Hold On (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham, MH

Let us discuss devotion and why it is important. Unless you have a measure of devoted feeling towards your relationships, your schooling, and your career, how can excellence be your moniker? Excellence in all areas happens because of your devotion, for the greater your devotion, the more attention and focus you are willing to give. Think of it: a devoted parent raises children who know they are loved and cared for when the parent's full attention is trained on the child. A devoted student earns high marks and the ultimate goal of graduation and a degree. A devoted partner stays for all of the ups and downs, all the problems that invariably come from having a relationship with another imperfect human. With this attitude and commitment, they will have a secure relationship that lasts. Yet, with all these benefits, there are few truly devoted people. Why is this? We think of the word "devotion" as describing a spiritual act. The devoted worshiper is, in fact, called a "devotee." One who devotes time and effort to their spiritual life is rewarded with divine intervention and blessings. Then why are there so few devotees?

Because it asks us to give something extra of ourselves. At work, a devoted employee goes the extra mile, meaning that they go above and beyond their job description. A devoted student studies harder and is more serious than classmates to earn the top grades. A devoted partner isn't only concerned about their own views and feelings but sees their partner's needs as equal to their own and at times gives them priority. A devoted parent puts the child's needs ahead of their own and really listens, anticipating needs. In all these cases, the devotee is required to put themselves in second place. Being a devoted person takes effort and focus that the average or mediocre person does not want to give.

I want you to take a fearless moral inventory. Ask yourself, in what areas of your life are you devoted? Are you a devoted parent, partner, student, professional, or spiritual seeker? Are you giving it your all? If not, why not? Why would you be mediocre in any area when you can excel and perform with excellence? Really, this is not a rhetorical question: why aren't you performing at maximum ability in all areas of your life? I dare say we all would wish to be the best, for devoted people are admired people. They are looked up to, they are proud of themselves, and as a result, their self-confidence is high. Who wouldn't want to walk every day with your head held high? We all wish to perform at our maximum, yet we fall short. Why?

Rejection. Abandonment. Hurt. Discouragement. These pins can take the air out of our tires faster than anything. They are more like bullet holes than needles, because they blow holes in our commitment that derail and sideline us. Like blowing a tire when you are whistling down the road, we grind to a halt and limp to the side of the road when we have been hit. We get out of the car that sits like a sunken ship in the hot sun and start walking. After a while, a stranger stops and offers us a ride back home. We take it because nobody cared to stop. We get in the car of a complete stranger and hope for the best. In this scenario, the stranger is an idea or thought that occupies our mind and seems to rescue us but which may not turn out to be friendly. You see, when you are discouraged or hurt, when you are angry or betrayed, jealous or afraid, a thought can pick you up and take you for a ride because you are at its mercy. You are in need of help when this thought comes along and says, "Why not give up on your relationship? Why not give up on your horrible child? Why not give up on your studies? Why not give up on your job and find another one?" For so many problems in life, your thoughts will appear as a savior, urging you to abandon what you devoted yourself to. And in that moment, fatigued and sad, angry and dejected, the suggestion will appear perfectly sane. In fact, it will seem like the only answer. Yet, just days before, you promised yourself that you would hold on. You see, circumstances can get so miserable that you accept a ride from any old stranger.

I am not suggesting that you stay in an abusive situation. If you are being abused, staying will neither help you nor your abuser. The longer you stay, the less your abuser respects you, and the worse it will get. But I am advising you to stay as devoted as you can to your goals and not let passing thoughts carry you away. If you have a goal and it means something to you, there are instances when you will have to abandon your car and walk. You may be cursing the entire way, but better this than getting into the wrong car. To have your dreams, you will have to persevere. As I did, you must ignore pain, discomfort, and discouragement. You will have to become your own cheering section, because nobody will be there to urge you on. You must summon the inner fortitude deep within to keep walking the lonely road until the sun comes up again. I am saying, walk in the darkness if you must rather than let strange thoughts entice you to give up on your dreams. If you have a dream, it is everything. Dreams define us. They make life worth living, for they show us what we are capable of. Above all, be devoted to your dreams. When something tries to knock it out of your hands, pick it up! Hold it tightly this time. Tell that passing thought, I don't need your help; I am tough enough to meet this challenge. I have been through tough times before, and I will rise again. I will not give my dreams away so easily. This is my own goal, and nothing but death will shake it loose from my hands and heart. Then you go on walking. On the road you will find another willing to walk with you. If you give it your all, the universe will lift you out of despair. 

