Labor of Love

First published to SFHouseMouse.com on 7/29/2015

With this recent business of self-inquiry, my thoughts have turned to work. What a long, strange trip it’s been...

I got into restaurants out of spite for my mother. She had been on my ass (at least, that was *my* perception of things) to learn how to cook for years, and when it came time to be a grown-up, I gave her my internal (and, likely, external) sass-mouth. Oh yeah?! I thought. You want me to learn how to cook? I will just do it professionally, then. That’ll show you. Show her, it did—and show me, as well.

After twenty years in that business, my body has finally had enough. I had always thought of my job in the Industry as a stepping stone—a waiting room, the loading dock, purgatory—for the time when I would find my true calling, until I could find The Thing. The process of waking up and letting go began a few years ago, when I found out I was a Celiac, and has morphed into what it is today, healing from adrenal failure. Little did I realize that there really is no The Thing, and what you are doing right now is what you are doing (in other words: it’s the journey, as much as the destination, that matters. Hell, maybe it even matters more), and that one can identify with his or her career as much as he or she wants, but that is not who he/she really is. Also, ain’t the Super Ego a bitch?! That offensive, bullying, judgmental voice has some pretty sneaky maneuvers to keep us from actually living how we really want.

When The Man told me a couple years ago that I didn’t have to work; that he would rather have me fun and turned-on when he got home, than having to come pick me up in the middle of the night, from the seediest neighborhoods, off-loading piles of garbage, food waste, and dirty dishes; I knew I was being gifted a blessing. At first, I just slept. It was nice to deep clean the house, and take care of the details of our lives. Then, the existential crisis set in. My father’s death contributed a little to that line of questioning, but the lack of an identity as Chef also took it’s tole. I felt so much scarcity, dependence, and the deep void of not knowing who I really was. I indulged my pain of emptiness with food, drink, smoke, and TV. When I had had enough of that, I sank in and started walking. Walking turned to meditating. Walking and meditating, turned to a drive to get clear and lose the baggage. The drive to lose the baggage led to a meeting with Dr. Shannon. And that meeting led to the hormone panel that would start to lead me back to myself.

Once I finally discovered that I was experiencing adrenal fatigue from years of stress induced high cortisol levels, I felt resolved—I now had a direction to head in. I wanted to be aggressive about my health and recovery. I was rabidly researching causes, mechanics, resolutions, history, and how to heal. What every article I read was telling me was that I needed to take it slow. Take it slow?! Gah! Wouldn’t ya know it. The healing process will be anywhere from six months to two years, and in the mean time, the best approach is to lessen the stress load (in every way), take naps, get regular exercise, eat well, and meditate daily. Amazingly, after taking on this challenge I am realizing that my body *is* perfect right now. This vehicle I live in is helping me learn the lessons I need most right now. I have value for simply existing, and what I am being asked to do is just that, simply exist.

This is much easier written than done, however. The Ego and Super Ego love to get hold of this and say things like lazy, unmotivated, dead beat. But, luckily I have an out—my health depends on it! With all of this down time, meditation, and exercise (funny what comes when riding the bike or taking a walk…) I have had some space to ponder what my next step will be. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs are being met (and quite well, I might add), I have to go slowly, and that seems to have allowed a blossoming awareness in my psyche. When thinking of the next step, I have often gone to that place of intense scarcity inside, then tried to grapple around in fear to discover what I like to do that I think can make money at. But, every time I think about traveling down one of those paths wrought from anxiety, things just don’t feel right. Many, many years ago I visited a healer to discuss this dilemma that has plagued me for so much of my adult life. She asked what I used to fantasize about as a little girl? What games did I play? And now, in my meditations, I have presenced myself to what it is that I am doing to fill my time.

As a little girl, I used to dance in the fairy rings, and pretend I was a witch (a good witch, of course). Today, I eat up Esoteric knowledge and give numerology readings to strangers on the street. I love gardening, and costume making for Burning Man. I love spinning wool, spinning on the bike, and cleaning the damn house. And I love this life The Man and I are walking. If I tell the truth to myself about what I want the next stage of my existence to be about, it is to step deeper into becoming a Medicine Woman. I’ve dreamed about it since I was fresh from the womb, but that sneaky Super Ego has whispered to me that it’s a ridiculous notion. I have fooled myself into thinking that it’s not a viable option, and people will judge me negatively. I have been so extraordinarily defensive of the information I have gathered, my personal beliefs on the nature of reality, and the paths I have chosen to walk.

I have also had a belief layered just beneath the superficial scarcity, that if I started walking my path it would be my time to go. As a way of coping with various personal losses throughout life, I have told myself a story that one get’s a ticket out of here when his or her work is done. What a potent way to keep one from doing their work! You will die if you achieve your destiny! Oy veh. Now, however, I am willing to face that mortality, and to face the unknown. I have discovered another belief layered over that fatalistic idea--that to make one choice closes the door to all others, and in some ways, that is true. Not making a choice, however, keeps all doors shut, and I am discovering, also, that making a choice can be transcendental. By choosing a path (the path of the Soul), it can lead to myriad doors never dreamed possible.

From the Void Has All Begun by Tillsilence

So, here’s to innocence! Here’s to The Void! Here’s to all possibility! And, here’s to One!