12.12.12. Can I Get a Witness?

This is PART 8 in a 12 part series for the Year of Sagely Living project, entitled 12.12.12: A journey of self-discovery for a lopsided soul.
To learn more about the project 12.12.12, click here.

August - Small Intestine, Wei 未 (Sheep)- Ethical Behavior - This category will include practices not covered in other categories that have some ethical dimension. These practices are likely to be very individual and defined by a person’s background, spiritual/religious practice and culture. For example, practicing “Right Speech” through abstinence from cursing. Why this pairing? The Fu (hollow, Yang) organs are said to transmit the essence of their associated Zang (solid, Yin) organs. SI exemplifies this relationship in its devotion to sacrifice as a way to manifest the Heart’s mandate of connection to Spirit in the purest sense. Also because many of the “ethical behavior” practices we discussed are somewhat prohibitive, it resonates with the descent into metal energy that the earthly branch Wei represents.

August was a rather interesting month. For me, as the homework suggests, the 31 days took a state of expansion into descent, thereby embodying an introspective and intense contractile force upon my ill-equipped inner lattice work. I cracked and bent under its pressure.

Patterns from previous life experiences popped up, reformatted and retrofitted into areas of my spiritual growth. Some refreshing changes occured, most revelatory (in the snake handling sort of way), and a few odd, enduring, ill-fitting pieces stick out like sore thumbs. Leaving me to feel like all thumbs at times, jagged and rough, awkward with myself and unable to articulate the transformations of the month for those close to me. And leaving some to rubberneck my direction like a bad traffic accident; scrutinize me sideways, skeptic of my sanity, yet somehow (thankfully) trusting that healthy process is underway.

Gemstones and the usual rock formations stand the test of time, and I felt as though these environmental elements offered a good analogy for me as I attempt to understand my personal growth for the month of August. A commitment was made for the Year of Sagely Living project; whatever I turn in should suffice for the rock hounds out there in search of a few semiprecious gems.

This is about living life with a state of awareness, in the very least my awareness about how lopsided I really am continues to leave me humbled by the potentiating time lines of change.

It’s kinda hard to describe, but my life up to this point has consisted of a series of whimsical almost OCD, awe-inspiring ventures. I am by nature an observer; hence my relationship with writing and my choice to become a health practitioner. Squirreled away in odd areas of my home and cubicle are the hearts of black walnuts, 1965 quarters, and four leafed clovers, which clutter in collections that I seldom see, but I know that the magic they hold is kept close to me.

A while ago, I convinced myself that these objects provide a direct insight into my life. When I discover one of said objects, I consciously look into myself, then cross-check between body, mind, and spirit to see if all systems remain in harmony. Additionally, I silently express gratitude for the opportunity to live and participate with the world around me. It’s gotten to the point that others know of my habits and collect them for me, too, which offers greater abundance, gratitude, and humbleness for my personal existence.

Throughout my life, I have understood the bookends, birth and death, and the glaringly obvious distance between the two, especially when taken in context of the “life span” for the universe. My temporal existence serves as a strong motivational factor and is why I feel the need to pursue projects like the Spider Plant Campaign and remain steadfastly devoted to altruistic causes like the Archimedes Movement. Being mortal is the mortar for my personal projects, keeping me grounded in actuality, building crystal castles in the sky. Persistence coupled with creative compassion makes me feel alive. This is the lighter side of the equation, an act of expansion, and I appreciate time.

Other occasions my life span feels limited, leaving me to feel cheated… time acts as a hinderance, hiccupping me into misplaced, lost dead zones, where I contract, killing time. Time wasting is seen as undermining life’s purpose and meaning. Here I become a diamond in the gruff: short with myself and others. Feeling as though life or the pursuits in between aren’t being taken seriously or that negligence undermines any previous efforts. A human life is short and finite, and this is the dark side of time that I experience.

So I decided to examine my relationship with time on a finer level of personal understanding, grinding away the grime so that I could have a little face-to-face time with time. Being the labradorite Luddite that I am, an evening was set aside to meditate on this unpolished piece of me, and this action proved as a viable means to unearth my discomforts with time constructs.

Earlier this year, time management added balance to the daily routine and proved a successful ritual, as did a thoughtfully placed vacation away from Portland. As important as these aspects are to my existence, underlying this was my red-headed step child fascination with my limited existence overall. These limits are indeed self-imposed to some degree, I cannot change the fact that eventually I shall die, leaving only god knows what in my wake. I cannot predict the future either, (nor to I care to do so, the present patterns of my world keep me busy as it is) therefore I am left with a finite understanding of what my potential, what my final outcome shall be once all is said and done.

You could say that a lot of groundwork needs to be laid for benevolent revolutions in health care. In my lifetime, I have a personal goal to see it so. Whether or not it is feasible considering the politics and infrastructure at present is anyone’s guess, however considering the commitment over the past five years here in the Northwest, I’d say that we’ve a pretty good chance. The momentum for these changes is dynamic, something that I, as a mere speck of humanity, have limited control over (which is a good lesson in and of itself). Nonetheless, a small piece of me remains impatient with health care reform’s seemingly tortoise-esque movement.

