The White Room
The one thing about doing regular meditation is that it leads you to insights you'd never otherwise have. The first time I started a regular meditation practice was a few years ago. It was more an irregular practice as compared to what I do now (almost, maybe, possibly regular) but one day I was sitting there in The State when I had a bit of a Aha! moment. It would seem that I had, at some point in time, encased myself in a windowless, doorless white room. No one could get at me. No one could come in.
And I wondered why I was so lonely.
So I did the work and I brought down those white walls. Whether it's an energetic thing, an emotional metaphor, or me just making shit up, it didn't matter. Things started to change. I started to change. Things got better, and generally speaking I was happier.
Fast forward to yesterday, when I was once again in meditation. This time listening to a deep relaxation podcast I found on iTunes (Meditation Oasis, check 'em out). I was laying there, all comfy and cozy and floating on the music, thoughts coming and going... and coming and going... and coming and going. At some point in those comings and goings I realized that I had rebuilt that white room and I was sitting in the corner quite content with things, thank you very much.
It was another Aha! moment (man, I've been having those a lot lately). It explained why I wasn't able to connect to people I thought I wanted to connect to, it explained my frustration and pain and loneliness. But seeing me, sitting in the corner this time as opposed to pounding on the walls the first time out, made me realize that I wasn't ready to put myself back out there yet. I was protecting myself once again from the pain of rejection. The pain of having someone say "You've showed your Self to me and it isn't anything I want."
On one level it was freeing. There was a reason for my disconnect. I was protecting myself during a slow healing process that just won't speed up no matter how frakkin' hard I try to move things along. On another level, it made me realize that I have a choice to make. I'm either going to have to tear down those walls again or quit bitching about them. The first time, I was ready for that white room to get gone; now, not so much. It's not time yet, apparently. So, the most I can do right now is just acknowledge its existence, accept that it's there for a purpose, and monitor things.
When it's time to bring those walls back down, I'll be ready.