I spent the last half of my life confined to a bed and painting in a medical corset from a wheelchair. A special scaffolding was constructed so I could paint from my bed above my head as Michelangelo painted his chapel. I experienced the most devastating blows that life can give: betrayal, abandonment, rejection, and criticism. I felt angry, discouraged, jealous, and many times, hopeless. I turned to drugs and alcohol for solace. But all they did was blunt my pain; they couldn't solve it. My one grace was my art, for it was my dream to be the most celebrated Mexican female painter. The little crippled girl who wouldn't amount to anything could at least show the world her brave heart, and that I did. I showed the world my two selves: the public persona, cool with the lips pursed, dressed as a traditional Mexican. And the personal persona, whose heart was battered and weeping. My two selves shared one glorious heart. During my lifetime, I accepted rides with many men who tried to derail me. In the end, I held onto my dream with both hands, and today you know me as Frida Kahlo, the overcomer and the Mexican painter. 

Hold on, hold on, hold on, my friends.

With Love,

Frida

The 3 Monsters and the 3 Virtues (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham, MH

Man's natural instinct is to fight. It always has been and will be. Aggression almost characterizes human existence. Anger, jealousy, and vengeance are all extremely visceral emotions that always take precedence over peace. This is because we are more emotional than rational. We feel first, then think. As mankind evolves, it will think more than feel, but this is in the far future. At this time in history, the three demons of rage, jealousy, and vengeance govern your affairs, especially the most volatile: your romantic life. But is it really a love life, or hasn't it been more of a battleground? If pressed to tell the truth, we would admit there is more of the monsters in our battered hearts and less love. I know you do not want it this way. Only fools would choose strife and heartache over peace and joy! Why then don't we have what we want most in the world, which is to be loved and to return that love? How do we become containers filled with the magical elixir of love?

It is a common saying that "birds of a feather flock together." This is a common yet accurate adage. Who and what we surround ourselves with will control us. When it comes to the elusive and precious quality of love, few people have enough of it to flow over onto others. There are sweet-natured folks, but when put under pressure, even the sweetest person can turn almost unrecognizable. Even the most innocent individual can harbor the three beasts. We are all susceptible to powerful negative emotions until we free ourselves of them. Given this reality, we are rubbing off on each other, which is why violence and suffering persist. It's as if one individual contracts an ailment and unknowingly spreads it to the next person. Humanity loves to think of itself as autonomous, but in reality, we are more like pack animals. We pass on our negative attitudes, critiques, and even hatreds. We are extremely similar to a pack of wolves that run together in families.

Outliers are wolves who have chosen to remain apart from the pack, putting themselves in danger of assault that the loyal members do not face. Usually, the "black sheep" have worked out a secret: being part of the pack entails being susceptible to contagious disease. To remain part of the inner circle entails following the pack and being exposed to its attitudes, decisions, and ideals. "Black sheep" have had enough of unhealthy thinking and habits and have decided it is healthier to go it alone. If you consider yourself a "lone wolf" or perhaps the "black sheep," you wear it both as a badge of honor as well as a mark of sorrow. It is not by choice that you stepped away from your family, nation, or relationship; it was by necessity. Had you stayed, they would have chewed you up completely. You saved yourself when you stepped outside the circle of anger, jealousy, and revenge. There was a deep sadness felt when you had to turn away, and even today you only wish you were not alone. You gaze out at the midnight moon and howl. There are lone wolves scattered throughout the planet, all howling their distinctive songs of loss. How to return to love?

