The words came when she asked me how I wanted to be in the third meeting. We agreed on open, loving and calm. She wrote them on my hand because it was far from certain whether I could embody them. I was still smouldering on the inside, struggling to extricate my Self from myself. As it turned out, it was a breeze. The reflection session went very well.
Her influence was not limited to those three words. She was also the one who pointed out that the clash with my friend had been inevitable and necessary. Given who we both are, she had explained, and in the context of what we are looking to achieve – he is helping me formulate and present my work – it was bound to happen. Her words reminded me of this paragraph from a very early post, in which Karaj explained that,
…there is a process which people go through when they work together. Initially, progress is good but then the discussions, which have been hitherto creative, turn into arguments. Enthusiasm is lost and the progress is halted. Eventually, the individuals come together again and the work can be completed.
She was right, it was inevitable. And the fact that we got there early feels like a good sign, somehow. But that was not all. There had been one more essential contribution from her – a powerful statement which hit home immediately, forcing itself through the dullness of a wall I have put up too many times. Whilst at my worst, she relayed to me that I was no longer available in the state I was in. My mind and my mood were dominating my entire being, and although she knew there was a very different person inside, she could not reach him. She summarised her own words beautifully: ‘This is not who you are.’
My friend said something similar during our reflection. Throughout the previous two weeks I could not be shifted from my view of the world. I had been unable to let it go. It had been impossible for either of them to connect with me in any way; as if I had become the embodiment of my belief. Nothing else existed. In squeezing myself so convincingly into one viewpoint, I had restricted the infinity of being to a single, destructive detail. And when challenged on it, I held on tighter, contracting further and further each time.
Left alone, the situation would have seeded more anger and resentment. But when examined from every angle with the intention of mutual growth, it transformed itself into grace. There is great value in every aspect of what happened, and our resolution exemplified the process we are seeking to present to the world. It worked out well in the end, but it would have been much more difficult without her support. Her appeal to who I truly am touched my heart, and the three words she wrote on my hand were an antidote to the negativity my mood had produced. In the days afterwards, with the gloom gone, she could probably be heard whispering quietly in my general direction: ‘This is who you are.’