You aren't going to like this

But, also, perhaps you will.

Things haven’t been great lately. I bet if 
I asked you: name a thing or
Two caught in your craw, you
May start with war or 
Pandemic or politics or …
Then before you know it the
Torrent lets itself go  and
Even though it's been dry, a flood
Of complaints erupts, each flowing
Harder, wilder, 
Closer to the heart.

Choose your metaphor. 
Maybe it's a hurricane wind relentless
With waters sucked out then pummeling 
Downward. Or maybe a heartless
Summer sunshine hourly turning corn 
Crackling, dry winds ready for 
A wayward ember. 

Feel it palpitating in your
Chest, the fan of fear as
Nature unfurls its new map --
It's all getting away from you
Isn't it? So uncomfortable.
Parched, soggy, oppressive -- 
Misaligned from recent
Tempests penetrating dreams
Pushing you to the brink.

Truth be told,
You are not going to like this
(Though perhaps you may):

“Most of us do not take 
these [difficult] situations as 
teachings. We automatically hate them. 
We run like crazy. We use 
all kinds of ways to escape — 

all addictions stem from 
this moment when we meet 
our edge and we just can’t 
stand it. 

We feel we have to 
soften it, pad it with something, 
and we become addicted to 
whatever it is that seems 
to ease the pain. ...

“To stay with that shakiness — to stay 
with a broken heart, with a 
rumbling stomach, with the feelings 
of hopelessness and wanting to 
get revenge — that is 
the path of true awakening." 

So speaks Buddhist nun 
Pema Chodron in
When Things Fall Apart.

Things have always been falling apart --
We just haven't been here
For it. Now is our time. 
This mess is ours -- no more
Special than than that of
Manon Fontaine and the rest,
Unchained from the hold 
Of La Mutine.

Stop yourself now to go inside 
This moment. Look up and
Breathe into the space 
Around -- be in it.
Be as fish in a small tank,
Pacing among plastic
Ferns and artificial castles.
A guppy -- a molly -- makes 
No difference. one hardly 
Knows one's neighbor, fighting
For the wet crumbs that 
Float from above.

What home is this?
How do we 
Pay the ransom which fear 
Keeps demanding of us? 

Invite discomfort 
Inside, accept it 
as it appears -- 
Let it be. 

Float. Unclench
The coin of hope/fear --
Breath upon the
Ocean of love.

---

Recently my therapist said “If only we’d let ourselves be uncomfortable for a half second, we’d get through things a heck of a lot faster!”

She laughed and threw her arms up — I asked her to say that again. Was this true? I asked her. Yes, she reassured me.

I didn’t need the reassurance. I knew it because I’d felt it myself — felt that terrible discomfort and known if I just stuck it out for a relatively short period of time, I’d make it to the other side.

Now and then I let myself be uncomfortable.

Usually I didn’t.

As she said it though, it was a revelation for me. Even though I’d read When Things Fall Apart many times. Even though I’d felt it myself.

Even though I had heard it before from a different therapist!

I began to wonder as Bob Dylan did —

“And how many times can a man turn his head//
And pretend that he just doesn't see?”

The answer my friend…