Monthly Archives: September 2016

Disappointment

My truck was packed and ready to go. We had just gone over the final details the day before. The race started in five hours. When I got to my friends house to pick him up, he told me that he had changed his mind. I was literally stunned. The relationship has never been the same.
Disappointment is hard.
I have a relationship where we used to talk all the time and then it stopped. I didn’t get it at first. But eventually I understood the phone would never be answered. The relationship has never been the same.
Disappointment is hard.
I lied to someone for years. Every time I would get caught, it would whittle away at the trust. One day, it was over.
Disappointment is hard.
I was lied to for years. I knew I was being lied to, and did my best to manage it. The anger and disappointment won over.
Disappointment is hard.
I should have written those thank you cards.
Disappointment is hard.
I see the brutality of disappointment creeping into my son’s consciousness.
Disappointment is hard.
I let someone down this week.
Disappointment is hard.
That race? I went by myself. I was strong. I grew.
The phone? Still not answered, but I’ve grown to accept the relationship for what it is.
After years of lying, I surrendered and found myself and no longer feel the need to lie.
The years of being lied to provided me with just enough disappointment to have the strength and desire to see through the illusion.
It’s disappointing to disappoint and be disappointed.
That’s the path.
Yin is yang.
Black is white.
Contraction is expansion.
Still evolving…

 

Marriage

I used to be a biker and a skier.
When I introduced my wife to a long time friend, she said, “She must be a biker or a skier?”
My wife was a dancer.
Her friends were surprised to find out I wasn’t.
I’m white; she is black.
She was raised Muslim, and I was raised Christian.
When I was a young boy, I wanted to marry a skier.
A friend of mine married a biker.
They rode and raced together for years.
Then they divorced.
Didn’t they have the ideal relationship?
Another friend married a skier; they are unhappy.
My mom and dad were both skiers, they divorced.
What went wrong?
How come these expectations are so pervasive?
When my first wife and I got married, we were advised to see a pastor to determine our compatibility.
He asked us many things.
What our expectations were regarding church and children and how we would handle money.
The pastor determined we were compatible.
We divorced fifteen years later.
Do you know what I’ve never heard anyone ask?
“Do you know yourself?”

Fishing

“Many go fishing all their lives without knowing that it’s not fish they are after.”

~Henry David Thoreau

I’ve heard many people over the years talking about yoga as a way they center themselves. Some tell me that as they are going deeper into their practice, they are experiencing altered states of consciousness. I know people on the fringes of society are using psychoactive chemicals and plants and isolation tanks to access a variety of altered states. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the author of Flow, suggests that these states are not only for those that explore the more esoteric realms. He suggests that everyone can experience them in a multitude of ways. He speaks of a factory worker who consistently worked at a heightened state of consciousness, which he refers to as flow. I have a coworker that works within that flow space; he is nothing short of remarkable. My wife falls into this state somewhat regularly; it’s magical. People in this state are on another plane. Like a highly trained ballerina, they float through the air defying physics. They exude grace, precision, and ease; flow. I think most will agree, these altered states of consciousness are remarkable to those that witness them and arguably more so for those that experience them.

I’ve experienced deeply altered states of consciousness that radically reshaped my world while doing long distance bicycle races. Ironically, the first experience left me feeling isolated and mildly embarrassed. The distance and time on the bike were so unusual, people asked how I was able to do it and what it was like. Because of my lack of context and experience with this sort of thing, my immediate response was, “I saw God!” I honestly really felt like I did. It was that profound. But I had also just gotten off my bike and was still consumed in a fog of euphoria. It was clear by the responses I received that my comments were misunderstood. Likely, because I didn’t fully understand what I was saying myself. My community of cyclists didn’t discuss altered state of consciousness; at least that I was aware of. Needless to say, I didn’t receive any help or guidance with this before or after this event. I was on my own. The simple reality is, when it happened, I was a changed person from that point forward. I had experienced something that was so far off the charts and so profound that I was left simply in awe. It literally took me years to understand and articulate these experiences with any fluency.