How to keep love in our hearts if we are alone in the night or if we are still running with the pack, observing the rules? Regardless of your situation, I know you want belonging and love. But not everyone will have it, though everyone deserves it. As I said, "Birds of a feather..." What you are nearest will fill your cup. Unless you take time to still yourself and be with the opposite of the 3 monsters, you will never rid yourself of them. What are the opposites of anger, jealousy, and vengeance? Acceptance is the reverse of rage. The opposite of jealousy is freedom. Forgiveness is the antithesis of revenge. Who possesses these three virtues in sufficient quantities to fill you? Acceptance, freedom, and forgiveness can only be found in one location. You might guess God, which is a decent assumption, because God is all of those things. But closer to home, your soul is all of these elements. It is as Jesus said; it is a well of fresh water that ever flows from the center of you. When someone has hurt you, how do you find forgiveness? It is found in this eternal spring. When you want to control and hold even tighter, how do you let go? You find it at the center of your heart. When your anger cools, how do you love again? Your heart's door opens to that fresh wellspring. Isn't it so?

The entrance to your heart must be opened, and the eternal qualities must flow out in order to drive the monsters from your mind. Only you, my friend, have the ability to open that door. Not even God can force it open. These qualities are divine, but only if you permit them. It just requires bravery. Sometimes it takes a lot of bravery to let go, forgive, and accept again. But if you will only let it flow, you are a never-ending wellspring of goodness. Let your heart open and release it.

With Love,

Frida  

 

Being True to Yourself (Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

You feel that your life is difficult, if only occasionally. You wonder why fortune picked the wealthy over you as you observe them enjoying lavish vacations and living in mansions. I referred to my existence as "terrible" and wished I had been born someone else. At gloved dinner parties, how many times did I discreetly, inwardly fume when wealthy Americans with brand-new vehicles made a concerted effort to include me, the weird Mexican artist with a broken command of English? I never belonged to the group. I was the outsider all the time. Being the last to know made me the outsider even in my own relationship. I was confined to the notion that I would always be a poor, sad cripple who learned to paint because of my numerous personal and professional setbacks. You could question if popularity or recognition should have made me feel less insecure and inadequate, but they didn't. Because emotions originate from within, don't they? Since they couldn't get to it, no psychologist could have healed what was wrong with me. These feelings that troubled me were only known to me, the quiet outsider. It was a horrible secret of mine.

You may be a rich and accepted member of country clubs and golf courses, but on the inside, you are still a child who fights to believe in yourself. Because it makes no difference how much money you have or who you know. Insecurity may plague a person for the rest of their lives. Why are some people so confident in themselves when you and I are questioning whether our decisions are correct? Why do we second-guess ourselves after doing our best? Isn't our best enough? Why do we compare ourselves to those who appear more handsome, stylish, intriguing, or younger? Because at some point, generally in childhood, we came to the terrible realization that we were not as excellent as other people. Somewhere, we failed to meet expectations. We were too overweight, not athletic, or not bright enough. That's when we withdrew and were quiet, or at least not as confident as we usually were. We started living by pretending we were nobody and hiding in the shadows, or we pretended to be someone we wanted to be but knew we weren't. It happened in a single second, so silently that no one saw the difference in us unless they really cared, and there weren't many people watching attentively enough.

When we reached maturity, we took our mask or mouth gag with us, and this version became us, on the outside at least. We adopted a persona and acted it out. We were so well-rehearsed that it was difficult not to act our false roles! We had misplaced the authentic, loving selves we were meant to be and replaced them with the flawless me. Except when we play a role, we wind up hurting people we didn't mean to. We would act out in ways that did not value those around us and would be devastated by the pain we had caused, but it had become our character. A character is a way of being that has solidified into a permanent condition, similar to how mud hardens into brick. Your character is a collection of other people's assumptions that you have internalized. My argument is that if you choose to change as a child, you may still change as an adult. It is possible to do a fearless moral inventory to see who you've become. Not who you claim to be, or even how you act around others, but who you aspire to be. You may be whoever you choose at any time, just like you once became a second you. It will demand you to honestly evaluate your choices and conduct, which may be difficult. How else will you improve your life?

You're well aware that money can only provide fleeting satisfaction. Partners and friends can only remain for so long. Happiness does not come from such things; it is an inside state. The only way to return to the carefree condition of childhood is to be your natural, unmolested self! This may be accomplished by taking time away from your regular activities to reflect on your life. Are you really where you want to be? Are your current connections fulfilling? Is your spiritual life blossoming? Do you live where and how you wish? Are you achieving your most significant goals? Most importantly, ask yourself, what quality did you have as a kid that came naturally that you have dropped? Because your child was exactly who you were meant to be. There was nothing wrong with them whatsoever, even if others did not understand you. This is what you must see. Your child-self was not wrong; it was always right. Yes, you made mistakes, but you always will. You have made much worse mistakes as an adult!

