Demolition

A neighboring office building has been vacant for the last several months and some noisy construction surrounding it has been more than just a nuisance for a while now. The penetrating sound felt like hundreds of small earthquakes shattering through my body as I wondered what those construction workers were really up to.

Photo by Stephanie Watters Flores on Unsplash

It has been about two weeks now that I have watched the building slowly disappear. First it looked like all the windows have been broken, and then suddenly the walls were gone too. Today or was it yesterday that I realized that the roof was now also missing. The building stood in front of me naked; what was left of it was just a rusty skeleton. It was just a bunch of metal beams now with the wind swiftly passing through them, blowing away all of those stories that accumulated within.

Demolition is the word used for this type of death. The word also means destruction, flattening, leveling, or being defeated or torn down. Who were the faces that used to work in this building? What kinds of memories have they left behind? Were they happy tales of office banter or perhaps some unpleasant stories of abuse or of people feeling stuck or getting laid off?

Well, it was just a building, and I must admit not a very attractive one. The word demolition still kind of strikes a chord in me though. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of the word demon. A demon is supposedly a malevolent spirit that possesses a person. Could an old, useless building could also have been full of malevolent energies that needed to be set free?

To me, most people are possessed by some kinds of demon. It may not necessarily be an evil spirit, but a bad memory or a feeling that is keeping them stuck. There is so much baggage that accumulates over the years, that it makes it really difficult for the breath to pass through so we can dislodge it. In order to remove the debris that is keeping us stuck, we have to work hard to deconstruct the container.

We have to take off the shades from our windows, so that we may be able to see the clear picture. Then, slowly take down our walls one at a time, in order to make space for those memories and feelings. These emotions were trapped within those four walls for years, and so when the walls have been removed, they can finally expand to their true size. The heavy roof then needs to be lifted, to let the sun light everything up. This is when we become aware of the demons, and we give them the attention they were longing for.

We stand there, just these skeletons of our former selves and let the wind sweep between our bones. With deep breaths the demolition begins to take shape, and all of those stories begin to collapse, to get brushed away. And when it’s finally over, we are again open to experience life again, and we surrender what remains until we are totally empty ready to build again.

The skeleton of the office building is still around today, but my coworkers and I don’t expect it to be around much longer. We may come to work next week only to be greeted by the vacant lot. Then any new onlookers would not even be able to tell that once there stood a building full of human life being spent.

Running on Empty

I attend Tai Chi class every Monday evening, and I always get surprised about how well or how messy my moves turn out. I go there with no expectations, but at some points during class I either start feeling self-conscious or sometimes a little arrogant. In the end, I always feel satisfied with whatever result, as after two hours of practice, I finally recall that it is about the journey.

Tai Chi class is like a replica of a mini life, which I get the opportunity to relive each week. I learn and forget to get lost in the movement, and then I remember again. Thoughts are scattered through my mind and the wind inside of me blows them away. I flow, I make mistakes and laugh about them. I kick my legs into the air as my muscles hold me. I am balanced and could fall at any moment if I lose my focus.

I am always learning and unlearning. Bruce Lee said, “Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality”. I am learning more when I come to class without expectations and don’t put too much pressure on myself. Those are the best days. The days when I enter as a new student, open to corrections, not afraid of being confused. Those days bring the greatest rewards and most surprises.

And so, I attempt to use this concept in my daily tasks. I wake up telling myself that I am open to what the universe has in store for me that day. I try not to predict how things will go, I take it slow. I remind myself that I don’t know everything, that even if I have vast knowledge of a certain subject, there is always something there I haven’t seen.

When I don’t have heavy expectations from myself, I don’t take myself so seriously. When things don’t go smoothly, I don’t have a preconceived reason to blame myself. I am gentler and can relax into the discomfort.

When something good occurs, I can feel the wonder with so much more intensity when it is a surprise. I feel like a kid again, as I laugh with amazement at how the universe makes everything fall into place without us knowing.

Blessing in Disguise

When we get triggered, the first emotion that usually comes up to the surface feels like anger. I heard someone say recently that anger usually comes up, because anger is the easiest emotion to feel. It sounds like a more valid feeling, than sadness that is sometimes frowned upon. No pun intended, well maybe. Today, I got unexpectedly triggered during a conversation with my mother.

