I OM. The Story of Summer

by [email protected]  Sep 20, 2013

When your system is open enough—like when you’re in the kitchen first thing in the morning, half asleep making your tea—someone can say one little thing and sometimes it sets off a chain reaction of little compartments and big steel gates and trap doors springing open throughout the whole of your mind unlocking their contents and spilling them out all over.

One such little thing got through my sleepy defenses this morning.

She asked me about something I said during our weekly TurnOn event last night: “I would love everyone regardless of whether I liked them.” She asked me how that was going and I answered, “Well I actually already have that… You wouldn't know it because I don’t show it, but I can always access compassion and empathy and love for the people in my life. Except for this one person.”

I can’t figure out why I have so much disdain for him. Everything he does makes it worse and I am consistently cruel to him and push him as far away as I can. I fear he uses our association with each other as a way to feel status and importance. I fear what it indicates about me—that someone so inferior to me would think he could use me.

And she asked me, “Well has he ever seen how deeply generous and loving you are underneath all those layers of superiority and judgment?”

And my answer: “Yes. He is one of the few people who has seen it because I showed it to him fully once upon a time.”

And she replied, “Do you think maybe that’s the thing he sees in you that makes him think you’re accessible? Beneath the layers he knows it’s there and that’s the part of you you’re terrified to let him touch?” Oh shit. Yes. Explosions. Yes.

That has got to be it. Her words landed in my body like a heat seeking missile, exploding me in all the places I use my bitch, my superiority, and my status, as a way to keep my love and kindness inaccessible. I have guarded it vigilantly for all my life. Because I am terrified of what would happen if I were just kind. If I just loved. Would all the people hungry for kindness and love devour me? Would I even be a person with a unique personality anymore? Or would I belong to humanity—connected to and serving something greater than myself?

This work we do in our OM practice strips away more and more layers of conditioning, fear, and yes—personality—so that the most tender parts of ourselves can touch the world. Sometimes I’m still afraid of losing myself. I have been afraid my whole life. When I was 21 I had a flash of inspiration I’ll never forget. I decided I would live from compassion, that I would never hide the simple honest love within me behind the judgments and facades I used to keep myself safe. It felt vitally important that I live that way. I knew I could change the world by doing it. But it was too hard for me back then. I didn't know how to stay open—how to sustain it when it got hard—so I ran in the other direction and went back to sleep for a long time. Deep, deep sleep.

10 years later something happened. I lost what felt like everything important in my life and my system was rocked so hard that I cracked right open. I started OMing and began this process of letting myself be seen little by little. I viscerally practiced surrender, vulnerability, and connection in a way that had me strengthen my ability to stay open. I’m grateful and terrified. This practice made it possible that this morning I received a flash of inspiration similar to the one 10 years ago—but the difference is now I actually have a chance to live that way. I have the skill to stay open. I don’t have to go to sleep anymore. So here I am faced with the choice.

I can get by just fine the way I am. Men want me. Women want to be me. I have my pride and superiority intact and they work as very effective shields to hide behind and to take others down with. Or I can choose to give those things up and be deeply humble—so that I can be connected. And accessible. Kind and loving. A human being in service. Today I choose this.