Nothing is more essential than being loyal to yourself, since there will only ever be one of you in the history of the world. You will never again walk the world at this point in history. And what you have to offer is vital, or you would not be here. Being faithful to the kid within is so important to your happiness and development as a real person that I can't put it into words. That youngster knew who they were without being told, didn't they? Your inner kid already understood who they were, and that was enough for them. You were a seed that would germinate into an oak tree, and if left alone, you would have grown straight and tall. However, adults modified your perspective, and this interference altered your course. And now you find yourself in a different situation than you should be. I'm not suggesting you haven't done well with your skills and abilities. But I'm arguing that you gave up some attributes to become what the world wanted or expected you to be, such as laughter and joy, empathy and kindness, curiosity and creativity, and play. Children have an inherent sense of play! Why is this happening? Their imaginations haven't been ruined. Where did your imagination go?

There is freedom to be. I'm expressing how many of you have resigned to become responsible and mature members of society. I'm arguing that now is the moment to restore your childhood freedom. There is no better moment than the present to recover your unmolested self, the seed that began so innocently. It is still present at the center of your heart. This time, don't change who you are for anyone.

With Love,

Frida

We Are All Broken by Devi Nina Bingham

You are broken. I am broken. Even if you don't consider yourself broken, we're all broken to some extent. My mother and grandmother taught me how to maintain a "stiff upper lip" like the image of a dog trained to smile like a human, with its top lip quivering. My family's women only wanted to turn me into a good soldier, not to educate me in invulnerability. Furthermore, films like G.I. Jane taught me to be discreetly stronger than men who brag to their friends but then return home to be subservient and meek because their girlfriend, wife, or mother is in charge.

My maternal grandmother helped to raise me, and because I got to see her relationship with my grandfather up close, I realized that Grandpa was pampered and spoiled by my grandmother. He earned the money while Grandma was the planner, the organizer, the strategist, and the problem-solver, as well as the hired help. She was the brains of the outfit who shouldered the harsh realities of life. My Grandfather read the newspaper as Grandma fretted and stewed over the problems. Gramps would only come to life as the protector when asked to, when he absolutely had to. I admired how courageous my grandmother was while noting how withdrawn Grandpa was. This curious domestic pattern was repeated in my friend's homes. The mother wore the pants in her domain, while the father was the omnipotent male in charge when at work. I saw it as a balancing act of male and female energy. 

At school, girls were allowed to shine, but only so brightly. Boys were given the preferential treatment as they had the best sports equipment, the best coaches, and the best fields and practice times, yet their classroom participation was often lackluster compared to the girls. We were expected not to complain about our second-class treatment in life and to keep a smile on our face. If you did not smile, you were told that you were not as attractive as the other girls. The school photographer held up his hand and crooned, "Smile!" This command to smile was not expected of boys who could look as mean and tough as they wanted, and nobody called them difficult. 

It was not safe to show how you really felt except to your closest girlfriends or to your mother. My mother had been told by my grandmother, who was a bank manager, to "put your Bank of America smile on, and never let them see you sweat." My grandmother, one tough cookie, had learned never to let the mask slip if you wanted to play in the big leagues with the men. When I shared my real feelings with my mother or grandmother, I was reminded of my responsibility as the big sister and to set a good example. I was not able to show fear, weakness, or insecurity. Those were undesirable traits. Because there was little room for real feelings, I turned into glass. I had to harden. But as I seized up emotionally, I became as fragile as glass, though I was not see-through. Nobody could see through me unless I wanted them to. I was more like frosted glass. And when dropped, I shattered. Reality would splinter, making it difficult to piece anything together again. This is how we get shattered—we have held ourselves together too long, pretending jagged rocks of words and betrayals did not hurt us, wearing phony smiles slapped on top of broken glass.

