I hain’t no math whiz, but I have been thinking of quadratic equations lately. Those things I alternatively loved and hated in high school algebra: 3(x+y) / 4xy-2y=14.

Solve for X.

I loved them when I solved them - loved the instant rush of knowing Y EQUALS 8! IT EQUALS EIGHT! Wahoooooo!

And of course, more often than not, I would slink into Mrs. Jollie’s Algebra class thinking, ‘who gives a fuck about a stupid ‘y?’ It’s just a dumb alphabet letter; it’s not like we’re ever going to meet at the post office and I’ll have the opportunity to say, ‘So. You equaled -42 last week, how’d that work out for you?’

My recent experience in the Advanced Novel Workshop has really churned my butter (I’m trying out a new colloquialism) in terms of ‘what can I learn from this?’ And there’s an uglier question here that I must ask myself: how did I CONTRIBUTE to this situation?

Because I did.

I did not speak the prejudice; I don’t own those pieces. But looking at my own shadow and contributions to the classroom dynamic, I start pulling seeing a math equation where the quantity E (for Edmond) equals = ?

I started reflecting on all the ways I felt vulnerable (Vulnerable = V). I was not staying in my own home. (2V). I had been traveling the entire week prior and was not feeling grounded. (3V). I wasn’t doing anything particularly helpful to ground myself and find center, such as work out, eat healthy, or meditate (6V). I hadn’t planned well for the workshop week: I was still doing the ‘pre-work’ as I was racing out of town. (7V). All of these factors kept increasing my vulnerability to this experience (or any!) and I paid no heed.

Factor in the intense vulnerability around the fact that I have never attended a formal writers’ workshop for feedback, certainly not traveled out of state for one, and the coefficient for V becomes 21. Factor in that I have never shared gay-themed writing with a group of writing peers who I cannot know are going to be supportive, and that coefficient is 36. Here in Minneapolis, I have lived amongst so many supportive, loving friendships that I forget this is not how the rest of the world sometimes is.

Looking back now, when I showed up to class, I had shut down. I was scared. Normally, in a classroom situation, I tend to be rather goofy and outgoing. I introduce myself to other participants and find some way to play together. Spend some time in heartfelt conversation or forging some connection. But not this time. I sat stone silent and waited for someone to talk to ME. You guys prove to ME that you’re going to treat me well, and maybe I’ll show up.

That’s not how vulnerability works.

Or rather…it’s a very brittle sort of vulnerability. Breakable.

By Wednesday of that week, I realized I was hiding out, not showing up like a king with these people, so I deliberately shared a few stories that always delight and create a sense of play: my frequently being mistaken for twin brothers. (Stories for another blog.) But even this was ‘too little, too late.’ The stories were amusing, but they were not heart-opening and they did not forge a deeper connection.

So that week’s Vulnerablatic Equation, as I have begun to consider it, added a victim mentality (VM) that suggested everyone in the room should do something to make me feel welcome. I was taking a BIG RISK here, so where was my hand holding? Who was going to rub my tummy?

That’s not how a king thinks of the world. A King says, ‘What can I do to make THEM more comfortable? Feel more loved? How do I make this the kingdom I always wanted to be part of?’

One of the biggest qualities that was missing was my compassion. For four days (4D), my expanding compassion (C) was close to zero. While I was still friendly and kind to others, I wasn’t EXPANDING compassion in this room, breathing it into all of us, building a safer, tighter container. I imagine Mrs. Jollie trying to explain this to my by mapping it on the chalk board:

4D(36V + VM) - C =

Trouble.

I have been reading a book called Transforming Fate Into Destiny, strongly recommended by a warrior friend. Now that I’m almost done with the book, I understand why he advocated it: a good portion of the ‘what you can do about your life’ pieces are about avoiding self-induced destruction by owning your shadow, looking at your projections, and rising to GREET destiny instead of dragging your feet and mumbling about how life ‘isn’t fair.’

In that book, I read this quote by Carl Jung, “The psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate. That is to say, when the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of his inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves.”

Ow.

I remained blind to my intense vulnerability and my lack of loving compassion. I showed up as a victim. When the Canadian judge kept repeating that the closest he came to ‘my kind of writing’ was the child pornography case he adjudicated, I was in such shock and so blindsided that I could do nothing else but use this as further ‘proof,’ of the growing hostility in the room.

I am not taking responsibility for the comments of others. It was truly amazing to hear such unadulterated prejudice come out of the mouths of such intelligent, worldly people. (I mean, who still defiles the *Irish* anymore?)

But.

My response was brittle. I did not make my heart bigger to embrace this situation. I did not prepare myself to encounter this kind of thinking, by caring for myself. I subtracted compassion when I should have used it as a coefficient (ever since I looked up that word in wikipedia, I can’t stop using it).

In the words of my Warrior Monk friends, I helped create this reality. I helped instigate it.

I do not like recognizing that I had a hand in this. It’s much more comfortable to blame others and look at how THEY made the world so ugly.

Some days, it’s awesome to be a warrior! Not so fun other days when it means taking ownership for those pieces of life that I create that aren’t sparkling and golden. Given the choice, I’d still rather look at my shit than not.

I think I was less confused about the world back when ‘y’ simply equaled 8.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 29th, 2008 at 9:22 am and is filed under Warrior. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.