I am all for learning. In fact, as an adult I am kind of a geek about learning. I love fresh school supplies.  I have always thought of myself as being ready to be the student when the teacher arrives.
I have routinely asked myself during challenging times: what’s the lesson? What am I supposed to be learning?

But in my most recent dark night of the soul, if you will, I find these question irritating.
Many lovely, kind-hearted, good people who I love dearly have asked me to ponder:

What is the lesson?
Are you open to it?

Actually, no. I am not open. I am closed. I am as near being hermetically sealed as a human could possibly get. I am tired. My brain is tired. I am emotionally tapped out. I don’t want to learn a lesson. I already feel like I am being punished so now I have to get schooled on why I am being punished as well?

That sounds petulant, un-evolved and defiant. And it’s possible I am all of those things right now.

I don’t want a lesson, I want resolution. I want to feel like myself again. Is that really too much to ask? I mean, I didn’t ask for it to be wrapped in a bow or anything.

Wow, even as I write this it’s uncanny how bratty I sound. Hmmm, I should probably have the good sense to edit this so I come off as slightly more put together. I might want to make myself sound more like the yoga teacher I am instead of a drunk at the end of the bar carrying on to a reluctant bartender who is being held hostage in this one-sided conversation. (For clarity, I am currently not drinking nor am I in a bar).

But alas, this is where I find myself, more akin to someone with an attitude and alcohol problem than a spiritually sound sage. (Apologies to all my yogis who may be reading this right now)

I suppose at some point in this spiritual wrestling match I am having with God, life, and/or the universe I will find the lesson, or I will be open to it. Possibly the lesson will at some point just have to pin me in order to get my attention. I am a wily one at times.

However, currently, while I possibly should be embarrassed, I am shamelessly resistant. I am defiantly uninterested in a lesson without a solution. I am drawing a line in the sand with my life and daring the other to cross it first. I am having a staring contest with, well, I don’t know who exactly, and am unwilling to blink no matter how badly my eyes water, sting or burn. People, I am a Taurus, I can dig heels in unlike any other zodiacal foe.

The good news is I haven’t lost my sense of humor entirely. And my sarcasm nails have been nicely filed into fierce talons by the last few months. I probably need a manicure.

I am sure the lesson will reveal itself in due time, not my time, which so far has been a real pain in my ___. As Glennon Doyle so expertly reminds me in her lists she made in her book “Love Warrior:”

What I Know
1. What you don’t know, you’re not supposed to know yet.
2. More will be revealed.
3. Crisis comes from the word meaning to sift. Let it all fall away and you’ll be left with what matters.
4. What matters most cannot be taken away.

Her list goes on but so far 1-4 are where I need to hang. Actually 1 and 2 are my anchors. If I don’t know, I am not supposed to know.
Huh, maybe that’s the lesson so far: I don’t know and I am not supposed to… yet.

Sunshine & Sarcasm,

Lowi & G