Feeling The Vic

It so sucks being the Vic – as in being ‘the victim.' With so much socio/spiritual emphasis on not being in ‘victim consciousness’ these days… oooh, like bad attitude, dude! and yet, when my prize ride, my bicycle, got snatched the other day from chained up outside my apt. here in NYC  – in the middle of the frickin’day, in broad daylight no less, the first feelings that waved over me were surprise, shock, disbelief and then really really pissed off. I mean really, Really Pissed Off!

 

If you’ve ever been robbed and something of value taken from you, you probably know the feeling, big time. Or perhaps, you’ve been blindsided in traffic, hit hard by someone who was grossly negligent, catching you unawares and certainly unprepared. The resulting funky feelings of your safety zone heavily dented and you dramatically, personally invaded is always so humbling, sobering and very uncomfortable. It just plain hurts.

As when bad things happen to good people, sometimes the dial of distress spins and lands on us, no matter how noble and virtuous we are. We just gotta deal with the circumstances as best we know how. It’s always gut-check time when the fickle finger of fate lays a dump on you, leaving the feelings of insecurity, confusion, uncertainty in its wake. Shit happens.

Putting to test the premise that when you always act good, then only good will come to you - Ha! Not always. Cause and effect may ever be in play, though the surface of the racket returning your volley may be twisted, curved and a bit bent. Like trying to get your clean reflection on a fun house mirror, don’t expect the image looking back to always be smiling when it does. 

Living in NYC is much the same as spending extended periods of time at the carnival or circus. The rush of being in a man-made environment all designed to stimulate, engage, entertain and intoxicate you is a full-time, 24/7 package deal. It’s all inclusive and total. When you sign up and buy into the experience by living here, there are no days off.

This is one of its many appeals – you know, ‘the city that never sleeps’ and all that. It’s great when it is and when it isn’t, it’s like being held hostage in the clown tent when it’s after hours, party time and no outsiders are around - everybody's going at it with their hair on fire, fur a’flyin and balls to the wall. It can quickly get really bizarre. If you’ve partied with clowns, you know what I mean – and not just the one’s with the goofy get ups either. It can turn gnarly and nasty in a hurry.

What I felt upon realizing my bike was stolen, was that my sense of freedom was taken with it. Not only a means of mobility in and throughout the city, but a two wheeled glider that gave me a greater sense of emotional freedom as well. I could fly in and around traffic, go through red lights whenever possible, all the while creating my own private personal experience - above and beyond and apart from the teaming masses of people all around me. It allowed me to move through the soup of humanity with fluidity, grace and relative ease.

Along with the ability to be out of the normal or pedestrian flow of traffic, usually either too slow, too fast or too cramped for my comfort, it provided me an enormous energetic freedom as well. I was not so held in or defined by other people's 3D reality rules and this my friends, is pure gold for us out-of-the-box kinda people.

And then there’s the resulting feeling of raw vulnerability that follows in the wake of an incident such as this. On the backside, is feeling totally dis-empowered to have not been able to do anything to prevent the fucked up outcome. Helpless. And gotta just take it on the chin!? … when your subtle bubble of well-being and comfort is popped, broken or shattered, whether in a physical sense, like that unexpected car accident or home invasion that liberates you from something(s) you hold dear, all of a sudden, the world doesn't feel so safe anymore, does it?

When your number gets rung, the unspoken sense of security that all is well takes a huge hit. I’ve often seen this with people who, out of the blue, get diagnosed with a serious illness. In an instant, their whole reality flips inside and out with no level ground to stand on. Ever been in a hurricane or earthquake when shit’s just flying everywhere, the ground’s shaking with trees falling every which way? Believe me, it's no fun when what you’ve been holding onto gets taken away in the wind, with your peace of mind along with it.

Although not always, but some folks just implode when this happens and cave into despair. Like falling into a sink hole that swallows you whole, all you can do is crumble as you fall. Other people however, hit the other side of the emotional spectrum and tap into that Shadow vein of anger or rage. This is where I went and in a rush, I did.

It was like a dark space beam landed on me and all of a sudden, had I caught the guy in the act (it’s OK to be sexist when it’s a man at fault), I would have torn the perp numerous new assholes in a hurry. All those years of boxing and martial arts training would have erupted upon that individual’s person in a most unpleasant and unhealthy way, I can assure you. At least one good tag anyway.

