Hate, Judgement, & Wild Rashes- Unexpected Twists of Spiritual Healing Journeys- India
So my face rash is going down, but other things have come up. I haven’t shown you the rashes for my ego freaked out against it. Every cell of my vanity (and there are oceans of em) was against actually posting me looking totally beaten up and deformed. And yet, true to form, if I walk this talk of sharing “the sweaty, teary, and beautiful” than here we go. [Photos in the second half of the post.]
I remind myself of the guy from Mask (not the Jim Carey one, the one from 1985 that portrays the true life story of Rocky Dennis , a red head with a massive facial deformity who had a blind girlfriend, and he dies right after he removed the tacks from his map of dreams because the parents forbade her to see him again, and he finally understood that the fight he was fighting to be accepted for who he was, was not going to happen. Oh, such a hard movie!) So, I look like that.
And now as it starts to slowly ooze and swoosh into some other liquid form of deformity, I find hate and judgement to my neighbors totally occupying my every thought, every moment. Is this really the extent of spiritual and holistic, as worldly and full of Metta (loving kindness) as this petty little travelers can become?
What I sought out and what I found turned out to be two completely different worlds, or is it actually the same? Join me.
What I Sought
I sought to come to India and leave my family to create a sacred space to dive deeply into my spiritual and physical healing. I sought to heal that Chronic Pain and Dysfunction and release all the emotional and spiritual layers of trauma from this and past lives that had built up and were causing multiple manifestations of physical demise. I sought to spent days on end as a Monk-in-a-Cave and reach conclusions (again) like these:
I was filled with such peace and three times, insights that made the entire puzzle of my life fit together. For those moments, those three times, looking up at at at at at stars, nothing but darkness and stars, crying, I felt all who I was, the energy of me, finally, deeply, truly taste freedom of body. I knew for a few minutes there that I am all frequency, that everything changes, and that I’m so deeply blessed to get to be a part of the life school.
and I was seeking more insights from this sort:
I am the little toe of this huge and wonderful light-source being who cannot experience the pain of getting his toe stubbed on that heavy post in the middle of the night when he gets up to pee. I am the little toe of this fully-satisfied love-source who cannot understand how it is to miss the big toe so much it hurts. The Source does not know how is feels to fear that something may happen to the pinky. He cannot phantom what is feels like when the hearts hurts, and you clutch your chest, begging it to stop beating, to stop aching so unbearably so. He can’t be jealous that the ring finger got an engagement band that he did not, and what that says about his self-worth. He/She can’t experience that; but I, the little toe, can.
and I’m doing powerful work with the Bone and Body Clinic. I’m working harder than I imagined and touching so much, and part of that work is the intrinsic need to rest, to relax, to be calm, and shanti and to go within.
What I Found
That I have become obsessed and bitter, judgmental and hateful at those who share a common wall with me and fill my days with the news and soccer games I don’t wish to hear, conversations I don’t wish to be a part of, private bathroom scenes I don’t want to partake in, and whining, crying, fighting, normal family squabbles and drama, and forms of discipline that make my skin crawl. It reached it’s apex (God, I hope that was the apex) over the past two days when I was a total physical and emotional mess, hot, itchy, bloated, deformed, in pain, vain, miserable and desperate to nap and be quiet and still, desperate to calm myself down and be peaceful, and the walls shook from the sheer volume of what sounded like dozens of people they crammed into that house in yet another social get together with children and adults screaming.
