More on Me

Real Friends:

We have already dipped into November, the month of what – true winter onset? I’m not sure.

It’s turned cold here in Yose, it feels chilly all the time now, and it’s much nicer to be inside than out. That doesn’t mean that it’s wet or unpleasant outside, however. I saw an amazing sunset last night just as I headed off to work, staffing the Loft (the employee rec area) for some live music and pool. I took my time going to work, marveling at the golden glow lighting up Half Dome and the Royal Arches, delighting in the intensity of the colors, the way it gathered up so much of the autumnal feel and washed it across these granite faces.

I live here. Yosemite. I get to see this every day. I get to experience the beauty of Yosemite every single day. The air I breathe is different from anywhere else, the landscape that makes up my backyard is some of the most powerful on the West Coast and this is my HOME. I live here!

I’m convinced there’s something about Yosemite that draws amazing people. I am surrounded with more amazing people than I can keep track of and hang out with. People here are more connected with the earth and themselves and maybe that’s why drinking is such a problem here – people get too close to the truth of themselves and they either face it and add to the amazing community here, or they turn to alcohol to hide themselves away.

I just saw Brian, a guy I worked with at Deschutes Brewery who told me about Yosemite, and he mentioned climbing. He’s been here in Yosemite off and on for the last eight years, and he said that he’s one of the few employees who still gets out and enjoys the park. But, he hurt some tendons, couldn’t climb for a while, and found himself sucked into the drinking culture. He said, “If I can’t climb, what else is there to do? Nothing.”

One part of me thinks, ‘what with such a narrow view of the park, of the world, that when the one thing he likes to do is gone, he falls back on drinking, which it sounds like he doesn’t like to do, but doesn’t know how else to spend his time.’ I wonder if this narrow thinking is a result of being in the narrow Yosemite Valley for so long? The narrow walls of the valley could have an adverse feng-shui effect. It could be where he chooses to live as well – BoysTown is the drinking capitol of the Park, party central, where if you don’t drink, you don’t belong.

Actually, all of me agrees, because I’ve been doing everything but climbing. I meditate every day, sometimes twice when my schedule allows, and I practice qigong and taiji, and I hang out with my friends, mainly John and Marina, but Kelly and Ivy too, all of whom are my neighbors here in the Valley, which is just one of the ways in which everything is working out for me here. In a way, my life is the exact opposite of Brian’s, in that he gets what he wants by going out and doing (climbing, for example), and I get what I want by doing nothing (nothing by conventional standards of production or accomplishment. As if you can measure personal development). The difference is that I consciously choose to do nothing (produce nothing) whereas Brian feels stifled when he can’t accomplish. Does that mean that when my life is nothing by choice that I have more freedom than Brian ever does? Because I’m starting from nothing, I have no expectations for what I should be doing, or producing, or accomplishing, and whatever happens that day is a conscious choice I made and put energy into. If Brian had plans, say, a climbing tick list, and he got hurt, meaning he couldn’t climb, then every day that he can’t accomplish his goals he builds up more expectations? More frustration? Because his view of what there is to do for recreation is so narrow, he ends up unable to enjoy his free time when his idea of recreation isn’t possible.

This is me rationalizing me not climbing, or writing, or knitting, but putting time into meditation, qigong and taiji. I realized the other day that for me to be able to love myself, I have to walk the walk and value myself, put myself first, which means doing things that add to me, make me feel good, healthy, and lately, proud of myself, all of which make me like myself. One thing I struggle with is the idea of making progress on myself, which implies that I’m not perfect already, just as I am. As long as I keep doing things I know are detrimental, such as eating a whole package of cookies, I am not proud of myself, and I don’t like me. When I keep in mind loving myself, I don’t do these things. I decided that while reading, knitting and writing are all activities I enjoy, they drain my energy. Meditation, qigong and taiji are also things I enjoy, and they add to my energy – when I practice any of those things, I actively add to my store of energy, my ability to know myself, my wholeness, and loving myself, which I believe is the key to my happiness. The sooner I can love myself, the sooner I’ll know who I am, what I really like, and what I might like to use my energy for.

You may ask, why don’t I knit, write or read, since those are things I say I enjoy?

Well, I still do. But my priority has shifted, and my focus. My priority is myself, my focus is on the process, the journey, and not the end product. Thus my focus is on loving myself as I am right now, with all my imperfect body issues and relationship issues and expectations and everything that makes up me, no matter what it is. As long as it’s me right now, I want to love it.

Gosh that’s hard. It’s so much easier to focus on what I think needs changing to be perfect, except that’s a cycle that will never end – there’s always something to make better. What I need to understand is that I’m perfect as I am right now, without any changes. What I find, however, is that I like myself more the more I let go of the guards, the more I let myself be myself. I think of this as changing myself, but it’s not, really. That doesn’t mean that all these years I haven’t been Anchen; all these years have been a process, making me who I am today as much as I was myself in the past. I just feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with who I am.

Going back to loving myself, I wonder at the way I say I want to love myself, as if it’s a monkey in a cage and I don’t have a key. Well, I’d like to free you, monkey love, but I can’t bend the bars. What is the key for me? Where am I hiding it? What does it take to find it? Why can’t I simply love myself, if I say I want to? Do I really want to or am I just saying it?

At the Vipassana retreat, I spoke with the Assistant Teacher, Marie, and told her my pain while sitting felt like torture. She told me that as long as I manage to keep even just one percent of myself equanimous with the sensation that I’m making progress towards liberation. Being equanimous means observing without reacting.

Me loving myself is something I want, even if it just one percent of me wanting it. I wonder if it works the same way?

One percent of self-love is enough to keep trying. It’s worth it. I’m worth it.