Reflections on power and powerlessness in the shifting paradigm

Difficult spiritual journeys are like exercise

I am taking a class by the Intuitive Astrologer and holographic intuitive, Robert Ohotto. It is part of the membership he runs which I joined last month. The class is on Power and Powerlessness.

I reflected today, as I listened to the teaching, about the times I feel powerless and what my typical reactionary behaviors are.

I admit that when I am subconsciously triggered by outside events, it definitely shows up in my finances a lot of the time. It also shows up in wanting to control things which are out of my control.

Yesterday, I recognized too late that some part of me was triggered about summer being cancelled. It had been building for a while and I guess I just didn't pay close enough attention. Summer the season, is most definitely not cancelled, it has been 90 degrees most of the week.

What I am referring to are the get-togethers, events and festivals that keep me entertained.

Cancellations

Actually, a lot of things are cancelled or postponed. We were just sent a survey for the St Paul Curling Club last week to submit to them about our plans for the upcoming curling season.

Honestly, it doesn't look particularly good. Now this is a sport that I get a lot of joy from, exercise and camaraderie with people most of whom I have known for over ten years. Last year, I took over a team and became a skip for the first time. It was challenging and we only had one win for the season, which may or may not have been a fluke.

Anyway, I have had many wins in curling, even going all the way to the 1st event finals of a tournament. As a first year skip, I was not expecting to pull off a miracle.

Nevertheless, I looked forward to the respite from the long Minnesota winters, drinking beers, going to weekend long bonspiels and tons of laughter.

It became clear as I completed the survey that business as usual was already not possible. It is not a socially distant sport. Even if the club does 50% capacity and we trade-off weeks and sit far away from each other, it seems so much will be lost. It is also not clear if masks will be required, what might happen if someone tests positive and if we can even stomach the epidemic breaking out in the club.

My team

I reached out to my teammates to gauge how they were feeling. These ladies were willing to play under an untrained skip for an entire season with lots of free beer involved (the winning team in curling purchases beer for the loser). However, the thought of coming to the club with no vaccine for a virus that may ramp up again during flu season was just too much.

One of my ladies, a retired nurse had a loss in her extended circle and another relation on life-support. A different teammate had a grandkid on the way. We also weren't clear we could all afford to financially sustain the club by paying dues for a season we don't have - a suggestion made in the survey.

The grief for me over the entire sordid mess just crept up on me slowly. I thought I was handling it all. I wasn't.

Covid knocks the wind out of just about everything

I had lost so quickly all the outlets for what I considered my rejuvenation, my friendship circles, my events such as music or festivals that I attended. My world suddenly felt small and constricted. The virus, if you catch it affects your breathing.

Existentially we all can't really breathe. That has been the summer theme, I suppose. The theme for all of 2020, let's get real. George Floyd, was stopped from breathing by a cop. People we know got Covid and passed away, their lungs unable to sustain their lives.

Here I am worried I'll be alone in my apartment for a year or more, and hardly see anyone. No hugs or touch. No smiling faces. Laughing at my own jokes because no one is around to share them with me.

Collective powerlessness

Robert was talking about how mask wearing, for some people is the small token they use to express their general sense of powerlessness in their lives. It is easier to throw a hissy fit at a clerk in the store who won't let you in, or go on social media and brag about not wearing a mask than it is to sit in our feelings and admit the truth.

Our society has spent way too long finding ways of escaping feelings -drugs, alcohol, sex, food, endless vacations and politics. Maybe wearing a mask is like a door to feelings we simply aren't willing to touch.

Personal powerlessness

My budget was tight this week, I knew I shouldn't go out. But I went out anyway - several days in a row. My inner dialogue involved something like - it is warm out, the patios are open, I just want to breath some fresh air. I deserve to have a break after work.

I immediately became over-extended and unfortunately debted again. A thing I hadn't done since February.

The cosmic forces - internally and externally - force us to look at our shit. If you act from powerlessness it will have an immediate karmic effect. We don't get a break just because we're nice.

No one is perfect

Perfection isn't the game here. One day at a time.

I feel sad. If I do curl, it won't be with the same team. I may not curl at all. The club may not sustain itself without regular corporate gigs, tournaments and 100% capacity. I may have to take up ice skating or go back to my scrapbook projects.

I guess I will become real friendly with my budget and my finances. I will try to look at summer in a different light - it isn't all about me or a patio, I suppose. We're all not breathing the way we'd like. We're going to have to find new ways to heal and sustain each other. Drinking beers in a crowd probably isn't where power is best manifested.

