A bad case of kryia

A couple of days ago I had a kryia.

I didn't know it was a kryia until I read about it the same day in Week 4 of Julia Cameron's  'The Artist's Way'. Kryia is a Sanskrit word Julia is describing as spiritual seizure or surrender. 'We all know what a kryia looks like' she says, 'it is the bad case of the flu right after you've broken up with your lover.' It's that moment when you're so down that the only way is up. When your body is telling you something's gone really wrong and you must correct course if you want to survive.

See, I've started to tend to my creative self because I reached an important conclusion: that my desperate quest for love is really just like trying to cure depression with paracetamol. I realised it was my creativity that needed looking after before love can flourish in my life. No runner can run with a crouch so it's important to heal the various parts of yourself that need healing in the right order. And so I started some serious recovery with the help of Julia Cameron. And yes, I wake up every day a bit earlier than usual and I write my morning pages, I do my exercises, I purge every day.

And she's right, it's a crazy process. I am all over the place. And my ego is hating it because it feels threatened. More threatened than ever. And so it decided a few days ago that I needed a reminder of how I haven't met anybody yet, how every guy I meet disappears sooner or later, how I am getting old etc etc. And for a while, of course, I believed every word. Mainly because I am a bit worried. I have about three and a half months left of my Love Project and still no happy ending in sight. Will I be able to end it with fireworks? Or will I end it the same way I started it?... Single, again. My 7th year of singledom... Then what would my project have achieved? Have I worked hard enough on it?...

All these questions are paralysing. So, of course my ego, had free reign to walk all over me. But true to my creative rescue routine, I woke up with puffy eyes and started writing my morning pages. I asked God what His plan? Why was He doing this to me? What was the lesson He wanted me to learn that I haven't learnt yet? I asked all these questions on paper over and over again until I realised that I have ever only thrown tantrums about why this, why that... I have never simply just asked, prayed for something. So I ended  up praying for a happy ending for my book. Or at least an important lesson to share. And I have prayed that my ego leaves me alone and stops bothering me with stupid things like that. And I have prayed for the right person to come into my life but if he never does, well then at least I prayed that I can learn how to live with it peacefully.

I have literally surrendered. And that was my kryia. My cry for help, like Julia calls it. I think I've read somewhere (I wish I remembered where) that in every big project there comes a moment when the whole work seems pointless, when the author starts doubting it, when there's doom written all over it. But that's the very moment which makes the project stronger, bigger, better.

I hope that was my moment. Because I think the exercises do work, there's a real artist in me just waiting to come out and play.

 

Charging the ball

 

Some of you may know that I've been training and playing lots of softball the last couple of months. For selfish reasons. The Ad League is putting together an All Stars team which is sent to the USA to play in an international advertising softball championship and I have my eyes set on making it to the team. There will be beer. There will be boys. There will be parties. You get my drift! But despite these superficial reasons, I have used this goal to see how far I can go with improving my game.

My game was pretty lame to start with. I grew up in Romania and not only that there is no tradition in American-style sports (well, we do have a Romanian game called 'oina' which sits nicely in between baseball and cricket, but no one really plays or knows the rules for) but there is hardly any encouragement for team sports. So I have never thought of myself as an athletic creature until fairly recently when I got into all sorts of physical activities and realised that I am quite strong and resilient overall. But to get good at a sport, now, that's something else I never thought I'd do.

 

I started playing softball three years ago with my work team and in between cans of beers and giggles I slowly but surely started to understand the rules and being less and less afraid of the ball, occasionally making it to the first base when accidentally hitting the ball with the bat. This year however, I started training, taking up a spot with the training team from the British Softball Federation. I also joined other teams to get more game time. Last Saturday I played in an all day softball tournament and played 6 games. On Monday I went to my first trials session for the team selection. Which is when one of the trainers shouted at me 'Go, charge the ball!' and I ran like crazy towards that ball not even knowing what 'charging the ball' meant.

 

'Charging the ball' means running forward to grab it when hit on the ground. Not waiting for the ball to bounce its way to where you are, but running towards it and relaying it to the relevant team mate. See, I've never been one to charge the ball in the past. And this is something that's been valid for everything else in my life. I would wait for the 'balls' (situations) to come to me. But training for softball as well as applying all the other self-improvement techniques I've been learning in the past six months or so have showed me that I am now the kind of person who is charging the ball. And yes, I do have lots of bruises on my legs and hands. But there's no better feeling than charging that wild ball, I tell you! I'm proud of my bruises, you see. Life's not about sitting comfy on the side and waiting for balls to land in your glove, it's about charging the ball!

 

Are you 'charging the ball'?

 

 

 

 



Cleaning up my act

I've said it before and will keep repeating it until it gets stuck to my brain for good: approaching 30 is a joy and not a tragedy.

The truth is I am observing changes within myself and this is a great thing. Firstly, I am quitting smoking (well not completely, I am still a social smoker but managed a few good whole days without smoking at all), reducing the amounts of alcohol I bring into my body (perhaps not the daily recommended dose, but at least reducing when I can help it and drinking strictly when I go out), getting myself involved in all sorts of fun activities (tomorrow I go disco roller blading and sunday indoor climbing) and not getting impressed by someone being a gentleman because this is how they should be!!

Honestly, I had to find that out because of my age and even if I will have to spend my whole life looking for the perfect gentleman Spanish Speaking Irishman (lol!) I am not going to tolerate anymore the lack of manners and also not be so impressed by a man just doing his job.

The only thing that confuses me is how come I haven't seen this before? All this was in front of my eyes, at my reach and I wasn't able to see. I wasn't able to see that I can go on living without smoking, heavily drinking and tolerating men with no manners. I have finally cleaned up my act and I congratulate myself for it.