Freedom in Rejection
(34 min audio version on Spotify here)
“The point of the dance is to dance!”
―Alan Watts
On a sparkling summer's day this year I asked a woman I've bumped into a couple of times if she wanted to go for a walk with me. She said no. And it was the best thing that happened that day. Why? Well, it wasn't all without trouble, so let's rewind a little bit for the answer to that.
Back in the beginning of March, on a ghastly Swedish, cold, wet, "God is there any other color than brown and grey?" day, I went to the liquor store. For reasons I've basically already stated: March is a drag. A tease. Because even though spring draws near, just as you've begun thinking "Yeah, it's finally coming," March can slap you in the face with a blizzard even after the equinox.
Although, I do only half-jest, for I was looking forward to a little igniter to an evening by myself. I rarely drink these days, but I had the idea of mixing in some of that drug into some writing I was getting into. It was March, after all, and maybe spring would come faster if I went on a playful excursion while waiting. Three beers was all a light weight as myself needed to go into an intense bout of writing and dancing. All by myself at a party only I was invited to.
And the attendees gave rave reviews to the event!
Anyway, before my tipsy-turvy, my great adventure towards the most liberating rejection I've ever experienced began at the liquor store.
For there, as I was to check out with my three beer-rockets about to send me to the moon, a wondrous being looked at me from behind the counter. With hazel eyes deep enough to send me into an enchanted forest within a fairytale looking for big mushrooms with doors and little windows lit up by the fireplace inside, I was captivated. Now, I should say that, in my hometown, I don't find pleasantries a normal thing. People usually rock up to the store, don't really interact with the employees so they can get on with their day in their comfortable bubble, displaying through their eyes, saying "Strangers, keep out!" I'm usually one of those people.
But this time, things were different.
The wondrous being awoke something in me. A call to adventure. To dance, simply for the sake of dancing. And so, as I was to blippety-blop my card so that the abstractions on my bank account could be negated as a trade for the substance that would soon abstract me further away from my body, three words left my mouth as I smiled at her.
"How are you?"
She looked at me. Puzzled. As if I'd done something extraordinary. And if above observation of the general manners of a Swedish person in this town checks out, I had.
"I'm good," she said. And she smiled at me as if pleasantly surprised by the interaction. Oh, goodness, that smile along with those hazel eyes. Enough to send me into that fairytale to actually find those mushrooms to house me, get comfortable within their hearth and then contemplate growing mushrooms of my own to munch my way towards a journey filled with even wilder adventures into my heart. I smiled back with a force from my heart that felt like it had the power to dislocate my jaw.
"How are you?" she asked me.
As the puddle I had now morphed into, I was able to spurt out an "I'm well, thank you," with the accompanied smile brightly radiating from my squishy heart. The card blipped. I declined the receipt. I wished her a beautiful day and went on with mine. The crush was now cemented in my squiggly bones.
I have to see her again!
And that's where the troubles began. Sure, we can have enjoyable fantasies about people we feel curious of, but my mind began conjuring its propaganda. The wishful thinker who lives there that needs to be supervised at all times began writing stories on who she could be for me, what our first date would look like, how we would deeply resonate with each other on every single level without any conflict whatsoever. Yeah. The dark side of imagination took hold of me, projecting the perfect goddess unto her that I was lacking within myself. That part that, like a squid, wraps its tentacles around me which, while simultaneously filling me with wondrous scenarios of what me and Wonder Cashier Being could be to one another, also drains me because I start fearing not getting to experience all these spectacular events my mind conjure up as the little sorcerer it is. At some point in my life, I probably developed this skill further as a rather dissociative practice when someone tugs at my heart strings as it works as a terrific escape into conceptual worlds.
Also, being born in the 80s and growing up watching a lot of rom-coms from a certain Tinseltown in Los Angeles, I think that skill has been enhanced by Hollywood and its narrative regarding "The One"–you know: incredibly romantic imagery of a person who is supposed to magically dissolve any sense of abandonment so many of us carry within ourselves.
Perhaps had we been sold the idea that the ones we meet romantically (and platonically) will trigger our childhood wounds and probably scare us into either cling to them desperately or shut down emotions and avoid any kind of intimacy, then perhaps we'd had a better understanding of our behaviors. Perhaps when fears and conflict creep in, we wouldn't see them as villains, but rather as signs guiding us closer to ourselves. Perhaps we would see that what we often chase is for something to soothe the sense of abandonment and that "The One" is going to be our clearest mirror to the not so comfortable emotions we carry. An idea that says "Congratulations! This is an opportunity for you to work on what you've stowed away for a very long time! This is an opportunity to tear down the walls around your heart! Yes, it might feel horrendous! But if you break through, it will be marvelous!"
