New Good Mornings

        Whilst in residential treatment in the Sonoran desert of Arizona, I developed a morning ritual that I would like to share.

        Ever since my first forays into the Mohave when I was 22, the desert has been a magical place for me; like the ocean, it has a palpable spiritual energy and power. My intention, from jump street, was to find a way to connect to that power first thing in the morning.

       There was a quarter mile loop of dirt track at the facility that wound its way into the desert, with a spectacular view of the Catalina mountains. Every morning, for 39 days, I would start my day by jumping up on a boulder, speckled with copper ore and many other colorful minerals. Rocks also hold magic for me, and standing atop this gorgeous geological specimen gave me the experience of being firmly grounded to the solidness of the earth. That sense of being rooted as I connected to the spiritual power of the desert was critical for me. Metaphysically, I have no problem flying into the stratosphere and beyond. Being grounded, however, has always remained a challenge.

       Once atop this boulder, which also gave me a little elevation, so not only did I feel grounded, but I had the experience of floating a bit as well, I came up with a chant. I would hold my arms wide open, in a "T" position, and repeat my chant as I looked at the mountains. Then I would look to the sky, arms raised in a "Y", and repeat the chant again. I did this three times.

       After that, I would walk the track three times, during which I would either do a walking mediation, or recite a mantra or a prayer over and over again. The ritual helped prepare me for the long day of work, healing, growth, and unknown challenges.

       Today, I continue a form of this ritual, no matter where I am. I may not always have the desert to connect to, but I still connect to the power of whatever nature I'm surrounded by. Which is a little better than starting off my day with a blast of Jack Daniels and a line of crushed up pain killers.

"I open myself to Mother Earth

I open myself to The Divine

I open Myself to The Divine In Me

I open myself to Love

I open myself to Life

I open myself to Miracles

I open myself to The Miracle That Is Me

I open myself to Healing

I open myself to Growth

I open myself to Transformation

I open my Heart

I open my Mind

I open myself to Faith, Hope, and Trust

I pull the Light of The Universe into My Heart

Today is A Great Day"

 ©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Tales From The Other Side

"The Brighter The Light, The Darker The Shadow"- Carl Jung

That was one of the first phrases I heard when I entered treatment for mood disorder nearly two months ago. It wasn't the first time I heard it, but......I heard it for the first time. All of a sudden, I Got It. The phrase became my first internal mantra, and also my first social mantra; something I would repeat to others when our discussion turned to why we were there. The quote now made so much sense to me. Many others in my new tribe related to it too, which is why they usually raised an eyebrow when they heard it, said "I like that", and asked me to repeat it, or even write it down.

I've been described by many who know me as a very bright light; that I have a huge, beautiful heart that radiates love. Others say that I shine a vibrant, engaging energy that they are drawn to and want to be part of. This was sometimes ironic to me, because I often felt so dark and empty on the inside. My overall perception of myself was that I was, fundamentally, a defective model. At times, I functioned very well, but I was, at my core, wired wrong. Built wrong. Made wrong. I had inherent design flaws. Lots of them. Too many to correct, and too incapacitating to ever be free of.

This gaping disparity between how others experienced me and how I experienced myself was part of my suffering. In fact, it's part of a lot of the suffering on this planet. When the insides don't match the outsides, we are in disharmony. We are splintered. Fragmented. Not whole.

What I never really got until recently was that my ability to shine so brightly and powerfully also means that I have the capacity for very deep darkness. This metaphor applies not only in the metaphysics of human self expression, in the metaphysics of human love, but in the physics of electromagnetism. Because light is an electromagnetic wave. 

Think of those giant spotlights, the kind they use at store openings, or when commissioner Gordon needs to signal Batman. Those fuckers shine like the sun, and the shadow they cast can be as black as night. The same is true for the light of the human heart, of the human being. Those of us who allow ourselves to feel the most intense joy, passion, and rapture, are also the ones who allow ourselves to feel the deepest and darkest of pain. Which is why, when, I completely shut myself down from feeling, I enter a condition called depression. Depression is the antithesis of vibrancy, of light, of feeling. It is the blackest of nights, the most empty of hearts, the darkest nights of my soul.

Not everybody who is a bright light makes it into depression, because depression is a condition, not a feeling. There are many other factors involved. Depression just happens to be my darkest place, and the darkest place of many bright lights. 

