If I am able to embrace the idea that “there are no
coincidences” which is my belief – then it should come as no surprise to me
that my twenty six years of spiritual exploration (which has reached crescendo
in the last four and a half years to be a nearly full – time pursuit) is
combining with what some deem, the age of “mid-life” crisis to create the
perfect storm of existential angst.
However “knowing” this (even just having some idea) is not in
itself, a lasting source of comfort – the state of being known as “dark night
of the soul” is far more than the anecdotal experience that I have read about
in the writings of some of histories mystics. I’m living it – this is not some
abstraction, it is real.
My personal research tells me that it can be embraced as a
golden opportunity for growth and development or a portal of personal
destruction. Needless to say I don’t relish the latter, though the former
presents to me as perhaps the single-most ongoing call for courage I have ever
faced.
I recently had the opportunity to participate in a weekend
long transformational gathering that was entirely run by and for men. From this
experience I have learned that rites of passage, ceremony, initiation,
mentorship and a place of belonging, which in other cultures are provided within
a circle of men (again, for men) are sadly lacking (particularly in North
America). This indeed represents my experience – there was male presence in my
life growing up – though they simply modeled and perpetuated what they had
learned from the men in their lives. My dad was frequently absent – due to a
career as a musician in a military band. Which meant this often left my mother
to look after my sister and myself. This has left me at a loss as to what
defines “healthy masculinity.” This is nobodies fault – in fact I now am
accountable for how the realities of my life – were used by me, to create my
“stories.”
During the weekend there was plenty of opportunity to
witness men holding space for men to fully express any and all feelings that
were coming up for them. As the weekend unfolded I too was given the chance to
express myself through the various processes and any and all feelings were
welcomed – to me this was extraordinary! I was both exhilarated to connect with
myself in this way and felt a profound sadness that this disconnection had been
so long-standing.
Mine is a history that didn’t include an environment that
was conducive to me clearly establishing my own identity. Some of the internal
conflict then, comes with the realization that my life has been shaped by
constraints and self-perceptions internalized from my past, many but not
necessarily all, with respect to myself, as man.
For me this is a serious issue with a myriad of complexities
– I will find no solace in a “little red corvette.” Part of my journey has
included recovery from addictions – I therefore realize the futility of
external “fixes” – no matter what form they might take. This is an emptiness
that will not be filled by following the crowd – I have found no lasting
contentment in attempts to console myself that my resignation, mediocrity and
restlessness are not unlike that of many others. I’m also not suggesting I’m
better than others, I do know, I am capable of far more than what I once believed
possible - I also know I can’t not
know, what I now know, I can’t continue to play the ignorance card. There is
freedom in this – as well, joy and excitement. There is also an awareness of a finite lifetime (at least as
far as the physical realm is concerned) and a price to pay for my incessant
seeking of the truth – they say “ the truth will set you free.” I know this to
be correct – I would also say that the truth taunts me, challenges me, is
relentless and appears to me to be unwilling to negotiate. This doesn’t mean I wield
my truth in a non-caring manner, without compassion – however, ignoring it
doesn’t seem to be an option either.
At times this feels like some sort of
“Pandora’s box,” I wonder about the wisdom of opening the door. I also know deeply
the “cost” of trying to live the truth of others, whether it’s family or
cultural expectations and the profound loneliness of a life lacking in
authenticity – all dishonesty begins with me, lying to myself first, then others, resulting
in my remaining unseen & unheard.
I think I at one time had a romantic notion of what it meant
to be conscious, enlightened, awake – in many moments I prefer the journey to
that of the alternative. Still from time to time I clamour and long for the
“snooze button.”
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