Blog 95 Epilogue
The Journey (Gary)
I never had a home. It seems a little strange to look back on the seven years of writing this journey, walking The Hill. It has been an unwinding that has taken me through my whole life.
For a while I thought it was about loss, grief, and gratitude. Then I thought it was about abandonment. Then I thought it was about Vietnam. Now I realize it was all about finding a home for my neglected three-year-old who had to deny the depth of his aloneness, and fear. He was a scared little boy, and I didn't know that till now. He was so scared he shut down all his feelings so he could take care of people so maybe they would take care of him. The little old man had a little kid inside. Well, he is now out and looking for his toys. I have to father him in such a way that he values feelings more than pictures. That was all I had then, but now I can fully feel—Vitality.
Vitality (Webster’s II): 1. The characteristic that distinguishes the living from the nonliving. 2. The capacity to grow or develop. 3. Physical or intellectual vigor and energy.
My realizations had come together one early morning shortly after waking. The image is like that of a dark helium balloon bouncing around amongst other dark helium balloons way up in the sky. But the gas that had filled them is not helium but fear fed by absence of human contact. Fantasy balloons. Now the gas has seeped out and my balloon has fallen to earth and my feet now touch the ground. It's more than an Aha! moment. I feel I have let go of something big. In absence of fear I find myself.
It's funny to me how answers or perhaps tips come to me from the Universe. I am realizing so much of my life's void has been filled up with fantasy because of an absence of touch and feelings. As I begin to realize this and write about it, I notice that one of my wife's clients dropped off a book and left it on our desk at the office. I couldn't help but notice it even before I reached this place within myself in the last couple weeks. Then, when I understood the subtle message I grabbed it, and now can't put it down: Feelings, Buried Alive Never Die by Karol Truman. I don't know if it will address my new reality, but it certainly seems like another helper from the other side giving me a hot tip. I again remember my mother's typical response to any negative feelings I had: "Oh Gary, don't feel that way." In other words, don't feel. Also, don't hug. I don't remember ever getting hugs or kisses from my mother. I do remember asking her to tuck me in. She would do that. That I liked. There was no affection or soothing in my family unless there was drinking. The only time I remember my relatives fawning over me was when they had been drinking. It felt, as a child would say, “icky.”
I recently discovered the word vitality as though for the first time. I thought it captured what I was looking for. I wanted a vital life and relationships. Now the word was just a stopover to the core need for feeling. I feel a different harmony in my body, and today, Valentine's Day, I woke with a feeling of enthusiasm for this new world of feeling. I no longer need to go further than my own back yard, as I feel the joy of watching my dog chase his ball, and I watch his big blond ears go up and down. I used to feel my feelings for others. Now I can have what I need for myself.
I believe I have put it all together now for this journey. My wanderings on The Hill have taken me on a circuitous path of unwinding, not just my life but my ability to feel. Being with myself and my friend for four to six hours a week on the mountain has taken me through a whole range of feelings. It has only been through these feelings that I now understand my life-long hunger for connection, my fantasy life, my loneliness, my need for excitement, and my grief.
Vietnam highlighted my wound. The search for home was to find a home in me, a place where I could be at home with my feelings. It wasn't because of an ex-wife or a war. It was that I couldn't be at home while all that was stirring on the inside. Yet I had been taught that it was all about the world outside of myself. Six months of a daily grief meditation (thanks for that, Roberta) brought me closer to it, but it hadn't been enough. Eighteen years of therapy off and on had not been enough. Fantasy and material things have been a life-long substitution for feelings, touch, and love. I startle at this a bit now when I think about how much of our world believes that life is about how much excitement something can bring to you rather than just being where you are. The simplest sport gets amped to its highest potential of technology. The unspoken message is that you and yours are not enough.
I am tired of wandering and looking outside myself. I am happy, even a little blissful to realize that I have it all right here. Oh, I might get distracted from time to time, everyone does. But I know that when I stop a moment and go inside, I'm good. My long journey is done. My hands and nose are no longer pressed on the glass window. There will be other places that also have meaning for me, but I now have a sense of peace I have never had before. Big sigh here.
In the book I just mentioned, Feelings Buried Alive Never Die, Karol Truman says it well:
Many people have a difficult time identifying their feelings and their thoughts. This was my problem, also. Too many of us have been taught—or perhaps not allowed—to be cognizant of what's going on inside our mind or our body. Perhaps, due to overwhelming pain or abuse, our early conditioning kept us from being consciously aware of our feelings and thoughts. Consequently, it's impossible for us to be sensitive or mindful of them today. Or, we could simply be so accustomed to turning our pain and hurt over to something (i.e., drugs/food) or someone else to fix, that our ability to be consciously aware of what is taking place inside ourselves has turned off. It's usually for these reasons we haven't been schooled in how to resolve our feelings for ourselves. Sadly, the majority of the human family's consciousness is either fragmented or missing entirely. You may be asking, "So what do I do about it?" Your first challenge will be to get in touch with your external and internal dialogue. That is, what you are saying out loud and what you are saying to yourself. What you say—out loud and silently—leads you to what you are thinking inside your head. This then leads you to what you are feeling inside. One way to help yourself become more aware is be sensitive to what is happening around you. Take yourself outside any situations and just be an observer . . . .
Great sex doesn't come from having the coolest car. Nor from connecting with images and symbols of things instead of what is real. Nor from creating fantasies, or ritualizing things rather than substance and sustenance. Great sex involves touching and making it real.
Emotional markers, that’s what this is all about.
I think when we started these walks we were two disappointed, adult, abandoned children who tried desperately to be good enough to be validated by the world, a world that will never give our inner child the validation and love we have so desperately been seeking. Whether it is through physical fitness or the presentation of the well-intended therapist, we carry an edge. It is an edge of disappointment. The blame, if you will, belongs to our parents who could not give it to us, and not to the world or our relationships. However, blame could actually be placed back many generations, so what purpose does it serve? None. It would be a waste of energy to blame anyone.
What I am certain of now is that my need to come home to something, to belong after Vietnam, is only part of the deeper wound of abandonment. The walks have helped me unwind it all, and Mark and I are twins in grief who were not given the validation we needed from our childhood gods. The love we have been so desperately seeking is here in Nature, and here within us. It has been a circular walk that unwound our histories, our wounds, our struggles, and anxieties. It took us away from ourselves for the purpose of the telling. It gave us a mirror to see ourselves, and a witness for validation. In essence it has cleansed and re-birthed us. Mother Earth has nurtured and guided us into becoming adult men who are deep, full, and present. The journey has been a long one but worth every step.
Thank you Great Spirit that moves in all of us.
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