Yelling at the moon

Not that the moon did anything to deserve it...

But, yelling at the moon is what "stress release" is called by certain Native American folk. And "yelling at the moon" is really great, when you can do it. I highly recommend it!

There are lots of times when I've felt "so frustrated I could scream;" and lots more times when I "blew my top" (when I probably shouldn't have), and even more times when I've held in my irritations and my anger at something or someone when it wasn't "right" to knock their block off or tear everything to shreds just to release my own tension, or to "get my message across." I must admit I've done my share of venting - in many forms. There are a couple of walls that I've had to patch-up because of it.

But last night I decided to do something different. I decided to "yell at the moon." Just recently, on a serendipitious meeting with an old Native in the desert, I'd learned the value of the ritual, and had a chance to participate in a demonstration. I'd felt a bit self-conscious then, but now I was willing to give it a real run for it.

So, I jumped in my jeep and took off for the local hills. It took me awhile to find a "lonely spot" - it seems people have build houses in the oddest of places. I guess some of them were looking for a little solitude too. I finally found a vacant field, surrounded by trees, and no one in sight. What fence there was didn't look as if it had been tended to in a long while, and I didn't see any No Trespassing signs.

I stepped to the middle of the field, and began the ritual as it had been taught me. As I began contemplating all of the "broken expectations" I'd held, the "broken heart" times, and the "broken promises", I began to feel something that surprised me. Yes, there was the quick surge of irritation, then the hot flush of anger,... but then there was grief. Heart-rending, belly-sobbing grief. And yes, I howled at the moon. It was the most cleansing thing I've experienced in a long, long time. I got to release some of the sorrow and the pain that I've been trying to "manage" for a long, long time.

I felt human again afterward - really human - for the first time in as long as I can remember.

Thank you, Cheve, for sharing your wisdom with me - even though I'm "just a white man." I can see what you mean now, when you told me "sometimes we must get outside ourselves to see who we really are." I'd been looking through a lens clouded by grief and hadn't even known it.

This month I'll be winding up my 20-year stint in active service to my country. May 25th The Brass and "my kids" threw me a big to-do in the non-com hall on the post. A lot of people came, which surprised me. They said some very nice things - about how I've really changed in the last couple of years (translation - I'm not such an A-hole), and that I've been a good example, a good leader, even an inspiration. That's pretty high praise. And they seemed to really mean what they said. A couple of them even gave some examples of things I'd done (that I didn't even remember doing!), that had made a difference for them in their life. I guess you never know when someone's watching you, and learning from you. Wow. Humbling.

I got to stick my face in the traditional "Bucket." A bunch of them held me down so I couldn't breathe - to show me how much I was going to miss them all. I came up sputtering and choking - Truly, I thought I was going to die. It's funny what we do when we don't know how to really say goodbye.

Closure. That's what I'm doing this month, I guess. Coming to completion with whole sections of my life. In a way, it's kind of refreshing. I get to keep what I've experienced and what I've learned, let go of the old, and make way for the new - all at the same time.