Rejection Fear and Five Elements Acupuncture

I wrote in the past about my old teacher’s theory that we are all consciously avoiding one of three fears - rejection, worthlessness or abandonment. In that post I mentioned that some people have trouble distinguishing their conscious fear because all three are valid fears that they’ve experienced at one time in their life or another. The key to locating your conscious fear is recognizing the habit pattern you play out repeatedly to avoid one of those three feelings. For myself, i had zero problem diagnosing myself as rejection fear.

The feeling of being ousted or unwelcome by a person, place or situation where I had once felt welcomed, loved and supported is just the worst feeling for me. I will do Olympic level feats of mind, emotion and body to avoid experiencing this feeling.

The first time I came back to Paris after having lived here as my home for three months, I cringed at every single experience of feeling more like a tourist than a resident. Needing to stay at a hostel for a few days instead of an apartment just felt like I was living in a cardboard box outside my home. And the more I saw it this way, the more I steeped myself in this feeling. Eventually, circumstances worked me out of the feeling. But I never really learned how to work myself out of the feeling.

A few weeks ago, back in Philly, I met an acupuncturist (Doren Day) at a healers networking event and she talked a little bit about her specific type of acupuncture - five elements. This type focuses on the main element that the person seems to be unbalanced in and treats that, rather than the symptoms. The idea was really interesting to me and after more conversation we set up a trade.

Doren suggested doing Medical Qi Gong on me with a little bit of Zero Balancing. I had a good sense of her intuition and skill as a healer, so I was all for whatever modality she wanted to use. In the session, she located a block between the heart and the spleen. This block is exactly in the place that I have felt energy stuck for a really long time. She said that it was in part due to a repeated emotional trauma in childhood and in part due to the perception that was created in that trauma. Which is very much in line with the Buddhist idea of how habit patterns are created. There is an initial trauma and then the ego/mind perpetuates it in a kind of ham-fisted effort to ‘fix’ that initial trauma. ‘Fix it’ by repeating it over and over and over again.

Awesome. Thanks, ego/mind.

I left the session feeling really clear and grounded energetically. But I also knew that I had homework to do beyond the qi gong exercises that can keep this meridian channel clear. I had to work on the mental perception that paired up with this energy and played ping pong back and forth in the space between my heart and solar plexus.

I knew, in part, that this repeated emotional trauma had to do with my experience of being one of six kids. One of six kids of parents who were young and incredibly stressed out and overburdened by regular life and paying bills. During my early childhood, their individual thresholds for any kind of emotional disturbance was incredibly low. Being human, they were often impatient with the problems and emotional hurts I brought to them for attention and healing. Being incredibly overwhelmed, I was sometimes answered with irritation when I came to them and expressed a need or source of pain.

That is the energetic imprint that was blocking the heart and spleen. The mental one is what my ego/mind did with their response. My little four year old self decided that it was my needs and pains that were the problem and so I had to deal with them myself - hide them almost. And so I developed a habit very early on of being hurt and adapting that old ‘mind over matter’, ‘stiff upper lip’ ‘don’t rock the boat’ mentality.

It was the way my ego decided to avoid the feeling of rejection that came when I brought a pain or need to a loved one and felt that I was wrong for doing so, wrong for needing help or comfort, wrong for expressing myself.

The ego will tell me that this is how to avoid suffering. In Paris three years ago, it told me to avoid coming back here and not put myself in the position of wanting to be at home in a place that didn’t seem to allow my need for a reliable internet signal, a bedroom of my own and a key to a place where I could leave all my stuff instead of bungling through the metro like a pack-mule.

A few weeks ago, when I was getting ready to come back to Paris for three months and I couldn’t find an affordable sublet, my ego told me the same thing. Nepal is nice, why not go to Nepal? You’ve never felt at home there so you can’t feel rejected! I caved for a moment, planned weeks in Spain and Marseilles, but there is that part of me that will always want to feel at home in Paris. And eventually Paris won out, or won two thirds of the three months. But here I am, in Paris for four days before heading to Spain. Here I am at a hostel with bags that weigh more than I’d like to carry around with me, searching for a wifi signal.

I decided to do some research on the spleen. I get the heart part of this blockage, but what’s the deal with the spleen? I had already read that it supports the heart in the cycle of chi through the body. But what does it do individually?

Turns out its ‘element’ in five elements acupuncture is Earth, which is about nurturing. The kind of nurturing that comes from paying attention to your body’s needs but also your emotional needs. It can become unbalanced if this nurturing isn’t felt in childhood. And the mental perception that we don’t deserve nurturing keeps it unbalanced. The emotion associated with the Spleen is sympathy and understanding. In my case, this information was really interesting. I tend to be pretty good at understanding other people and sympathizing/empathizing with them.
And then I kept reading -

'As well as the ability to express sympathy toward others, however, we must be able to receive it, too. It is necessary that others understand how and when we hurt, that others know what we are going through. When a child is in pain, it calls immediately for its mother, the source for sympathy and understanding. But with an Earth imbalance, the need for sympathy can become excessive and insatiable; or, in its opposite manifestation, sympathy may be completely absent. We all know people from whom we can expect no compassion, regardless of circumstance. And there are also those who cannot receive sympathy or help at all - the sort who say, "No, I can do it myself.” '

Ahh, that last sentence is me, especially as a child. I thought that if needing understanding and compassion was the problem, then NOT needing it must be a good thing! If I can take care of myself completely, then I won’t be rejected.

