Читать книгу The Road to Shine - Laurie Gardner - Страница 11
ОглавлениеBurning sage smells like marijuana.
That’s not a very reverent thought to have during a sacred ceremony as you’re being purified with a plant that’s holy to Native Americans. I can’t help it, though; the scent is exactly the same as the back of my old school bus.
“I’d like each of you to share why you’ve decided to go on a vision quest,” says Sparrow, our group leader. Two people in the circle cross and uncross their legs nervously. Others stare thoughtfully up at the sky.
Why did I want to go on a vision quest? What in God’s name possessed me to sign up for two weeks in the desert in the heat of summer, including fasting alone in the wilderness for four days and four nights? I can barely make it to dinner when I skip lunch; how am I going to stop eating for almost a week?
I don’t even really know what a vision quest is. Neither does anyone else in my immediate circle of friends and family, though they have some interesting ideas.
“Don’t hurt yourself while doing those psychedelic drugs.”
“Careful about sunburn while you wander around naked.”
“Aren’t you nervous about being isolated in the wilderness with criminal kids?”
My mom mailed me a newspaper clipping of a corporate group visioning out its goals in an executive boardroom, with a sticky note saying, “Have fun!”
So far, my vision quest is nothing like anyone’s expectations. Ben, a jovial man with an easy grin and warm handshake, introduces himself first. “I’m here as part of my twelve-step program, to overcome my addiction to overeating.”
Susan has a dimpled smile but sad eyes. Wiping away tears, she recounts the recent death of her partner and says, “I’m hoping to find a way to move on.”
Ted is an eager, new college graduate who looks about sixteen years old. He tells us, “There are so many different choices in the world! I want to figure out what to do with my life.”
Bill, a successful but life-weary artist, exhales heavily and says, “I hope this vision quest helps me find a renewed sense of purpose.”
When it’s Faith’s turn, she begins passionately, “I just adore my beautiful children and love raising them!” Then her voice becomes soft. “But I’ve lost my identity outside of being a mother. I came here to remember who I am.”
The woman next to her looks like she’s on the verge of sprinting out of the circle and as far away from the group as possible. “My name is Julie. I’ve recently stopped doing drugs, but I still hate myself.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, grateful when the next person chimes in.
Karen is a young doctoral student in her twenties. “I’m way too much in my head,” she tells us. “I want to get back in touch with my emotions.”
Across the circle, Annie is making little piles of dirt all around her like miniature sand castles, quietly delighting in her own creations. When it’s her turn, she says, “I think I’ve been in my computer programming job for too long; I’ve forgotten how to play.”
“And you, Laurie?” Sparrow prompts me.
Wow, what can I say? The thing is, I don’t have one big issue I want to overcome, like a death or addiction, or just one uplifting goal, like learning to play. My reason for being here is messier than that. My life has been a cycle of ups and downs, of outward success and inward pain, a complex brew of near unbearable sadness and ecstatic joy, sometimes in succession and sometimes all at the same time.
Growing up wasn’t easy for me. My best years were my college days and my twenties. I felt so alive then—adventurous, open, and free. In my thirties, I somehow lost all that, diving into a deeper darkness than any I’d experienced before.
Back in the circle, all eyes are on me, waiting for me to speak.
How can I sum up in one brief statement how numb and frozen I’ve been over the last ten years, my recent “thawing” process, and my intense desire to return to who I really am, to that person who’s so passionate and happy?
Maybe I should just blurt out everything I’m going through: I’m sick and tired of wearing a “happy mask” when I’m actually sad inside. I hate feeling hurt and wounded all the time; my anger and pain are exhausting. I’m tired of being a workaholic, distracting myself from my pain. I take everything too personally and constantly beat myself up or get defensive. I’m tired of opening up to people, then being betrayed by them. I don’t trust anyone anymore. I feel disconnected from everyone and everything. I’m tired of people criticizing and judging me, and me judging and criticizing them and myself. I want to meet my soul mate, but I’m afraid I’m so guarded from all the times I’ve been hurt that I won’t be able to let him in. I want to know where I’m going in life, and I’m fed up with fear holding me back from being all I can be. Basically, I don’t feel lovable or worthy a lot of the time, and I’m freakin’ sick of it!
How did I get to this point?
