What We Most Resist Brings Us "Home"
Monday, February 28, 2011 at 04:44PM 
Last night I was reminded of how parenting takes us to our edge. Through our relationship with our children we see sides of ourselves that nothing else has the power of invocation. And oftentimes, they are the parts of ourselves that we most would like to hide which then surface to be seen.
Last night my visitor was one that I know quite well- mon cheri anger. It visits me often when things do not go my way, when I am taken out of my comfort zone and especially when it external circumstances (like a teething baby at 1am) get in the way of my basic needs like eating and sleep. So leave it to my precious daughter Ixchel to know exactly how to invite anger to my bed!
There it came, in full force and in its entire splendor. Fortunately my partner had just come home from work and willing took on the task of attempting to get her to go back to sleep. That did not necessarily allow me to go back to sleep, but it did give me some space to simply be. I knew that anger, being such a frequent visitor, had something to say. And so even if I was not happy with the time of night that it decided to knock on my door, I gave it a (half-hearted) welcome.
I lay there and allowed the anger to travel through my body, consuming me to my core. I knew it wasn t directed at anyone in particular; it was all mine. I tried to be curious and follow its lead- what did it look like? Where was it going? What the heck was it trying to say? Slowly it began to take shape.
I saw my anger as a source of my passion. It was red and hot. It filled barrels of wine with the little red candy fire balls that I used to eat as a child. It was like Aphrodite at my wedding.
These little red balls kept coming and coming, until the barrels overflowed. I watched them with puzzlement; I watched them with interest. Then it hit me- these little red balls were the source of my abundance. They were my currency. They were my unending, unlimited source of supply. They just kept coming and coming, whether I liked it or not.
They weren t necessarily bad. In fact once I stopped seeing them just as anger, they had no charge. they just were! Little red balls, shiny and beautiful, full of life, and the best part was that I had so much of them to go around.
This morning I woke up a little tender from that image and only now, as Ixchel naps, can I take a moment to reflect on what it means. I see how years of fighting against my anger has only kept me at war with myself. I have spent too much energy on this, wasted. Years of personal growth have helped me turn to my anger, embrace it and attempt to see if for what it is. Yet somehow those efforts had still had not felt complete. (Often because when we are told to do that the next question out of our mouths is How?). I still did not know what to do with my anger or how to really welcome this unwanted visitor into my home.
Today I begin to see it differently. I see that anger is not an undesired guest, it is actually an essential key- without it I will never feel complete. Denying it is denying a huge part of myself- the part that is intrinsically connected to the vital flow of life that sometimes quickens and intensifies when unexpected things come my way. It is in those unexpected moments that Life has the potential of taking on that magical quality we all desire. How so? Well, when things do not turn out the way we plan, when we are stretched to the limit, then there is space for spirit to come through. Then we are connected to Life and something greater. Here we let go of control.
Indigenous weavers always leave a hole in their woven creations. Call it a mistake; call it an imperfection- it doesn't matter. It serves as a spirit hole to let spirit in. It is the crack in our shell that actually assumes that in our imperfection we are already perfect- so let's quit trying to do live the obvious.
Funny, being shaken last night allows me to see just how much I still hold on to control. I waste my energy in the fight and as a result am more exhausted because of it. I deprive myself of the very thing that feeds me life. But as I sit here now and simply breathe- not even trying to accept it but allowing my anger to take its necessary place in my body I feel more connected to myself than I have in days. In fact I feel that there is nowhere to go, nothing to do. This is me fueled by life, supported from within. Ironic, isn't it? Yes, but so very real.
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