Intense anger pulsated through my body, and my first instinct was to try to deflect it by reading or going for a walk, but I decided to do a little scavenger hunt instead. I lay on my bed and wondered how I can dive deeper into the anger to uncover what was the actual emotion behind the trigger.

The anger kept growing and growing like a balloon being inflated, and it was like I disappeared for a moment.

Suddenly I saw the number “2” written on a small piece of paper. When the picture became clearer, I realized it was my grade book from grammar school. In Poland, “2” was the equivalent of an “F”. I realized that the feeling hiding behind the anger was linked to my attachment to this story. It is a story of ashamed little girl that was supposed to flunk three or four years in a row, but somehow managed to move up to the next grade thanks to her highly influential parents.

The other kids in her class knew that she was supposed to stay back for another year and were always surprised to see her get promoted along with them. The little girl felt very ashamed that she could not please her classmates, teachers, or her parents. She felt so ashamed that she carried unknowingly carried this feeling all her life.

I lay the bed and the anger started wrapping all around my intestines, hugging my stomach, liver, and spleen. I watched the story unfold in my mind, and the images transmuted the feeling into its rightful owner: shame. I took deep breaths hitting my stomach, then my heart with oxygen at fast speed, and I started coughing, coughing up the shame.

I said, “I release this shame.” I kept repeating this, and the pressure released a little with each time.

I imagined myself first erasing the grades on that report card and later deleting the story. The shame we carry is a silent shame, but it attaches itself to everything. We could sit there and feel ashamed of our own thoughts that no one else can even hear. It just sneaks in, sabotaging moments in life where you just want to be spontaneous and free. It is so hard to catch when it’s so often in disguise, and so sometimes I am grateful for these triggers, even though they may ruin a perfectly good Friday night.

Taking Steps

Yesterday, I watched the first dragonfly of the season jet over the giant puddle in the parking lot. The buzzy transformer was bright blue, like the morning sky. In many cultures around the world, the dragonfly symbolizes change, transformation and growth. We are now also in the heart of Spring, and the world around us has already practically blossomed, shedding its wintry gloom.

All morning, before my walk, I was dealing with racing thoughts, trying to breathe through them, and dropping into my heart instead. I drop into my heart and the negative thoughts shed like pollen all around me. The essence lingers there, it’s difficult to escape. They are fearful thoughts full of uncertainty and despair. I dive into my heart loving them for what they are, one moment at a time.

The dragonfly today reminded me that even though it seems like the journey is steep and sometimes I forget the steps, I know that this is where I’m supposed to be. I don’t have to judge myself so much, because I know that I am trying my best now.

Controlling thoughts is almost like trying to control people. It doesn’t work. I cannot manipulate my mind into thinking up different stories, and so I let it ramble on. I leave the chatter there but turn down the volume. I understand that it is just a podcast of my insecurities playing on repeat and remind myself that the point isn’t about coming up with solutions.

I breathe deeper into my heart, knowing that my fears are slowing flaking off and Summer will be here before we know it. I look forward to seeing more dragonflies doing their work, glistening in the sun – waiting for us to notice how far we’ve come.

Heavy Machinery

Does it seem wrong to compare a tired, aging woman to an old washing machine? Her hips seem rusty as they are carried by her legs around the room. Those hips through which babies traveled out of her womb now move with difficulty. Someone calls her name, Susan, and she spins around slowly like a washing machine full of water and sweaters and jeans. She feels heavy, her arms dangle lifelessly next to her large pink camisole filled with breasts. Her voice sounds raspy, like she’s a teacher who’s been yelling at her students all day.

She is inside there in that mechanical body, I can see that in her nervous eyes. She speaks and wants to get her point across, says something about varsity jackets for the marching band. I only half-listen; along with the other parents at the meeting I keep staring at the clock.

My foot is shaking and lightly tapping against the floor. I think about how impossible it would be to have to be a high school student again right now. I quickly erase those thoughts and continue staring at the women in the room; the aged ageless women, for I can’t tell how old they are. They are watching me too. We women observe each other and compare each other’s skin, the tired dark circles around our eyes. “Are mine as big as hers?”

