Fighting the Flamingo

My friend sent me this article in the NY Times called "Understanding the Anxious Mind." It's a major longitudinal study of temperament and its effects. Basically, it follows babies along the single dimension of whether they are easily upset when exposed to new things.

Now, I have read several articles and books around this topic, especially having studied Psychology in Undergrad. With this focus, and having suffered from a lot of anxiety in my own existence, it has always been an area of interest. Usually, I dive in with the question, "why?"

Why me? What made me this way? What is it in my brain? What happened when I was a baby? What didn't happen? How can I solve this?

But really, where does this get me?? NO WHERE!

Today, in my first class, Mind and It's World, the Tibetan Lama (in his broken English) said to us,

"In this class, no ask why! Not allowed!"

In which immediately someone inquired, "why can't we ask why?"

He said, " when someone is late, and never shows up all day and all night, then next day you see him and you say,' why did you not come?' But really you are not asking why, you are just saying you are angry they did not show up. You do not really listen to why they did not come."

Same approach.

When I opened this article, I really had no intentions when reading it. To be honest, I rarely read articles or video clips my friends send me. However, I'm still in a bit of a vulnerable and open space here in this new place. I'm not in a class routine, I don't know many people here, and time seems kind of... undefinable right now. So, I read it. "Why not?" was my only real why.

Something about this surrender opened me to a different sort of understanding. Of course, I can comprehend logically that most of my insane insecurities and preoccupations are actually entirely untrue and not really happening. Not everyone in the city is looking at me; not everyone knows what I'm thinking all the time; not everyone can see when I'm irritated or uncomfortable. I know this but I don't know this with my body. When I am the Flamingo- the awkward, pink, one legged bird who is flapping it's wings inside it's stomach, putting it's head upside down underwater to find substance, I do not know this. I'm utterly lost in my own Pink.

When I read this article, something in me opened up. Like a rushing cleanse that sweeps the debris away with it's awe some force. Some part of me actually understood that yes, it's all made up. It's not real. I could feel this, if only for a second.

I think this is good, even if it was quick. I want to get back to that place where my heart and head are fully open to newness, curiosity, and the joy of being alive. I think this is how it's supposed to be here. A place where babies meet puppies and it's all OK.