Cultivation

I'm experiencing that feeling. That feeling of dread and doom and fear, where each new event of the day seems unbearably full of chances to fail.

It goes right down the middle of me, and then runs around to all the tips of my body like static. Pins and needles.

I'm looking for something to redirect my attention and my feelings, but not in the frantic or lethargic way of most procrastination. I've been into lists lately, so here then is a list of the beautiful things in my day thus far:

*Sunlight and brilliant blue sky
*I think my professor for Hinduism and the Epics is more genuinely and passionately in love with what she studies and teaches than anybody I have ever met, ever.
*She also has a beautiful wrap-thing... like a shawl, but with sleeves, very thin and see through and flowy, in a sort of deep pink.
*While I was sitting outside to eat my lunch, my TF came by just as I had gotten some bleu cheese dressing on my mouth and was realizing I had no napkins, and he was like, "Do you need napkins?" because he had grabbed extras.
*Meeting a really exciting person who LOVES William Finn and is coming to my birthday party.
*A hot shower.
*A moment in writing my response when it really clicked in and took off, all at once.
*Having the thought "fuck everyone; I don't have time," and then thinking about the implications of that statement and laughing to myself.
*Saying no.
*These ridiculous little things serving as zipper pulls on my purse, which are eggs and circus people and have two alternate faces all at the same time! Really!
*The knowledge that people (you, at this time) will come by and read my list.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears

When I was writing my Holy/Dangerous Women paper, and I woke up the day it was due about 6 hours later than I meant to, I started feeling this horrible panic. I decided to take a shower to move through it, and in the shower this phrase came to me, one that my dad has said a million times but I never quite understood:


"When the student is ready, the teacher appears."


I realized this paper, this panic, this fear of failure, were all here to be my teachers. I don't mean this in a rainbows and puppies kind of way... though I'm sure rainbows and puppies can be teachers too, but not the kind I needed right then. I'd always thought of the phrase as more literal. Like some wise and knowing person was going to show up and gently enlighten me as soon as I attained some kind of readiness. And certainly the fact that this had not occurred was a sign that I was, as I secretly feared, inept and/or underdeveloped.


But now... this paper that I was fumbling through, that I was so scared to write because I was sure it would prove finally what a terrible student I am... was here to teach me? I was very clear on this for awhile, even thinking that what I was experiencing was far more valuable than getting an A and praise. Because what I was suddenly learning was why I procrastinate, the way in which fear drives me to a very specific system of behavior. It's not that I can't do the work in three weeks that I manage to cram into one frightening day. It's not that I'm somehow stupid or crazy or belligerent. It's specific fear management: I'm afraid of doing it wrong, so I put it off until I have to either do it or fail in a way that seems unthinkable. At which point I do it, but not with the time and care I know I could potentially put in. This way I can avoid both failure (finding out I couldn't do something even though I really tried my best) and success (finding out I really could). Plus, I get a nice adrenaline rush and the feeling of being a tough cookie.

It's not stupid. It's not random. It may not be based in reality, but it is, in its own way, a clever method of handling a very emotionally raw fear: that I'm not actually any good. At (whatever I may be doing) or (fundamentally at all).

So I had this realization and I kind of forgot, and then today I had to go meet with my professor about this paper, without having any idea of my grade or how I had done.

I was scared. I tried to talk myself out of it and steel myself for the worst, but I was scared. I had to wait while she talked to another student... of course, the student in the class who always seemed to have her shit together and knew what she wanted to write about in the paper from day 1... so I waited, hearing words float downstairs into the conference room where I'd decided to plant myself, and then went in to hear what was up.

She basically opened by saying I'd done a very good job with textual analysis and the application of theory, but essentially I hadn't written a research paper. Ok. What? Not ok. She was telling me I hadn't done the assignment correctly. Oh my God... I hadn't heard something like this since high school. I was sitting there in my seat with the paper written all over in my lap, and I couldn't look at it too closely, and I didn't dare check for my grade, all the way at the very back.

