Suffism and Giving Up

I've been having a time of it.

Walking back from school this morning, after having been locked out of my first history exam by an obtuse 5 minutes (my own damn fault), I decided to give up.

I have been attempting to give up for at least a month now, and I sincerely hope that this is NOT just another attempt, but in fairness the genuineness of this give-up is not really my responsibility. I was walking down Broadway, stuck in my own head full of self-recrimination and anger, when I suddenly realized that I can't do this. Any of it. I am not able to deal with life as such- lonely, confusing, impossible, standard-driven, ridiculous. I can not cope; the best I can do is spiral downward into a self-shaming puddle of embarrassing goo.

I walked a little farther before realizing- with an almost maniacal laugh- that I don't have to do any of it. Why do I have to make everything such a struggle? What am I so worried about?? I can just GIVE UP!!! If the universe wants stuff done, then the universe will have to do it, because I'm sick of blaming myself for not doing the impossible.

(ahem, by 'give up' I am in no way intimating an immediate withdrawal from classes or a reticence to fulfill regular duties. I am giving up on worthless struggling)

Last night I was reading a book my boss/friend recommended, The Drama of the Gifted Child, when I started to cry. I was so surprised by this. After all, I've had a lot of experiences in my life, but I've been through therapy, and I've talked through my stuff til my eyes were dry. I think I thought that I could get it over with once and be done, but life has added new layers to old hurts. And new actions have greater meanings. I realized that my neurotic episodes of late have been symptomatic not just of the transition inherent in moving cross-country alone, but of a greater underlying problem. Or problems.

Recent experiences and growth and change are allowing for a greater understanding and examination of myself. And I can't do it alone. Goddess knows I spend all my time on public transit in self-'discovery' or other such nonsense, and it always devolves into the stern voice in my head upbraiding the weakness within. Those silly human bits, you know- the ones that continuously have feelings. When I realized that an old habit, a perverse habit from my dark ages, is still hanging out in fully fledged form, I felt truly frightened.

This is when I thought that maybe I ought to think about starting therapy again. It would be so helpful to get out of my head during these times. I need to. I immediately thought about how much therapy would cost in New York, and how impossible an option that was until-

Wait-

I have health insurance! How bizarre. I am arbitrarily allowed affordable help for my mind because my dad works for an insurance company. I'll take it. I need it.

When I got back home after missing my exam, only newly resolved to give up, I sat down to read a little Rumi. I certainly needed a little enlightenment. I flipped the book open to a random page, as I usually do when looking for a little help, and I'll be damned if the following wasn't exactly what I turned to:

Cry Out in Your Weakness

A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth.

A courageous man went and rescued the bear.
There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save
anyone who cries out. Like Mercy itself,
they run toward the screaming.

And they can't be bought off.
If you were to ask one of those, "Why did you come
so quickly?" he or she would say, "Because I heard
your helplessness."
Where lowland is,
that's where the water goes. All medicine wants
is pain to cure.
And don't just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton
of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music.

Push the hair out of your eyes.
Blow the phlegm from your nose,
and from your brain.

Let the wind breeze through.
Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.
Take the cure for impotence,
that your manhood may shoot forth,
and a hundred new beings come of your coming.

Tear the binding from around the foot
of your soul, and let it race around the track
in front of the crowd. Loosen the knot of greed
so tight on your neck. Accept your new good luck.

Give your weakness
to one who helps.

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she's there.

God created the child, that is, your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.

Cry out! Don't be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament! And let the milk
of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.

Be patient.
Respond to every call
that excites your spirit.

Ignore those that make you fearful
and sad, that degrade you
back toward disease and death.

This made me laugh and cry almost at the same time. "Give your weakness to one who helps". As though my needing help is a gift and not a burden. What a message to, ahem, ruminate on.

I must at this time go to work. I'm not sure how this will all turn out, but it's kind of nice to give oneself a break after all of the intensity.


Currently Reading: (actually just finished) Ruby Fruit Jungle