Here’s what I wrote to Kobi in an email. I’m not proud of my level of lowness and self-pity (and self-righteousness) but here is where it is:
i’ve made a decision. we’ll see how it goes. but i don’t want to live here anymore. i can’t live with these neighbors. it’s basically one house with a wall in the middle separating it into two and there is a huge space between the wall and the ceiling and the neighbor’s daughter and son and two grandkids live with them now. they invite the other daughter over with her little son and the kids yell, fight, scream, whine all day and the mom and grandmother freak out on them all day and then they keep having guests over with more kids and then for hours at a time you can’t even hold a thought it’s so noisy in here. i hear every conversation they have, i know about the lives of each of their guests, i hear all those great bathroom sounds, especially at night, and the women threatening and freaking out and all the noise. one night the daughter was crying and wouldn’t open the door and you would die the drama we had here around 11pm or later. whatever it was, i keep saying to myself that it’s ok and it’s just great that they are near me to remind me blah, blah, blah and i don’t want to live here anymore. twice i tried to nap in the afternoon cuz my body really needed it and the yelling and noise next door you could still hear with my headphones in my ear. if i have to live in my house (which i’m supposed to relax in) and most of the day have loud noises and sometimes even have to walk around with headphones just so i can have some peace and quiet, than something is wrong.
i will go around tomorrow and see what i can find in the neighborhood. dilara might have a house too. i need to find something that does not have a family with kids right next to me. i hope i can find something. too bad for i adore this house. it’s so mine. it’s so perfect, so cozy and the landlord suraj even brought me another table so that my puzzle is on two tables and is a good height for me. he even bought and put in a mosquito net. still, i will repack, take back to sangita what i don’t need, and find a new home.
they, of course, have every right to be as social as they want and if they choose to have many families hanging out in their home, that is their right. i need a quiet corner. i hope suraj will return to me my rent money for i just paid him a couple of days ago for the next two weeks.
i’ve thought a lot about this for i adore this house, but, no, i don’t want to live here anymore. i can’t ask them to quiet the kids or stop making noise and i must relax and rest and be restful and they are stressing me out, especially the noise around the children and disciplining them. i can’t bear to hear anymore. ahhhh.
so, i see i am sure. yes, i hope i can find something tomorrow, that i can tell if it’s quiet or not, and that suraj will give me my money back. i think if he sees my face and i tell him that i am not well and that look at my face! i can’t sleep at all because of the noise, he will run and give me my money back really fast.
you can never tell what your neighbors are going to be like until you actually live there. gonna miss it here but i have to go.
And Being “The Parenting Expert” Doesn’t Help
The Process of Growth
So, I spoke to my friend Will a lot about this today. That was after crying hysterically to Palavi who was sweet enough to hug me and take me around to look for a new place to live, but before I cried to Suraj that I don’t know what to do for I was out all day (though I wanted to be resting at home) looking for a new place to live and that I can’t find anything half as suitable for me as this place. So, my talk with Will invited me back to the place where I am less of victim and more of an empowered person with the option to grow.
[As I type these words, I have my meditation mix in my headphones, my new way of being at home, with the headphones basically permanently attached to my ears, and the boy next door is crying and throwing a temper tantrum. FYI]
So, Buddhism speaks at great length about the choice we have in reaction to pain. Something can hurt physically or emotionally but then I choose how to react to that pain. Do I allow this to weaken me, to turn me into a bitter and self-righteous victim or do I tell another story that will empower me and allow me to grow?
If I Think About it From a Wider Angle
If I actually took the entire 24 hour span of a day, do they really yell and fight and degrade their children all day or it is fractionally a relatively small part of my day that I have inflated and exaggerated or that I have chosen to pay much more attention to?
And when they make noise, can I convert most or all of it into things that strengthen how grateful I am to have time alone and the foil of their presence sheds more light on that?
Or can I note their parental blaming and punishing and feel inspired to ever-become a better parent and grow more enthusiastic about going home and teaching parenting groups again?
Or I can I realistically grasp that I if any family, including mine, was ‘the neighbor’ that there would be embarrassing vulnerability and awful things that would be said in skewed power-struggle dynamics that anyone would be cringing to be a witness of?
That I got really upset at Haim from the clinic for a few days and that I got hysterically hateful to this family and that today I ate three packs of Milk Bikis (27 cookies! omg!) and that maybe, just maybe, I’m going through some dramatically tough shit and that displacing it in any direction, in any painful story, with vengeance, may just be how I’m dealing.