She went on in this back and forth mode, both saying that what I had done was fundamentally wrong, and that if it wasn't, if I worked on it, I could have this very good publishable thing.

I tried to say things that were intelligent and open without either defending myself too much or sounding like I had known what I had to do and just cavalierly decided not to do it... I have no idea how it sounded for real. I asked what specifically I should have done/should do in the future. I said that I had switched gears very close to the end, and knew on some level that I was shafting the research. I said that I was used to writing papers that required less background (I didn't say this, but I was thinking that I kind of jumped off from the model of my thesis, where I was all but ordered to use less background).

She seemed to genuinely wish she could have helped me earlier. She said that my paper was the first one she read, and she was really worried that maybe no one had understood the assignment (God!) But I was afraid of her, and I was afraid to be clear about where I was with my work because I knew it was not far enough.

She said that I could have asked for an incomplete, but that she understood if I just wanted it done. She asked if I had submitted a bibliography when she asked for it, and that's when the bottom really fell out for me. What bibliography? I remembered very clearly the email where she canceled class so we could have more time to research. I remembered meeting with her to talk about my nascent project ideas. I remembered NOTHING about a bibliography, which apparently everyone else had turned in! It became clear as we talked that people had either turned them in or just discussed them verbally, which is probably what I figured our meeting was... I don't know. But I felt ridiculous.

I think I started to crumble at this point, and I think she knew, because she wrapped up quickly and dismissed me. I don't know how I looked... I didn't burst into tears in her office or anything, but I definitely beat a hasty retreat. It felt so horrible that I had to endure all that and then say "thank you, ok, thank you, bye."

And did I ever mention that I HATE when people can see what I feel and I don't intend it? I always have this snarling animal reaction inside... if you've upset me, at least have the decency to let me lie about it. Which she did... but I think that she knew.

I made it outside and finally looked for my grade: Just a B. And a B+ for the class. I mean, at this point, I thought it was definitely going to be worse... what kind of grades do you get if you don't do the assignment? But the grade didn't really matter. I already felt that crunch inside that told me I had failed. And to be perfectly honest I pretend that I think Bs are totally fine because I get them and I know they ought to be and sometimes they are... especially if I get a C, too. But to be perfectly honest I don't want Bs. I want As.

Because I want to be perfect, and not perfectly honest. I don't want to be honest.

So there I was, walking home and trying not to cry, and I felt all the tightening start inside of me... all the reactions to the reaction, all the "this is so stupid, why are you being such an idiot, it's only a B, what is your problem, so you messed up, why are you doing this to yourself?" and "why didn't you just do something earlier, if you weren't so dumb and afraid you could have fixed this, or if you just took more time" and "you know it's really ok so don't get upset, let's think about this rationally," and my dad saying I really need all As and this voice in my head yelling at him about whether he is at Harvard getting his master's so how the fuck does he know what I need to get... noisy, noisy place, my head.

And I thought, I'm just going to stay with how I feel. It doesn't matter why I feel that way, it doesn't matter where this is coming from, I just want to stay with how I feel. Not fight. Not wallow. Be with.

I don't know how to describe being with how I feel. It's different. I had to keep reminding myself to do it, gently, like if a kid is riding a trike and keeps swerving off the path. It doesn't stop hurting. I got inside and sat here crying. But it's like sitting with someone, like sitting next to your friend while you are doing something hard together.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

I don't know what this all means, but I think it means something different, something a little bit new. And if that's true, it's worth it. The As don't feed my soul anyway. They just lessen the anxiety for a few minutes.

I'm going to read my comments now. Stick around, I'll be right back.

That was ok. I think she's right about most of the things that would strengthen my arguments... I think she's wrong about several critiques of my style. It's nice to be able to tell the difference between what I agree with and what I don't without categorically responding to the whole thing as a personal attack.

It's funny, when I woke up this morning, and started thinking about all the horrible things I had to do today (do you do that in bed, too?), I for some reason found myself saying a prayer, of gratitude, in advance, for the day and what would come of it. I never do that.

