Urban Dictionary: Do it “for the plot”: the conscious decision to see yourself as the main character of the story that is your life. You maintain the outlook that every moment – good or bad – is merely a plot point for your larger narrative. You are the writer, producer, director and star of your life. Start living unapologetically and give them a plot twist that no one saw coming.
I did a vision quest a few years ago under the tutelage of my friend, James Inabinet, which offered up the bald eagle as my totem. The coincidence of my being bald and having a bald eagle totem and that day James seeing one of only two bald eagles he has seen out there was not lost on me. The eagle is my pointer – it’s a predator that flies high in the sky seeing everything in laser focus from a distance.
It’s a Buddhist prompt to stand outside of myself yet be in my true self, far away from the madding crowd.
It’s a reminder to see the chaos arise and dissipate without being subsumed into the drama.
It’s the Paramis that states when the wave is coming, stand and let it wash through you.
And oh, I try.
This weekend with my son, Tin was listening to a rap song where the refrain was “bitch, don’t block my flow.” The rap my son listens to is for another discussion, perhaps.
We were talking about feelings. Tin was saying some of his friends don’t show theirs. He said, this one doesn’t ever show his feelings. This one won’t admit when he is sad. This one has anger issues. He said these things as observation of others yet also they seemed like a mirror to himself. He, like his mom (ahem), is a person of rather large feelings. And at times, both of us mask these big feelings with other big feelings – we appear irritated, angered, and withdrawn when we really feel sad, abandoned and lonely.
My eagle totem points me to a feeling when it comes on so loud-like to observe what is the feeling behind the feeling. This has been a large part of ACA, uncovering the childhood feeling behind the adult behavior. I get anxious when my son is dysregulated because I grew up in a chaotic family. What I need is to be aware that my young Rachel needs parenting – a supportive adult to say it’s okay because the present Rachel has the capacity to make her feel safe and loved.
The eagle points me to watch my son grow dysregulated and sit beside him as he uses the coping skills he is learning to come back to center. Not fix but stand. Not dysregulate too but stay true to me.
During the weekend, Tin and I walked to a nearby nature reserve that had a large labyrinth. I had taken a walk there the morning before I picked up Tin. It was the desert landscape in a micro environment – dry, dusty, and full of wonder.
As we made our way to the reserve, we passed horse stables and a large tract with multiple stables and horses in fenced in areas. Tin talked about what kind of horses they were. I steered us towards the labyrinth. The first day I saw it, I was by myself, and I was reluctant to circle the inside because a man was sitting on the bench staring dead center at the middle. He gave me the creeps.
This time, no one was near, so Tin and I entered the labyrinth and within two or three steps, Tin sprinted ahead of me kicking up dust, and while he was finding the path, he stepped off of continuous path and found a dead end, and said aloud, “this is hard,” then he turned and rejoined the labyrinth and kept going, finishing before me. He stood in the center proud of his effort and was smiling till I took a photo of him.
When I arrive in Tucson, I go to the grocery and buy familiar items. I pick up a bouquet of flowers. I enter the house ready to make it home, if just for the weekend. The plot I am writing is one where I am home (even when away from my physical one) for both myself and my teenage child. I know how to play house, I’ve been doing it for years.
I am also welcoming plot twists.
While we were together this weekend, Tin said that he doesn’t know if he wants to come back to Mississippi. “What’s there for me?” He doesn’t know where he wants to end up – but mused: maybe Atlanta, California or New York? I said I know the feeling, I said, if he didn’t return to Mississippi, would I want to stay?
The twist is to open to the unknown, to give into vulnerability. None of what has and is unfolding in my life was part of my conceived plot, so why not open it up more: to not knowing, to being love, to living acceptance, to being vulnerable, to continuing to write this fascinating story with no idea how it ends up.
Living into the unknown, the mystery, is much more comfortable as we get older. Like Tin, I did not want to come back to Mississippi either, because I left here at 18 and believed the state to be backwards and behind times, last in everything. I thought I would stay in New Orleans, or move to Asheville. But something mysterious drew me back to my birthplace. Where both my parents were alcoholics, where (as all families are) my dysfunctional family struggled to function. Where I had a few friends but not so many like-minded ones. And the Universe plopped me down in the middle of an unknown neighborhood that I found after I moved in is full of academics and political left-leaners. Nice to be ‘home’ again!
It’s funny how I lived in liberal la la land in San Francisco and craved coming home to New Orleans. I came home and Katrina hit and then I crawled to Mississippi. Friends were shaking their heads in disbelief. But I have found a home here, a community here, and so even when I ponder whether I’d stay if he didn’t return, I just don’t have a clue where I’d go next.
I’m glad you found home again. I’m not sure whether I want to root or scatter right now!