That having their noise may be the best blessing in disguise that ‘forces’ me to listen to more of those inspirational, spiritual lectures by Jack Kornfield and others that otherwise, if I wasn’t escaping, I wouldn’t get around to with such frequency?
That I can casually look for another house (not hysterically, like today) and if I find the right one, I can move; and if I don’t, I can go nap on Will’s couch (cuz he’s that kind of an awesome friend) or at the clinic community house or I can come home when I am tired and the noise is high and either put in my beloved lectures or I can be direct and say, “I’m sorry, dear neighbors, but I have had a really tough day of treatment and I need to nap and I would appreciate it if you could consider that and be quiet for me for the next two hours.”
Or, as Will points out, that that hatred and judgement that I am throwing at them may be the same hatred and judgement I have thrown/throw/will throw upon myself and that that is the greatest gift of perspective I can get is to see the sameness in this energy (regardless of how it’s directed) and grow from there?
And the Pictures I Promised
Oh shit! I’m having trouble posting this but here-we-go-God-help-me! This I think I will regret more than Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! And, I’m sorry, I feel like I just can’t post them. I can’t. Oh boy.
How about this? In just a sec, I’ll post these three videos that show me at my absolute worst? (Does that make you happy, sicko!?) In the third video, note the noise around 40 seconds. It’s that that I’m talking about.
But I have no qualms posting the rash in other parts of my body. But, face, no, not the face. It’s too much for me. Sorry, loves.
Them Videos I Promised At My Alien Deformity Face Rash Misery Worst
But I deserve a comment for this brave act of stupidity (posting it, I mean!)
1- Swollen Alien Deformity and Toxins Release:
2- Getting Worse, Swollen Rash, Alien Deformity (Worst Shot Ever!):
3- Deformity & Rash Decrease, Now, & Neighbor Noise
More of The Most Miserable Moments on our Journey
NEPAL- I Need a Vacation
ISRAEL- Running to the Bomb Shelters
MALAYSIA- Lost and Found
PHILIPPINES- Rain for the Limping Soul
CAMBODIA- Son Fondles, Slept in a Bar
And from this Solo Healing Journey in India:
INDIA- Solitary Misery
INDIA- Utterly Broken
Now come on! I posted the most horrific we’ve ever seen me in the world. I died to even been seen in public. I died every time I looked in the mirror. I shared the deep and dark and ugly, for the truth is like that sometimes, the raw truth, not the pretty masks we put on in public. So, I think I really deserve your heartfelt thoughts on this one. Yes, share with me, cuz, (deep sigh! and another one!) this one really took me further than my comfort zone has ever gone, and I shared, so please do too! Leave a comment below AND SHARE, LOVES, DO SHARE.
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I love you…… mwah! Gabi
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Insanely unorthodox, embarrassingly honest, and on her path towards spiritual awareness, Gabi Klaf blogs about her family’s ups and downs in their now third year of non-stop budget world travel. This family of five has lived with an indigenous tribe in the jungles of Ecuador, hitchhiked throughout the world, danced with drunk Vietnamese at weddings, and hiked the entire Annapurna Circuit trek with a documentary film crew in tow. Gabi writes about the untold sides of family travel life, those moments that take your breath away, adventures and mishaps while globetrotting, and how bits of her soul remain in this small town and off the side of that river. She is a guitar-stumming, energy-healing, ADHD wind-loving scaredy cat. Hugely romantic, tantalizingly sweet, and hysterically funny, Gabi Klaf represents a rare Rubik’s Cube of family world adventure.
We’re out doing crazy stuff and making our dreams come true, every single one of them, and a few more that sort of flew into our mouths while we were smiling into the wind. Should you like what we are doing as a family, BUY AN EBOOK to support us, share this, tell any media source or local newspaper, leave a comment. Your footprint makes all the difference in the world friends. Gracias!
Gabi and Kobi, Dahnya, Orazi, and Solai
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