Staying present, facing difficult feelings

Sharing, vision, community - Auroville

The plan was not going to plan. It was time to leave Dharamkot/Dharmashala and I was all set to travel to Auroville. I felt excited and uplifted as I contemplated the change.

Researching trains and buses and so on and reminiscing about my first stay back in 2005. I knew that it was monsoon season in Tamil Nadu and to begin with this didn't bother me.

My intention in revisiting Auroville was to take in as much community living as I could and explore in ways that weren't possible the first time, when I was fully absorbed with daily ashtanga vinyasa yoga sessions.

I envisaged myself cycling on the red dirt roads, visiting magically named communities such as Spirulina Farm, Buddha Garden, Creativite, Sadhana Forest. I was keen to volunteer at the Pour Tous food co-operative, to swim in la Piscine, to sing bhajans in the warm evenings under broad leaved banana trees. I was in love with my vision!

However the more research I did, the more I had to acknowledge and accept that if I did travel to Auroville during November, I was likely to be rained on -  a lot. I had to be very honest with myself and admit that while a day or two of rainy weather is an enjoyable contrast, the prospect of heavy rain most days, damp clothes and bedding and waiting inside for most of the day was just not going to work for me. There could be thunderstorms, strong winds and last year a cyclone. I just didn't want to chance it.

Monsoon in Pondicherry

So I let go of the plan. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go?

Rishikesh hadn't worked out, it was turning cold in the north, it was too early to head to the beach, I wanted to do something more purposeful and engaged. I was deeply, deeply stuck.

I found myself walking around McLeod, browsing the shops and wandering aimlessly. That afternoon I hiked around the surrounding hills until my legs ached. Finally, for dinner I ordered a huge thali with extras, far more than my body needed.

I had enough self-awareness to know that I was trying to avoid or escape myself. Distracting myself with activity and sedating myself with food in an attempt to hold feelings down. It was an old coping mechanism that had served me well throughout most of my life, but it doesnt really work anymore.

Back in my room at the guesthouse, finally alone with myself there was no escape. A powerful surge of emotion erupted from within, much like a volcano. Hot repressed content, buried deep now discharging itself with dramatic force.

It's all too much. This trip, it's too hard. I can't keep going. I can't manage on my own. All these decisions - it's too tiring. I've had enough, I want to go home...

Intense suffering

I sobbed and sobbed for well over an hour. Out of tissues, I covered my teary face with a washcloth.

I was frightened by the intensity of the experience, waves and waves of strong feeling were being released. As though I had accessed some primal terror, every cell of my being was expressing fear.

I wondered whether I needed to call a doctor or get some kind of help, I felt so out of control. Distressed, lonely and anxious, I eventually surrendered to sleep.

The following morning,  I awoke with a fuzzy head and gingerly opened my eyes. I was still alive. The dawn had arrived in rosy splendour and the birds were singing in the new day.   Emotionally I felt sore and vulnerable, as though I was recovering from a surgery. I knew I would have to be super sensitive and kind to myself.

The intense, scary, fearful feelings were no longer present, in their place a kind of tender self-love. It was a great relief. I acknowledged myself for what I had undergone: an emotional catharsis. I was proud of myself and thankful that no matter how disturbing and frightening, I had stayed present with myself and allowed strong feelings to come up and be released. It was some kind of breakthrough, a victory of sorts.

Gently I took myself into McLeod for my regular breakfast in Gyaki, a Tibetan cafe. I was pleased to be greeted by Olga, lively and attractive young french-portugese who had just completed Vipassana meditation retreat. We chatted most mornings over large bowlfuls of fruit and curd and chunks of cakey tibetan bread.

I risked being real and told her about my upset and anxiety and lack of direction. Olga listened attentively with warmth and understanding. I felt validated by her compassionate presence and it was a  reminder that it is safe to express myself and receive emotional support, even though I was very vulnerable. She gave me great advice, which I followed: 

It takes time and now you have been very upset so it will take a few days to become calm and clear. Let this settle, wait with it. There is no rush to go anywhere, it will all happen in good time.

After a day or two of giving space to myself and treating myself with as much love, nurture and kindness as possible, the new direction revealed itself.  A small bhakti ashram in north Kerala. Yes!  It felt right. I spent that day in a state of conscious gratitude, Thank you Thank you Thank you my continuous prayer to the Universe.

Feeling our feelings, why should it be such a drama? Early on my spiritual journey I dedicated a year to an intensive psycho-dynamic psychotherapy.  My skilled and patient therapist helped me to explore my early childhood and upbringing and we identified early on that my parents disapproved of strong emotion and that to survive, I shut down the feeling part of myself. Feelings were bad as they led to parental withdrawal, which to an infant is a survival issue.

As an adult, reclaiming this hidden part of myself feels like a gift, I want to live as a whole person, experiencing challenging, darker feelings as well as the joyful and ecstatic. I am living on the edge of myself and stretching into more of myself. It requires courage but the rewards are beyond measure: reunion with the true self and emotional freedom.

Blessings of wholeness

Jennifer

www.auroville.org