When I truly understood this, when I felt this knowing in my bones, I let myself off the fuckin' hook. I stopped beating myself up for suffering from depression. I didn't like that I could suffer from the condition of depression, but I finally accepted it. If I was that bright of a light, it finally made sense that my shadow would be one dark, motherfucking place. That was a truly "Aha!" Moment for me. It  changed my perspective. I stopped calling it "being fucked up", and started calling it "Part of My Yin and Yang". Big distinction. Huge. One of my most profound, ever.

Back in November, when The Love of My Life and I split up, I could sense that I was heading into a deep depression. I am in no way blaming her for that. The breakup literally broke both our hearts, and she's not responsible for how I handled, or mishandled, my behavior around it. There were other factors in my life that I was unhappy about and not effectively dealing with. None of them had anything to do with her. 

Our split was just my last straw. I knew where I was headed, and it scared the crap out of me, because I had been there before. At that time, I was invested in the belief that when depression hit me, it was like a flu of the heart; a virus that I couldn't kill, that I had no control over, and that I just had to ride it out and let it run its course. And, I could tell that this was going to be one bad ass bout. I knew that it meant weeks, or even months, of isolation, inactivity, and a unique combination of numbness and pain so crippling that I would basically become inert. I refused to go there again. So I made the best bad decision I could, given my toolbox at the time. I started using substances, a lot, to stave off depression and at least have some sort of a life. 

And it worked. Until it didn't. I actually had some fun between early November and the end of February. Granted, it was fun that was usually artificially induced, but at least I wasn't holed up in my condo, every day, completely miserable for the next four months. 

Until I hit The Wall. On my birthday. That's when it started tuning around. By the grace of god, I caught myself before I got too far down the rabbit hole. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved. 

Two Seventeen Seventeen

        Alone on the night of my birthday this past February, I cried so hard that my throat and lungs ached. My eyes were having the dry heaves as they drained my tear ducts faster than they could produce lubrication. Yes, this was the worst birthday of my life. I was in a self imposed prison. Solitary confinement of the heart, body, mind, and soul. It wasn't that I didn't have options; I chose to be by myself. Because I didn't feel worthy of human company.

       The day had started off more promising. In the morning, my former angel of love texted me. Just ninety days prior, we had planned to spend our lives together. She sweetly wrote me a quick happy birthday wish. I loved hearing from her - I always did - and, it brought up a storm of emotions. I wasn't doing so hot with dealing with emotions at that point. Anything that threatened me to feel was like heavy artillery on my heart. She was the atomic bomb. 

       Later that night, alone in the darkness of my condo, a fine place, but a place I no longer wanted to live in, everything I had been running from for the past few months crashed on me like a tsunami. I recalled celebrating birthdays in much grander fashion than my present state; alone, in my underwear, sweating from withdrawal, unkempt because I didn't care enough about my hygiene to shower or get dressed, crying myself dry. I recalled the many birthday parties my twin brother and I threw, with a live band, surrounded by people we loved, truly celebrating our lives together. My current experience could not be a more stark contrast. 

       I knew I had to make some changes. I had known that for a while. But I was dragging my ass on that. How the fuck did I get here? A few months ago, my life looked so different, I hardly recognized it as mine. 

       The lowest moment of my lowest birthday, the Marianna's Trench of My Soul, came when, in a fit of despair, I sprang up from the couch, screaming a sob from deep within, and practically ran to my closet. Moving quickly and hastily, as if I were trying to do something before I changed my mind, I opened my toolbox and grabbed a straight razor. I paused for a moment and looked at my left wrist, noting where my blue vein that lead into my hand was. Then I made a little cut, just to the right of that vein.

       I really don't know what the fuck I was thinking. It wasn't an attempt at suicide. I consciously didn't cut that hard or that deep. It didn't even qualify as a half-assed cry for help, because no one saw it, or even knows about it, until, well, right now as I write about it and share it. Maybe I just wanted to see how it felt. Maybe I just wanted to hurt myself even more; why not? At that moment in my life, hurting myself was the only thing I knew I was any good at, and I had been perfecting that skill for months. I watched the cut bleed for about a minute, then used some liquid bandaid and a piece of surgical tape to patch myself up. Then I went back to enjoying my misery.

       I can now look at that as a true turning point in my life. I didn't realize it in the moment, or even six days later, when I checked myself into detox at Saint Elizabeth's Hospital. 

       By the way, Saint Elizabeth's Hospital was where I was born, on February 17, 1963. 

       Well, Saint Elizabeth's Hospital was also where I was reborn. Detoxing there was the best decision I had made in months. And it was the beginning of a series of "divine convergences" (some people call them "amazing coincidence's") that continue to occur for me, even now, two months later.

