it’s been an incredibly difficult past two weeks (or so). stressful, busy, no money, living in a place that regularly has car chases and police hold ups–and then my dearest cat took off and we haven’t seen him since…it’s been rough.

and i’ve chosen during this time, not to write about it. not to write in general. to confront a path of difficulty by doing nothing. by *saying* nothing. which, to me, is the same thing.

it’s been a practice in patience as inspired by Buddhism.

not running away from fear (or anger or anxiety or any other negative emotion) through action–but sitting in it. studying it. giving it my full attention.

not escaping the overwhelming sensations i feel when fearful by “doing something” to make those sensations go away.

what always helps me feel better when i am scared and anxious and angry etc)? what helped me to survive my childhood, and now my adulthood?

when i am experiencing a negative emotion i go to the pen/keyboard. and then start talking.

but for those who don’t know, this summer i have spent a lot of time dedicating myself to Buddhist practice. and one of the skills Buddhism encourages practitioners to work on is “patience.” to be aware of everything you do–from scratching your face to screaming at your partner because you’re frustrated.

the skill to practice: when you are experiencing a negative emotion–do nothing. study why that emotion is a negative triggering emotion to you.

which is so easy to type out. sorta easy to explain to confused friends when you are far from any type of buddhist expert. and sooooo stunningly difficult to actually practice.

not speaking goes against pretty much my entire grain of being. from high pitched screeching at the top of my lungs to stop bullying as a child to multiple daily updates on my blog for years–speaking is the one thing that has always helped me to feel strong. like i was doing something. like…the explosion could be controlled.

it goes against my organizing practices too. audre lorde, after all, said “it is always better to speak.”

i believed her–and i still do.

but…

sometimes, it’s better to be still. to do nothing. to say nothing.

these past two weeks have been horrible not so much because of the actual events that have happened (outside of my cat leaving, nothing too out of normal happened)–but because i practiced patience. i practiced saying nothing.

I practiced not using my usual coping strategies when things are tough.

and ooh, boy, is it tough when you have to sit in the middle of your fear and not do anything about it. when you have to just lie and look at your anger. studying it over and over again. and to ask those big questions: why can’t you breathe when you think about X?

why are you so scared to be scared?
why do you work so hard to not experience “being anxious?”
why does it terrify you to do nothing?

these two weeks have been stifling for me. horrible. nerve wracking. when speaking and writing are your coping strategies–to take those away–it’s physically painful. old body aches that acupuncture has pretty much gotten rid of–sprung up again. in full force.

my back
my sinuses

crippling back pain. impossible to sleep because of post nasal drip. all day soreness. unable to concentrate.

so much deep breathing, i learned what dizziness brought on by too much air felt like.

the only thing that kept me going was some irrational belief that “if this has worked for thousands of years for other practitioners, i just gotta keep at it. there must be something here.”

it was the most physically and emotionally exhausting thing i’ve ever done. ever.

and crazily enough–some thing happened. well–it’s more like–a *lot* of things happened. so much information surfaced in me. i learned so much about myself. over and over and over again–more truth.

so much truth. scary horribly frightening truth–glorious truth–truth i always knew…

confronting all of it.

one truth: god how i hate working with a medium that is all about “deconstructing” a built idea. oh, yes, some things…well…many many…MANY things, actually, deserve to be deconstructed. but…aren’t we U.S. citizens uncommonly good at destroying deconstructing things? i’ve felt like richard gere in pretty woman the past few weeks. i’m so tired of destroying other people’s work. i wanna build ships. greeeaat big ships!

my problem now is that i am not really sure how to reconcile speaking/not speaking. action/non-action. the value of speaking is clearly outlined by so many brighter smarter women than I. Speaking stops rape. Speaking stops spousal abuse. Speaking stops the blows.

but speaking can also be (maybe at the same time?) a crutch. a coping strategy. a way to avoid facing yourself. if you’re busy writing pouring your fear out of your body and onto paper–how can you ever really face down that fear?

is writing an act of running away–even as it is an act of documentation? of resistance? of justice and ending violence?

i don’t know.
and i’m ok with that.
the next big adventure has begun.