The Peaceful Journey

Misplacing Myself

Two nights ago I was lying in bed, thoroughly engrossed in a novel.  As I turned the page, these words began the next chapter:

"There are several ways to react to being lost.  One is to panic......Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you've misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world."  Audrey Niffenegger from "Her Fearful Symmetry"

Although I was really invested in what would happen next in this story - I found I could not read any further.  I just wanted to let these words settle into me. I kept thinking of that saying - when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Earlier that day, I had just spoken with a friend that I was so very ready for a new view, some fresh breeze of energy that could have me waking up with a smile, ready for surprises.

And bam - words written on a page in a book from the library, checked out to distract me and instead assisting me in receiving that new view I so want.

Being lost - it seems to be my new mode.  There's the physical lostness of a new city - frustrating but fixable - I mean, I could get a map, get a GPS, listen to the lady on my phone, drive enough that I learn the routes.

Then there is the much larger lostness of fearing that I have misplaced myself.  I love that phrase because it is just so perfectly descriptive. As I look back on the last six months, reading some of the past posts, I see this has been my fear - that I have misplaced myself.

And choosing the first option, I have panicked.

My life is different - undeniably.  The way I have dealt with this is to question everything - it feels as though I have been excavating my very soul. I do not deny that there are times when soul searching has been a good thing, but lately it has become more of a habit than an experience.

"Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you've misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world."  Yes - I see the sign for a detour on this route I have set for myself.  I am exhausted from this travel - breaking every part of my life into pieces to be inspected, analyzed, and yes, judging my misplacement.

What would it feel like to just abandon myself to this journey, to let the experience flow around me like the stream around the rocks?  How would it reshape me if I were open to experiencing the world differently?

And as so often happens in real life, the next morning I got lost.  I misplaced myself, turning into a construction zone in downtown Austin that seemed to become an endless maze of detours.  The words from the book rushed into me - what if I would just abandon myself to lostness?

So I did.  I sat in the traffic jammed to a stop and looked around.  I saw places I had never noticed.  A flower shop caught my eye with the sign  "Happy Hour - from 5-6 PM each weekday, Flowers are 1/2 price".  How totally cool is that?

I saw a frozen custard stand (almost pulled out of traffic for this one) and a really cute house with a purple door that matched the purple flowers surrounding it.  I saw a man in a wheelchair walking his dog - or maybe his dog was walking him?  I smelled the sweetness of the lake and acridness of the asphalt fumes.

I abandoned myself to lostness and found some things along the way - probably the most memorable was the realization of how I could choose to experience the world in a new way.

Now, how will this translate into the lostness of my self - all the questions about what I am doing and how it all fits?  Can I abandon myself to lostness and allow the fact that sometimes I misplace myself change how I see the world?

Maybe I will begin to see it as less critical, less disapproving, less negative and just feel more safe, more okay, and enjoy the ride without needing to hyper-analyze each little trip along the way.

Perhaps I will see the act of "abandoning myself to lostness" not as a moment creating panic but as a new way to experience the world.

So I am curious - have you sometimes felt you have "misplaced yourself"? What was your reaction?

I'm still alternating between panic and starting an adventure.

 

"Please review and revise".....

Last week on Valentine's Day, New Earth Daily included an article I wrote for their launch.  Tell me a story - the intention had flowed straight from my heart into text on a computer screen.  It seemed so easy.  Little did I know that six hours later, my life would be catapulted full speed right back into the depths of "my story".

I received the call that my favorite aunt had just had a stroke and was in the ICU of the small town where I grew up.  Throwing clothes into a bag and jumping into my car, for three hours my tiny Honda Fit navigated between 18-wheelers along I-35 as I cried.  The tears came from some place I did not understand.  A fiercely independent woman, my 91-year-old aunt had been in a nursing home for more than a year - a life she never wanted.  Perhaps the tears were relief that this part of her journey was soon to be finished, perhaps they were evidence of the sorrow of losing the only family member whom had ever seen me for myself.

Somewhere along the drive, I realized the irony of this timing.  Could I show up now in this emotionally charged chapter of my life without the back-story?  Could I come to this moment as just myself, leaving past hurts and defenses behind?  How was that going to work?

As I pulled into my mother's driveway late at night, I knew I had come too far to go back.  Yet as I opened the back door and walked into the home where I grew up, I felt my story come over me like a tidal wave.  So many memories, so many versions of the same old story - they felt too dense to break through.  All I knew to do was breathe.  And then to breathe again.  And again.

Maybe a good comparison would be a well-known play - we've seen it often.  The scenery is the same, the characters have the same names, the music is tunes we have hummed for decades.  And then we realize the dialogue has changed.  The circumstances are familiar but the plot line seems different.  What is so different about these characters? 

That was my fantasy, but not much of my reality.

In fact, the well-worn lines took over without even a moment of recognition.  I fell into my character with nary a thought.  Until late in the night, unable to sleep, I remembered.  The question became - do I believe what I write or is it just gentle fiction?  There could never be a better time to test this out, to see if I could "walk my talk".

But how?  I was in a new land with no roadmap except my internal GPS system.

Dismembering the story seemed such an insurmountable task when I was so emotionally drained.  Yet, maybe this was the best time.  I had no energy to resist, being my former angry persona just seemed too hard.  So over and over, time and time again, I remembered my new story.  The story where we are all just doing the best we can for this moment.  The story where I don't have to personalize every comment.  The story where I could find the same compassion for my family that I generously had offered to strangers. The story where the goal was not to inflict hurt.

If I am committed to telling the truth, sometimes it worked - sometimes it didn't.  

