Satya writes: Lately I’ve been kept awake at night by horrifying visions.
We have booked an open day for our new temple in Malvern despite not having exchanged yet (maybe faith, maybe foolishness). This will be an opportunity to show people around and to start building links with the local community.
At three o’clock in the morning, I imagine us running out of mulled juice. Arrghgh! Imagine the terror. I lie there in the dark with my eyes wide and compose emails to the people who’ll be helping us out as volunteers, make lists of things to be bought (stepladder, doorstops) and arrange the zafus in rainbow colour order, just like they were in that shrine room in Hamburg I was jealous of.
Why am I being kept awake by these trivialities?
In my experience, trivialities are usually containers for more sinister and deeply affecting feelings. They act as symbols or stand-ins. We don’t want to admit to these fears, verbalise them, or even get in touch with them at all. They get covered over by layers & layers of mulled juice and lists.
What am I really afraid of? Let’s see if I can get any closer to it…
If we run out of mulled juice, people might see me as incompetent. They might go away unhappy. They won’t like me. I will feel like a failure. I will have an experience of my limits in being-able-to-cope.
This last statement gives me a wobbly feeling. We’re onto something.
I need to see myself as being able to Cope With Anything, because I don’t trust anyone else to look after themselves or me. If I don’t write it on a list, nobody else will. If I don’t order the doorstops, the whole temple will fall into chaos. The idea that I am actually a fallible human being with limits is deeply terrifying to me, because it means (if taken alongside the ‘I can’t trust anybody’ belief) that I am completely and utterly unsafe.
Of course, on a rational level, I know that these things aren’t true. I am and will be supported by competent and lovely people. But we’re not talking about the rational part of me – we’re talking about the deep murky parts that have their own ideas about what is terrifying and how to stay safe. They have their reasons – they may be outdated now, but they are still doing their best, and they are desperate to keep me away from the monsters under the bed.
I thank these parts of me for defending me, and gently suggest that they are no longer necessary, that they can let me see a corner of the monster. I feel a little bit of the fear – not too much, just what I can take. I understand why this new project is terrifying for me. There is always more of the monster, but every time a teensy bit comes out from under the bed and into the light, I feel a fizz of relief. There’s nothing there!
You will be terrified of something different. You will use other trivialities to cover it up. Are you ready to see a little corner of the monster? Maybe just his little toe?
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Mulled wine by rpavich, with thanks.