And there I was, spellbound by my own playful imaginations,
activated by my heart. Stuck at the end of a romantic Hollywood film, where they finally end up together leaving the viewer with a feeling that the couple lives happily ever after, conflict free.
But the end of the film is only where reality begins.
So, the weekend after, this once every blue moon-drinker conveniently felt that it was time for another one-man tipsy-turvey into space. And I knew just where to get my rockets from. And so, I had another agenda involved which brought an archontic tension into my body. Yes. During the time spent in between the previous encounter and the one potentially awaiting me, my inner fascist had managed to build the thick walls of propaganda around my heart that only courage can sunder as I was now partially ruled by the fear I would be hurt.
For I was now living under the spell of my imaginations of who me and Wonder Cashier Being could be for one another; living under the spell that if they could come into fruition, would fill that void I carry; living under the spell that I was in control of the outcome. I was not dancing simply to dance. I was dancing because I thought the dance was going to create something particular in the future, worried I might not end up where I wanted, so there was little room for enjoyment.
This all meant that when I arrived at the liquor store, my heart seemingly tried to jump out of my throat the way it behaved, and thoughts were as loud as a jet engine muddling out any sense of rest or confidence in my body. Again, she was there, but this time working in the aisles. Diving into procrastination, I walked to some shelf I pretended to be interested in, knowing already what I was getting.
And what I was potentially losing.
After a few minutes perusing the shelves filled with the poison humanity continuously numb her joyous heart with, I had calmed down a fair bit. Collected myself. Regrouped. Gotten my shit together. Devised a plan on how to approach. Yes. I shall ask her for a beer recommendation! And then maybe something will happen after that! My genius is boundless!
Or you could just ask her out?
You doofus...
Suddenly, my legs seemed to take me towards her and I decided to follow suit. Have you ever felt that? That you're moving into a direction where it feels like you're just an observer of your own actions you seemingly have no control over? Well, that's what this was, and every step got me closer to the dark vortex of an unknown outcome and it absolutely terrified me. But, there I was, right next to Wonder Cashier Aisle Being getting her attention. She turned to me and asked if she could be of any assistance. No smiling connection. No hazel eyes opening doors to fairytales filled with mushrooms.
Just me and my fear of being alone in this world.
Just me and my fear of not being worthy of love.
Just me and my fears.
And my heart longing for me to embrace it.
And I see something now.
I see the inner child.
Oh, dear little boy, what is it about that moment that frightens you so deeply?
What happened to make you so afraid of this part of yourself?
When did you close this door so you started chasing others to try and pry it open for you?
Why are tears streaming down your face as you write these words?
What are those tears telling you, my dear, little one?
Maybe they're here because you know that no one will be able to pry that door open but yourself. And maybe that's why you're so fearful in the moment with this wondrous being, because even if she would want to be with you one day, and even if she would be exactly that which you have fathomed, you still know, deep within, that you're gonna have to be the one to feel the pain you've closed the door to. You know this. Because Wonder Beings have loved you before.
And it terrified you. Every time.
And it made you shut down. Every time.
And it made you feel lonely. Every time.
But you know what?
I got you.
I got you right here with these words.
I got you right here with my presence.
Right here, with my heart.
My tears prove it.
Oh goodness the ways of our inner worlds . . .
Well, there I was, standing next to Wonder Cashier Aisle Being who swiftly chaperoned me to a shelf of alternative beers I didn't care about. All my social skills were stuck in my head and the low energy I operated through left me as I thanked her before she nodded politely and walked away. She didn't even seem to remember me.
I mean, sure, we'd only shared an interaction that lasted about twenty-five seconds, but I would like to think we both picked up on the levity between us and could share it again. Then again, she probably hadn't spent the last week picturing us marrying one another in a glade in the company of fairies, mushrooms, elves and gnomes. But maybe she simply didn't remember me because I was so different. Maybe she didn't because here was a person looking for his heart in someone else, rather than showing he had one himself that confidently carried him to share it with others. Here was someone who didn't dance simply to dance.
I left the liquor store feeling lonely and distraught.
