Hitting the Breaks: Bearing Witness to Self part two

About two weeks after my clutch cable broke, and about a week after it was fixed, my truck's brakes decided to give out. My dad and I had recently replaced the front brake pads, and even more recently had bled the whole brake system. But all of a sudden there was nothing in them--no sensitivity, no cushioning, just a harsh friction right at the bottom of the pedal and a very slow stop. When I checked things out I noticed that my right-back tire was badly leaking brake fluid and my newly-filled brake fluid compartment was totally empty.

In addition to dealing with car troubles, I had spent those weeks in what I call a "Mandorla" about my trip. A Mandorla is a practice based on the Vesica Pisces symbol--it is about sustaining the tension between opposites/extremes long enough that a third way (the overlap) can come through. I often keep two of my hula hoops laying on the floor of my room in this shape when I am trying to make a decision. I will stand in each of the moon-shaped sides and fully embrace one option, then the other, then the first, then the other. Then I'll stand in the almond-shaped center to see what is there. I could (and likely will) write a whole post (or essay...or book) about the Mandorla/Vesica Pisces, but for now I'll just say I have spent A LOT of time in the "I'm going on this trip/I'm not going on this trip/third option" Mandorla of hula hoops on my floor (and in my head) recently.

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I am currently in the process of discerning the "third way." In leaning into the practice of "bearing witness to self" I decided to ask some more questions to the part of me who said a clear and resounding "no!" to my trip. I wondered if her "no!" was about the whole trip or just to part of it. Eventually it became apparent that the aspect that was really freaking her out was traveling around Belarus and Ukraine without enough time, money, or information to figure out definitively where I am sleeping every night, how to get around, etc. Normally this is the type of thing I love about travel, but the ferocity of the past few years seems to find this part of me longing for a lot more safety. I know the one who makes a bunch of friends in a cemetery in Cuzco, Peru while wandering the city alone also still exists in me somewhere. But she's not the only one who gets to speak anymore.

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The Mandorla process is challenging because it does not except one easy or straightforward answer. So often in my life I have had the distinct feeling of being pulled apart by two extremes. This practice is helping me honor being in that tension, while also figuring out what exists beyond the black and white polarization that is so often the status quo of the culture. Mandorla is the physical gesture of "both/and" in contrast to "either/or." Developing a skill for engaging with nuance feels especially important in times of such polarized reactionary politics, which at some scales (like nuclear weapons) threaten our very existence.

Being in this process, it wasn't surprising that I was getting another "slow down!" message from the universe in the form of my brakes failing. Every time I tried to commit to a partial, smaller version of the trip the "brave, untouchable" part of me (who I call Artemis) would be like "yeahhhh, but we're already going to be all the way out there--let's just do the whole damn thing...and then some." She's an archer--she knows what she wants, she creates the tension, she aims, and she lets go. She is very capable and very convincing. Despite my efforts to rein her in, she had already let the arrow fly. And it was almost like she was throwing a rebellion in my life, getting her way on all sorts of things...including driving home in the dark on bad brakes. And I was almost home--just around the corner really--when I hit the rat.

I have only hit two animals in my life. Both rodents: a chipmonk last summer, and this rat last week. I see rodents as discerning, detail-oriented, resourceful, like me, and also maybe thieving and getting into all sorts of things we might rather them not get into. What does it mean to kill something that represents those things? Maybe nothing, but it's been something to ponder--another layer of bearing witness. But regardless of meaning, the act of killing re-opened the grief of the tender part of me, the one who is protesting the trip. This made me slow down even more. I brought my truck back into the shop the next day and found myself in a very familiar place--bound by foot, bus, bike, and kindness.

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As much as having no truck forced me to slow down, it also reminded me of my own resourcefulness. It reminded me that I've lived without a vehicle for most of my life, that I've lived out of backpacks and on buses and trains and boats and slept on station floors and in weird nooks so often in my life that it actually does feel like a kind of home. It reminded me that, yes, I just navigated a "hell" of sorts, alone in a lot of ways, and that I am allowed to give myself a break, be easy, let other people take care of me. But it also reminded me that by going through all of that, I now know I am capable of walking with/through whatever life asks of me.

I thought of my trip to Minnesota in 2014 when I jumped on a train alone, with very little plan, immediately after two of the most traumatizing events of my life, and traveled around for a month figuring it out as I went. I came home and immediately went on my first solo backpacking trip. Remembering the power, joy, and adventure of those trips helped me open to the less scary prospects for my trip to Europe: the adventure of getting on a plane for the first time in 6 years, the wonder of seeing a new landscape that I will surely fall in love with, the grace of meeting new people who will in all likelihood become like family to me.

Most importantly it reminded me that I have been my own and only constant through all of this and so I get to take "me" with me wherever I go. I am still learning how to "stay with myself," and what that actually means, But I am starting to accept that I am not going to do it perfectly all the time. I just know that wherever I go or don't go I can try hard to bring all the pieces of myself with me. This is easier if I am conscious of who they are, where they are coming from, and am willing to listen to their needs and desires. I am working hard to let this be true of me. 

The question was: "Do you love yourself enough to listen, with the ears of your heart, to all the voices of yourself speaking?" Listening means witnessing, accepting and acknowledging what is being said, and trying to honor that but not necessarily letting it rule. This, I am learning, is part of what bearing witness is about.

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So my Mandorla has led me here: I want, and almost need, to go to Warsaw, Krakow, and the retreat at Auschwitz. The rest (exploring my Belarusian and Ukrainian ancestry) can wait, in order to honor the part that says "no!" I am going to continue listening and discerning along the way. This means I might be gone for less than two weeks and come back. Maybe I get out there and feel resourced enough to stay longer and explore. Maybe I get out there and find I am not resourced at all and I come home immediately. Even if I never step foot on that plane this bearing witness trip will have done some huge work on me. But I am planning to buy my ticket this week.

(Do you think I need to tell the airline there is going to be a "bunch of ones of me" sharing that one seat??)