agliophobia
“Have you ever seen a human heart? It looks like a fist, wrapped in blood! ”
Large lessons from little strangers.
I make an offering when I come into contact with others. I define contact as an experience. If we shape an event together, be it intimate or not, and I feel a sense of groundedness or release, I will offer a gift.
This is my way of honouring the cycles of reciprocity.
My offering is not always received. More often than not, it is rejected.
My endeavours to enlighten others have been met with disgust, disdain, dismissal, and degradation: heavy words with a downward moving energy. I desire to uplift and spread my arms wide for embrace. On my first day of kindergarten, the teacher pulled my mother aside after class to tell her that it was inappropriate to kiss the other children. Keep Your Hands To Yourself.
As a child, I wanted to peep underneath everything to see what was creeping in the dark. Rugs, curtains, rocks, my nails; the latter more difficult to observe. I took an Exacto knife beneath my nail bed on my left index finger. I hid under the table and sliced tiny lines in my hands to understand what I felt throbbing at my fingertips.
In my twenties, I discovered Reiki. Inaccessible terms, Reiki is the practice of moving energy to clear the blockages in the body. Practitioners use their hands without contact. It is less invasive and more subtle than an Exacto knife or pressing your lips to stranger's cheeks.
I send light to those I love, loathe, and misunderstand.
I’ve failed to observe until now that many are content with where they are—be it high, low, or middling—there is a spot many mark and aim to stay.
I enjoy movement: I am too full of wind and fire. The flame beats steadily within. My heart is thirsty, and water is the balm to my upending passions!
Large lessons from little stranges.
After a yoga class when I first arrived in Arizona, I extended an offering to a woman who quickly became a dear friend. Josie. She received the light and ran with it: we talk regularly, sweat together, sip cold beverages after class and divulge our previous lovers and losses.
Some will catch you as you leap into the abyss of social relatedness. Friend, foe, fellow practitioner; what label will we share? I delight in the discovery of others—the unique flavours, values, philosophies, and appearances. I shapeshift with each interaction. What a simple joy to witness what arises through the complexities of human discourse!
I was met with rejection today. As the rebuff expressed itself, I observed my biology: heart a little fluttery, cheeks warm, feet clammy. I took malasana (yogic squat) to be closer to the earth. Ground in what you know. I am confident in who I am and all that I represent.
Rejection is a stark reminder of what we stand for. I am here: you are there. We do not need to meet each other. We do need to understand and accept our differences. We do need to receive and reciprocate. We do not need to identify or believe in values that we do not uphold.
Polarities are a pleasure when this recognition sets in: you are not me, and you don’t have to be!
I forget that not everyone wishes to learn and thrust themselves into the world.
To some, the heart is and always will be a fist wrapped in blood.
I’ve been rejected many times over. Dismissed. Fired. Ghosted. Ignored. Snubbed. Each event is less prickly. Where my actions were once clumsy, and I’d cut my hand on the stem of the rose, now my efforts are agile. I’ve no abrasions after the event today.
One thorn sticks sideways from a rib. On the left side. By my heart.
Rejection is fuelled by entitlement. There is a way to refuse without debasing the other person. The practice is how to say no without completely negating the other form. How do we meet each other somewhere in the middle without it being such a scene?
The art of setting boundaries and stating your place amongst the processes and pleasures of others is a fine skill to develop. Dolly Parton is a woman I rever for her clever, playful, and effortless ease in redirecting the energy, so the attention is focused elsewhere. Taking center stage as a sex symbol at a precious period of politics with the women’s liberation on the upswing, Dolly used poetry and humour to tread lightly along the middle path. She does not negate or refuse one idea for the other.
Watch Dolly Parton: Here I Am to experience her story.
Entitlement is the right to something, the claim to privilege. I demand curiosity (the right to inquire), education (the right to learn), and art (the right to express) above all other advantages. By societal standards, I own very little. By my standards, I possess many gems.
Insights I’ve gathered through rejection and self-reflection.
What I’ve surmised from my brief interaction with a small stranger is this: entitlement stems from a deeply rooted insecurity. My offering was taken as an offence. My intent was perceived as an attack. The defences went up, and I was utterly denied.
Agliophobia = fear of being hurt.
The thorn that sticks sideways is not mine. It never was. I must for the thrust; advance my understanding of self through interactions with others. The crown I wear and present is of flowers. The barbs I wear may be of thorns. It is the price I pay for kissing children on the cheek.
Photo, source.
