receive

I have worked on receive, worked hard and long. I consistently receive compliments, help, support, suggestions, and love without feeling I must even the score and return in kind. I think I can safely retire this from my goal list.

The next word: ADORE.

this vivid in response to consciously incubating them, I may need to start a new goal about dream journaling or listening to my intuition. Last night I asked, “What is my best resource if I get tired or overwhelmed with the processing of my chakra two issues?” I wanted to get some tools on my belt before I headed into the jungle, to mix metaphors.

The dream was funny and to the point. In my dream, I was running along a path. There were lots of other people, walking and running for short stretches, but not me. I just ran and ran and ran and it felt great. Then I was reading a magazine that was comparing brands of makeup and hair/body care as I ran through a natural foods and products market where people were oohing and aahing over organic juices and such. I tasted some lemon honey that was delicious.

I have to say that I’m stunned at how literal this dream was. No symbolic language here. Move your ass, read magazines, keep to natural products and eat lemon and honey together. My b-i-l called me at 6:30 this morning to say he wasn’t emotionally prepared to walk in the rain. So I hauled my ass into the freezing rain and walked for 35 minutes. I even ran a few short spurts. I kept saying to my legs, “What are you doing? Stop it! You’ve made your point.” It really felt like my legs were in control, not my mind. My mind wanted to go home. My legs weren’t done. Perhaps this is a good sign of working on/listening to my first chakra. (she said, hoping SG would read and comment) ;)

When I got home, my legs were soaked to the skin even though I’d worn leggings under my pants and my thighs stayed red and cold for a good thirty minutes. I’m not hardy. I don’t like exercise. Or so I thought. This receiving during my dreams is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced in terms of inner answers. I bought new shoes tonight so I can keep walking and running without my toes getting wet. I feel like I’m on a journey and I don’t recall buying the ticket or getting on the plane.

I think tonight I’ll ask how I can heal my first chakra. I’m hoping to dream of hot chocolate and sex.

I met mahinui this weekend and we talked about receiving. I had thought of this in terms of receiving help, but she pointed out that if we aren’t receptive in one area, it affects others. I hadn’t thought about that.

I’ve been experimenting with incubating dreams by lying on my right side and asking for dreams on particular issues. What the hell was I thinking? I had dream hangover all day on Saturday after I asked on Friday night to be shown what was negatively affecting my second chakra (sex, money, creativity). I’m going to keep track of the dreams I receive here, since I keep forgetting to journal about them.

So back to my second chakra. I dreamed I was trying to save a plant. Some of the branches were rotted black and I was pulling them off. They were slimy and disgusting. I split the plant between two pots, trying to isolate the healthy parts, but both had rot. Then, as I pulled away one of the branches, I noticed small, hard insects, about the size of a grain of rice. There were hundreds – maybe thousands – of them at the base of the branch. There’s no way to describe the disgust and horror that I felt. It was the strange intensity of dream emotions. They seemed cemented on and I was afraid that if I tried to wash them away or disturbed them in any way, they would swarm. I asked the other people in the room, who I couldn’t quite see, whether I could use alcohol on the plant, but got no reply.

There was a second dream about being in a high school setting, at some sort of assembly. I had driven in with a girl named Mary, but she dumped me and I felt horribly conspicuous and isolated, sitting alone at the end of one of the benches while the other people at the table joked with each other. I pretended to be in on one of the inside jokes, an effort that fell flat, then managed to flip my pen across the table and had to pick it up off the floor. (Remember the agony of being a teenager and feeling out of place and awkward?) When I left, I passed by a woman who asked me to ring the trolley bell for her. I went outside and could barely focus my eyes, crossed the subway tracks and nearly got run over and then didn’t ring the large bell there because I wasn’t sure it was the right one. The dream ended with me walking away in the snow because I didn’t know how to use the subway system and was too timid to ask or try to figure it out.

Damn. High school level insecurity? Hundreds and thousands of horrifying insects after I pull off all the disgusting rotting branches? Gee, I really want to dive into this work now. Actually, the thought of having such a warped image inside me has made me determined to figure out what’s causing it, even if I have to review every decision I can remember making about sex, money and creativity.

But wait, just when you thought this entry couldn’t get any longer, I asked last night for what I should do about my second chakra issues. I dreamed that I was in some sort of workshop in which we were split into small groups and playing a card matching game. I wasn’t sorted into a group, but I pulled my chair into the group nearest me and they accepted me. For some reason I had been dealt a CD booklet as well as normal cards. Near the end of the game, I decided to play it as if it were a card and I put it on the clubs pile. I said, “I guess we could match the number of objects or color or whatever you guys think.” One of the players got angry at that, in a buttoned-mouth, cold way. He accused me of trying to manipulate the game. I said, “You can call me shallow or silly or petty, but to say that I am being manipulative for playing what was dealt to me…I reject that. She (other player) is okay with it and she (other player) is neutral.” Once I said that, the tension left the situation. One of the players, or maybe a coordinator, said that they admired how I always found a way to express myself. The other players, except the tense guy, were smiling.

