The masks we wear keep us from more deeply experiencing and
knowing ourselves and one another.
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Before taking that first step.
This past September on the Autumn equinox I sat around a table of strangers in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. We were gathered family style for dinner at Phantom Ranch. I sat there devastated, disappointed and afraid, not to mention hurting from having just shuffled most of 14.8 miles in a one-mile descent. (That’s another story.)
The shuffle was not a dance step in this situation. My shuffle ended an hour beforehand and all I wanted to do was curl up and cry. Yet here I sat surrounded by happy people, or at least seemingly happy people, many of whom had done the ten mile descent from the South Rim and a few who had trekked the same route we did from the North.
Phantom Ranch dining hall
I am unaccustomed to pretending yet these people, except for Jerry my partner, were all strangers to me. Gathered around this table was the first time we had met.
Finally I said to the woman to my right, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I am not in a good place.”
This one simple, honest statement, me telling my truth, allowed those around me to begin owning their aches. I was one of the many hurting from the trek. Most of us wondered how we would make it out. I was grateful to have time in the canyon before hiking up the Bright Angel trail to the South Rim two days later.
Authenticity often births magic for me. Owning and being open as to my personal experience allowed me to be open to the woman sitting next to me. She was from Memphis, only a couple of hours from my Nashville home. Although moments earlier I sat commiserating inside myself, I was listening, listening as she remarked more than once of a heart-related test she was undergoing the day after returning home.
I inquired as to her situation and learned she was donating a kidney to a kindred spirit, an Ohio woman she met through social media as part of their involvement in guinea pig rescue. I didn’t tell my dinner mate but at that moment I was feeling like God’s guinea pig. I felt betrayed and upset from having followed signs and my intuition only to end up disappointed, disheartened and in totally unexpected pain.
Yet owning my insides opened space for me to sincerely want to know more about this human being I had just met. I wanted to know more about her passion for these small animals I really never think about. From what did they need to be rescued?
Did you know guinea pigs are able to reproduce within 21 days of their birth? As a result, they are taken from their mothers prematurely and sold to stores. Being taken from their mothers at such an early age halts the development of their immune systems often leading to early deaths. These early deaths conveniently occur after they are purchased and money’s been made by the breeder and the pet store selling them. Why was I not surprised that even guinea pigs are disposable goods in our consuming culture?
My dinner mate met her kidney’s mate on-line through their mutual rescue work. Just prior to vacation, she learned her friend was in intensive care. She offered to cancel her canyon trek to ensure her friend received her kidney yet the ill woman’s mother urged her to continue with her plans. Her daughter would have to be in better condition physically to insure the likelihood of her body’s receptivity to the kidney.
My body still ached. I truly had no idea how I would hike out in two and half days and yes, I cried and cried later that evening but at the same time my soul was soothed, my spirit filled with joy and my heart with receptivity because of this woman’s compassion and profound willingness to give of herself.
Here I sat experiencing the beauty of human relationships. Life on Earth, just as hiking through the Grand Canyon, is a beautiful, challenging trek. None of us are really strangers when we approach one another with an open heart and mind.
It can be easy to fall into thinking you’re alone on Life’s trek or the only one hurting. Before I got real with those gathered around my table, I felt like I was the only one (and that’s not the first time I’ve ever felt that.)
Disowning pain and vulnerability keeps us from deeper connections without and within. The masks we wear keep us from more deeply experiencing and knowing others and ourselves. Busy pretending, we are who we aren’t, so much is missed.
In this time as the surface and the outer is advertised and promoted as what’s important and people seem busier and pulled in more directions than ever, authenticity is more important than ever.
I choose authenticity. What about you?
-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift
27 November 2013
dawn@imaginetheshift.com
Tags: authenticity, Busy Be Bits, connection, Good News Muse, Imagine the Shift, inspiration, the Grand Canyon, the masks we wear