Back to the moss-carpeted timber loading dock where I found so much marine debris the day previous, to conduct my daily cleanup. I wondered if I would find just as much litter as I did the day before and I did. It’s a unique spot at the South end of Linda Mar State Beach in Pacifica, California, as compared to the uninhabited locations I frequently visit. When I’m there, I feel like I have stepped back in time to a small fishing village.
Monofilament fishing line glowed between the rocks. I picked it up and started ripping the algae that was tangled up in it to discover a rusty hook that damn near hooked me! My heart skipped a beat and it was then my mind began to worry about how I could have needed a trip to the emergency room. The worry hook started a snowball of thoughts which brought me back to last weekend…
“Being hooked” is a loaded term for me
Things would be amiss if I passed up the holidays without relaxing on my longtime friend Kristina’s couch in Napa. It was delayed by three weeks, but I made it up North nonetheless – just after my first beach cleanup session with the Pacifica Beach Coalition. The smell of an Italian-styled dinner wafted in the air, while I enjoyed a Hot Tottie and started getting hooked by the emotionally dramatic TV documentary series, “The Making of a Murderer”.
My cell phone lit up beside me with the beloved face of Glenda – an elder who has damn near held my hand since 2011 through rough times, and who I have known since age sixteen. She randomly called to check-in and congratulate me on how well she thinks I am doing with processing all things life and living. I had written her not long ago about my ongoing sense of gratitude. She has witnessed five years of my unimaginable personal growth and change – from divorce in a small town – to becoming a full-time student a the big city.
During the call we talked about the state of becoming “hooked“… allowing circumstances or experiences to take hold of one’s self emotionally into a state of “victim consciousness”, or being hooked or attached to what is not of love, but more of ego with the undercurrent of fear.
Not more than five hours later after Glenda congratulated me on how well I am doing, a friend of mine through my online international spiritual group messages me and tells how he thinks I am “descending” – as if I am some spiritual leader falling into to a sad abyss.
Okay, high strangeness just hit! How could I not take note of these two experiences happening within hours of each other?
I felt the hook of being misunderstood. I understand that my teaching method and communication style is not typical. I lead more by example, being honest about how I am feeling in that moment and how I am pushing through emotions to connect with love again. I encourage others to be honest about how they are feeling, as opposed to talking about spirituality as if it is something you read in a book, or listen to some spiritual leader at a pulpit, and then some how you become magically happy and the world becomes littered with rainbows and unicorns. Not my style.
Underneath the rust of the hook, there is shiny metal…
The truth is, being human means you get hooked. The mere act of living a life and participating on Planet Earth involves one in the perpetual dance between fear and love. However, if conscious, the dance becomes more smooth and less time is spent in the quagmire of fear. I fear being misunderstood but I realize that no matter what, I will be misunderstood by someone, somewhere. With that said, I let it go and return to love. I casted my fishing line out and hooked the big fish that is my own Self honoring – that I will continue to be me.
Now onto being hooked by a dramatic tv series!
Speaking of marine debris such as fishing hooks…