The problem is, especially then, but even now, I can’t take care of myself completely. I need others to understand me and be compassionate toward me. I’ve kinda dug myself into a hole though, because in the years of trying to not need any help, I often have difficulty recognizing when I need nurturing. I am notorious for forgetting to eat. I never drink enough water. When my feelings are hurt I tend to withdrawal rather than express that pain. And when I come out of my cocoon, the hurt is not healed and soothed, it’s just quieter.

This afternoon, while I was writing about this in my journal trying to form some kind of coherent point, I sat down on the curb of a Parisian street to tackle the issue at hand. It had become a little chilly, but in typical fashion, I hadn’t really noticed. I just focused on the writing.

Suddenly a man called to me ‘Mademoiselle!’ I turned and saw that he was the owner of the kebab shop behind me. He asked me why I was sitting there. I stood up and apologized. My mind was interpreting his french rather quickly but my ego was interpreting it quicker. ‘He wants you to stop loitering like a freaking vagabond in front of his shop!’ Then the translation came through of what he was actually saying. He was pointing to the only table in front of his shop. ‘Why don’t you sit here? It’s better than the curb, right?’
‘Yes,’ I smiled ‘Thank you, it’s much better than the curb.’ He nodded and went back into his shop. I sat and wrote some more. Then suddenly a small steaming cup of hot fragrant tea was placed in front of me. I looked up and the kebob shop owner nodded. I smiled and thanked him again and he went back into his shop.

And then I realized that I was pretty cold and the tea was very good but more than anything, in this moment, I needed that experience of hospitality, nourishment and kindness. I needed that experiential lesson of how I should be treating myself and what I should allow others to give me.

I've created a new website. Check it out if you're interested in my energy work or language tutoring.

words and energy

Mindfulness

People talk about yoga being a moving meditation. It helps us be present in the moment, helps us connect to our bodies, emotions, thoughts and experiences. I feel great after every yoga class I take, and yet,,,when I'm going through difficult times in my life I avoid yoga like the plague. 

Being present is the last thing I want to do when I'm feeling sad or upset. I want to focus on things that will get me out of my sad state of feeling instead of settling down into it to really 'experience' it. 

1) because I'm not a masochist

2) because my inherent nature is to be delighted by the world and people around me and gravitate toward optimism, humor, hope and positivity. 

3) because my ego keeps intentionally forgetting what buddhism has taught me - that true freedom and peace are found in the middle ground between extremes. As JD Salinger put it 'I can't be running back and forth forever between grief and high delight.'

So despite my reluctance to be present with myself this winter, I went to yoga at least once a week. I made some existential discoveries via  handstands . I started going to a class with a teacher who occasional curses and consistently plays music by The Cure. 

Last Friday in this class, while Morissey was singing 'Love Cats' I put my mat against a wall and got ready to fight with handstands. With my palms flat on the mat, I watched my feet walk towards my hands then struggle to kick up into the handstand. This fight against gravity and physics and my concept of my capabilities went on for a few minutes. Then  I  remembered a teacher at some point in the past year  telling me that I was supposed to look at my hands - look down at my mat. So I tried it and to my astonishment my legs kicked up into a handstand like there was no fight at all, like gravity was on their side. It felt light, natural and easy. 

I flipped out of the handstand and thought for a moment. It worked once, but maybe that wasn't the only thing that was different. So I tried again, palms on mat, eyes on mat, bam- feet in the air. 

It's now four days later and I've been testing this method every day in lots of different places. My kitchen, the living room, at work... each time it's the same. If I look down at my hands, my upper spine is stacked in a way that gives the legs a stable foundation. In handstands, like in life, my gaze was always on where I was going- movement, the future, hope. The idea that there was something to be gained by looking down at where I was in the moment felt counter intuitive. It felt limiting. And yet, as I learned in yoga - there is stability, strength and lightness in being present. 

Which brings me to Kung Fu Panda. 

And how much I love Master Oogway. The sweet old tortoise zen master tells his student 'The past is history, the future's a mystery but today is a gift, that's why it's called 'the present.' 

Not being enlightened, like Oogway, into a beautiful shower of cherry blossom petals, I must point out that while there is wisdom in this quote, it has also been my experience that sometimes the present moment sucks. Sometimes it feels like quicksand and if I hang out too long, I will just get stuck in that experience forever.

The wisdom of that quote, from a buddhist perspective, is that the past consists of millions of present moments and so does the future. In the present moment, we have the ability to experience not just pain but also healing. We have the ability to apply something we learned months ago to the present moment and witness how it alters the physical experience as well as the mental experience.

