daily had evaporated in my turmoil just as my dreams had.
On my actual birthday I oscillated between self pity and despair. I saw my future stretch before me in long endless days of nothing other than puppy maintenance.
As if I’d travelled to a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language and all my baggage was lost by the airlines, nothing felt safe and familiar. And, unfortunately, as so often happens, when I need the daily rituals that keep me balanced and happy, I neglected them. I didn’t even have the caffeine I’d loved for many years. I’d given it up the week previous to Bart’s arrival because I wasn’t sleeping the entire night through.
Joe asked me if I was praying.
Even though the rebellious skeptic inside me has a hard time embracing the God of organized Western religion, she knows that prayer works. (God can also be an acronym for Good Orderly Direction as I first read about in The Artist’s Way.) Today I more readily accept the concept of a Higher Power that embraces many spiritual entities and this is who I prayed to for sleep and relief from tension.
Looking for spiritual comfort I opened Norman Vincent Peale’s Meditational Guideposts pamphlet, Thought Conditioners, where he quotes from the Bible, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31) Under this he writes:
Imagine yourself as actually looking at all your difficulties like an army lined up against you.
Then realize you have a backing that can overcome them all. As you face the enemies of yours—discouragement, frustration, disappointment, hostility, weakness—ask yourself “what shall I say to these things? And the answer is, “If God be for us who can be against us?”…
Then visualize these enemies of your peace and happiness as retreating, giving way before God’s power.
Personalize the text by saying: “If God be for me, who can be against me?”
I immediately envisioned Sully, the big purple and green monster in Monster’s Inc., as my big protector against all the fears, insecurities, and anxieties I felt and I was the small girl, Boo, from the same movie, standing behind him. This brought me peace in the moment.
Joe also suggested I read the entry for September 24th from Streams in the Desert, a book of 366 Daily Devotional Readings which starts with another Bible quote, “When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to.” (Acts 16:7) It then goes on to explain:
What a strange thing for the Lord to prohibit, for they were going into Bithynia to do Christ’s work! And the door was shut before them by Christ’s own Spirit.
There have been times when I have experienced the same thing. Sometimes I have been interrupted in what seemed to be quite productive work. And at times, opposition came and forced me to go back, or sickness came and forced me to rest in some isolated place.
During such times, it was difficult for me …. But I finally remembered that the Spirit required not only a service of work but also a service of waiting. I came to see that in the kingdom of Christ, there are not only times for action but times to refrain from action….
Inspire me with the knowledge that a person may sometimes be called to serve by doing nothing, by staying still, or by waiting. George Matheson
And days after my birthday passed, I opened Each Day a New Beginning: Daily Meditations for Women to the day of my birth and read the quote there from Kathleen Casey Thiesen, “When our myths, dreams, and ideals are shattered, our world topples.” The page continued:
The act of “becoming” topples our world, and rightly so. We outgrow yesterday’s ideals, and we have begun realizing, in our unfolding, the dreams of last year. Now new dreams call us. Recovery has toppled our world. Hallelujah!
` … each day offers us fresh opportunities to “create” new realities to replace the outworn, outgrown myths of the using days. But letting go of the old takes patience, persistence, and strength. The old comforted us, when there was little else.
Perhaps we need reminding that were it not for the shattered myths of last year or last week, we’d not be progressing, unfolding as the bigger picture calls us.
I will look with excitement at my toppling world. It signifies growth—intellectual, emotional and spiritual. Old ideals will bind me—I will dare to dream new dreams and go where they lead with confidence.
This gave me courage. I continued looking for wisdom and found a few quotes from More Daily Wisdoms 365 Buddhist Inspirations that helped my insight:
The moment you think only of yourself, the focus of your whole reality narrows, and because of this narrow focus, uncomfortable things can appear huge and bring you fear and discomfort and a sense of feeling overwhelmed by misery.
The Dalai Lama in The Compassionate Life
With whom shall I battle, for I am my own enemy?
Who will save whom, for I am my own savior?
I am my own witness, for my actions and inactions.
Dharmarakshita in Mind Training
Eventually, after a few days of wading around in fear and self pity, yet continuing to pray and seek guidance for rest and peace, I could see through the dark morose fog that surrounded my outlook and took action. I reached out to friends and family and allowed myself the luxury of complaining. They offered insights, stories, and helped me laugh. I called a dog trainer and learned how to use a kennel. “The dog should fit into your life, not you fit into the dog’s life,” she said. I went back to yoga and when the instructor wanted us to do a stretch that put too much pressure on my already aching neck, I rested in Child’s pose. I read a book in the bathtub. I got a massage. Then another.
And I realized Bart didn’t create new fears within me, he just magnified the ones I’d always had. My exaggerated reliance on achieving as a way to measure worth, while keeping me driven for years, has also brought rigidity, isolation, and fatigue. Being thought well of by others has always kept me more concerned with what they thought than with how I felt and has resulted in an over responsible, even arrogant, ego that actually imagines I can influence how others think of me. My fear of not having enough time, heightened by being an aging woman in a youth-obsessed celebrity culture has its tendrils secured in childhood when we moved often. My lackadaisical way of picking up after myself has also been a part of me since I was young.
Only after I realized these truths could I then choose to keep these learned ways of being in the world or surrender to the moment and learn new behaviors and ways of thinking. Through my own awareness and evolving understanding as an adult, I could accept that life was changing. This acceptance would eventually lead to approval of the changes and I could resume being my effervescent energetic self.
Empowered through choice, my mind quit feeling like a victim and I remembered that one of my dreams had been to have an intimate partner and be married. I saw anew that dreams do come true and prayers are answered. I could then acknowledge that my heart smiles and becomes full every time I see my husband and the puppy playing together. My brain began to decipher a new way of communicating my need for solitude and puppy sharing responsibilities. My soul started to reach for solid ground.
Changing Seasons
While Dark Night of the Soul was originally a poem written by 16th century Spanish poet and roman Catholic mysti Saint John of the Cross, today it is used as a metaphor in spiritual traditions, predominantly Christianity, marking a sense of loneliness and desolation in a person’s spiritual life. In the field of higher consciousness “Dark Night of the Soul” refers to an absence of light and hope. While in the midst of these abundant changes I’d lost all hope for a life as I planned and visualized it.
I’d heard it before, “The only thing constant is change.” I’d even repeated the recovery jargon to others: “It’s the journey, not the destination,” “This too shall pass,” “One day at time,” “Just do the next right thing,” but knowing something intellectually and rationally implementing it are different. When the lights went out and the dark night came I couldn’t see where I was going. I was hesitant to look into the darkness afraid scary monsters lurked in the shadows ready to steal from me. However, by staying in that dark place and navigating the recesses consciously I eventually saw the shadows as harboring opportunities that would enhance my life.
The relief I feel in my body isn’t complete, but it is measurable. I can’t say that I’m fully acclimated to our new addition or a new way of arranging my schedule, but like the earth I too am transitioning to a different season. I have had a few days of writing under my belt which feeds my heart and I’m evolving a new way to measure success and value. Ironically with less free time to get things done, I’m getting more accomplished; I’ve eliminated a few of the paper piles I’ve accumulated for over a year. This helps my brain. I’m building a greater trust in my Higher Power and prayer. This feeds my soul. And I also trust that I won’t always wander around with dried puppy pee on my shirts even though I might choose to always have treats in my pocket. And dogs, I’m learning, are great teachers of how to live in the present moment.
My spirit is hopeful.
Bart, 13 weeks old, ten pounds
©2009, Susan Bremer
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