The only thing worse than getting stuck in your own mud (I don't wanna! I don't wanna!) is getting buried in it, resisting it, running from it, hating it, "dissing" it. Resistance, be it writer's block, calling up someone who may reject us, getting all our warm weather clothes put away and cold weather gear out to allow ourselves to face late November's cold, is a solid fact of being human.
Given the time of day, the time of the year or any kind of mood visitation, I will hate everything I love and love many things I think I hate. Running from resistance is like running away from your nose. It can't be done. Resistance is there; you use it without thinking about it and if you just allow it to be there, it won't dominate your life and you'll move on to a "flow" that you wouldn't have otherwise.
Resistance arises and begs to be noticed, embraced as an entity to be used for its own unique purpose, and then to disappear. It is a natural outcome of fear and needs to be treated as such. It's OK to take the time to let it in and not to treat resistance as the ENEMY! And even if it were the ENEMY, it can be negotiated with. "I'll admit you to the table as long as you respectfully watch me step out of my shell, my fear, my dread of the unknown." In short, pay respect to resistance and it will respect you. Resistance is the clay of character, the substance which we can mold to strengthen our resolve, so as not to succumb to inertia or entropy. Whatever we think we want, resistance will teach us how to get there, but we must first be teachable.
About Me
- elly jackson
- Boston, Massachusetts, United States
- I am a Boston, Massachusetts-based Wedding Officiant and Celebrant; I also do free-lance writing, editing, teaching and coaching writers.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Be cool; be smart
On October 31st at my beloved university I was robbed of my handbag and of course its contents: debit card, credit cards, driver's license and social security card. I also lost my university office door key and my university ID. At least we can change the lock. No, I wasn't mugged; this was just a careless leaving of my handbag in a room that appeared to be safe. NOT!
The bottom line is this: my good friend Heidi, who once had her car stolen and her apartment ransacked in Manhattan, all in the space of under two years, calls thefts like these paying the "vermin tax"---the high cost of living in urban areas, in melting pots, in cities whose socioeconomics vary from A to Z in any given neighborhood.Sooner or later there will be something to remind you you're not in Kansas anymore. Perhaps this seemed more true in the 1980s when she suffered her losses and the drug epidemic in New York City left everyday people on the street extremely vulnerable.
For me, the vermin tax is very like the IRS. Be careful, or the things you forget to remember will be summoned one day in an audit.
We all live every day with risk. I frankly hate the thought of my identity being stolen, far more than the inconvenience of canceling credit cards and getting my cash back for the $2000 heist the thief got to by cracking my pin number at the ATM within twenty minutes of the theft. But my bigger question is that of character: What can I do with this now? I can take a stand to not be afraid, to not look over my shoulder, to not draw conclusions of stereotype about the possible thief or thieves. I can commit to keeping my mind open in my wordlview: the universe is far more benevolent than malevolent. All that any of us can glean from adversity is its lessons, most importantly without blame in any direction.
Of course, I didn't need to carry around my social security number, but I did. End of story. We have laws in place against thievery, but robberies like this one are too commonplace and too numerous in big cities to ever be solved. End of story. I still have my life, my heart and my optimism. That's a prize no one can steal.
The bottom line is this: my good friend Heidi, who once had her car stolen and her apartment ransacked in Manhattan, all in the space of under two years, calls thefts like these paying the "vermin tax"---the high cost of living in urban areas, in melting pots, in cities whose socioeconomics vary from A to Z in any given neighborhood.Sooner or later there will be something to remind you you're not in Kansas anymore. Perhaps this seemed more true in the 1980s when she suffered her losses and the drug epidemic in New York City left everyday people on the street extremely vulnerable.
For me, the vermin tax is very like the IRS. Be careful, or the things you forget to remember will be summoned one day in an audit.
We all live every day with risk. I frankly hate the thought of my identity being stolen, far more than the inconvenience of canceling credit cards and getting my cash back for the $2000 heist the thief got to by cracking my pin number at the ATM within twenty minutes of the theft. But my bigger question is that of character: What can I do with this now? I can take a stand to not be afraid, to not look over my shoulder, to not draw conclusions of stereotype about the possible thief or thieves. I can commit to keeping my mind open in my wordlview: the universe is far more benevolent than malevolent. All that any of us can glean from adversity is its lessons, most importantly without blame in any direction.
Of course, I didn't need to carry around my social security number, but I did. End of story. We have laws in place against thievery, but robberies like this one are too commonplace and too numerous in big cities to ever be solved. End of story. I still have my life, my heart and my optimism. That's a prize no one can steal.
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