Special Weapons and Tactics

July 26th, 2009

It amazes me how easy I can slip into a melancholy mood. On Friday, as I sat writing in the plaza, I was alive with vibrant spiritual energy. Friday evening, I thoroughly enjoyed a wonderful experience as I began connecting with a whole new group of friends. On Wednesday, I had gone to my first breakfast with a group of American women who live in Cozumel. During breakfast, two of them were talking about their Friday evening game nights. “That sounds really fun,” I had hinted. Before I could blink, Friday evening had arrived, and I was eating delicious desserts and enjoying delightful conversation while playing ‘Cranium’ with a fun group of new friends.

 

But then Saturday happened. Perhaps my body was simply expressing a delayed rebellion to my strenuous bicycle excursion from Thursday. My forehead was quite sunburned and I had definitely pushed myself to extremes in the hot, blazing sun. I also recognized that I had experienced mild symptoms of heat exhaustion both during and after that journey.

 

“But if this is physical exhaustion, then why had I felt so incredibly good on Friday?” I asked myself. “Maybe my emotions just got the better of me.”

 

While relaxing Saturday morning, I allowed my tired mind to drift as I checked email and played a few games on my laptop. Feeling drained, I lay down and rested for a while. Then I turned on the TV and watched CSI with Spanish subtitles. Before I knew what was going on, I was back on the computer playing games once again.

 

I began to recognize an old pattern. Instead of just playing a few games, I was drifting into a robotic mindless trance. While continuing to physically go through the game-playing motions, my mind was actually drifting in an entirely different and familiar dimension. I was fully aware of the depressed feeling in my gut as I monotonously watched the minutes ticking away on my watch. Minutes gradually turned into hours, consuming my entire morning and eventually chipping away at the whole afternoon as well.

 

But there was a difference to my pattern this time. In past years, during such periods of depression, I had become mentally and emotionally lost in these mindless diversions of computer games. Yes, in the past, I had been consumed in the hopelessness—feeling helpless, frightened, and trapped by life circumstances.

 

Yesterday, throughout this entire moody experience, I simply became an observer. Instead of owning and buying into the feelings, I simply watched them, knowing there was absolutely no reasonable foundation for their existence. I have never been happier in my life, and have never felt more free to follow my heart. Even so, the unexplained depressed feelings flowed randomly through me with the force of a small river.

 

By mid afternoon, still being the observer of this mindless process, I was quite surprised to witness intense anger arising within my body. The fury and rage was directed toward my former religion. “That is quite interesting,” I thought to myself as I continued being the spectator, “I thought I had resolved that emotion long ago.”

 

Allowing the angry feelings to continue flowing through me, I realized that they were actually related to fears of the future. In just three short weeks, I will spend another week in Utah. My youngest son has asked a beautiful young woman to marry him, and they will be completing their sacred vows in a Mormon temple.

 

Continuing to observe myself, I recognized that I was resurrecting past painful experiences and projecting them into the future—the future that was very rapidly approaching.

 

I could already sense the sadness of knowing that religious walls would prevent me from being present during my own son’s wedding—as I am not considered worthy to enter within those sacred temple walls. I was already experiencing the awkwardness of wondering which wedding activities I may or may not be invited to attend. Already envisioning the reception, I could see myself sitting off to one side with a couple of friends, enjoying the festivities—but still feeling like an outsider.

 

Yes, I observed the anger flow into my body, and I watched it morph into sadness as it flowed through me and soon exited.

 

No, I would not dwell on the emotion. I knew it consisted merely of thoughts and memories filled with the energy of the past, projected onto the future. “I am a whole new person, and this is an entirely new experience.” I reminded myself. “My peace and happiness comes from internal connections to my source and living in the moment—not from any external events.”

 

As 4:00 p.m. rolled around, still lost in the mindless wanderings, I told myself “Stop … you need to get out of your pajamas, shower, and get some food … you’re starving and you need to get ready to go dance on the plaza tonight.”

 

Another hour later, at 5:00 p.m., I finally coaxed my fingers to click my computer into a state of hibernation. Feeling determined to shift my day towards positive energy, I went through the motions of bathing, styling my hair, applying makeup, and even consumed a yummy meal at a small outdoor restaurant adjacent to the plaza. But the melancholy mood continued to follow me around like my shadow.

