I spend a lot of time working on integrating unintegrated emotions. I spend an inordinate amount of time reading, practicing, meditating, surrendering. I spend a decent amount of time reframing our abysmal political climate and human rights abuses as opportunities to witness and bless our world, and to use it as a pointer to look within and untangle the knots where our wounding hides, to bravely face and be present to it so that we may model bravery and presence in the world.
Then, this guy owes me $1500 and won’t pay me, even though he keeps saying he will.
Anger seeps into my meditation. This isn’t meditation! Injustice preoccupies my mind, I keep reading the same paragraph. I feel the electric tension in my body and breathe, acknowledging it and inviting it down into my pelvic bowl for integration. I feel better for a few minutes, then something triggers me again.
I’m annoyed, I really am. I’m also figuring this is an opportunity to process the feeling of obvious injustice and powerlessness to effect change I’ve known since I was sleeping in a crib. If I can integrate my myopic sense of victimization and powerlessness, I might be able to muster up the courage to advocate for the millions of individuals oppressed by far mightier oppressors with far less resources. Even my victimization reflects privilege.
So, I apply another process, spend a few breaths relaxing, maybe deal with the next round with a little less anger in my stomach, anxiety in my chest. I’m glad I can distract myself with healing modalities because the mental chew toy of what i should do and what he might say or who should do what just riles me up and that is just about my least favorite feeling these days.
I used to like feeling riled up. The Sicilian in me likes getting creative about retribution. I have found that when I land upon the most over-the-top, they’ll-wish-they-hadn’t Sicilian solution, the sheer humor of it usually releases more pressure than even the most successful meditation. Actually, I’d say finally getting to the funny is what allows me to have my next successful meditation.
Is that how I should be applying my creativity?
It’s actually kinda appropriate. Now if i can only employ it on behalf of all of life. Even the oppressors. That’s the missing element in the habits of my thinking – that trickster magic that frees both the prisoner and the imprisoner.
I do notice the triggers aren’t as captivating as they used to be, my body isn’t as agitated, and I suppose that’s progress. Still, the distance between who I am and who I sure would like to become continues to show itself…