Now, I assume the following:

  1. That others have had equally profound experiences.
  2. That others have found the ability to replicate these experiences with some relative predictability providing semi-regular access to these states.
  3. That these states resonate at a frequency and level that is very personal and special to the practitioner.
  4. That there is a certain dogmatism with your relationship to these states of consciousness.

I understand, these states and realizations do not come easily. They come from a diligent and likely, very personal practice. They provide access to what some would refer to as a spiritual realm. It’s not a mistake that nearly every religion has some sort of practice or tradition that brings about these states. These states provide a physical experience that can be used to support the validity of the desired ideology.

I would like to suggest something to think about.

If you’re like me, the desire to re-attain these states are, or were, a consistent thought and allure. But I had made a mistake. I thought enlightenment was a permanent, altered state of consciousness. I later learned that enlightenment is rather an evolving stage of consciousness. Ken Wilber, a contemporary philosopher that specializes in integral philosophy, articulates the distinction between states and stages of consciousness. A state of consciousness is non-abiding and temporary. A stage of consciousness is abiding and permanent. An example of a stage of development would be when a woman becomes a mother. The broadness of her concern has permanently expanded beyond herself to the child, from egocentric to ethnocentric. A state of consciousness would be the euphoria of finishing your first running race, the buzz from a glass of wine, or an emotional response to a movie. All of these are non-abiding, and not permanent. I understand that there are exceptions to these examples I gave, but I’m just trying to get across a general idea.

Getting back to these heightened states of consciousness. Many people have heard the eastern traditions (Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism) concept of enlightenment or awakening. The western traditions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) allude to this idea, but it’s not widely recognized or acknowledged. Our world is filled with tales regaling those cultural icons who have attained these heightened stages of development and set the precedent for man kind. Joseph Campbell wrote a book called A Hero with a Thousand Faces to illustrate this point. Every culture and ideology has that special iconic figure. They are central characters in the ideology’s spiritual and enlightenment saga. All of these people are perceived to be special for a reason. They have developed an elevated stage of consciousness that is remarkable within the culture they live. What’s worth realizing is that these stages of development are attainable for you too. You have everything within you. The hero’s journey is for you to undertake. Joseph Campbell is talking about finding the hero within yourself. He is alluding to a stage shift in consciousness that transcends the egoic perception.

The state experience gives you that valuable glimpse of the nonphysical, or spiritual. This takes these concepts out of the abstract realm and places them into the tangible. It’s stage development that will bring forth and reveal an abiding awakening or enlightenment.

Evolve…

“Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone, for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known. We have only to follow the thread of the hero path, and where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god. And where we had sought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves. Where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence, and where we had thought to be alone, we will be with all the world.”