I’m thinking about the appliances again and the old washing machine. Are we appliances? I see sad, tired appliances all around. Appliances that have been dedicated to serving their children and husbands but have let themselves go. I think their warranties have expired probably, I wonder about mine. Then, I hear the washing machine again, the meeting is adjourned, and we step out of the school into the pouring rain.

Underneath the Carpet

You have the ability to surprise yourself when you least expect it. It’s like when you buy a new apartment with shaggy 1970’s carpeting, only to discover shiny hardwood floors underneath. This is the same way you start shining, once all the crap that you have been hiding behind finally falls off.

Yeah, take off that cozy blanket of excuses and be the person you were meant to be. It’s a strange feeling knowing that the hardwood floor was there all along, but you were walking on that outdated, stained, let’s make it orange, carpet. You were selling yourself short, and now you realized how beautiful you are. You really felt your capabilities sink into that head of yours, and you didn’t feel small anymore.

It’s like someone turned on the light in a dark room, it is so dramatic to feel the contrast of what you felt before inside your body. You felt uncertain about it a few days ago, and you thought self-love was just an elusive subject people posted about on Instagram. After years of searching for yourself, today something clicked, and out of the shadows you appeared.

It’s like the missing piece of the puzzle was mysteriously inserted in the gaping hole. Your body felt fulfilled and relaxed. You just sat there with yourself, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, because you had you. You didn’t need that guy that didn’t like you back, and didn’t care about he boss that just deflected the blame on you. The bills that were piling up in your virtual statements did not matter either, because they were not you. All the opinions of everyone who said them did not bother you either, because they didn’t stick to your skin. And in that unexpected moment you felt free, and you hoped it would last.

You Don’t Know

Something unexpected happens and you feel surprised. You don’t fully know why it happened but something happened and it changed your routine. It changed the routine of your day and the order of your thoughts and it created different emotions from the ones you are used to.

Photo by Nik Ramzi Nik Hassan on Unsplash

Maybe there was a new surge of hope or a sudden stomach full of fear, nonetheless this emotion felt stimulating. Then, after a few minutes, the initial feeling of surprise started wearing off.

This is where the moment becomes dangerous, and you might start brewing up a story in your mind. You might apply significance or meaning to what just transpired, before you get the chance to have it actually play out. You might call or text a friend to quickly share your experience, before the tiniest details are forgotten.

You might start daydreaming and making plans. You could start feeling anxious and thinking of the worst possible outcome. Stop. This is the moment that will trap you in a fantasy of your own making, a tale that will prevent the flower of your being from unfolding in the order that it is meant to.

Take a deep breath and realize that the racing thoughts in your mind are just thoughts – you don’t know anything. You don’t know anything; the door is wide open; a brand new moment awaits if you just stop trying to control everything.

Playing with Fire

Suddenly it felt like there was a fire burning inside my stomach. I felt the muscles in my arms tighten and stretch, as if I was turning into some kind of beast. The feeling of anger was unbearable and even my slowest, deepest breaths were doing little to calm me down. It was as if the air hitting my lungs was actually feeding the fire.

Photo by Peter John Maridable on Unsplash

There are so many people, nowadays, saying how we should go with the flow and that whatever happens to us is simply meant to be. We accept these projected truths and try to repress our emotions as we go on with our lives. I totally agree that the majority of the things that happen to us carry important lessons that bring us the benefit of growth in the long run. “In the long run,” is the part that I feel creates the full picture though.

I was having one of the best days, and suddenly a coworker interrupting my flow triggered a slight reaction in my body. I had my headphones in my ears, but he kept asking me questions about movies that I didn’t watch. I felt it was evident from my body language that I was not interested. I was listening to a podcast about letting go, and here my coworker could not just let me listen.

Perhaps, I was actually mad at the guy in the podcast, and my coworker only added oil into the fire. “Just let it go!” These are the words that I keep hearing from everybody. Then I go about my day trying to force it and focusing on the good things. This does not help when there are still active fires burning in my body.

Anyway, the fires kept spreading, and by the time I was aware of them, it was not possible for me to control them on my own. I just sat there at my desk letting the anger burn through me, then I got home and let it burn me some more, then I went to meditation class and finally after the 2 hour class I felt some relief.

Today I am feeling much better, but just learning my lesson that it is okay to feel angry. Even though the universe or God may have a specific plan for you and things don’t always work out the way you hoped they would, your feelings are still valid and need to be processed.