Buddha, Gloria Gaynor and The Universe

I have dialogues with the Universe. It's a more modern day, less apocalyptic, version of God, I suppose. We generally have a really nice relationship. I say generally as there are times that I forget the Universe exists, mostly because I can't seem to see past myself. The idea of myself. I think I was sort of mad at it for a while, too. Things hurt me. People hurt me. Situations were unfair. Or maybe I just forgot where I fit in the grand scheme of it all. I'd abandoned it, and my role within it. It was better for me, for a spell, to huddle in a corner, filthy, self-protective, hateful, with a twitch. And like the kind of parent I would want to be, the Universe, as pained as it was to watch me in that state, watched, at a distance, with tears, as I made my own discoveries. Like maybe I needed help. And maybe I needed to learn how to ask for it.

Proud Mary keep on rollin'

Asking doesn't come easy to me.
What if they say no?

The Comrade: I don't really wanna be back here.
The Universe: Why not?
The Comrade: They're mean.
The Universe: They've always had that propensity. That's never stopped you before.
The Comrade: So, what are you saying? It's me?
The Universe: What do you think?
The Comrade: I think I need a judge's ruling on this one.
The Universe: I am the Universe. And I think you're being paranoid.
The Comrade: I think I need some help. Could you send me something? Something I would understand?

These days I never know when acute mental retardation hits.

That's how our talks normally go.
That's why I don't usually go to church anymore. I talk differently when I'm in church. Too pious. Too much on my best behaviour. Neither of us recognises myself. So, now, while I walk up and down aisles at Loblaws looking for anchovies, say, it does sort of look like I'm talking to myself. Where the hell are the anchovies, anyway? They're not kept with the sardines. Near the pickles, you say? I'll look next time.

A woman in her 50's walked into the Cheer's Equivalent Bar, the place of my employ. Marilyn. I took to her instantly. She came in alone, something I always think is a brave thing to do in this city. With solo diners, I have a tendency to take them under my wing. She had a Germanic severity to her. It was framed with a pragmatic Lego-man hairstyle. I learned she was a practitioner of Buddhist therapy/philosophy. The principal of these philosophies is to chip away our feeling-centered subjectivity to get to the reality. One of these therapies is Naikan. Its basis is a three step process:

Within any relationship, ask:
Step 1. What has that person done for you?
Step 2. What have you done for that person?
Step 3. What kind of trouble could you have caused that person?

Marilyn started by dissecting her tenuous relationship with her mother. When she broke up time into manageable blocks, answering each step specifically - we're talking every single birthday cake made, every time Happy Birthday was sung, the ride to school during a rainstorm - she recalled, at around age 6, the image of her mother in the kitchen, sweating in a bra and half suspended house-dress, canning and pickling food from the garden to place in the cellar, so her near to poverty-struck family would be able to eat in the wintertime. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten that. She'd been too busy feeling sorry for herself; sorry that she didn't have the life she'd imagined, like she'd seen on TV.

Marilyn used to believe she was a self-made woman. She did it all on her own. She didn't need anybody. She couldn't rely on anybody, anyway. When she was studying, her teacher had asked her to list all the people who were involved in getting her the banana she was saving for lunch. If she could list 30 people, she was told to sit back down. To think about it some more. She was only scratching the surface. People are there. We just poke needles in our eyes, so as not to see.

He'd called me at work one day to tell me how beautiful, capable and wonderful I was.
The next week I'd forgotten about it. Laundry taking greater precedence.

What have I done?

I'd secretly scripted how I'd wanted to be wooed, then proceeded to be disappointed because no one was following my script. What kind of trouble could I have caused him? Telling him he wasn't enough, in as many words, is one of the shittiest things I've ever done. I didn't love him properly. Insert shame. Insert depression. Throw in a molotov cocktail of anxiety into the mix. I have a stomach ache.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

Universe: Comrade? I'd like you to meet someone.

Marilyn told me about Morita. Another Buddhist based therapy. Have a goal. Feel what you're going to feel. Do what needs to be done to achieve that goal.

Excerpt from the ToDo Institute:
Psychiatrist Shoma Morita used the term "arugamama" to describe the state in which we simply "accept things as they are". He believed it was fruitless to try to work on our feelings, our thoughts. A better solution was just to accept them the way we accept distracting thoughts and feelings during meditation - we notice them and bring our attention back to our breath. If you are beginning the process of divorce, it is normal to have feelings of anger, sadness, fear, loneliness, etc… Rather than use your energy to try to elevate your mood, you can accept these feelings as natural and learn to coexist with them as you move through the challenging and painful process of separation. This idea of "coexisting with feelings" is what distinguishes Morita therapy from many other approaches. It's very much like going for a long walk and getting caught in an unexpected rainstorm. Once you accept the fact that you are going to get drenched you stop trying to avoid the rain and are free to simply walk. Once you are home, you can concentrate on getting dry."

"Every crisis tests our faith - our willingness to trust that life will unfold the way it needs to unfold. The crisis brings us face to face with the limits of our power to control the world in which we live. Ultimately our personal destiny and the destiny of friends, family, even the planet, is outside our control. Yet it is still important to do what we can do, for our ability to shape the future will never be known until long after we have taken action. As Ghandi said, "Whatever you do may seem insignificant, but it is important that you do it."

Hello Universe? I need you now. I think I let too much time pass. I think I let my pride stand in the way. I think I kept pushing until he...
He's been pushed and he learned to push back, too. See that.
Okay, I see that, but...
It's both of your responsibilities. His friend is right; he needs to want to do it. You don't want to be the one to force his hand. It's like that couple you heard about last night. She threatened suicide, so he married her.
It's different.
But the same.
What if I don't get him back?
You won't crumble and die. Just tell him how you feel. Tell him how scared you've been. Tell him how you've learned to not trust others who are closest to you, just as he's learned to fight the ones who were closest to him when they expected too much of him. Both of you have been guilty of not understanding each other enough, to love each other properly. You now have a goal. The ultimate goal. Feel what you're going to feel and do what you need to do to realise that goal.

Did you know...
There are times this stupid girl doesn't think any one gives a shit about her.

If you'll excuse me, I have important business to attend to.