~Joseph Campbell

Quitting

Ya know those moments that sit with you?
I was fairly young, in my late teens, maybe early twenties.
I was in a mountain bike race.
It wasn’t my first, but unbeknownst to me it, would be one of the most significant.
Why?
I quit.
The race was three laps.
The irony is, I fancied myself quite the mountain bike racer,
I wasn’t.
I had raced before, but that’s where my credentials ended.
I was surprised to see my sister’s ex boyfriend there. I didn’t know he raced. I thought he looked like an amateur.
It was within the first mile or so that I knew I was in trouble. The course took us over a rutty farmer’s field. Within a short amount of time, I was off the pace. My sister’s ex was well ahead of me.
Immediately, my ego was formulating excuses.
By the second lap, I was beaten. My head had gotten away from me. I was so far behind that I was fairly certain the leaders were going to lap me. I bumbled through the trail like the amateur I was.
I was not having fun and to make matters worse, I was embarrassed.
At some point, it hit me. I was going to quit.
My plan was rather than going out for my final lap, I’d ride to my car, throw my bike on my rack, and drive away as fast as possible.
The irony was, the idea of quitting gave me a boost of energy.
I was rejuvenated.
I was filled with a vigor and punch I hadn’t had minutes earlier just at the thought of being done with the race.
An irony that was lost on me in the moment.
I remember riding through the parking lot; trying to keep a low profile and manically looking to see if anyone could see me.
That was my biggest worry.
As I drove away, I felt like I had gotten away with something.
Little did I know…
What’s the moral of this story?
What I failed to realize: it was my own personal sense of integrity I had violated. The integrity we have with ourselves is the basis of our reality. Because I copped out, I became a copout. I didn’t give myself the chance to know or understand my own potential or power. I didn’t give myself the opportunity to fail. I instead gave in to apprehension. I reinforced a willingness to buckle when things got hard. I learned to believe in myself less. Our personal truth is forever in a state of flux. Being relentless with your resolve is the basis of a foundation built on a personal sense of integrity.
That race changed me.
If I started, I finished, for better or worse.
Years later, I put that resolve to the test in a way that today, I find interesting.
I raced a 58 kilometer cross-country ski race with the flu. The first 30 kilometers, I raced strong. The last 28 kilometers, not so. When I hit the wall, I was soaked with sweat from pushing so hard. Cross-county ski racers wear thin spandex suits with lightweight long-underwear underneath. It was a few degrees above zero. You stay warm when you’re working hard. When I slowed down, I quickly started to freeze. As my energy faded, so did my coordination. I started to miss my pole plants, and then I started to trip and fall. In hind sight, I’m sure the falling looked desperate and sad. I could have quit. Arguably, that may have been the smarter thing to do, but I didn’t. Each time I fell, I laid in the snow a little longer in a delirium that would nearly overwhelm my body. Every time I got up, the delirium would leave a bit more of its after affects with me. To the point, it soon consumed me. Friends would ski past me and say “you look awful. What are you doing!?” Determined, I pushed forward, only to fall again a short time later. Each time, dizzily pulling myself up from the ground. After nearly two hours of this agony, I was near the end. The last kilometer of the race, you ski off of a frozen lake up a small incline they call Bell Tower Hill. Again, I missed my pole plant and fell with the full force of my unrestrained body. My head and right shoulder hitting first with an equally violent force. My ears ringing from the blow to my head. I remember looking across the ground from this horizontal perspective trying to make out the fuzzy landscape. A sweet woman dressed in a colorful Swedish folk dress bent down to look at me in the eyes and said, “Don’t worry sweetie, you’re almost there.” Slowly, I sloppily pulled myself to my knee and wobbly, found my way back on my skies. In an altered, almost robotic state, I found my way across the finish line.
When you cross the finish line of these marathon ski races, there are often people there to hold you up. I was alway curious about this because I never needed it. That day I did. I fell into their arms with a dead weight that surprised them. It took two to stabilize me. I vaguely remember them telling me that I had bad frost bite on my face and was likely hypothermic.
My friend who had finished well before me had long since changed. After waiting so long, he had begun to worry. He had moved his truck next to the finish line and left it running to keep it warm. When he saw me finish, he came to help me. In one arm, he took my skis and poles, in the other, he supported me under my arm.
Slowly, we walked to his truck.
I know cold. I was born and raised in Minnesota. This is my home.
I’ve swum in water with ice on all sides of me many times.
I’ve raced in temperatures that were double digits below zero with 25mph winds.
I’ve been soaking wet in below zero temperatures more times than I can count.
I’ve been frost bit more times than is reasonable.
I know cold.
The depth of this cold was like none other.
I was so cold, it took me at least a half hour to begin shivering.
It took another ten minutes to start shaking uncontrollably.
I don’t remember getting warm.
What’s the moral of this story?
The idea of failure is a misunderstanding. There is trying and not trying.
Every failure, every bit of pain, every moment I struggled; has provided me with profound wisdom. Life cannot be lived half way. Every action has a consequence.
You can’t hide from yourself. Wherever you go, there you are.
You have either finished what you started, or you haven’t.
These experiences are the basis by which we learn to believe in ourselves or not.
It’s pushing beyond what you think you’re capable of that will allow you to discover hidden aspects of yourself.
Be willing to fail and find success.
Be willing to let go of idealism and find grace and humility.
Be willing to let go of ego and discover your path and your essence.
It’s pushing beyond yourself that you’ll discover self.