There are those among us who have broken so many times that they do not feel very much at all. Their breaks were catastrophic, more like Grand Canyons than potholes in the road of life. These stopped smiling altogether and prefer to live on the fringes of society. They may refer to themselves as introverts, but it is much more serious than that. They are not merely inward-turned; they are a personality devoid of something. A car cannot run off a cliff without being mangled. Something catastrophic happened to these people, something terrible and unforgettable, something nightmares are made of. I would call these people "the forgotten" because they may have been written off by society and their families as unredeemable. In turn, they have no need, no desire to be part of a society or family who only want them to keep smiling. These are a subset of society who refuse to play the game of respectability anymore; they have grown beyond the rules. They mark out their own standards and rules. Their pain was so consequential that being a part of society was not an option anymore. The mask had slipped once and for all.

I am a forgotten person living on the edge, doing my own thing and making my own rules, living an unapologetic existence. But do not feel sorry for me, for it was a conscious choice to leave what I found to be a contrived and plastic life, which held no meaning for me anymore. I wanted to find myself, to find my real self, and I did. It took many years of inner searching to find the me that time had buried, but eventually I unearthed her. It was an excavation of the girl I had once been. The tragedy of this story, and it is everyone's story, is that my inner child was the best part of me. She was the beautiful and innocent part that should never have changed. She should have stayed, for the layers of adulthood meant nothing. But she was chased away in my effort to be brave, to be strong and resilient. Not that those qualities were bad, but in the process of becoming something, I sacrificed my core self, what I was destined to be, which was a strawberry blond, green-eyed, laughing daredevil. A musical leprechaun I was, full of melodies and magic. Then I was told that I had to be a way I wasn't, so I changed, and so did you.

The question for us is, how do we get back what was lost, what was ours at birth but taken from us? Of all important questions, this seems to me, late in life, to be the most urgent. How do we get back what was traded away, like gold exchanged for tin foil? Who you and I were, that organic, shiny, innocent kid is still at the heart of us all. Isn't that good to know? In reality we did not give it away but covered it up. As years of pretending were piled on, our real selves, our souls, disappeared. But while we cover it up and ignore it, a soul is assigned to us for an eternity. It has not gone anywhere; you have. You moved away from it. When told you were not good enough, you dressed it up and someone patted you on the head and said, "Good lad," or "Thata girl." The only solution is to remember yourself as you once were. You may have traveled a long way from where you started, and this is perfectly fine. But try and catch a glimpse of yourself as you began this journey. 

Know that you will never be that child again; it is not possible. Too many events have passed to go back now, and you are no longer that child. That is only a memory of who you once were. Life is about change; you are always changing. In ten years, you will be a different person than you are today. See that there is no way to stay the same or to turn back time. What matters now is fully accepting the person you have become without trying to change it and without rejecting it. It is vital that you do not try and put a happy face or keep a stiff upper lip. These sorts of masks only keep us apart from our real selves. You are exactly as you should be at this age and stage. There is no better place to be. There is no need to hide who you are. If others cannot understand your real feelings, it is because they are wearing a mask to hide their pain. Do not conceal your pain or the real you for anyone because that only serves to reinforce your cracks. If you are broken, as we all are, face it. Accept it. Really look carefully at yourself. The more you face your real feelings, the less you will feel the need to hide. Being cracked, even becoming "forgotten," is not a weakness; it is the result of tremendous stress and trauma. You are worthy of compassion, not judgment. And see society for what it is: a broken system that produces broken people. Nevertheless, take responsibility for giving away the parts of you that you gave away. 

Shame is the feeling or experience that something is wrong with you, that you are broken. Shame, and other people's condemnation, can make us hide ourselves, stop relating, and feel less-than. Shame is toxic because it is usually dumped upon us by other broken people working overtime to cover up how defective they are. Arrogant people are in fact struggling with an inferiority complex, or at least feelings of not measuring up. Instead of admitting feelings of brokenness, judgmental people point the accusing finger away from themselves as a detour: "Don't look at me, look over there." Shame is a trap that guilt sets, whether that guilt is warranted or not. I am not asking you to swim in a cesspool of shame. Rather, I am suggesting that when we are willing to look at ourselves with honest eyes, we can see how far we have drifted. This realization should fill us with compassion for the younger part of ourselves who felt not acceptable or not safe to be ourselves. I am not asking you to feel less than or better than anyone else. I am only stating a truth: that we are all broken. And knowing this can give you the strength to stand apart from other people's arrogance, judgmentalism, and attempts to manipulate you into whatever they want you to be. You do not deserve to live in the shadow of shame, but neither should you pretend that life has not broken you, for it has. I know that with certainty, without having to meet you. For life is a merciless steamroller whose job it is to kick the shit out of us. And if it has not done its job on you, I daresay you still have an ego that is yet to be smashed. You are broken. I am broken. We are all broken, and there is a tremendous freedom in understanding that. 

