Tyrant Cove

I stormed into my daughter’s room this morning before her alarm went off. She sat up in bed, her eyes wide.

“Where is my laptop?”

She borrowed it last night for a project.

“Uh, hang on..” She first checked her room, then looked outside where she and a friend had done math on the back porch, and finally found it on the table near its normal spot covered with her notebooks and calculator.

Earlier in the morning, while handwriting my morning’s list for the day, I noticed a tyrant’s voice in my head. She sounded very pissed off that I didn’t seem to realize the seriousness of the deadlines.

Belatedly, I realized this tyrant was also at the helm as I opened my daughter’s door thinking, “I’ll teach that kid not to mess with my laptop.”

“I’m sorry,” I said later, after I realized.

“Yeah. It would have been nice to at least say ‘Good morning’ first.”

Christopher recently shared with me and article illustrating how Alexander (of Alexander technique) healed his voice. First, he spent time noticing the pattern that was harmful without trying to change it. And this was life-changing. Too quickly, the author wrote, most of us go for the fix. And when we do that, we hold both the old and the new patterns fighting within us.

To simply notice my inner tyrant now without trying to change her feels already empowering. Entire villages within me cower. She’s very fierce.

I also breathe a sigh of relief…it’s a gift to realize her presence and accept her.

She says: I’m not trying to be an asshole.

What are you trying to do, my dear?

To take control and make this crazy world fit into something beautiful, maybe perfect, or at least better.

How is it going?

Nothing’s coming along!

Me: It has been my experience that the energy of forcing damages, backfires, and hurts me and others. And with trying to force this universal substance that’s holy clay, it fails most of the time.

Big T: Fuck!

Me: Yeah, sorry about that, but it’s proven true for me…often.

Big T: Well if I can’t make it happen, how will it ever happen?

Me: You set your intention, do your best, but then you allow. You respect the timing of the cosmos, you trust its infinite wisdom. You realize that matter matters, has its own “how.” You listen and allow and look and see. It’s miraculous! It’s better than anything we could have come up with ourselves.

Big T: I don’t want to let nature be the one in charge.

Me: Why? You’re still setting the intentions, here, my lady. You’re still the boss of your thoughts and desires. You’re simply allowing the how to unfold gracefully, organically, authentically, richly, like a partner in a dance.

Big T: Oh. (She seems pretty put out.) She says: I’m too tired to do anything else. This world is strange and weird and bad and if I can’t make it cooperate, I’d rather sleep.

Me: It’s okay to rest. Especially when you’re a little sick, as we are, my dear.

Big T: Won’t it all explode?

Me: No. I don’t think that you’re holding the Earth together.

Big T: I just might be.

Me: Hmmm..

Big T: If it’s not my job to control, then how will I live?

Me: Gently, kindly, with enthusiasm. Trusting and allowing. Respectful of nature, God, yourself, and others.

T: Okay.

M: Good job!

Big T, grabbing the pen: I’m going to be the one to write for a while, okay. No one ever listens to me. My ex and daughter are fucking rebels. They have no clue. I’d like to rip them to shreds. Fuck. I hate my life. I’m so sick of this stinking world. I know I have blessings…I try to be grateful. (All right, I am grateful) But I also feel so crappy every waking second. I mean I always have. So how am I supposed to be nice?

Okay. I guess maybe it’s time to behold you, dear one. This feels like a lot to try to hold through writing. You okay with that?

Fuck!

(Beholding is a meditation that involves calling out an aspect of oneself and giving her attention that heals, and then, if she’s ready, sharing some truth to help her shift.)

This is the shorthand of what I got from her during Beholding:

So much horror and fear at the trauma of life. I feel the split where the tyrant and victim separate from one another, somehow two parts of the same atom. I feel into my horror at being here, on this Earth, with so much pain and suffering, so much. I begin to sense that to have integrity, I somehow need to be brave enough to face all of that all over again for those I care about, for my daughter, to help others. I think of Nelson Mandela, who maintained his deep connection to his true self through years in prison. I think of Jesus. I ask for help: I don’t have to do it alone. I keep breathing and breathing until I realize, “Hey. I’ve been trying to control other people rather than feel this.” I realize I tried to control Steve to protect myself from being vulnerable. Ditto Hannah. I feel remorse, and would like to apologize. I may. Then, I find peace and I invite my now former tyrant back inside me.

Immediately, things seem funnier. I think of a friend and feel layers of subtlety in our connection. I startle at chocolate chips as I eat them, savor the rich cocoa butter of their tangy taste.

Thanks, dear one.

My former tyrant smooches me.

I long to sit down with my daughter and eat breakfast. So I do.

Big T and I enjoy breakfast. Then we’re off to the next thing, and then another. Who knows what may happen? It’s an adventure, after all. Like lilacs in bloom. Like unexpected music piping from a sweet cobblestone alley in Spain.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Peace and Amen.