Winter will be really quiet. We may have to enjoy walking alone in the snow instead of sitting around a table talking about our curling shots.

Power

I suppose in the days ahead, as I continue with the material presented in Robert's class, I will need to consider in my heart where my true power really lies. Is it posting on social about Covid and racism? Is it scrubbing my life for places I have acted unintentionally and sustained white supremacy? Is it writing?

I am not sure yet what 2020 is asking of me. I know it is exacting and difficult. Projects start and stop. People I'd hoped to resolve issues with have disappeared. Others are busy social distancing or doing their own thing.

The fall is unlikely to bring the fun events we all look forward to like the start of the curling season. We may lose more than we gain this year. It could be anything from our health, to our family members to the elections. We're going to be asked to face power and powerlessness over and over again.

What will you choose to do with your own journey with this material? I can speak from personal experience and say, it sure isn't letting me off the hook!

If you need someone to talk to as a coach or you want to try an Akashic reading on your situation, or to find a way to formulate a life that feels more authentic and real, look up some of my services. Any one of them may be something that helps you move through the material towards this new world, now forming.

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Curling Tournament: A short story

Thoughts at a curling tournament

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Nine Houses: Lowertown Lofts - Living in St Paul and finding my way

Characters of Lowertown, My Neighbor - 2011-2013

One thing that categorized my many years spent living in Lowertown Lofts were all the people I met, characters of one sort or another. In the early years in my apartment facing Mears Park, the building’s leasing assistant put on get-togethers of one variety or another on a regular basis. While some of the residents were transient, only staying a few months to a year, others renewed their leases year after year.

In the first couple of years, the city was in the process of building the Green Line lightrail from Minneapolis to St Paul. The first change which impacted us residents were that cars could no long go both ways on 4th street (behind the apartment). The area now occupied by train tracks become a construction zone. A noisy one at that!

My next-door neighbor at the time was a rather handsome and strapping engineer on the project. Dark hair, brooding composure. Muscles for days.

He had moved into town from some other state or place (I don’t remember) to facilitate his work. My neighbor, when he wasn’t working was often seen in the local watering holes like Bulldog, Barrio and Trattoria. We didn’t have a whole lot of restaurants in this part of town at the time. St. Paul was sleepy and quiet. Most people left on weekends.

My beautiful neighbor was good with the young ladies who’d frequent our night spots. Good enough that several times a week, I’d hear the noises of banging, crashing, moaning and ass-smacking through the paper-thin wall that adjoined our apartments. I learned the hard way that my perfect spot for meditation and tranquility wasn’t going to be so tranquil.

I heard him one day lamenting that he didn’t understand how someone could make noise complaints for doing what came naturally for a young single guy like himself.

There was me trying to keep a job longer than a few months or weeks, do spiritual work and healing. Meditate. Write in my journal. Sleep. I wasn’t always so understanding of my neighbor and created a lot of separation in my mind with him.

When the lightrail was completed and opened in June of 2014, I’d had a few chance encounters with him at the rooftop pool although we didn't do much but nod in each other's direction. He drank a lot and boasted loudly.

He eventually found a steady girlfriend, although their fights and make-ups were epic drama. When he moved out in 2013 -- to take another job, I’d come to miss him. Especially when it came to who moved in next.

My first full-time job

I joined Citizens League as their new Office Manager in November of 2011 after I switched temp agencies. I helped them move to a co-working space that was newly located in the building behind Lowertown Lofts, on 4th street. We were housed in the CoCo space (Now Fueled Collective).

My project management abilities and previous experience fit nicely at the time with what needed to be accomplished.

I’d been working with a BodyTalk professional on and off, along with another friend, Kris who did the same modality. BodyTalk is a modality that works on connecting the energy systems of the body. We focused on my immune system -I was frequently sick – and what might be blocking me from steady employment and were excited when my list of perfect job qualities manifested at Citizen's League. At first, my job was enlightening, exciting and friendly. I really felt at home.

I thought having a steady job would finally solve some of my long-standing issues with being in and out of work and help me to get back on my feet. In a way, it did but I was severely under-earning and I still couldn’t pay all my bills even with a steady job.

I also felt increasing bored with being the office admin as time continued but wasn't ready to choose anything else, yet.

Other healing paths I found at the time which would prove to be helpful on my journey of growth were Access Consciousness and Abraham-Hicks, of which I read all her published books at the time. While I didn’t know how to work myself into something else, I figured I could visualize myself into greater and greater spheres of success. My visions boards of cars, wedding rings and money lined the walls. My friend and I would work together on our wish lists and ideals.

The Watering Holes

Back to Lowertown’s nightlife and neighbors. I frequented the art crawls and outdoor festivals as much as possible. I often took the bus to events in Minneapolis, like the DJ nights at the once thriving Club Jager. Or attended concerts at First Ave. Given my lack of interest in cooking, I’d be found at the few restaurants we had at the time. One of these was Trattoria da Vinci.

It was here that I ate many a homestyle Italian meal while chatting with neighbors. It was “the” spot for many of us to congregate, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. We didn’t even need each other’s numbers – you could find most of the who’s who of Lowertown there on any given night of the week. We may not have been the Minneapolis A-listers but we had our own brand of élan. We told stories, ate meals, drank the copious cocktails of our amazing bartender, Dana and maybe, on several occasions kept each other alive through thick and thin.

I won’t say there wasn’t our fair share of scandals – cheaters and scoundrels, one-night stands talked about liberally in the weeks after, drunken slobbery escapades and more. Some bonds were ephemeral and others long-lasting, and yet my favorite memories of Lowertown can probably be boiled down to nights at Trattoria.

Fear and self-loathing cloaked in metaphysical spirituality and self-help

Still, the theme of that time as I became more familiar with my surroundings and before I owned a car, certainly included a fair amount of grappling with the weather. Slipping on sidewalks, huddling in the cold waiting for a bus that never came. Learning which clothes would keep me warm, and which did not.

Fears of one sort or another were front and center. My parents paid most of my bills and I lived on the remainder of my all too small paychecks throughout that time. I believed it was the micro-ness of my paychecks that was the problem. I didn’t consider moving from my too expensive apartment or that there might be another way to exist -- for all the reasons already mentioned here. To me, right around the corner, was the SOLUTION I just hadn’t gotten to yet.

At the curling club, I improved my skills year-by-year. I also watched a lot of curling because it was there I could socialize and observe people who fascinated me. I forged new friendships. At the same time, I felt I was deficient in some way that required me to spend an inordinate amount of time healing and healing others.

My conversations with psychics (whom I thought of as trusted advisors and friends) was “I don’t know why he doesn’t like me or why he is avoiding me,” and the feeling running through my body was fear, coupled with self-loathing coupled with dread I’d never be enough for anything. The very idea of not being liked triggered days of sadness and a lack of homeostasis.

I didn’t date much, I fell into things that showed up. I hoped every time they would deliver me from this unique path of suffering I was on. A person's potential and overwhelming feelings of spiritual connection generated my insights. These were backed-up by the equally scarred friends whose supportive “readings” confirmed my latest feelings as they desperately wanted to believe in rescue by romance.

The by default quickie romance was both jarring and devastating as it was quick-lived. It was either that or passing judgement on all those who made poor choices, I would never make. That level of superiority, ubiquitous in metaphysical/spiritual circles made it easy to avoid the very real pain of my circumstance. The other thing that showed up were guys I thought of as "just friends." I got pretty good at not being attracted to them. My heart and soul occupied elsewhere. Still, at least I wasn't lonely.

Coaching & Truth-telling

I found myself coaching and telling people what to do – I became familiar with feeling stronger by knowing better what other people should or should not be doing. “Wow, so and so just had an affair right in front of their spouse, maybe if they just loved themselves better, they wouldn’t be such a douchebag.”

Lowertown in those early years was both a salve and a playground for epic tales of self-aggrandizement. The next big thing, the better, more romantic boyfriend, the husband that never showed up, the job that would solve my financial problems. At the end of this period, I was unemployed, and most definitely single. The love of my life unmistakenly out of reach.

This isn't to say that I didn't have fun. I took my personal trainer, Amanda to a day at the racetrack in Wisconsin organized by my curling buddy Rik in August 2013. We ate corn and peaches. We toured 45th Parallel Distillery

Amanda got me into the best shape I've ever been in that summer and I ran her Access Consciousness Bars and we both complained about work. Now she runs a thriving personal training business. I spent days at the rooftop pool with its views of the cityscape of St Paul. I walked the Mississippi River. I danced all over town. Minneapolis-St Paul had this newness to it, in which everything I did was fascinating and surreal; adventurous. I felt I was in Minnesota for a purpose. Even if that purpose was fixing someone else.

In the next blog, I’ll write about the move to the sixth floor, more Lowertown characters and going back to school all of which happened in the latter part of my Lowertown Lofts experience.

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