Caroni Swamp, Scarlet Ibises, Caimans – Part II
I re-read my posting from last night (another of my rituals, aimed at seeing if what I wrote the night before still makes sense in the light of day, thinking that I can jerk it off the blog before anybody sees it – quite forgetting that my dawn is the afternoon for some people – told you I wasn’t a morning person). And of course, reading it this morning, I realized that there is more to comment about the scarlet ibises and the caimans of the mind. Fortunately, it is also true that I don’t have to write everything all at once.
So here I am with my scarlet ibis – beautiful, admirable, sociable – myself at my best – like when I am playing with Hayleigh (my 3 year old granddaughter), or in a training room. That’s why I love training so much – not all the time, but mostly, I am light, curious, highly respectful of the power of the mind, a penetrating truth-teller with a lot of love and admiration for those with whom I am working, and total willingness to be in the flow of the moment (a loose definition for being a trainer in the More to Life Program).
And then there is my caiman – not so pretty, hard to admire, eat their young – my evil twin – like when I have to get up in the morning, or don’t get my way when it’s really important to me, or … , or …., or …. If I ignore my caiman, pretend it doesn’t exist, it could eat my ibis. The way crocs kill is they rob their prey of breath by drowning, then they stuff their dead prey into their hidey hole and let it rot, then they eat it. Graphic, but an accurate description of what happens in my life when my ibis dies – I lose my breath, then I rot in my reactivity, till I am consumed.
Should I fear my caiman? I could. But then that’s just another way of robbing myself of breath, rotting in my reactivity, consuming myself with my own fear. Should I ignore it? I could. But it just grows bigger until I can’t ignore it anymore, or the damage it causes becomes too great to ignore. Could I tame it? Not likely. It’s too interested in its own self preservation.
Being fundamentally curious, I have decided to know my caiman – its habits, etc. That way, I behave respectfully and wisely – I will avoid caiman-infested waters, unless I’m in something like a shark cage. For all my thoughtfulness and intentionality, sometimes a caiman will get my ibis – taking my breath. However, my ibis (considered sacred in some religions) has the power of the phoenix within it, rising from each ‘death’ (or ‘illusion’) again and again. In reality, my ibis never dies.
I find myself over and over again being an over reactive parent. There is a struggle I have that’s difficult to overcome. Being the only emotional outlet for a five year old is demanding and overwhelming. Rewarding OMG, so much so, but there are times when I have to sit and breathe to be able to process. Doesn’t happen… yet!!!!
Thanks for always reminding me its a matter of perspective and choice. Rethinking how to help us both find quiet time so each of us can empty the trash of the day without devouring ourselves and each other!!!
Ah the hit …
as I skimmed read this posting yesterday …
as if aware of the depths it takes me into …
after loosing a young dear one – Tracey Leigh Hunt …
to a crocodile …
in my sacred place for over 20 years …
ST Lucia…
a place where the river meets the ocean…
where she was taken …
without warning …
ah the power of “life shocks” …
lurking from underneath …
carry on with my day as if nothing had happened…
till I went to the gym …
to suddenly stop in the middle of a bending movement … hit by the delayed impact “ The way crocs kill is they rob their prey of breath by drowning, then they stuff their dead prey into their hidey hole and let it rot, then they eat it.”
oh … the agony of this imagery
the guilt for not having warned Tracey as I knew the place so well ……
the intensity of my fury towards God …
softened by a deep sense of grief …
noticing someone’s eyes looking intently at me …
oh look at this …
I have tears in my eyes …
closing them…
to catch my breath …
and come back into the now …
to hear the words …
” Let go of the guilt …
everything is sacred …
supporting humanity …
in the mastery of spiritual alchemy …”
to experience the dicotomy in my dream last night…
the image of the crocodile and the ibis floating in my awareness …
as if seeking one another …
in love that remains …
to hear the words
” bring them together… in unity”
oh …
the healing power of the beauty and the beast …
as we learn to love the “not so beautiful” …
with joy and gratitude inside …
as in truth …
we are everything …
we live everywhere …
boundless …
free…
oh yes …
Tracey’s gift …
a plea …
to love all of existence …
as the cure …
from my hunger …
disguised as anger …
ah…
the sharpening …
beyond shadows of shadows …
seeking for its own Light…
filling us from inside …
each time we choose to die …
to our ” illusionary” thinking
and reactive …
separating choices …
hummm
At Yoga on Friday morning 15th…I picked up a magazine at random..I can’t remember the name now. What matters is that the random article I picked “echoed” Ann’s blog.
This morning as I read her blog…I couldn’t help feeling like I’m being told over and over again to watch the ibises and the caimans. The article referred to them as the “sinner” and the “saint”.
I “know” exactly the reason for my being “confronted” with these articles- because that is exactly where I am at right this minute. Me being confronted by myself about…acknowledging my beauty and sexuality!
The article says something about my wanting to “leap” into being a sage without go through the rite of passage.
One cannot be a sage (one’s best self) unless the acknowledge the sinner (caimans) and the saint (ibis) within.
To become a sage- I need to “recognise”, “observe” and acknowledge the sinner. Welcome her, sit her down, give her tea. This is the only way to “befriend” my shadow-self. When the sinner does not feel threatened or ignored or suppressed- she remains stable, there is little chance of surfacing when visitors are around. The sinner knows she can always come to the negotiation table and chat.
Now the saint is easy or is it? I can get so saintly or pious, it can be hard to get off the high horse.
Again, I want to call the saint to tea. Find out what her intentions are- is she here to gain favours or make others feel bad?
In this way, saint cannot be suppressed to become “meek or modest”.
She can simply be recognised for the goodness she brings.
Thus…I become a sage.
And I love the fact that I have a lifetime of checking this out…being “sinner-saint-sage” over and over.
There is “one more time”, one more opportunity to practice.
I’m evolving!
Ann you teach by sharing.