       The cut on my wrist has left a scar. Hopefully, a scar that never goes away. Because I never want to forget that moment, that night, as long as I live. It is a physical imprint on my body and on my heart of where I have come from, and of where I will never, ever, go again. Moving forward, whenever I get down on myself, whenever there is a vast disparity between where I am at and where I want to be, I will look at that scar and remember how far I've come. And how grateful I am for the gift of desperation. 

       Please come with me again as I continue the story of my virtual rebirth in the following weeks here on my blog.

 ©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Puplishing. All Rights Reserved.

Her Door

There's an open door into my heart

For someone I can't touch

I've tried to shut this door before

But it's too big and beautiful

It's just a lot too much

I've tried to slam it

I've tried to nudge it

But still, Her Door defies me

So now I choose to find some peace

And let this door just be

There'll come a day this door may close 

Or maybe, she'll walk on through

I trust my self, my god, and the universe

As I miss, as I love, Sweet You

 - Clint Piatelli

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved. 

Into The Mouth Of The Demon

        Three of my most formidable inner demons are depression, anxiety, and self-hatred.

        Sometimes, I will deal with such demons with humor, in varying degrees, as part of my overall strategy. Sometimes, however, I can find no humor, whatsoever, anywhere in the space between myself and my demons. So I often go into battle mode, where I fight the depression, the anxiety, and the self-hatred. How I choose to fight them depends on how threatened I feel, how ashamed I am that I'm even visited by the fuckers, and other circumstances. 

        How do I fight my demons? Sometimes by denial. Sometimes by anger (I get mad at them and, not surprisingly, that gets me mad at myself and the whole world - not very effective). Sometimes by self-medication (numbing myself to their presence). The problem is, fighting my demons, no matter how I choose to fight them, never works. I always lose. And that just makes me feel worse, like I'm a failure. It's a horribly debilitating cycle that has robbed me of far too much of my life.

        My first time at Kripalu, I did a mediation workshop with Jonathan Foust (incredible teacher and healer: www.jonathanfoust.com). He read a poem that I rephrased and posted whilst I was at the retreat that I called "Demon Tea". The poem basically says that instead of fighting your demons, invite them in for tea. Converse with them. Get to know them. Befriend them. That's how to find peace. Not by battle. But by getting to know them.

        Now, that strategy seems to go against Good Old American Macho Male Football Psyche Wisdom (of which I am often guilty of). You don't befriend your demons, you don't make kissy face with your adversaries; you annihilate them. You square them up like a free safety, time it right, and deliver a crushing blow right as the ball is delivered. You knock your adversary's block off. That's how you play defense against the enemy. That's how you win. 

        The problem is, my demons are not my enemy. My demons are my teachers. Or at least some of my teachers. They show me where I need to work on myself, where I need to grow, where I need to focus to be a happier, healthier person. 

        I have completely forgotten that for a while. And it has caused me, and some people I love, great pain. I used to box in college, and I love the game of football, so The Fighting Spirit is in me. The Warrior is embedded in my DNA as a man. But you have to know when to employ that spirit, and when to employ something different. Like having tea with your demons. 

        Today, I'm going away for a while to once again learn, or re-learn, to invite My Demons in for tea. I'm going to take it even further than ever before. I have to. Because if I don't, I'm going to die fighting the fuckers. And when I say "die" I mean it, literally. Because fighting them, in all the ways I've tried, is killing me. I'm out of options. Which is where I guess I had to get to in order to surrender to this more gentle method of dealing with them.

       The positively transformative book I'm currently reading, "Radical Acceptance" by Tara Brach (www.tarabrach.com) recants a story from the teachings of the Tibetan yogi, Milarepa.  When, meeting his most persistent, bad ass motherfucker demons, Milarepa pulls a positively brilliant and radical move; he actually puts his head into one of the Demon's mouth. Lo and behold, not only does that Demon vanish, all the other Demons vanish too. The book quotes Pena Chodron, who says; "When the resistance is gone, the demons are gone".

       So, starting today, I commit every cell of my very depleted body, every neuron in my hyper-active mind, every beat of my giant, sensitive, tremendously loving (yet currently broken) heart, and every wisp of my precious spirit, to getting to the place where I can put my whole fucking head into the mouth of every one of My Demons. 

       I'll see you, hear you, connect to you, and love you, on The Other Side.

© 2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved.