balancing heaven and earth: musings of the jung variety.

Balancing Heaven and Earth: A Memoir of Visions, Dreams, and Realizations by Robert A. Johnson.

I don't think I have ever had such a hard time returning a book to the library before.

I renewed this book the maximum number of times, then checked it in just so I could check it back out again.

It did take me awhile to read the whole thing, that was part of it. 

But I think it was hard to let go of because it became like a close friend to me.

I spent a significant amount of time over the last few weeks processing the content, revisiting the best parts and writing down quotes and elements that I want to remember and come back to.

As I sit down and reflect on this book and what it has meant to me, I am overwhelmed.

I just physically held the book close to my chest and expressed my deepest gratitude over and over and over again to the universe for this gift.

It came exactly when it needed to.

The last couple years I have been so lost, so stuck, so trapped. I have been so depressed and my life has lacked any sense of meaning.

This beautiful book and its wisdom has started bringing all that missing meaning right back to me.

As much as I hate to admit that all these depressing aspects of my life actually served a purpose, I can't really deny it.

I'm not sure I would have been made ready any other way.

I feel like I had to experience that dark night of my soul in order to recognize just what was missing and to be open to these slender threads the universe had waiting for me.

Experiencing this transformation while reading this book and The Dance of the Dissident Daughter wouldn't have been so significant and meaningful if it weren't for the experiences that have led me to this time and place.

I have never believed in chance.

I'm a big "fate" kind of person, honestly.

It was no coincidence or accident that all of these things are coming into my life.

I had to reach the point of pure exhaustion to be ready for my own enlightenment.

I love the part of this book where he talks about enlightenment actually being experienced as more of a breakdown, as one's world falling apart.

I have felt exactly that for the last couple years, that my world is falling apart. I have carried around that weight of darkness, despair, and hopelessness.

I love that he says this is necessary in order to reach a higher level of consciousness/intelligence/creativity and genius.

There really has been purpose in my pain.

I love that some of his experiences so closely parallel my own. It is almost just freaky that he outlines almost exactly, down to the detail, a dream that I have been building in my head for years now that he has actually lived as a reality.

Like this is yet another sign, another slender thread, really just the universe screaming at the top of its lungs for me to pay attention and to make it my reality.

He even talks about yoga for crying out loud.

Everything, everything, EVERYTHING is connecting and coming together and I almost can't even handle it.

As I hold this book close to my heart, I am in awe.

That this person who lived in a completely different time and place could have a life that mirrors mine in a way that is so beautiful and freaky and that he could not only just experience those things, but also write about them.

And that I could stumble across this particular book at this particular time and that the world can all make sense again in all of it's beautiful, broken glory.

Gotta love those slender threads of synchronicity.

And I absolutely believe that it is no coincidence that my interest in his life and his theory has led me to a closer look at my dreams.

Dreams containing (among other things) common themes of a fresh start, new beginnings, expanded thinking, shift in personal identity, undergoing a transition, reconnection to an old self, inner transformation, rebirth, healing.

Like all of this is just part of a greater plan, a bigger picture stemming from a larger consciousness.

And now I'm so awake I don't think I can ever go back to sleep.

I will just have to keep reading, learning, and expanding in tune with the universe and following every last slender thread into enlightenment. 

roof, yard, and taxes: metaphors for life.

Today I feel raw. I blame it on satan's sacrificial waterfall which is about to descend.

I feel as if I am being gutted open like a fish, torn apart by the proverbial hooks that I always seem to find myself caught on when swimming upstream.

Just yesterday I was reflecting on how much better I felt about life in general. I was counting myself lucky that my depression seems to have lifted.

Like maybe the steps of self-care I have been intentionally taking finally got me up the ladder far enough that I'm no longer buried in this never-ending pit of despair.

Today I fell right back into that damn sink hole.

Stupid adulting.

You guys, it is the middle of April. I looked at the calendar the other day and wanted to cry.

Even though I have spent the last few months focusing on myself and making attempts at unburying myself from end-of-life feelings, I feel like I checked out a little.

As I reflect back on this period of time, I wonder, "where was I?" Like all these days, weeks, and months have gone by, and I don't really remember it.

I look at my kids' school calendars on the fridge and I feel doom and guilt about things I need to worry about that are coming up.

Simultaneously, I'm thinking "holy shit, it is almost May and then school is over for good" and "didn't school just start?!"

I hate when people tell me (or any parent for that matter) "don't wish this time away, you will look back and miss it." They are full of shit.

Yet, at the same time, I'm looking back at even the last few months, feeling that my kids got a little taller, a little bigger, a lot smarter. And somehow I missed it.

I was too self absorbed to even notice.

And I feel all the guilt. All the painful, irrational guilt.

And the grief and sadness of missing out. FOMO. It's a real thing yo. And now, apparently, part of my reality.

Today I got to really reacquaint myself with a lot of other things that I have been "missing out on" during these last few months when I was mentally checked out.

Item number one, taxes.

