Hide and Seek with myself: finding the lost key

I lost my key the other day. I spent a day searching for it— in the key drawer, in the bowl in my bedroom where I keep my pocket items, on the steps, in the car. Nowhere. All this time I had an image that kept coming up  of the chest on which I leave my reading materials. My thought was I should check there, but did I check there? No I did not. Desperate, the next day I did check there and there it was. I found the key under my papers. I was playing hide and seek with myself.

It strikes me that this is like a lot of things in our life—we really do know the answer. We have the answer and it keeps nudging at us, but instead of following that suggestion we continue to look in all of our old favorite places, follow our favorite routines.  And we don’t follow the less demanding image, the less insistent voice that indeed may lead us to the answer.

This of course could relate to any number of things in our life— job, children, relationships, a wellness routine, a health regimen—making any change in our life. For many of the changes in our life we know what to do yet we keep following the same patterns,  looking the same old places for an answer that isn’t there, that was never there.

This reminds me of the story about Mullah Nasrudin, the wise fool of Sufi teaching stories. He’s down on his knees in the street outside his house, searching for something. A friend comes by and asks the Mullah what he is looking for.  The Mullah says, “My keys.” In a short while there are several friends helping him look. Finally one of them asks, “Are you sure you lost your key here?” The Mullah replies, “No I lost it inside my house. “ Then why are you looking out here? The Mullah replies, “There’s more light out here.”

We are “already complete.”

 

“One by one, each thing is complete

One by one, each thing has it.

It and dust interpenetrate, it is already apparent in all things.

So without cultivation you are already complete.”

 

I read this quote once at a zen retreat as I was instructed to by Zen master Dae Kwang and it opened a door in my mind. Without cultivation, I, everyone, is complete. We are always judging ourselves to be short of the mark in some way. As a therapist, people come to me because there’s at least one place in their life that they need to work on to improve themselves, their lives. It is our thinking that leads us to feel this way. We set up ideas of who we should be or how the world should be and then we don’t measure up—we are incomplete. If you go back to the root of the word translated as “sin,” it means to miss the mark, which, of course, assumes there is a mark to miss. And we, as humans, are always missing our mark.  When humans developed the thinking mind, that threw us out of the garden of completeness. Each moment is complete just the way it is, but then we start thinking about it.

This is the starting point of Buddhism.  Gautama looked up at Venus, the morning star, and said,” No problem,” or something like that.

Years later at another retreat I had a deeper experience of that completeness. We were doing a meditative walk in the snow and the line of zen students was snaking up the hill. I looked around at us walking on the snow covered hill, and in the moment it all seemed perfect, complete. And ultimately that is how each moment is,  but our mind is not in the place to receive that. We practice meditation, bioenergetics, yoga, Qi gong, go to therapy and many other things so we can learn to rest in that more and more,  however “without cultivation we are already complete.”

Where the wild things are

Be alert, you may be the prisoner of the fake you!    You may find that you live in a jail that is made from powerful and artificial components of human society.   

Master Waysun Liao, in   Chi

In the children’s book, Where the Wild Things Are, Max goes to the land of the wild things and he discovers (spoiler alert!) he is the wildest thing of all. 

This is like bioenergetic therapy. One of the exercises I do in my workshops and groups  is to work the jaw.  We all hold a lot of tension there, from holding back all the things we want to say to people, and don’t.  From wanting  to “bite people’s heads off,” when we don’t.  So we work the muscles and then I have them growl, first in general and then to each other.  Most people end up laughing because it is such a relief—all the times we have wanted to growl at people and we haven’t.  I saw a red squirrel the other day, chattering away, and his chattering vibrated his whole body.  Maybe we can learn to express ourselves with our whole body; maybe we can learn to voice our soul from the soles of our feet.

The wild self, the natural self, is often pushed down by our civilized self and we feel embarrassed when we let it out.  This has been called the “id,”  the “it”—talk about disowning a part of one’s self.  And the ego, our talking thinking self, has for uncountable time been trying to blame all the bad stuff on it—human violence, for example, when that often is the result of the ego and superego.  In “The Americanization of Emily,” Charlie, played by James Garner, blames war on the people trying to be good.  “It’s not greed or ambition that makes war: it’s goodness. Wars are always fought for the best of reasons: for liberation or manifest destiny.” Think of all the religious wars.

Reich, whose work led to bioenergetics, branched off from Freud before the latter started talking about, ego, id, and superego.  Reich’s work focused on developing the concept of libido which eventually became body energy, “bioenergy.”

So in the workshops what I want to help people discover, what I too want to discover is that untamed alive part of ourselves,  because that is closer to our core self than the everyday thinking self is, and it is the part of us that feels connected to the life and people around us.

In The Practice of the Wild, poet and deep ecologist Gary Snyder  talks about the body as the wild part of ourselves, our wilderness,  and that our conscious mind is trying to civilize our wilderness.  Some radical political theory goes even further and talks about how we “colonize” and exploit ourself. Fritz Perls in Gestalt simplified this into the top dog/under dog division he worked with so often in his therapy,

However, you frame it, the bottom line is there are parts of ourself that are working for goals we have drawn from our culture, our family and our thinking self, that don’t match what the rest of us, our body, our senses, imagination, and emotions want.  This incongruence can make us sick, unhappy, depressed, anxious.  In the protest rallies in the 60s and 70s, the speaker would yell, “What do you want?” “Freedom,” everyone  yelled. “When do you want it?” “Now.” So what do you want?