Sandwich

My thinking tends towards non-dualist structure. I continually and dogmatically strive for the lowest common denominator or the most basic and simple fundamental truth. This is not a complete representation of my reality, however.

That being said, the rich, complex, and diverse landscape of the dualistic world is the sandbox in which I find myself most often.

Within that construct, I’m quite certain that I’m a bewildered being living a deluded singular existence within a singular universe. Simultaneously believing I’m an expression of an infinitesimally complex universal construct that knows no limits, whether it be the often over looked realm of no-thing-ness or the little understood realm of everything-ness.

I want a sandwich…

Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness

“Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness.”
~Alejandro Jodorowsky

I was talking with a friend.
She was telling me about her spiritual quest.
She told me she had searched and searched and ultimately, she had come to the edge of an abyss. A darkness that shocked her and repelled her.
“It was just black emptiness, nothing was there!”
It was too much for her.
I could see the horror in her eyes, the sadness.
She saw it but couldn’t bear it.
She couldn’t accept that it could possibly be the truth.
Nothingness is human heresy.
How could emptiness be the answer?
To say yes to the abyss and step into it.
We somehow know it will swallow us whole.
Few step forward.
At some level, you have to be willing to die.
To let go of what you believe; to be everything.
The contradiction is confusing.
Desperate, we feel confined, but don’t know why.
Yet, to let go…
At least we know our cage; it’s comfortable.
Let me extend you a hand.
That darkness is freedom.
When you let go and step into the darkness, your essence pixilates.
Your notion of self bursts into everything-ness
Just as everything-ness amalgamates into you.
That darkness is limitless, timeless, and pure light.
You just need to step in to see it.

Cloaked

Grey cloak person: Truth is subjective.
For some, black is true. For others, white is true.
The conglomeration of all truths is some obscurely dynamic shade of grey.
After years of searching for non-subjective truth, I found no-thing.

Black and white cloak person: I disagree with you there. Truth is only relevant to its believer. Your actions are based on what is best for you. In order to move forward you have opted either black or white thus far. To sit and analyze things after the fact may seem grey today, as you have grown, but at some point you followed one side or another.

Grey cloak person: You’re absolutely right. Every moment of every day I’m making decisions.
My life is a representation of all of the decisions I’ve made thus far.
There is one possibility you may have overlooked.
I no longer believe my thoughts.

Black and white cloak person: Do you really think you no longer believe your thoughts? Is that not a thought in itself? If you don’t believe it then how can I be convinced it is what you believe? Circles are easily made and lead nowhere.

Grey cloak person: I don’t believe a word I say, including the words I just said.
I agree, circles are easily made and lead nowhere.
I’m perfectly content nowhere…

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”
~Rumi

I was forty when I met her.
I had just met myself three years prior.
Before that, I was a lie that loved a lie.
I didn’t love what was in front of me.
I loved what I thought they could become.
They loved me equally.
When I met her,
I saw with crystal clarity,
She needed nothing,
Which is exactly what I was.
We chose each other.
Her name, Fatima,
My name, Tim,
Fa-Tim-A
Art imitating life,
We have always been together.
Life imitating art.

If Only

Our pain is so duly placed in structures that we know are hurting us and those we love.
We’re so sure our pain can be cured, if just this changed, or that.
We encounter a person working towards the same goal as us and we don’t see it. Instead, we demonize them because of their different solutions. We separate ourselves from them. Believing them to be other than what we are.
The pain is so exquisite and we have no idea why nothing fills the void we feel.
We want for clarity, sureness, and stability.
Our answers are so clear, if only people saw what we saw or knew what we knew.
We claim to be strong, to understand, to know, but down deep we still question…
The void pulls at us and we don’t dare look, for fear of what we might see.
The quiet is so painful that it’s deafening screech is desperately drowned out with anything.
Anything that will distract us.
Our books and dogs, our phones and our gods.
This is how we flee.
Emptiness abated.

© Tim Trudeau 2024
Copyright

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