Here’s what I have been rejecting lately:
- Teachings – “This is not my experience, this is yours. I don’t want your experience, I want my own.”
- Appearances – “I am not whatever you think I am. I am not whatever or whomever you want me to be.”
- History – “I am not whatever I have been. I am not who you have known me to be. I am not who you have thought me to have been.”
- Any false behavior I might have – “I am not going to be anything just because it is good or right. I will do it because it feels true. I am not interested in being anything for anyone just to avoid being rejected. I won’t help you just to avoid losing your love.”
- Social Niceties – “ I don’t care how others perceive me. I will do what is true for me, not what society/community wants me to do. I will not follow your protocol”
It’s been very intense at times, and I’ve just been letting it arise, rolling with it, giving it a voice, exploring it. It has begun to feel like everything that is not truly me is being questioned and is falling away. The other night, the day after the retreat, I went for a run, and half way through, found myself running, breathing and chanting in rhythym: “F*** Me F*** Me F*** Me F*** Me……..” I just let it come and move through me. For a mile perhaps. Occasionally interspersing the words with ‘F*** You F**** You F*** You…..” and some middle finger extension exercises thrown in for good measure. In trying to understand it afterwards, I realized that I am also rejecting whatever I am and have been that is not real, that has been sicklied o’er with the pale cast of need, fear, appropriateness, expectation, obligation. I am tired, and I am realizing that the tiredness is from having been something that I am not. I am utterly rejecting that, whatever that is, in whatever flavors it comes in.
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Epilogue: Things have settled down for me some. Near the end of the retreat, I was doing an exercise with a friend and I noted that I felt like I had survived a hurricane at sea, and my boat, with broken mast, tattered sails, no motor and the name scraped off, was somehow miraculously gliding its way back into the harbor and into my slip where I could curl up and take in a well earned rest, perhaps more simply as me.
2 replies on “I Am NOT That”
f***ing cool!
Fu ck mẹ fuxk you fuck me fuck you
Ah that feels better