Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world.
Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”
― Rumi
I was talking to a friend the other day and I heard myself say "There seems to be a glass ceiling in all my friendships, I can't go any further"
Later in the conversation, it became clear to me that I PUT the glass ceilings there, I put them there as a safety measure. I put them there out of fear. I put them there because I am afraid that if I unleash myself, the intensity of my emotions and thinking will burn people up and they will leave me. (A strong sense of childhood comes up as I wrote that sentence.)
The pressure of hitting this ceiling scares me. Where do I go now?
Do I have to walk away from everyone? Why is this theme of loss/death/change hounding me?
The resentment pops up with "I've lost both my sisters, ended several friendships, gotten divorced, what more do you want of me?!"
The answer rises from a deep tavern within me,
"More, " it calmly says.
I am not accepting this gratefully, nor with any grace. It's ugly.
The scariest part is that I know it's true. I've put myself into situations again and again, cutting myself up to fit the allowable spaces. I've kept quiet when I needed to speak. I've spoken when I had nothing to say, but the silence was uncomfortable.
What is this glass ceiling? It is the place where I stop being me. The place where I am doubtful that anyone will like who I am. The place where it is very clear that I hold different views from my friends. The place where I think no one will understand me. The place that is vulnerable because it's true.
I am sure that someone will offer me the advice, "Lift the glass and be yourself."
I have.
For example, when I lifted the glass in my marriage I found that I didn't have enough in common with him to continue the relationship. The glass ceiling had been my way of staying in a situation that was intolerable. Lifting the glass, I saw things that petrified me becasue it meant I couldn't pretend to be blind anymore. It also meant I had to DO something.
I lifted the glass in friendships by talking about things that were 'unspeakables' topics such as drinking or parenting. As soon as I moved beyond the ceiling, they weren't comfortable with me anymore and I couldn't put the ceiling back into place. More loss.
I have been upset of late, judging our society for all its faults. I've also been wondering why my friends live, what I deem, inauthentic lives.
I know enough about psychology and projection to finally realize that I am making comments about myself. I am upset with myself for getting caught up in the machine of our culture. Joseph Campbell and many others have warned us, "Do not let the machine eat you up." Darth Vader in 'Star Wars' represented what happens when we do not protect ourselves from getting swept away, from technology, from anger, from arrogance.
As for who is leading an inauthentic life...that would be ME.
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
I am afraid.
What if no one likes me?
What if I end up alone?
What if no one understands me?
What if no one connects with me?
What if I have no one to count on?
What if I am wrong and I should go along with the 'group think' of society?
But what if I never come out of hiding?
What if I don't take the risk of removing the glass ceiling?
Which is worse?
I would deeply regret not taking the risk.
There was a line in the New Yorker (May 28, 2012) at the end of a John Lahr review of the now closed play by Will Eno called 'Title and Deed' that reverberated within me to such a degree that it was a mini-ephiphany.
The line was a summation of the play's philosophical theme:
"Enjoy the nothingness while you can."
I don't have a firm belief in a life after death and I am drawn to the subtler aspects of Zen buddhism. (Like Woody Allen, I wouldn't want to be a member of any group that would have me.)
This line made it clear to me that there is nothing to wait for, nothing to earn, nothing to worry about...life is a nothingness. It is what we do in and of this nothingness that matters.
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