Post-Election Grief

Warning: Don’t read this if you are in a good place today.

I need you…one of you…any of you…my spiritual leaders, to tell me how to let this go and choose love; to be non-judgmental, but without enabling or accepting fear or hatred. I need someone to hold my hand this morning.   No, wrap me tight in their arms and tell me it will all be ok. Then I can look at my teenage daughters and say the same to them with sincerity when I wake them.   They can still be anything they want and are respected. They are old enough and know right from wrong, unlike half of our country.

Grief is the second most prevalent feeling in the human heart but we don’t discuss it in relation to something like this. Grief is the normal response to loss. What do I think I lost? The belief in the goodness of human nature. “A peaceful place or so it looks from space.   A closer look reveals the human race.”

The familiarity of the physical pain of grief: upset stomach, no appetite, headache, insomnia, spaciness.

Reminder of the stages of grief: First, accept the reality of the loss – I need to do this without seeing any more maps colored in fear red or an acceptance speech.

Proceed to the emotions: that is easy for the moment – sadness and anxiety.

Eventually, adjust to the new reality; redirect love.

But how can I when hatred hijacked our election?

Some think grief is the price we pay for love, but love has no price. Fear and hate do. Remind myself that love is the most prevalent feeling.

My meditation was full of tears; and now my mat is. Is there a mudra to stop tears? No, and they need to flow.   Along with the pen.

The upside down smile in down dog.   I realize I did 15 minutes of yoga in peace without thinking about it.

I catch myself floating back to finding blame.   Blame loved ones who voted for third party candidates.   Blame egos who only want what is theirs and forget the rest.   Blame my ass-backward state. Blame single issue voters.   The last one feels a little better because at least for them it was about an actual issue; not fear or retaliation.

Please, someone more spiritually advanced than me tell me, how can I choose love when the majority hates? Someone give me the strength and faith to learn the lesson and move forward.   This one got me. Big. Instagram telling me I should bleed bliss or find light in the darkness is crass. I can’t fake it. I live here and am too busy feeling sorry for myself and all those good people who will fall in his path.

The consequences of repressing feelings are much worse than feeling them.   Numbness is a feeling. Social isolation is the desire.   Hibernation is not an option. Work. School conferences. Feeding myself. I know I have to feel to heal.   And move my body to feel. On my own terms. And in this red town, likely alone.

In yoga, love is the opposite of attachment, which is suffering. What is it I am attached to?Fairness? Compassion? Human decency?   Thinking the popular vote should be enough?

I chant along to the music in a broken voice.   My body organically sways like I’m rocking a child. Trigger. Back to the sobering reality…my children, all the children – will this behavior continue and will they grow to think it is acceptable? How do we protect them from bigotry and mistrust? Will relationships with other nations be different for future generations? fourfuckyears

If you voted for him and you know, come forward and teach the cowards and bullies who hide their racism and sexism behind curtains.   White Wisconsin, you mask your hatred well. You are not “shy voters”.   You are Slytherins – mistrusting serpents of cunning and self-preservation.

Press the send button.   Don’t press the send button. Call me a sore loser. Grief will not breed hatred. But I recognize that I still have a lot of work to do on myself. Maybe that is the lesson.

Namaste, Megan

In Praise of Spider Webs

Mind is the spider;

spinning, spinning, madly spinning.

Recreating the past; restless and poisonous.

A tapestry of turmoil.

Thoughts all connected with one unsubstantiated thread.

I lost my place in the center.

Terrified of heights,

I grip the edge, fearful of falling back down.

So desperate for a satisfying meal,

unable to get beyond the gasping fly.

Too self-absorbed to see the beauty of the whole web.

Be patient. Be still.

Web is an intricately woven Mandala; unique and purposeful.

A single silky strand crosses my forehead,

knocking me conscious.

Hitting me like Newton’s apple as I walk to awaken.

Spinning stops; I reconnect to Self and Source.

Using all eight legs to walk the path of the Eight Limbs,

I crawl back into now.

Namaste, Megan

Choose Love

Raw and scared and hopeless and unsure and angry and revengeful: Hatred is a result of all of these faces. There is no need to see photos of victims, know their names or hear their stories; I choose not to know so please don’t talk details.  My protective cover is on. The sensational story lines are for the primitive brain where we chose to attack or hide.  My heart already knows them as me.

Each time it happens, being alone is where I release.  How do I know how long to keep the band-aide on? As long as the wound is healing, it needs to be in the dark where all filters are off. In daylight, I walk a line between not suppressing my emotions and trying to hold space.  One morning I don’t want to leave meditation because that may be the only place all day I don’t feel guilty for smiling and not attaching to the madness.   And the next day I want to scream at the top of my voice “I am tired of all this shit you hateful pricks”.  I also cry unobstructed without needing to explain why.  “Stop your crying.  Act like a big girl.” That is the bad advice I heard the mother tell her child last week. I am a big girl and I do cry. I allow myself all this and more.  Each emotion has it’s own energy. I feel their sensations in my body and give permission to go there. I can hold myself in sacred space. And whatever they may be, I make peace with my thoughts.

Somewhere along the way, I learned it is not in my job description to tell others who I am. No matter how long or how well you know someone, you never truly know them. People are not put in my path so I can tell them about myself.  They are here to teach me about mySelf.  They expose my difficult parts so I can grow spiritually.  What makes me weak, angry, judgmental? Please push those trigger points.  I will embody a stronger vibration.  But when the world feels this broken, part of me feels the need to explain myself – that I am like a bear and my method of self-nurturing is hibernation. It doesn’t mean I don’t care or am in denial or avoidance. Solitude is where I dig deepest into my heart space beyond all that is black and dead.

“Don’t look for the light to find me, become the light.” The first glimpse is not going to come from the evening news, on social media or in an emotional discussion on current events.  I find it alone in my wounds.  If I let myself get caught up in the stories and conversation, even with the best of intentions, I stay in the dark. The wounds become universal wounds – my wounds.  Evil prevails and too much energy goes toward trying to fathom the despise in another soul. I am my thoughts.  Why do I want them to repeatedly be of hateful humans and tragedy? They want me to be scared and judgmental. Protect yourself. Don’t trust each other. Instead I will be stronger in my resolve to see myself in others; because it is not death I fear – it is a world of better people living IN fear.

Hatred is a small child throwing a tantrum.  It has limitations and will exhaust itself.  It is only satisfied when it gets attention and recognition; Enter the Aquarian Age of information where Mass Media nurtures hate.  Love knows no boundaries, has no agenda and tiptoes quietly through the human madness. The energy of the heart heals.  The mind judges.  The heart is empathetic and compassionate.  The mind wants revenge and justice.  Nothing sinks us into survival behavior faster than allowing hatred to gloat; or it sends us into an emotional upheaval that society then tells us to restrain; or into the ego where anger lives.  We are certain we are better than the perpetrator.  I tell myself my hands are not weapons of hate.  But what are the small ways that my words and thoughts harm others?

Today is a full moon.  I choose to magnify love.

Namaste, Megan