This is where mindfulness comes in. Mindfulness is 'the intentional, nonjudgmental focus of one's attention on the emotions, thoughts and sensations occurring in the present moment.' Throughout the winter, I felt too overwelmed by my sadness to allow myself to be mindful of it outside of designated moments - in meditation or yoga classes. I struggled with the 'nonjudgmental' part of the definition.

My struggle, my resistance to my sadness was in part because I felt like if I was present in the sadness, I would lose perspective. That by being present in the present moment, I would be overcome by sadness and lose sight of the positive aspects in life that I knew were all around me.

I was always afraid to focus too much on the present moment because I thought I'd miss the big picture. If I just focused on today, I would feel trapped. But at the same time, if I just focus on tomorrow, it's ungrounded and I miss the chances the present moment offers for change.

If I were an enlightened tortoise, perhaps I'd be able to recognize in the present moment how my experience was created by the past and how what I choose to do in this moment will help shape my future experience. For now, I will keep doing handstands to build up muscle memory. And more importantly - the ego memory, that despite the strong energy of my habitual tendencies, it is possible to be grounded, balanced and upside down all because of a small change in perspective.

And I will remind myself that the present moment may include feelings of sadness, but it also includes experiences of growth, it also includes 'Love Cats', it also includes hope.

handstands

 I had coffee on sunday with one of my closest friends, who was also my first buddhist teacher. Over the years our friendship has become a kind of sangha of two. We've shared our deepest struggles and trusted each other to offer wisdom and compassion. Our conversations have the tendency to start with very simple topics and end in very deep revelations. But over the past few months, something has been off. She's been going through a lot of pain in her life and I often felt unable to offer her anything of value. 

After a few minutes of ordinary catching-up, I mentioned that a mutual friend of ours had felt like I was being short with him lately. I told Ellen that I recognized myself being impatient with him, but that there was no real reason for it, certainly nothing that he'd done and so I had apologized. 

Ellen was silent for a moment and then she said 'I've felt the same thing, like you're different in the past few months.' 

I thought back to the past few months and pointed out a few instances where I had recognized that something was off in myself. In the summer, during a yoga class, my teacher had pointed out that I'm pretty fearless with inversions. I don't have any trouble popping up into a bridge or leaping face down into a handstand. She suggested I try to go into a handstand from downward facing dog, instead of leaping into it like a gymnast. That way, the handstand would be grounded from the strength of my core instead of relying on momentum. And I had spent the next couple months thinking about that. My habit has always been to leap into things and not be afraid, but when it comes to things that require stability and groundedness, I find myself floundering. Talking to friends of mine who do yoga and have trouble going into inversions, I realized that the idea of flipping upside down was the antithesis of security to them. But to me, perhaps I didn't feel grounded enough when I was upright to really feel the insecurity of being upside down. 

I began to consider the root chakra. In the fall, I visited friends in Europe and on the flight into Paris I felt the city pull to me as strongly as it ever had, perhaps more so. But as much as my heart rejoiced in that feeling of homecoming, my mind worried over my struggle to find a way to make Paris my home more permanently. In the weeks after that trip, I found myself becoming dizzy and feel disconnected to my life in Philly. I felt powerless to create the massive change I wanted to make in my life. So in the span of a few months, prompted by my efforts to do a handstand from a position of power and stability - I began to open up the energy blockages in my root chakra (groundedness, stability), sacral chakra (trust in emotional nourishment, acceptance of change)  and solar plexus chakra (personal power)  that were impeding me from finding a way to act. 

I shared some of this with Ellen, explaining that I've felt disconnected for a while and just kind of overwhelmed. She listened and then, explaining her experience talking to me in the past few months, said 'A lot of the time, when we were talking, I would share something and your response felt like you hadn't really heard me. Which never happened with you before. You always used to hear what was between the lines and respond to what I was really saying, even if I wasn't able to articulate it.' 

And that's when I realized that my heart was clogged up. 'I know what you mean. My responses missed the mark because I was listening to you with just my mind, not my heart.' 

As I said it I recognized the truth of it, all of this energy swirling around in the first three chakras, all these fears about not being powerful enough, connected enough, supported enough had reached the fourth chakra - the heart.  And instead of letting the heart be compassionate toward my fears, I shut it down and tried to find a solution with my mind. 

My teacher once equated each of the first four chakras with a natural element. The root chakra is earth, the sacral- water, the solar plexus - air and the heart chakra - fire. He reminded us that the heart chakra is the biggest of all the chakras and he equated it to a furnace or the sun. It is more powerful than we ever give it credit for. It has the power to clear blockages in the other chakras - through compassion. 

My friends were the helpful mirror who showed me that my heart wasn't open to them, which made me realize that my heart wasn't open to myself, either. So all the handstands I tried, all the analysis used to solve my struggles with the first three chakras - they wouldn't work unless my heart was open. 

Because as the Little Prince told us, 'It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.'