 

As I joined Miguel in waiting for the plaza festivities to start, we both sat in awkward silence. I briefly explained that I was very tired, probably from my bicycle ride. After I shared a little about my Thursday adventure, he explained that he was feeling sadness, but he didn’t try to explain why.

 

“I think I am going to leave and go home to rest.” I told him. I just couldn’t see myself trying to pretend to enjoy the dancing while intense emotional moods were still rumbling through me.

 

“I might do the same.” He answered.

 

As I walked through the dark narrow streets, heading toward home, I was so consumed by my own river of feelings, that I didn’t give much thought to the question, “Why is Miguel sad?” I’ll have to pursue that one later.

 

A New Day

 

I awoke this morning at 1:00 a.m. to the sensation of moisture misting onto my face. A few seconds later, I realized that a huge downpour was releasing itself with incredible energy in the streets just outside my open bedroom window. Rather than taking the time to absorb the powerful rejuvenating energy of the storm, I tiredly closed the windows and returned to bed—my exhaustion had not yet subsided.

 

At 7:00 a.m., determined to start my day with new energy, I showered and peacefully strolled toward the plaza. The effects of the early morning drenching were still evident throughout the damp narrow streets. While walking, I had time to ponder. “I have given enough attention to these emotions.” I told myself. “It is time to let them flow on—time for me to rejoin the present moment.”

 

I began by sitting on a bench, enjoying a podcast of Oprah Winfrey and Eckhart Tolle on my IPOD. While I loved the spiritually inspiring conversation, exhaustion again overwhelmed me. Pressing the pause button on my IPOD, I curled up on my park bench, closed my eyes, and attempted to sleep off the emotional hangover.

 

Finally I heard it—that little silent internal voice that annoyingly proclaimed “You won’t feel better until you write about this experience … there was a reason you went through all of these emotions … get your laptop out now … come on … do it!”

 

Surrendering to what I knew to be the truth, I sat up on the bench, looked out toward the ocean, took several deep breaths, switched on the power button, and began rattling away on my laptop. Now, several hours later, I am beginning to feel energized, renewed with a spiritual connection to who I am and why I am here.

 

I have to laugh. As I write today, I’m sitting on a bench in the gazebo of the plaza, staring out toward the calm ocean waters. For the last half hour, three policemen have been sitting about 20 feet away under a shade tree. Two of them just approached me. “Excuse me. You are an American, right?”

 

“Yes.” I answered, curiously wondering where the conversation was headed.

 

“Can you tell us what SWAT stands for?” one of them asked—as if I was supposed to be an expert.

 

Pausing and smiling, I reached into the back recesses of my mind. “I’m sorry, but I am really not sure.” We bantered around for a few minutes, and came up with the speculation that perhaps it stands for “Special Weapons and Tactics.”

 

The synchronicity of this moment is amazing. As I chatted with these fun policemen, I felt my mood suddenly lighten, and I felt my mouth curve into a big smile. After they walked away, I began to search for an analogy to tie this whole experience together.

 

All day yesterday—and even this morning—my whole state of being had been held hostage by old, stale, worn out, dead, depressing emotions. I could easily have bought into the gravity of the whole situation, and rushed in with weapons drawn, determined to recklessly kill those emotions before they had a chance to play themselves out.

 

But instead, I drew on the wisdom of my own “Special Weapons and Tactics.”

 

My special weapon was “Using no weapon at all”. I have learned that fighting against emotions only reinforces the negative energy and strength of those emotions. There is truth in the statement, “What you resist persists.”

 

My first special tactic was to stand back and maintain the role of observer. Allowing the hostage standoff to play itself out, I gave the emotions time to process, time to flow and develop into something concrete that I could identify and recognize. Once the real emotion surfaced, I could then employ my other special tactic.

 

My second tactic was to simply shine the light of truth onto those dark emotions. From writing about these emotions, I realize how silly they really are. As I examine the hearts of each member of my dear family, I can easily recognize that we are all simply doing the best we know how under complicated circumstances. Each one of us is acting from a state of genuine desires—from a place of pure unconditional love.

 

As I ponder about my former religion, I don’t feel anger—I feel gratitude for the blessings in my life that came as a result of my religious upbringing. Much of who I am has been positively influenced by the religious teachings of my youth.

 

Yes, situations and circumstances appear to be awkward and emotionally difficult, but in reality, life is just providing me with another obstacle course so that I can practice honing my skills of unconditional love. I love the miracles that come from shifting my perceptions.

 

© Brenda Larsen, 2009

 

Comments are closed.