These bouts of impatience take me out of the present moment, cause me to contract, and remove myself from surroundings, resulting in separation, frustration, and isolation. This reaction contains both positive and negative consequences, and as I continue to become more aware of this quality of mine, I continue to grow more thoughtful and introspective of how I allow time to shape me. All in all, despite my present level of awareness, you could say that I can be pretty hard-headed, straining at the leash of bureaucratic resistance, which leads me to two personal expressions I’d like to use for the continuation of my 12.12.12 digression….

Since I was a child, rocks, crystals, minerals, and other geometric, earthly formations have fascinated me. I’ve experienced numerous, dusty, roadside rock attractions, and still can easily spend hours, digging through dingy bins in search of buried treasures, living in worlds that only geodes can create. In my earlier years, my dad got me a rock tumbler and I’d polish my backyard beauties to a gleaming shine, displaying the uniqueness in the mundane for my family members and friends. Crystaline growth still fascinates me. Somehow knowing that rock formations and gemstones took millions and billions of years to form, well, is it quite inspiring for a gung-ho, head strong individual like myself; especially when I consider my attraction for the magnificence that exudes through repetitious patterning.

To this day, handling minerals in particular offer comfort, in a worry stone sort of way, a heavy distraction for my fingers when my mind feels restless or ungrounded. Staring and delving deep into the solid permutations of rock formations provides for me a profound understanding that time and pressure shape all things. And as far as I am aware, if I may personify inanimate objects: rocks, or other stubble derived from earthen materials, practice an extreme level of patience in order to participate in the process that makes them what they are. For some reason, I haven’t quite mastered this level of graceful patience, believing that my erratic attempts to control time will, well, stand the tests of time.

A personal hero of mine, Andy Goldsworthy, an environmental artist builds his life and work around the evolutionary concept of time using methodically placed, organic materials. In his film Rivers and Tides: Working with Time, he demonstrates his extraordinary abilities with curiously balanced creations only to be washed away by the ocean’s tides. He disperses stone ground iron-oxide into a flowing mountain stream to convey the fleeting nature of process, demonstrating that through this exercise he then becomes a piece in the complexity of the life,  influencing aspects of earthly design, organisms, and ecosystems. Throughout the film, his audience gets to see Andy in all forms of routine, from his artistic construction to chewing breakfast with this family. Here and there you hear sidbits of Andy’s personal relationship with time. You get to witness how he uses time to advantage, highlighting its transient nature and preciousness of his work’s existence, and you also get to see how time can abuse his efforts, undermining his project prior to completion, leaving him frustrated and crushed by the absence of display for his effort.

The kinship that I share with Goldworthy’s imaginative endeavors is this: I have an attraction and attachment to time and making art out of the destruction/construction of life’s patterns is fascinating. It’s obviously a love-hate relationship at this point, and I remain undecided of its own feelings about me. Sometimes time is kind, giving me room to grow, other times time feels strung along by a White Rabbit, dictating deadlines and unrealistic expectations of what’s possible given the circumstances.

Recalling that external stresses are truly internal reflections, it’s probably safe to assume that it’s unreasonable for me to put this all on time, and it most likely due to my own accord. I also admit that time generally is a human-constructed factor. Time zones and clocks are bi-pedaled concoctions, and other less intellectual animals have allowed time’s movement to continue without much ado, adapting and roaming to where more important things like food, shelter, and water are to be found. This seems like a reasonable approach, however it leaves my ego wanting just a little bit more from the deal that life as dealt me.

Furthermore, I must heavily lean upon the construct of time to elaborate a very key point for me: trust. Learning to trust the process that only time can provide is a lesson currently underway. Embodying the idea that truly trusting is a 24-hour a day job, not when my psyche deems it safe… because not having the ability to trust is leaving me frustrated, at odds, and just plain lost at times digging in a dusty bin where my full range of consciousness is skewed. Remaining open, heart visible for all to see, is the only way that I shall truly understand what elements will enable me to move forward and to continue to help those around me.

And as awkward as it all is at present, I still whole-heartedly accept the challenge to walk the walk of my medicine… and it’s safe to admit that sometimes I really don’t have time figured out just yet. We’re working on it, the open dialogue is rough, written in a language I am learning to understand. What I can tell you is this: the conversation is pure, getting to a nexus where metastable and supersaturation can occur, a place where undiluted, clarified nucleation and crystal growth can manifest soundly within me.

And lastly, the remaining golden nuggets that I gleaned for the month of August, Goldworthy’s work demonstrated his need for a witness. Whether or not I’d like to admit, I desire some acknowledgement that, yes, Kimberly Ann Brown, not only existed for a small blip in the grand ol’ opre of the universe, but that I did something while I was here. I am the record of me and with my formal curtain draw, only the immortal rocks shall remain. Questions that I now ask: who shall carry on the dreams and aspirations of me that are not yet fulfilled, founded in the bedrock of humanity?

And to be totally honest with those of you still reading to the very end, the funny thing is, what the what that actually defines me is not that important to me. I realize that the almighty recognition I seek is that I’m human, lopsided as all get out. What I desire most out of this chaotic stream of events is a witness, a companion, who stands the tests of time, who can endure the drama and tragedy, and who can offer hugs and high-fives. Someone who is simply able to remain present so that as I reflect on a moment, take in the full breadth of it, I can look over and say, “Wow! Did you experience that, too?”