I don't know how to end this... I don't know why I wrote it... I wanted to share what I was thinking. I wanted to allow it to settle a bit in me.

Con Mind

I realized today that it's a confidence problem. Perhaps you already knew this, or have been telling me this for years, but... In several separate encounters today, I realized that I was genuinely startled when people seemed to like me or show any interest in me, and that I have a sort of basic expectation that unless I am making a concerted effort to be exciting, most people probably have at least a mildly negative impression of me.

And the other day, I realized very concretely that a lot of my anxiety about work is because I am genuinely worried about proving that I am good enough to be here.

I don't exactly know what to do about these realizations, which don't actually sound all that revelationy when I write them out. I think the revelation is that these are perceptions, not necessarily the underlying fact. Like, the underlying fact isn't that I have been boring and anti-social and unengaging in most situations here, it's just my perception of my own behavior.

The mind is a strange and often inaccurate place.

I Like Eggs Better When I'm Not One.

...and I figured I'd just go crazy and publish 4 times in one day. Except now it's several days later, but I think it will still post in the other day. And even if it doesn't, it will still make 4 times today, I think.

When I was very, very small, I had a dream, one of the first dreams I remember. I was standing on a stage, and there were cool lights shining on the stage, but I had no awareness of an audience. Rather there was a sort of echoing emptiness all around. On the stage with me were enormous, pastel colored eggs. I knew that there were other people like me in those eggs, and that it was time for them to hatch and come out, or they would rot inside. I tried to wake them up, and get them to come out, but they wouldn't. I don't know if I was frightened, but I was alone. At the same time, I knew that I had done what I needed to do. That dream has never really left me, and I've found it many times since.

When I first saw the Matrix, in the scene where Neo realizes what is going on and sees all the little pods that everyone is "sleeping" in.

And now this, which I just stumbled upon... if the religious language is kind of a block, try it anyway... it still says what it says:

That scripture where Jesus says, “You should be perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect” kind of makes me squirm a little bit. So we interpret it to mean “mature,” or something doesn't require anything quite as radical as “perfect.”

But Jesus was pretty radical, actually. I think he’s talking about the whole change. C.S. Lewis had a good illustration; he said, “It’s hard for an egg to turn into a bird, but it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while it was still an egg!”

And for now, we’re like eggs, and we can go on indefinitely just being an ordinary decent egg. OR, we can turn to Jesus to perfect us and make us into radically different people.

We have to be hatched... or go bad.

Right now I feel confined, and I don't know quite why, or by what. I feel like I panic much more easily than I should, that there's a basic unease moving around inside of me. I don't think I should panic over little things like... well, one day it was just walking home. Or the GRE, or the mice in our house, or grad school... I don't know about being at work, about this job. I seem to be anxious and unproductive here. But then, I feel that way almost everywhere.

Is it time to hatch? Why? Where am I going?

I want to be certain of something, and wrap my hand around it.

Help Me Remember This One, or, I Hate Mice and the GRE

This was going to be just a basic rant about how much I hate the mice in our apartment, and the fact that I have to take the English GRE tomorrow. Also, I'm more and more convinced that I need to go to grad school, and I'm more and more terrified and having mental blocks all over the place with the actual process thereof.

1. I never agreed with my mom that mice are scary, but they're starting to really startle and annoy me. Also, I feel like it must be my fault that there are so many of them, and I want to keep things cleaner but I feel overwhelmed.

2. The English GRE sucks hippodick in a variety of nauseating ways.

3. I'm really scared of grad school.

But the thing is, I just found this quote in somebody's profile:

Stress is an ignorant state.
It believes that everything is an emergency.
Nothing is that important.
-Natalie Goldberg, author & writing instructor

I love Natalie Goldberg, and I think this is true. Such a gentle way to put it... stress is an ignorant state. We take it for granted that everyone is going to be stressed, that is natural to be stressed, part of our society or our lives or our "human condition." I want to stop and think about this one.

Stress is an ignorant state.

It believes that everything is an emergency.

Nothing is that important.