Hello Steemians and Beyond,
This will be Part One of a series of posts loosely about Bitters. Herbal bitters, yes, but also the gross emotion, and other correspondences. Please let me know what you think!
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Slowing down even further to really get centered through internal processing . . . . . or speeding up to try to catch up before Spring?
I always ask myself something along these lines this time of year. Especially, in Northern temperate climates, as the winter is ending, or drolling on, there is such a palpable anxiety I can feel. It is likely exacerbated by my recent move to a big city. Also, we have been increasing in global anxiety/pain body responses. I wrote this blog article:
two years ago about essentially the same thing.
I'll admit, as a grower as well, in these climates, I am anxious this time of year to figure out where I'll be putting seeds, where I can root, where I can forage. Actually, winter is one of my favorite times for foraging. I love how some of the small branches of Midwest temperate hardwoods will be brittle enough to break off, but still fresh, just barely dormant. I harvest bark from trees this time of year, because to me it represents the protection of the old giving life to the new. It is also a transmutation. This is mirrored in art forms of internal work; esoteric traditions, contemplation, mindfulness, creative visualization, psychological self-inquiry. I wish we would all take a little more time to do this inner work, and to make it an art form for ourselves. We need to prune away some of last years experiments, in order to learn from them. In order to make space for the new cycle.
I want to talk about a social dynamic I've observed in 'activist' communities. It's going to take a few posts, and it's a contributing factor to my journey through challenges of maintaining mental health, but I'll start with a couple recent experiences.
A week ago, I went to watch my partner perform (they are an incredible musician stars in my eyes ) at the second installment of folksy punk music at a decent local place.
I stood alone in a crowd of mostly friendly but crusty and clique-ish folk, listening to the music, absorbing it. In front of me, same as a month prior, an elder gentleman dancing with a younger woman. It seemed like they were both enjoying it. They were both clearly good dancers, nothing flashy, just some nice folk dancing back and forth in front of the stage. At one point another young woman came and asked the man to dance. It didn't take much notice. Throughout the show, a different guy kept brushing past me, grabbing my shoulder a couple times. By the end of it, as I was clapping and whistling and trying to catch my partners eye, this guy came up to me, and started a conversation. I was actually more or less in the middle of talking to someone else, a friend of a friend, a nice new acquaintance; talking about local people into herbalism. She left as soon as this other guy walked up. I should have taken the cue. He was clearly drunk. He asked me something along the lines of "who do you know here," with a kind of hecklish grin on his face. I decided to try to keep up my days trajectory of me stepping out of my social anxiety (a rare occurrence, luckily growing slightly more likely), and responded "oh you know, I love music! and friends, and other musical relationships and such." I wasn't trying to be coy, it just came out like that. He then proceeded to say all kinds of misogynist and crazy things about how the "old" guy was getting all the young tail or something, about how he was doing so much better than us. "He's old! How can get these young women?"
Grrr.
I said, "It just looks like dancing to me, maybe if you want to dance you could ask him too." I was already pissed at him, but I thought maybe some humor could diffuse the situation and allow me a chance to just walk away amicably. Why did I care about leaving amicably? I don't even know right now. Also, why not dance with nice dancer guy?
It didn't work, he proceeded to launch accusations at me about all kinds of random shit. I started to say "OK, I don't appreciate this, I'm going to leave," he cut me off saying "oh, is your safe space offended?"
GrrrrRRRRR! . . . .
I breathe. A lot. I mean we all do, but I breathe deeply and noticeably sometimes. It's when I'm stressed.
I practice Buddhist meditation, qi gong and yogic lifestyle. All eight limbs, including Karma Yoga. In honoring my own holistic world view, I accept that heedlessness comes in many forms. This is why I practice deep compassion. This fool, this troll had somehow found his way into my chi-bubble. I thought to myself, damn he doesn't know how dangerous my safe space is.
But, violence is not my prerogative, it is a last resort under only very certain circumstances. Not for random idiots. He said a couple more comments that basically just succeeded in pissing me off, until my partner came over, witnessing this. I asked him what his problem was; he just said that he was having fun. Yeah, buddy, well not me. It's not fun, so step off. Scroll on troll. I'm not gonna bar fight a drunken idiot on a Sunday, but you do not want to cross me like that. It's not always Sunday, and the Witching Hour cometh.
But . . . . . I knew it was pointless, so I left. But not before looking him squarely in the eye and saying "You need to check where you are, who you are." No response, only a look of pain/fear/anxiety, maybe a little joy. Smug, ugly joy. It's the same look I've seen in the eyes of bullies my whole life. Cops too. They don't even know how much pain they are in until someone shows them how far off center they are, which they're almost crying out for. Alternatively, you could say they just get off on their own pain. Something in them knows they are just making their own life miserable, and they have given in to this. It is that demon that speaks, that pulls the puppet strings, not the true soul of the individual.
A music practice session later that day saved me, turned my day back around, but the experience stuck with me and got me thinking about how the toxic behavior of entitled ass-holery is just growing and growing these days, in all sorts of demographics. It's a fear-mechanism. And we should not be afraid be vigilant in looking within ourselves, lest we fall into these traps. We can all too easily become afraid of the pain we either have been subjected to, or have inflicted, or both. We are afraid of the retribution our own soul demands. That fear is a dangerous goad, for the responsibility we face is that of looking at the Truth of how we all treat one another.
The tasks at hand, I believe really require us to do this looking. Because, if we want to wield justice, we need to know it, to feel it deeply.
What sticks with me is that there are going to be many people who try to get in the way of justice, the very justice they need. I do believe that some can be informed, educated. Some can be convinced. But some cannot. And, it seems pretty likely at this point that many who are using words used historically by activists and dissidents, are neither actively trying to save or protect any real freedoms or dissent against injustices. I am saddened by the memory of this encounter. Sad about my own inability to either; be more creative with my compassion and find a way to get through, or to have stronger boundaries and walk away sooner.
Because that is what it will take sometimes, just walking away from unteachable moments.
I was in a bar, I'm not a drinker; I'm in a new big city, I wasn't expecting my "safe space" to be upheld. But neither was I expecting to be invaded.
It is so unfortunate that people who by all rights should get along, or at least keep out of each others way, keep throwing shade; but honestly it is fortunate when they do it in ways that cast forms into their own darkness. The people who impede the path to creating societies where we treat each other with respect . . . they reveal their own suffering and the downfall of false ways of relating.
And, they may not know it, but they are asking for strong medicine.
I am reminded of the tannins I suck from the old skin of the trees I pluck.
I am reminded of the thorns I have felt tear at my skin deliciously as I plunge deeper into the blackberry bush for the juicy reward. Nature knows what I ask of Her, it is nothing more than I allow Her to take of me. We understand; in Nature, there is no safe space, but there is respect, there is reciprocity. And in that, there is something braver than false security.
It's not for nothing that we can train our tastebuds to take the bitter medicine. It makes the sweet, when it comes, oh so sweeter.