Making Sense of Living-(Dedicated to Frida Kahlo) by Devi Nina Bingham

 

The biggest mistake that you have made about life is your conception of death. You see it as something separate from life. To you, death is a robber that creeps silently, stealing your most prized possessions. It only takes and never gives. It dresses in black tatters, whispering regret. It comes too soon and leaves without apology. Upon your headstones are inscribed foolish words and a dash where your real life stood. But after life, you will know that the dash was also meaningless, because you never died. Death is only dreadful to the living, or should I say, to those embodied. A soul does not need a shell to be a soul, just as an egg does not need to a shell to be an egg. Death is the cracking of the egg and is a good thing. You cannot enjoy the egg unless the shell is first broken.

When you leave the body, you think of it no more. The joys and sorrows are dumped as you dump your garbage, no longer considered. What you called life becomes a fading memory, like a dream you try and piece back together but cannot. It counts as much as the mist that hangs over the sea which rises and disappears. You see, this life is as important as a forgotten dream because there are so many of them. What is the weight of fog lingering over the road? The road is your soul's journey stretching on as various weather conditions descend and lift, descend and lift. Thousands of weather patterns fall and rise, and while they seem very important, in the sun of it, each life is no weightier than the blink of your eyes.

Therefore, can you not try to make so much sense of it and just live it, experience it? Taste the rain and lift your face to the sunlight? Marvel at the mist and the thunder? Watch the lightening with wonder? Every day does not need to make sense. Look at the natural world. Not much of it makes sense because the creatures are busy living rather than making sense of living. Your mind tells you to figure it all out, but how will you do that, for the weather is always changing. Maybe you were only meant to wonder. Maybe you were only meant to wander. Maybe you are not meant to be God's philosopher and were meant instead to be God's lover. God's lover shares the moment with a sparkle in her eye. You only hear the music and dance. You only find the mystery in life and savor it. For truly, there is no making sense of the weather; it simply is. Life is whatever happens and whatever is given to you to manage, you must manage.

Lastly, stop blaming God for everything or claiming it is God's will that this or that happened. You have absolutely zero inkling as to why things happen as they do. When you speak for God, claiming God loves or hates this or that, what you love or hate, you are blaspheming, because you are speaking for God, and who has the right to speak for God? Can a mortal know divinity? Can a mortal interpret for God? Do not fool yourself or others claiming to know the mind of God. Instead say, "Only God knows." You cannot get into trouble saying that.

When you cannot make sense of living, do not try to. Allow events to flow into your life and to flow undisturbed out of your life. Let all things come and go. Nothing is yours to hang on to. You cannot marry it into staying, you cannot bribe it or buy it into staying. When it is time for it to go, it will. Yours is to let go, this is your only job: to release without resentment. It will take a lifetime to learn this one important lesson. You are not here to make sense of it, but to let go of it, over and again. And when the wind blows in something new, pick it up but realize that one day it will leave, too. This is the rhythm of life: the wind blows in; the wind blows out. You are not meant to comprehend the wind.

How hard is it to be in every moment, not figuring things out, not anticipating the next event so you can be prepared or to soften the blow? It is the most natural thing in the world to follow your heart and not your head. But you have gotten so used to listening to your head. Get back to your heart. Return to that stillness, that softness, that surety. Get back there and try not to leave your heart center. Do not allow your mind to have the last word, for it knows only what it cannot figure out. The heart knows nothing but feels everything. Feel everything and your heart is fully engaged. Drop thinking in favor of experiencing. Risk! The heart will risk while the head hides behind rationalizations. Surprise yourself with how delightful life can be. 

With Love,

Frida