Broken Open
I absolutely loved this book. It speaks optimistically of how to find the lessons in painful experiences.
by Elizabeth Lesser (2004)
Excerpts:
To be human is to be lost in the woods. None of us arrives here with clear directions on how to get from point A to point B without stumbling into the forest of confusion or catastrophe or wrongdoing. Although they are dark and dangerous, it is in the woods that we discovery our strengths. We all know people who say their cancer or divorce or bankruptcy was the greatest gift of a lifetime–that until the body, or the heart, or the bank was broken, they didn't know who they were, what they felt, or what they wanted. Before their descent into darkness, they took more than they gave, or they were numb, or full of fear or blame or self-pity. In their most broken moments they were brought to their knees; they were humbled; they were opened. And later, as they put the pieces back together, they discovered a clearer sense of purpose and a new passion for life. But we all know people who did not turn their misfortune into insight, or their grief into joy. Instead, they became more bitter, more reactive, more cynical. They shut down. They went back to sleep.
I am fascinated by what it take to stay awake in difficult times. I marvel at what we all do in times of transition–how we resist, and how we surrender; how we stay stuck, and how we grow. Since my first major broken-open experience–my divorce–I have been an observer and a confidante of others as they engage with the forces of their own suffering. I have made note of how fiasco and failure visit each one of us, as if they were written into the job description of being human. I have seen people crumble in times of trouble, lose their spirit, and never fully recover. I have seen others protect themselves fiercely from any kind of change, until they are living a half life, safe yet stunted.
But I have also seen another way to deal with a fearful change or a painful loss. I call this other way the Phoenix Process–named for the mythical phoenix bird who remains awake through the fires of change, rises from the ashes of death, and is reborn into his most vibrant and enlightened self.
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You and I are the Phoenix. We too can reproduce ourselves from the shattered pieces of a difficult time. Our lives ask us to die and to be reborn every time we confront change–change within ourselves and change in our world. When we descent all the way down into the bottom of a loss, and dwell patiently, with an open heart, in the darkness and pain, we can bring back up with us the sweetness of life and the exhilaration of inner growth. When there is nothing left to lose, we find the true self–the self that is whole, the self that is enough, the self that no longer looks to others for definition, or completion, or anything but companionship on the journey.
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Each one of us, regardless or our situation, is looking for the same treasure in the ashes. We are in search of our most authentic, vital, generous, and wise self. What stands between that self and us is what burns in the fire. Our illusions, our rigidity, our fear, our blame, our lack of faith, and our sense of separation: All of these–in varying strengths and combinations–are what must die in order for a more true self to arise. If we want to turn a painful event into a Phoenix Process, we must name what needs to burn within us. I have observed people in the workshops I lead grappling with a rich variety of issues as they name the specific elements of their Phoenix Process. Some people realize that what must burn in the fire is their fear–fear of their own power, fear of change, fear or loss, fear of others. Some people name an inability to feel, a crippling cynicism, a sense of shame, a stance of anger.
