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What's In Your Treasure Chest?

 

It's almost Halloween.

When it comes to Halloween, we Chicagoans know that you just never know:

Will you be walking in a wonderland of golden falling leaves? 
Will the rain be coming in sideways?
Or will you be shoveling the sidewalk and sweeping the snow off the steps?
 
Some love this holiday for the dress up. 

Others, for the candy—the bonfires, the marshmallows, the pumpkin pie.

Some love it for the rare exchange of the benefit of the doubt, when people from all walks of life walk side by side and, for once, come right out and ask for -- and even allow themselves to receive! -- sweet things from strangers.

On Halloween, the sweets come in all varieties: an eager greeting, warm smile, and of course...fun size, full size, and giant size CANDY!!

But Halloween also has its darker side.

I usually don't engage with it, but this year there has been no avoiding scary people in masks.

The good thing about Chicago is, we don't let the bullies get us down.
Evanston, Illinois No Kings rally.
So perhaps it is no wonder that as I was driving to work this week, feeling badly about...well, nothing and everything, these words rose to my lips: "Angels, heal me from feeling like you don't care, it's all my fault and I have to do it all myself."
 
Almost immediately, I pictured an old, tattered treasure chest, rusted chains and all, inside my own chest.

What do you think when you think of a treasure chest? Gold, jewels, unspeakable bounty?

I would have thought that it would excite me.
 
Instead, I felt panic. I wanted to turn away as I do with the darker elements of Halloween.
 
But I was driving. In morning rush hour traffic. S L O W L Y.  There was literally no where to go.
So I sat there.  I said to myself, "Would I be willing to see what this is?"
 
NOPE. (Of course that was the first answer.) 
 
But I held my attention there, and the contours of the treasure chest softened.
 
I don't remember when it opened, but I do remember sitting in my car, hands on the wheel, inching along, and peering inside.

And it was as if I heard: "This is what you have been hoarding as treasure." 

I was shocked to discover...that it was hurt. 
All the pain, the slights, the insults—intended and unintended.
All the ways I'd made what simply happened into a grievance.
All the ways I'd used those hurts to justify hiding, or to stay bound to a story that only caused pain.

Somehow, I could see it all without judgement. 

It was as if this "treasure" had been a kind of currency I used to purchase what I thought I needed:
"I'll trade my pain for your attention."
"I'll trade how hard I work for significance."
"I'll use what did or didn't happen as excuses."

And if I'm honest, most of my treasure was spent to purchase belonging.

Belonging to a tribe of Superior Morale Fiber. Never backing down from the righteous fight. Frequently misunderstood by a world unwilling to face its own hypocrisies.

Without judgment, I saw how much of my treasure was minted from the same dichotomies I decry as an artist:

Us vs. Them.
I'm Right and You're Wrong.
I'm Better and You're Worse.
Once more with Haiku:

You point one finger
and you've got three more fingers
pointing back at you

Do I really need the scalps of my enemies in my treasure chest? 
Do I really need to continue to suppress the knowing that I was cruel enough to take them?

When I hold grievances about the past and make them the reason for the decisions I'm making now, I am engaging in the very tactics I decry in others.
 
And because we are all connected, I am only hurting myself and those I love.

With that, things started to shift. What had been locked tight, began to flow. 

The hurts that had been disintegrating inside that sealed chest began to dissovle in a river of awareness.
Tears slid down my face as the soft light of the true treasure, the love always underneath the hurt, began to glow again.

What currency are we using to purchase what we hold most dear?

Hope? Hurt? Both? I know I was.

This Halloween, as we share a little sweetness with neighbors and friends, maybe we can also give a little attention to the "treasures" we store in the darkness, without judgement.

Because what hides in the dark doesn't disappear.

When we bring it into the light, we reconnect to ourselves, to one another, and to what's real and true.


Meanwhile, if you got all the way to here, GOOD FOR YOU!! This was a long one. :)

I know you know I don't take you or your time, effort and energy for granted, but still...

Thank you for reading. 💗 Xo Jenny

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