Now, fast forward to a fine summer's day in July. Spring actually arrived, then threw us all into summer and the buzzing of bees, the singing of trees and sun's warming ease. Some friends were coming over for a belated birthday celebration and I thought I'd get some bubbles for the evening. So, back to the liquor store, but without any added agendas. Wonder Cashier Aisle Being had been placed in the back of my mind into a scenario that simply never took shape. But, as I entered, she was put at the front once more. Once again, she was moving about through the aisles. And. I. Was. Buzzing! Because I had a lovely evening ahead of me, so I was in a good mood. It was therefore easy for me to walk up to her and start up a conversation as I was–actually–looking for a certain beer I like. Levity was present. She agreed on the beer's deliciousness and walked me to the shelf where they kept it. Our conversation was short, but there were some fun exchanges that produced the smile that once more sent me into fairytales of wonder. I was filled with joy. Walking out of there, I felt a skip in my step. The scenario was alive once again. I felt I'd done rather well and that, next time, I'll try and take it a step further.
To ask her out. For a walk. A cup of tea. Something simple. A smile? Yes.
Ask her out for a smile.
Alas, it all felt well and good until the day after when idealistic imaginations grabbed hold of me once more.
And made me feel lonely and fearsome.
Tired. I'm tired of living in those realms. So, the day after next, I decided to build some courage by dancing to a few songs in my home and once more go there with an agenda. But this time, really pull through. This time be honest. No asking for beer recommendation. No detours. Just ask because the heart requests it.
As I walked into the store, to my delight, I spotted her behind the cash machine.
This is the day!
I soon realised I hadn't written my number on anything for a swift exchange, so I pulled a piece of cardboard off a beer case and then borrowed a pen from one of the staff. The piece I wrote on was brown, which reminded me of a certain Wonder Being I met on a train in Melbourne, Australia ten years ago. She got a brown paper bag with my number and the words "You are wonderful," on it. That was one of the greatest decisions of my life.
I should, however say, that this is a rare occurrence. I don't just go passing my numbers to strangers I find cute. No. It's when something deeper happens. Something that makes me go: "If I don't do this, I will regret it for a long, long time, if not for the rest of my life."
And regrets only add to the already packed baggage I carry.
Anyway, Wonder Cashier Being was about to receive something similar: My number, my name, and a simply drawn sun with a smiley face on it. Because that's what I felt like–radiantly smiling. A sense of relief was already coursing through my veins.
This is the day!
With two bottles of brandy for my rose petals waiting to be infused for a future tincture at home, I rocked up to Wonder Cashier Being and smiled at her. She smiled back.
I melted.
She asked me whether I enjoyed the beer she gave me the other day. I said I hadn't tried it yet. The woman nodded and smiled then went through with my payment. As I blippety-blopped my card I pulled the question out of my now eagerly pounding heart.
"I've a question for you," I said.
"Yes?"
The space between her yes and my question got blurry, but I managed to stay grounded enough. My dance of motivation before heading there was still in my bones which helped the fears stay put. Agency gripped me, and even though I felt my voice weaken, it was backed up by the sincerity of my heart.
"Would you like to go for a walk with me today?"
She giggled and her eyes lit up.
Once again, I was oozing as the puddle she made out of me.
The moment of truth had arrived.
The moment of my tremendous victory.
The moment of freedom.
The moment of rejection.
"That's really sweet of you," she said, "but I must decline."
The puddle got a little firmer. I smiled along with her levity.
"Then that is what you must do."
I declined the receipt, got my bottles and wished her a lovely day, then I basically skipped out of the liquor store. The happiness I felt was an explosion of relief. Now I knew. Now I didn't have to ponder the 'what ifs' any longer. No more draining fantasies to fear their potential non-existence in physical reality.
But, above all, something else struck me: no rejection had taken place here, so the title to this musing is slightly misleading. Yes, the idea of us going out for a walk was rejected, so my ego didn't get what it wanted. But here we had two people who both said 'yes' to their hearts. Two people both free in following that which they felt in the moment. And since it was only the idea being rejected, it means my heart stayed intact, because its only wish was for me to ask, regardless of the outcome.
The heart does not operate in the future, nor the past. It operates here and now, and here and now said "ask." And since I did, my heart was thrilled, raised me up, and sent joyous feelings through my veins because of the courage it experienced through my actions.
Wonder Cashier Being helped me step into that fairytale, find the mushrooms to house me, grow some myself, eat some myself, dive into the adventure and come out the other side a little wiser, a little sturdier, a little lighter. She helped me tear down some of the walls around my heart because I dared to take the step, to stand strong and say "I would like this to happen," only to be met with "I would not." And so, we can teach the mind that a joyous heart can be found in that which the mind is fast to judge as something we shouldn't be happy with. In this way, life can be approached like a piece of art: to create and allow it to move us without judgment.
For such is the way of the heart: it creates and moves us, unconditionally.
It beats for the sake of beating.
And that's the beat to dance to.
