Of relativism … and all that crap

And by “all that crap”, I really mean “all that crap” – the slings and arrows of life’s outrageous shit; the stuff that comes your way to remind you that, yes, you really are a human being having a human experience. Why is life so fraught with it? What is the point? As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m not singling myself out as a special case. Nor do I claim some moral high ground, or superior knowledge, about what fear, pain, or loss is and isn’t to anyone else. Shit is personal, very personal. And yet we all go through it, and in that we all have something in common.

“In the absence of that which you are not, that which you are – is not” — Neale Donald Walsch

I know. When I first heard it, my brain decided it was all too much and twisted itself into a pretzel. You’ve got to break it down, one stage at a time, until you get something along the lines of this:

You can’t be anything unless you’ve experienced its opposite.

You can’t know what elation is until you’ve experienced pain. You can’t say you’re short unless you have other, taller, people to measure yourself against. And – most relevant here – it is only by experiencing shit that you can experience what shit isn’t. And there’s the alchemy – identifying the crap, identifying what that crap is showing you isn’t crap; and using that to create gold.

This is all theoretical, mind you. I make most of my gold way after the fact. When I’m in the thick of things – when the shit is really hitting the fan – then all philosophy, and all perspective, fly out the window. I’m very good at pointing out to other people where the gold in their situation lies. Oh yes! But I’d advise against doing that. First of all, I’ve come off looking pretty smug; and secondly, I can’t find someone else’s gold for them. They’re the one down the mine, in the darkness, the stink and slime, digging away. I’m simply up top barking instructions, thinking I see clearly. Really, I have little idea what’s going on down there.

But lately, I’ve been doing a lot of digging myself. And because no-one can dig for gold for you, it’s a lonely job. You can be surrounded by people, and you can also feel completely cut off from them, and from life. I’m beginning to realise that’s the point: time out. Enforced time out – to make sure the job’s done properly, so that every hidden seam that is there to be accessed is able to offer up its potential for gold.

A case in point: I am a trained life coach … but do you think I can find anyone to coach? Hah! Three years ago, I was all set: brochures and business cards printed, premises hired, a great friend to collaborate with. Ready, set … nothing. Absolutely nothing. Things didn’t gel. Our premises weren’t sound-proof, so we couldn’t use them; my friend was holding down another job that she had to focus on; all my motivation flew right out the window. A part of me might have wanted to start coaching, but another part had other plans. That part won, and took me on an odyssey that has led to a new relationship, a new family, a move to the countryside; and, with that, the loss of myself in the face of the useless armour, the neuroses, the role-playing that I assume when I’m in a relationship; isolation; and a bout of clinical depression – all of which are related.

When I was single a few years back, I felt vibrant, sexy, free. Lonely sometimes, yes. Far from perfect. But present to my own life. Put me in a relationship, and I hand my mojo over on a silver platter. I’ve given it away before I’m even aware of it. The result: a loss of self-respect, self-esteem, direction, creativity, sexuality. I lose my shine. I’m still the same inside, but I forget about it, I feel ashamed of it, even. I feel vulnerable. It goes underground.

And so I dig. It is there, it always is … under layers of guilt, shame, self-loathing, self-pity. And those in and of themselves aren’t bad things either. For me, it’s essential that I chisel them out, look at them, feel what they do. They’re the counterpoint, the contrast with which to experience the lustre. And when I’m done, it’s time to put them to one side, and get on with the business of gold. After all, that’s why I’m here, and I think that’s why we’re all here. Simply, to shine.