Being Present to Myself

I believe I am whole.  I believe I am one.  I say "I am".

I am not whole.  I am not one.  Who is saying "I am"?

I am many.  I am in pieces.  I am made up of fragments, each of which says "I am".

I don't want to believe I am not whole.  It is necessary to be present to myself many times in many situations to see my fragmentation.

Unless and until I can see that I am not whole, not one, I can never be whole, never be one, never truly say "I am".

I am many:  I am a mother, I am a proud professional, I am a child, I am an angry impulse, I am a moment of indignation, a moment of shame, a moment of contempt, a weakling, a coward. None of these is the whole of me, these are fragments. I say "I am" to each but the whole of me is none of these.  Who am I?

Until I can see all of my parts, until I can accept my parts, until I can truly see and accept my parts with sincerity and compassion, I can never be whole, I can never become - there can never be I.

I am offended....

I am offended, nearly daily, by strangers, friends and, yes, by family.  It's easy to be offended.

And yet, almost every day, I sit, in silence, and see that I'm offended.

Offense, like beauty is "in the eye of the beholder".  I am offended because I have views and feelings that I hang on to; that I deem better than someone else's.

I am also very aware, most mornings, that in this universe, vast beyond the understanding of mere homo sapiens, this planet is just a speck of dust and everything that happens on this planet is, in comparison, inconsequential. Ugliness and hatred and greed and envy still continue as do love and generosity and hope and openness and will until the end of this planet and this species. And, I let it go.

Payment

"Everything I wish has to be paid for.  If I wish to have a new state, I must sacrifice the old.  We never get more than we give up.  What we receive is proportional to what we sacrifice."  -- The Reality of Being, Jeanne de Salzmann

Can I sacrifice my negativity?

Can I sacrifice my self-righteousness?

Can I sacrifice my self loathing?

What I need to sacrifice are my illusions about myself:  that I'm thoughtful; that I'm sensitive; that I know things; that I'm a good person; that I'm honest; that I know what's right; that I'm aware.

I may be those things - sometimes.  Can I see myself when I am not?  Can I stand in front of the truth that sometimes I hate; sometimes I cheat; sometimes I'm selfish; sometimes I'm incompetent; sometimes I'm lazy; many, many times I don't know what's right; most of the time I'm not present to myself, therefore, most of the time I'm functioning in sleep.

I must learn to be sincere with myself.  I can live my life, completely automatically, mechanically; the universe doesn't need me to be aware of my life.  Most of the time, I prefer to live automatically, mechanically.  It's easy. It's comfortable.  Unless and until I can see that, there is no other possibility.

Decades ago, before I had encountered the Gurdjieff ideas, when I had left the church I was "raised" in and first began my search for something that would fulfill my desire to be, in various religious and spiritual literatures I encountered the concept of dying to oneself.  To me, at that time, it seemed an extreme and frightening idea.  Recently, I find that how I identify myself, to myself, is an obstacle; a prison.  Interestingly, I notice that the behavior and reactions of others to me reinforces that identity.  I'm feeling the desire to radically shake up, break up, maybe even destroy that identity; in order to make room for the higher energy, consciousness, that is always there but with which connection is more often lost than present.  When I sense how I usually identify myself, the desire is there for that identity to be gone but I don't know how to make it go away.  What am I, if not that?  How do I function without that?  And, this is where I stand, on the edge of a cliff, wanting to jump but also afraid.

I never sought asceticism or self flagellation.  There was a time when monasticism seemed attractive but it was brief.  There are enough difficulties in life to provide substance for study of my self; who and what I am; I don't need them to be created for me.

There are realities that I see and have learned to accept.  There are others that I feel can be changed with the same effort needed to accept them.

I'm feeling that certain artificial complications designed to put me in front of myself are not only no longer necessary but not something I'm as willing to accept.  I'm willing to make a clearly necessary effort.  I'm willing to endure necessary discomforts.  I'm no longer willing to do either in some cases simply to accept a form or tradition.

Perhaps I'm wrong and I should continue to comply with these artifices. Perhaps it's my age and I'm more interested in my personal comfort than in suffering unnecessarily, particularly when there is suffering that is unavoidable.

There are adjustments in my external life that I've made and continue to make because I see no reason to put myself in the middle of a situation that takes more of my time and effort than I feel I benefit from.  I once had an appointment with a physician who had neither parking nor a receptionist.  I arrived early and drove around for nearly half an hour trying to find a parking place and waited in an empty foyer for longer than I felt was courteous before seeing him.  I never went back.  Why would I?

Perhaps I'm being too easy on myself.  

In everything, it's possible to see my functions, my considering, my wish.

I sit in question....

Sitting here this morning, my mind is racing, first to the supermarket, then creating images of a painting I’d like to do.  My feelings, my horse, are slightly restless, feeling a little confined, a little cabin fever.  The only part of me that’s quiet is my body sitting here with only a few sensations created by the activity of my head and my emotions.  My body is the only thing that’s quiet.  Or, is it?  Who is it that’s quietly, patiently watching?

This morning, my effort is to see the truth about myself; to see that most of what I am is acquired automatic, mechanical thoughts and reactions to whatever appears in front of me; the truth that for most of my day, most of my life, I disappear into whatever thoughts and activities present themselves and cease to exist because I don’t sense myself.  

I have to see and accept that I don’t wish to see this truth; I prefer to disappear into that sleep.  It’s comfortable, familiar.  

But, this morning, for a few minutes, I wish to see this truth; I wish to remember that I exist; I wish to see how I am, in my life, in my deepest internal world.  When I’m able to accept this truth, to be present to it, then, sometimes, something opens, something else appears, something else is possible, but only if I’m willing to see the truth about myself.