I was several months into a solo silent retreat in 1997 after meeting with my Teacher, Betsy.
I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I wanted to soak in the force of the message we had received and the importance of our commitment. I had a very simple internal conversation about volleyballs, bikinis, waves, and naps on the beach. The message was clear: I should do what I must do right now, and there will be time for all of these things later. I was fighting back my tears because we were in a public place. There was an element of shame in what I was experiencing about being distracted the last couple of days before meeting with Betsy, but the predominant feeling was–Holy shit! Without paying attention, I almost fucked this whole thing up!
I felt ready to take on the world one breath at a time when I got up.
My experience, both my own and that of other men who have devoted significant time and energy to inner spiritual work, is that along the way, many of us forget that all of this is about love and connection. We focus on details like how long we meditate, how many days we meditate, what teachings we receive, how present we are while driving and walking, how “detached” we are from the chaos of human existence, etc. We forget this is to become more loving, compassionate, empathetic, and connected. It’s about being connected to ourselves, the Earth, all the humans, and other living species on this planet, and being open-hearted and willing to be firmly immersed in the world’s mess.
For many years, I measured my spiritual development and growth by the number of hours a day I invested in practices like Meditation, Tai Qi, Qigong, Yoga, and others. Today, I understand that some of this work was a spiritual bypass. I had found a new system after choosing to be abstinent from alcohol and drugs. Meditation and Reiki were terrific and helped me grow and develop in ways I could not imagine. They also became a way to avoid unwanted emotions, thoughts, and feelings. If I were angry, I could practice Reiki on myself. If I were sad, I could practice Tai Chi or Qigong. If I were scared, I could practice sitting or walking meditation. If somebody wanted to engage me in conflict, I could breathe into my belly and get present in my feet so I could detach. In this context, detachment was a combination of numbness and separation, without allowing myself to experience the pain and suffering of life and, more importantly, the joy and connection! Being in the mess is part of it.
To look at this from another lens, Betsy used to say regularly, “It is necessary to learn how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.” I recognize how this sounds, but I became very uncomfortable when Betsy spoke or wrote those words.
A bypass is a systematic way of avoiding the process of becoming comfortable with discomfort. Having some peace while experiencing uncomfortable feelings, thoughts, or emotions can help our nervous system regulate and know that we are present and can handle the situation or feelings. We want to train ourselves not to feel the need to hide or mask our feelings but to create opportunities to be with them. Our spiritual practices, as extraordinary and essential as they are, can be spiritual bypasses. My experiences, both personal and professional, have demonstrated that this is more common among men than among women.
As I moved deeper and deeper into this solo retreat, it was becoming harder and harder to avoid and hide from feelings, thoughts, and emotions that I did not want to experience. Don’t go in the water if you don’t want to get wet. Don’t commit to a long, silent retreat if you don’t want to know your thoughts and feelings.
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This is an excerpt from my memoir, Raisee by Wolves, Possibly Monsters: From Mobster to Reiki Master.
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Previously Published on Medium
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