I took that as good news. If I play the hand that I’m dealt, with flexibility, acknowledging my faults but not allowing others to insult me unfairly, I’ll have good results.

This stupid ebolacold brought up the usual thoughts that people are going to get annoyed or bored with me for being sick. I listened to the thoughts as they chanted, “Mr. Yes is going to get tired of you being sick. He’ll want to be with someone healthier. You should be supporting your sister. Your dad has two cancers now and you’re too sick to help out. You need to do something about that. You need to be healthier. Stop eating junk food. Take your vitamins. Exercise more. Sleep more. You just started this job and you’re already sick? They’re going to regret hiring you.” The thoughts are relentless. It was tempting to jump into the worry stream. Sometimes worrying feels productive, like it proves that I care.

I managed to listen to them with a bit of detachment. As they went on and on and on, I started to feel sorry for the part of me that generates these thoughts. It would be awful to really believe all that about yourself.

Then it hit me. I don’t believe all that about myself! I was listening and feeling compassion for that part of me, but not buying the anxiety it was so eager to sell. BIG step forward. The reality is that Mr. Yes loves every second of time he gets with me, even if my face is melting and I refuse to kiss him so he doesn’t get sick. Last Saturday and Sunday we did nothing but hang out at home with Little Yes and he was radiant with how happy that made him. My sister is going through a rough spot, but she wants me to feel better and doesn’t expect me to make it better. My parents are stronger than the forces of heaven and hell combined and I don’t need to worry about not seeing them for a week or so when I’m sick and contagious. People at work keep telling me how glad they are that I’m there and how valuable I am. My boss told me to stay home. They’re not regretting anything. When I look at the year after my husband died and compare it to now, it’s amazing how well my battered immune system has recovered. I usually take my vitamins, walk almost every day and eat good foods. That’s the reality.

I put this under my Receive goal because in allowing, but not believing, the worried and harsh thoughts and accepting the reality that others value and love me no matter what, I feel both open and strong. Open to receiving their love and appreciation and strong enough to recognize and receive the truth. In the past, life has felt like a choice between being open and being strong. This time I managed both.

Mr. Needsaname gave me a massage. No, not that kind. I got a cramp in my leg and he gave me a surprisingly expert massage for someone who isn’t trained. Instead of lying there wondering if he was expecting one in return, I relaxed, enjoyed his strong hands and idly wondered if I’d feel like reciprocating. It was a very unusual response for me. I can usually relax only during a paid massage, when I know the other person isn’t expecting reciprocation.

I was able to receive because I asked myself what I wanted to do, not what I should do. I wanted to enjoy every minute of his touch and then lie there like a limp rag with a smile on my face. So that’s what I did. And you know what? He thought that was great and understood it as a compliment to his skill. He was happy, I was happy and my leg was very happy.

and graciously received half of my manager’s excellent egg salad sandwich. I will also be receiving free tickets to Evil Dead: the Musical and perhaps a free meal, if my offer to split the cost is declined. My parents are taking me to lunch on Friday.

Little steps.

been paying attention to for about six months now. This conversation made me think of it. I’ll repeat here what I said there:

“I look at my mom and see myself in 36 years if I don’t start receiving right now. Not only do I hate to ask for help, I have trouble receiving it even when freely given. It’s a kind of selfishness on my part, as I know that people who love me honestly enjoy giving to me. My mom, at 76, refuses to entertain the idea that help is anything other than a way for someone to tell her she’s weak. I don’t want to be that woman.”

In Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s book, The Call, she says:

Remember, there is one word you are here to say with your whole being. When it finds you, give your life to it. Don’t be tight-lipped and stingy. Spend yourself completely on the saying. Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.

She talks about how our words are particular words, not big concept words like truth or beauty or love. To find your word, she suggests you look at your failures, where you go unconscious, what you long for but cannot seem to achieve, what gets you into trouble, what robs your life of joy but you continue to pursue.

The word ‘receive’ makes me a little uncomfortable. I want to gloss over it or call myself selfish or shallow, beat myself up for claiming as my word/work something that doesn’t require me to do anything. Yep. That’s my word, all right. I’ve lacerated myself as lazy most of my life, when we all know that’s a ridiculous thought. Something about receiving is survival level scary to me. (I’m awfully good at receiving during sex, though, so at least I have some success on which to build!)

And you know me. If it scares but will not kill me, I’m going to walk right into its mouth. Here I go!