A big scoop of reality ...

Big World for Small Lego
Originally uploaded by miwaza
My magical outlook of winter's white beauty on the land last evening has had a change of heart this morning. The reality of the impact of the big dump and digging out of it. Ugh.

In order for oneg to exist, nega must exist too. Or as my healer gently reminds me: all aspects of a situation need a place to live.

I have spent the past 2 hours shoveling my snow drifted in porch and digging out my buried car. My landlord informed all of us that she cannot afford the plowing service, so we were on our own. And I could feel the irritation begin to build. So I borrow a shovel from her to begin the arduous messy task. It is not the fancy, ergonomically-correct shovel but rather it is the old-fashioned wooden handled kind with the big metal scoop. I knew then that this would be a long, frustrating process.

As I begin to dig and toss the white piles off to the side, feeling the uncomfortable twisting of muscles in my back that haven't been used in this way for quite some time, I am flooded with unpleasant memories of doing this very thing as a young person. And it hits me in this moment that this too was a huge contributing factor for my dislike of snow and winter. Around the age of 11 or so, my sister and I were required to shovel out the driveway, under the command of my father. We were not allowed to go out with the other kids until this was completed. Where I grew up, it was not uncommon to have 2-3 ft of snow and frequent snow storms. As I watched and heard the kids from around the neighborhood gathering, the bitterness inside of me for having to do this chore was swelling. I can remember mumbling under my breath and cursing out my father, and, come to think of it. my mother too -- as it was her "rule" about the not going out before finishing shoveling. There was one time when my anger leaked out in the midst of digging out of a huge snow storm and my father caught wind of it; he told me to get the hell out his way with my sissy behavior and go sit in my room. It is memories like this that help me understand more about the intolerance for expression of anything negative or conflictual in my history. And my subsequent "stuffing" of these kinds of feelings, drinking to numb them, and plain old avoiding them.

So, as I let these memories have a place while I dug out my car, I was brought into the present reality and my adult one who is supposed to be working a recovery program and healing practice for herself. I put the shovel against my car and closed my eyes and said the Serenity Prayer. And what that did for me was enable the tension and the resentment to melt a bit. I struck up a conversation with a neighbor who came out to do the same task with her car. I spotted a small sweet bird sitting on the branch of the pine tree in front of me, with her little claws in the snow on it. And I picked the shovel back up and also reminded myself that, as a responsible adult, this is part of what you do. It is not about finding an easier, softer way, but instead to just do it and find some grace in the act of it, even if I have to fake it for awhile.

Completing the work, I tested out to see if I could back my car out and indeed I could. It turned out to be a fulfilling accomplishment. I returned to my warm apartment and took a long shower and thanked G-d for the experience today to feel all of this.

It was, indeed, a big scoop of reality.