I have never in my life procrastinated doing my taxes. For crying out loud, I'm usually the girl harassing my employer for my W2s when I don't receive them by the second week in January.

Yet for the first time, I have waited until the very last possible day to file.

I guess this is what it is feels like to be a "normal" human being.

Screw being normal.

You know, most people are pretty human. They go with the flow, they don't stress and obsess over deadlines, organizing every bill and color coding their calendar. They miss a payment or a due date here or there. It's normal. It's life.

But that is not me.

I am embarrassed to tell you how many times I have been late on paying bills in the last few months. If I am being completely honest, I've even forgotten a few critical things completely.

It's like I look in the mirror and there is a completely different person staring back at me.

I don't like the anxiety that comes along with obsessing, but I don't like the after-effects of being so depressed that everything falls by the wayside, either.

I can't seem to find a balance.

The best part about today?

Having someone come look at our yard for a quote on a spring clean up.

Trust me, even though I have carefully tried to ignore it, I know things in the outdoor department have gotten bad.

Of all the things I have neglected the most this year, that stupid damn yard is definitely number one on the list.

There are weeds growing on the weeds. Half the lawn is dead. Asparagus stalks are two feet tall. Trees that we never planted are now taller than some of our existing shrubs and bushes.

It's bad. Really bad.

Like going to cost us $1200 (wtf?!) to clean up, bad.

Like, "do you mind me asking why you let it get this bad?" bad.

The guy thought we just moved here for crying out loud. You should have seen his mouth drop when I told him we have lived here for five years.

Cue some later ugly shame crying.

And as I am sitting here, in disbelief that we really let it get this bad, I can't help but draw comparisons to my innermost life. And how I have also let it get this bad.

A few months ago, I read an amazing book. Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd. It spoke to my soul on so many levels. Her writing is beautiful and her metaphors a gold mine.

So much of what she writes about resonates with me.

One particular passage really spoke to me though. She is talking about transformation metaphors and shares the following:

"Feminist theologian Carter Heyward suggests we consider the analogy of a house. If there's a structural problem, we don't fix it by changing the wallpaper. She says we must dig deeply into the foundation, discover the problem, and reconstruct the house. In other words, we must transform the house from the ground up."

My very first thought when reading that was "the roof."

I know, completely unrelated to the point of her quote, but that goddamn roof.

If you don't already know, we have a $10k+ roof issue on our hands. It is a burden I have been carrying since we discovered it over a year ago.

As I read this passage, I almost cried at just how metaphorical for my life this roof issue really is.

I have tried literally everything in attempts to find a solution to this stupid roof. I have left no stone unturned. Yet we are one big storm away from complete tragedy.

Just like my life. I have felt vulnerable, unprotected, one big storm away from an ending.

Ultimately, we are left with two options.

Get a loan or refinance to spend our hard earned/borrowed cash to fix a problem that we didn't create (and took steps to discover before we bought this damn place)

OR

Sell the house, disclosing the issue, taking the hit to our bank account that way, and being rid of this place for good.

Neither option is a very good one. We have been at a stalemate for a long time, trying to see how long we can avoid the issue before it blows up in our face.

While reading this magical quote, I couldn't help but see the parallel to the rest of my life.

Wanting something new and different, wanting to leave the old life completely behind in the dust. Wanting that weight to be magically lifted from my sore and sunken shoulders.

Yet also feeling sad about saying goodbye. Desperate to remember why we chose this damn house, what we loved about it in the first place. Wanting to want to take the time and energy needed to re-invest in it and make it like new again, better than new.

But also being so stuck in the middle and avoiding a decision because again, either route leads to pain and takes an unbearable amount of effort.

Instead I have just been doing what I (apparently now) do best. Avoiding.

Letting it get so bad. This bad.

But that is also my way. When I can't deal, I don't. I neglect.

It's my new (old) favorite pattern. I think I actually blogged about this years ago when I discovered that "I have to make a mess before I can clean it up."

Like it is somehow desirable for me to let things get so bad because the clean up feels so magically delicious.

But this time, it tastes more like being poisoned by vinegar at four years old, and less like an orgasm over Del Taco's Carmel cheesecake bites.

I can't help but compare it to another quote from the Dissident Daughter book:

"Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes, 'If we were to abuse our children, Social Service would show up at our doors. If we were to abuse our pets, the Humane Society would come to take us away. But there is no Creativity Patrol or Soul Police to intervene if we insist on starving our own souls.'"

If there was a yard police, I would be under arrest. If there was a soul police, I'd be serving a life sentence.

But no one else cares that my yard looks like shit.

No one cares that my soul is sick.

These are messes that I have to deal with on my own.

The latter has been a slow work-in-progress. There is forward motion.

The former is apparently going to fuel my latest rants for a long (but unspecified amount of) time.

So there you have it. My major roof issue is a metaphor for my life and the decision paralysis I am faced with; my yard neglect, a parallel to the oversight of my soul.

I guess if I can't hold hope that the future will be any better, I can at least be curious, right?