At least this is where I went initially in the immediate aftermath of realizing I‘d just been ripped off. Hey, the anger has to go somewhere and you can't just sit still with it, at least I can't. I don't believe you can meditate that kind of emotional charge away. For me, I have to move, to move it out. The days of hitting the big pillows in a workshop years ago come to mind. It worked if only by giving us the experience of externalizing the disappointment that turned into frustration that calcified into anger or deeper yet, rage.

Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to continue on my way to the swimming pool, having to walk the many blocks to get into the water of relief. As this has always been temple time for me – swimming – I knew unless I did, as in the old daze, I’d be heading for the nearest pub to deal with my sudden burst of unrest. Not a good destination, at least, not for me. You remember the old song ... 'like putting out fire with gasoline' ... not pretty.

As I swam, I slowly began going through my consciousness check list, calling to mind the various ways I’ve learned over the years to offset just this kind of event. Indeed, it was back to basics time. Of course, being in the water and breathing deeply into the pocket of anger and feeling the victim simmering within began to equalize the pressure and slowly drain the holding tank of my enormous disappointment.

I called in the Violet Flame, the Spiritual Masters I work with, the Heavenly hosts, my dead cat – you name it. I was going for the full monty of Keith relief here. I can’t remember when I was last so triggered and riding on the heels of other emotional learning curves recent in my life, I just popped open, revealing an whole canyon of pissed off. 

Clawing myself up from the edge of this abyss, I knew it was going to be a journey of many hours to get back onto emotionally level ground once again. Again, the personal check list … I was safe, no harm done, (to me or the thief), sure, I was inconvenienced but really, nothing more. Recognizing my reaction was way out of proportion to the incident itself, I know enough to ask the obvious: what else is being triggered here that I haven’t yet addressed?

Believing all external phenomena are always reflecting my consciousness reality, it hit me smack to the head that all was not copacetic inside me. Hello! Something was enough out of balance for me to create this episode in the first place, to hopefully get my attention and it was here I needed to look to find the clues to open up to answers, to engender understanding and sooner then late, coming to peace with all this. 

I saw how I was still getting my emotional equilibrium from a recent break up, this definitely having hit some deep subterranean veins, along with welcoming back my dear friend who’s apartment I've been flat sitting for a month while she’s away, throwing my domestic situation into hugely uncertain status. Again. Combining and adding altogether, all these and other ingredients have been crock pot cooking away in my emotional body, all simmering to a boil, erupting the other day as I stared blank faced at my bike’s empty parking space. Wham! 

Remember Jack Nicolson’s face in The Shinning – ‘Here’s Johnny!’ - like the demons of hell fire were released upon the innocents? This is how I felt at the time and shocking as it is to know it still exists inside me, the resulting days have given me lots to touch into, ponder and come to terms with. Ah yes, forgiveness. Dame, don’t it always come down to this!? In the end, I do believe it do.

Having known many meek, mild and mellow mothers who readily admit, if their children where severely threatened, they would try to kill and destroy the offending people involved - in all certain terms. This has put some of this into perspective. I remembered anger does serve a purpose. It creates boundaries and therefore, safety in times of threat and danger. 

As this recent bike experience rides in succession with a number of other significantly challenging situations in my life, it’s certainly caught my eye. I'm questioning if all this now portends to soon approaching changes for me ... and know it somehow does.

Without my wheels and all they gave me as being the kicker, I’ve crashed down to earth and I must say, being brought back down hard and feeling these sharp and punishing reactions, has really reminded me what it feels like to be all too human again. This part of it does indeed suck and yet, doesn't get the final say. The Awakened Sacred Masculine will meet opposition, in others, in himself, in life. He knows his willingness to see the larger picture is his doorway through any given situation.

My pivot was seeing how only only only does my deepest security comes from God first, all else only substitutes for as long as they all always do. Every once in a while this nugget lands right in front of me demanding I recommit, realign and reenlist in service to This. Although riding gave me that feeling of connection to my Divine, my freedom lives ever alive in me, no matter how the external circumstances show up - besides a guy I know who has a bike shop has a bike for sale cheep ...

… to be continued …

PS It's wise to believe in Allah but smart to tie up your camel ... and if yours gets away, this Universe is always willing to offer you another one.