The Tao of the Phoenix
By: Anthony O'Dugan
Tags: Relationships, Change, Divorce, Love, Faith

Photo by Amador Loureiro on Unsplash

When one enters a crucible, one is not afforded any other option but to burn. It is within this fire that we perish. It is in this death, this release of self, where we are presented a choice. We can forevermore be consumed by perpetual fire until we melt into a nothingness of sorts, or we can choose to shed the ashes and be born anew from the fire. Like the Phoenix, we can emerge again.

It’s not the four changes of name, having gone to college, or having moved as often as I have that really make me think of how much I’ve changed and grown throughout my life, rather the most pivotal moment that signified my entry into the crucible was surely my divorce. Coincidentally, it was my marriage that ended in divorce that brought about three of my changes of name. I knew at the time that this experience was indeed a version of Hell, and I also knew that I was on fire and that it was going to kill me.

As I look back at my life, I see myself as three different personas. I was a very different person before I got married at 20 years old, and not just because I was young, but because of what I understood as what was possible in life. I view the transition of Version 1 to Version 2 of myself to be a shedding of skin. I took my ex-wife’s name when we married so I literally took on a new persona. I started going by “Anthony” as opposed to my childhood name of “Tony.” I was accepted into a college I never dreamed I could get into. I was happy. I was proud. I had a plan.

A good plan is best with a backup plan in place. This simple sounding phrase became a profound mantra for me over the past decade. At that time however, I didn’t have a backup plan so I guess my plan wasn’t “good” by those standards, as time would tell. What I have learned about planning from the Universe is that it (the Universe) always seems to have a beautiful way of unfolding regardless of my plans. Coming to know this has granted me immeasurable freedom in being able to trust again. If I can trust the Universe, I can trust anything within it.

Version 2 of this new “Anthony” character was really enjoying life. Based on the trajectory that appeared to be set, things were looking very up for him. How little did this young man of Science and Logic and Philosophies know of faith, trust, and real love? As it turned out — very little. The dichotomy between faith and reason can be as vast or as minuscule as the mind allows, yet exclusively exercising one of the two in life leaves one blind to the other side. This would be Yin without Yang, light without dark. It simply cannot be. It is within the harmony of the two working in unison where real magic occurs. Version 2 was ferociously devoted to Science and Reason and had no time or place for faith.

Faith alone would not have saved my marriage. In fact, it was lack of faith which ended it. The Universe is not without a sense of irony. Into the crucible I was cast, having only enjoyed this new version of myself for a brief period of time. My marriage was over. My plans for the future were gone. My backup plan didn’t exist. Everything I took for granted in turn took me for a ride. As I burned, for what felt like an eternity, I knew I had died. I knew I would never be that version of me anymore. I wallowed. I became hollow. I became estranged from myself in a way I didn’t even know was possible.

I’ve never truly prayed to anything in my life — not at that point anyway — but I remember the agony being so overwhelming that in my most desperate moment, alone in the darkness that I cast upon myself, I said, “please.” I just wanted to stop burning. Little did I know that the Universe was there, it was listening, and it responded. I was shown the way (Tao).

It is imperative that I mention that the shift from Version 1 to Version 2 of myself was nothing compared to the transformation I experienced when those former selves perished. Rising from the ashes sounds cool and awesome when we are speaking about a mythical and magical firebird, but rising from the ashes of your former life is something that takes years to truly wrap your mind around. It is also something that will be with you forever. So in a sense I still have those pieces of me, if only as fragments.

As I uttered the word of surrender to the Universe, I was presented my choice. I could remain in gloom and misery forever or I could open my mind, my eyes, and my heart to see all of the opportunities for change that were before me. I didn’t care what it took or what I had to do, I promised myself and the Universe that I would do it. How different the butterfly looks to the caterpillar.

Thus began my love affair with the Universe. I finally had faith in something because I knew it had faith in me. I finally trusted something entirely because I knew it trusted me. I finally loved something because I knew it loved me. These were the stepping stones on my journey into complete self-transformation. Even though these were tremendous hallmarks for me as I rose from my ashes, I know now that the Universe had to speak a language I understood, which at that time was one of conditions. I had faith because faith was had in me, and it was this because that pulled me up and out of the fire. Now that I fly high above those ruins, I understand the difference between needing those conditions and having no conditional reason for believing or feeling a certain way.

The greatest lesson that I learned from this collective series of events is that it is only when we embrace change that it can truly occur within us. It is when we resist that the challenges become greater. I’ve come to be very well acquainted with the word surrender as well as many other words that have since that time entered my vocabulary. I’ve learned that you can give love and you can take love. You can have love and you can lose love. You can also just be love. With words that are foreign to both the mouths and ears of my former selves, I want to thank them for all they endured and suffered. I am here, now, happy and whole. I am a Phoenix.