25 Nov The Vestibule of Hell
Well doesn’t that say a lot. The Vestibule of Hell! In this Canto of Dante’s Inferno, Virgil takes Dante to what is basically the “Vestibule of Hell.” In a really grand overview, it is the place for the melancholy souls of people who have been uncommitted and indecisive about making choices for themselves. Like Dante, I have seen and visited the vestibule of Hell several times throughout my life but I have been able to pass through and not take up permanent residency there (yet).
As I was going through my divorce, I had a very clear plan of what I needed to do to help get the kids and me through all of the upheaval. I was working on my own emotional and spiritual needs through this and trying to support their needs too. I wanted to create a home for us that was not only shelter for the body, but a resting place for our souls as we healed. I found a great apartment with an unbelievable view of midtown Manhattan. As soon as I walked into the apartment with the realtor, I knew that this would be the perfect place to heal. And it was. We spent two years creating a new home and a new life. Some of it was so different from our old life. Moving from the suburbs to a city; from a house to an apartment sent us out of our comfort zone but allowed so much exploration on a day to day basis. We spent a lot of time talking about life and love and happiness and sorrow. We moved little by little, step-by-step through our individual and collective healing process. During the two and a half years I was there, my daughter Nikki got a fabulous job and moved into Manhattan to begin her new life. My son Greg graduated from college, got a job and moved overseas for a while. Katie adjusted to visits to mom’s apartment and then to dad’s apartment. From the ashes, life was emerging for my children. And that was my greatest wish for that moment.
For me, I methodically dismantled my life. I am great in a crisis and in creating a system to get things done. I sold my house in record time. I boxed and donated and sold most of our materials things. I packed and moved only what was dearest to me. I created a new home. And when the madness stopped and the ground stopped shaking, everything was different. It was a bit like Dorothy landing in OZ. But unlike Dorothy, I didn’t want to start down any road, yellow or not. What I wanted to do was just be. I just wanted to live in this dismantled life, quietly, sacredly, to give the dust a chance to clear and see what things looked like now. I didn’t want to plan. I didn’t want to build. I didn’t want to change. I just wanted to spend time just living this life that was before me, each day, each moment. And so I did.
And like a tiny seed planted in the ground, I sat in the darkness – motionless, quiet and still. Held, fed and nourished. Supported by friends and family and the divine. And when the time is right, the shell of the seed cracks and growth emerges from within. I started to have yearnings to add the things that were missing from my life and to let go of the things that were no longer working or needed in my life. I longed for more friends and a community that will intellectually and spiritually inspire me. I realize how important collaboration and creativity is to my personal and professional life. My job moved from the work of my life to just a job. Being dormant is great for growth, but very isolating for life. My life revolved around my work. I was exhausted and not happy – a feeling most of us have had at least once in life. But what can you do? I need the money. What kind of job can I get with my skills? If I don’t live here, where would I live? Oh, it is not so bad. I have it so much better than so many others. But I am not sure I can keep doing this. Is this what is left to life? I am too old. I don’t have enough money for a change. I don’t have anyone now to help me. How do I meet people? What else can I do? Maybe tomorrow it will get better.
THIS IS THE VESTIBULE OF HELL.
It is like being a hamster on a wheel. It just goes round and round and round. I was going through the motions of life. Lots of it was good. But lots of it was not. Living with what was not working is the issue. This went on for a while. Just getting worse and worse. But it is familiar. Is it better than the unknown? Yes. Isn’t there a saying, “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know”?
Not making a decision is a decision. I was committing to a life of indecision. Did I want a life like this, or do I want a different life? Is my soul telling me it is time to change, to grow, to create what is next?
After a really intense month at work working 60-80 hours a week, with a slowly changing work environment and a lot of internal wrestling going on, one Friday morning with the physical stress taking its toll on me, I quit my job. I just reached the point of utter exhaustion. Immediately, the symptoms of my indecisiveness disappeared. As I walked to the train station, I could not believe that the massive burden which lived in my chest, throat and head was gone. It had been like a huge growth which made it hard to breath and stand. I was amazed at how deeply holding on was affecting me. I am a serial cope-er. I will make anything work for much longer than it should. With a huge sense of relief, I instantly knew that I had made the right decision.
Letting go was liberating. On the spiritual side, I knew that letting go of my job was a crucial piece of my evolutionary path. My job had been such an important piece of my life over the past few years. My work and all the people I came to love were the things that got me through my divorce, my personal upheavals, my family crises, and all the craziness that is in my life. This was the last piece of my old life. Of course it had to blow up. It graciously shepherded me through a part of my life. But it was time for us to part ways. Our gifts graciously exchanged and cherished for the time we had together.
Like so many of us, I created a life around my dreams and hopes and expectations. I thought I knew what was best, what should be forever and what I wanted and needed. Time after time after time, things that I thought were forever, or that I thought were the everlasting answers proved to be only a fleeting moment of my life. (Mind you when I say fleeting, that includes my 40 year relationship with my ex!) Letting go of the notion of forever is difficult. I find it hard to be steering towards one destination and then have to change course towards the unknown, my expectations thwarted.
My expectations. My human expectations. My human need for order and control.
