Blue Heron Visions: Chapter 22: Resistance Is Futile

This manuscript is both a memoir of sorts and a work of fiction. The stories and events included are based on my life experiences and memories but I have changed names, details, event sequences, and outcomes throughout the work.

Read Chapter 1 Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Chapter 22: Resistance Is Futile

Elizabeth awoke in pain on this cold February morning, the last day in the short month. She had a terrible headache most likely brought on by the change in the barometric pressure. She had lain in bed, trying to find a comfortable position that might enable her to go back to sleep. Failing in all of her attempts, she had finally gotten up and went to find the hot water bottle. Sometimes, if she put heat on her face, the pressure would subside and enable her to relax enough to sleep.

Returning to bed, she put the very warm rubber bag across her forehead. She tried to resist the pain by not focusing on it. But as is the case, the more she struggled against the pain, the more it seemed to make itself felt. She thought back to the other day when she was thinking about her racing fear thoughts, her attachment to them, and how she could learn to control them enough so they didn't control her. She wondered if meditation practice could help with pain while one was experiencing the pain. In the email she had read before, the woman had said that meditation provided one space to sit with fear, sadness, and other emotions with which the person was struggling. Perhaps pain, although not an emotion, wanted to be sat with, to be heard and seen.

Elizabeth knew that Stacy believed that pain was a person's body screaming to be heard, trying to get the person's attention, because the person had failed to notice the message when being given in the spiritual, mental, and emotional bodies. Stacy also thought that all healing, no matter in which body it had originated—spiritual, mental, emotional, physical—manifested in the physical.

Elizabeth's head had continued to pound. Vincent was still home and he had refilled the hot water bottle for her. The pain came in waves and to just allow it seemed like a strange concept to Elizabeth. In fact, accepting or allowing anything that she thought inappropriate or negative in her life had always been a challenge for Elizabeth. Her need for control would always take over whenever she attempts to just let go and believe that what was happening to her was exactly what should be happening.

During her most dramatic displays of anger and resistance, Vincent would remind her that by her resistance of what was happening she was actually implying that she knew more than God did as to what was the best way for her life to unfold. Elizabeth didn't care for how this idea made her feel. In those times, she was overwhelmed with one desire—to get out of what was happening as soon as possible so she could return to her normal state, a kind of precarious balance between crises where she continued her quest for stability and security. Her thoughts revealed a flaw: her stability and security did not emanate from the events happenings in her life but from the eternal continuity of God/Source/the Universe. Elizabeth thought to herself, “It isn't the paint on the canvas that gives a painting its structure and form; it was the canvas itself.”

In the culture at large, though, resistance seemed to be something to be desired. There were so many situations in the world where resistance was idealized. The word could be used to describe the most noble of efforts to the most mundane: valiant people fighting against an evil regime, healthy immune systems protecting the body from the onslaught of disease, or an every day person who was able to overcome temptation in any of its multitudinous forms. (“Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” The scripture shot into her consciousness as Elizabeth considered the idea of temptation.) The primary example of resistance that always came to mind for Elizabeth was The Borg in the television show Star Trek. The Borg, a powerful, space-traveling collective, used cybernetic technology to assimilate other races into their collective. Their motto was “resistance is futile.” Of course, those who did not allow themselves to be assimilated—those that resisted—were always the heroes. Their resistance was not futile; it was admired, respected, and idealized.

But the resistance Elizabeth was thinking about had to do with fighting against the present moment. The best example she could think of was when she broke her ankle. For almost a week after it happened, Elizabeth would sit in a chair and play through the experience. She would feel frustrated and keep asking herself questions like: “Why did I break my ankle?” “Why didn't I go back inside the house and get my gloves?” “Why didn't I let Vincent go get my gloves for me? At least, my hands wouldn't have been in my pockets when I fell!” “Why didn't I notice the black ice?” Then, she would tell Vincent, “I can't believe I broke my ankle! How could I have done something so stupid?” Vincent listened patiently for a few times. Finally, weary of hearing her go over the situation yet again, he had said: “Elizabeth, you broke your ankle. That's the way it is. There is nothing you can think or do to change the fact that your ankle is broken.”

Elizabeth remembered that event as a turning point in her journey through the next three months. From that moment on, she realized that she could sit in the apartment and have a miserable time thinking about all the things she couldn't do because of her broken ankle or she accept the reality that her ankle was broken and make the best of the situation by being grateful that she had a warm, comfortable place to live while her ankle healed and she had someone who loved her and was willing to help her through the challenges of the situation. The choice was hers whether she wanted to resist and suffer or to accept and live her life as it had been presented to her. This situation had clearly demonstrated one of the principles in her coaching course: “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.” Now, if she could just use what she had learned to help her in other areas of her life!

Elizabeth noticed that the pain in her head had diminished and she was grateful. Some of the headaches were less intense but what bothered her the most about them was that they affected her routine. Maybe what she was resisting in the case of the headache was not the pain but the fact that she couldn't control the events of her day. She could see the parallel with her broken ankle experience. But she wondered about other situations she resisted. When someone was rude to her or broke off a friendship, how was she supposed to allow and accept those situations? One idea came to mind almost instantly: “Stop replaying the scene over and over in your thoughts.” Elizabeth knew there was truth in that statement. She realized that repeating the situation only continued and added to the emotional pain of the experience. Each repetition, then, became more intense, her thoughts amplifying her suffering and making the possibility of letting go more difficult. Elizabeth considered the idea that repetition of her thoughts along with the ever-increasing emotional responses cemented her attachment to the thoughts as well as the emotions. No wonder she couldn't let go of them easily; she had so identified with them that she believed they were a part of her and to deny them would somehow be denying her very being. But, in truth, those thoughts were not who she was but simply another layer of paint that she was applying to the canvas of Life.

Elizabeth realized gratefully her headache had almost completely disappeared. She could get up now and face her day. She was sad that she hadn't been able to accompany Vincent as he walked to the métro. He was working nights again which meant that they only had a few hours in the morning to spend together. Unfortunately, her headache had interrupted that time. Elizabeth decided to be grateful that she felt better and to welcome the day with open arms.