But as the days went by, I began to see a new rhythm.  When I found myself digging into the old story of so many decades - I forced myself to go outside.  In the rain.  I gave myself a little time out before I lashed out in anger.  This helped.  It gave a moment of distance that allowed me to regroup - to release all those emotions and just have some space for the new story to grow roots.

This is still going on - did you know when someone is taken off life-support, life does not just leave the room?  Each incidence is unique, but my aunt's journey seems to be leisurely.  So I have more time to learn about the character I am re-creating.  As I explore the releasing of the need for control and finding the ease of offering support, I can see that with practice, this can become easier.

I can revise and rewrite this story - one sentence at a time.

"Let It Be"

On a yoga mat, under a fuzzy fleece blanket, I breathe.  

Deeply, again and again.  

I'm no longer conscious of the time, only of my breath, secure in the guidance of the leaders of this breath work class.  My lungs fill up and release, having finally found a rhythm that now seems natural.  

For this moment, there exists only me and my breath.

Near the end of the session, my mind starts to drift.  As thoughts of this past month float up, I find I cannot seem to focus on them.  My doubts about where I belong, my guilt at not producing, my anger with myself for not being - well maybe just for not being - they are all there, struggling to be heard.

But instead, my heart is filled with lyrics the Beatles wrote four decades ago.  

Can I just "let it be"?

As I sit up slowly at the end of the class, coming back into the present, the song comes to me again.

"When I find myself in times of trouble

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

And in my hour of darkness

She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

I am of the generation that related to everything the Beatles sang - they were truly the poets of my day.  I have always loved this song, but have never connected with Mother Mary.  Maybe it's my Baptist roots, but I could never feel what my friends call the energy of Mother Mary.  Yet, here in this lovely space, for the first time, it seems I can feel her presence.  Even the words "Mother Mary" feel reassuring, warm pink energy swirling around me.

My rational mind immediately decides it is the heavy dose of oxygen that I have just given to my body.  Perhaps I am hyperventilating?  Could this awareness I feel surrounding me with such comfort just be a physical response to breathing deeply?

Does it really matter?  As I started this post, I see that it has been a month since I have written anything.  I reread my last December blog and remember these past weeks. The "no-plan" plan is so much more difficult than I ever imagined.

Will anyone see me if I am only in the process of "being"?  As I have tried to relinquish control, every insecurity that I thought had faded away roared to the surface.  How could I ever be "enough"?

I know this is a journey of trusting - never my easiest or preferred form of travel. I have resisted this path of trust; I have fought it on every turn. I have wanted to retrace my steps and just write this experiment off as a failure.  

And yet, I long to return to it - this journey of letting go of what I am not and becoming what I am.

These lyrics are the bottom line - "let it be".  Deep insight coming clearly at the end of emptying my mind for 90 minutes.  Three tiny words holding a whole universe of truth.

"And when the night is cloudy,

There is still a light that shines on me,

Shine on until tomorrow, let it be.

I wake up to the sound of music

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.

There will be an answer, let it be.

Let it be, let it be,

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be"

So I am practicing a new mantra.  I could just "let it be".

I could stop trying so hard to not resist, stop trying to flow, stop always trying to be somewhere that I am not. 

And maybe begin to see where I am.

Free Falling - when panic and trust collide

Yesterday was a travel poster day in Austin - bright blue skies and warm air. Yet I spent the entire day on the sofa under a blanket, self-medicating with cheese grits straight out of the pan while watching "Eat, Pray Love" on mute. 

Of course I tried to analyze my condition.  This is what I do - I observe, I label, I categorize. Making lists has always created the illusion of security in my life.  Even as a small child, my lists were my lifeline - nothing could be forgotten or lost.  When I don't know what to do, I make a list. And the another, just in case!

But as I began slowing returning from my attack of extreme inertia, I saw that this "anxiety attack" is all about "the list".  You know, the list that is on every magazine cover, the topic of all talk shows, that crown of all lists - Resolutions.

As a dedicated list maker, it isn't surprising that a list of New Year's Resolutions would be the cherry on my holiday dessert.  Every year, that list has felt honorable, noble, responsible.  The individual entries have been refined as I have changed, but the overall tone has remained the same.  And now, I am seeing its truth for the first time.

Lists are my tangible evidence of feeling in control and the Resolution List is the way I have felt in charge.  I could decide what I wanted to change, to amplify, where I would place my focus.  This list of changes has become my personal manifesto, my own declaration of what is important to me. The list was my proof -  I was IN CONTROL.

But I have changed.  I see that the time on my sofa, semi-comatose, has not been a time of retreat, but actually, the hours of a full out war being waged. A battle plan that has been refined endless times during the past six decades is in the process of being dismantled.  The new plan being suggested is untried - there is no body of evidence that it will work.  Everything in me has been screaming, "Don't go there... It's not safe!"

This began a few days ago, as I listened to Vanessa Stone talk about entering this year empty - no agenda, no calendared plan.  An empty cup waiting to be filled.  As I felt these words go straight into my heart, I knew this is what I want for this moment.  I want to be open to something I have not yet seen.  I want to enter this year without my list, my agenda, my grand illusion of control.  I want to step into each new day with wonder.

I am terrified.

I know I have written all year about facing fears, about change, about seeing new directions.  But nothing has prepared me for this griping fear.  I realize that exploring this with words has been an entry point.  As I typed out each new awareness about this journey, I was beginning to open to the courage of investigating further. Words on a computer screen let me glimpse through the cracks, checking out a new land. There is a sense of safety in writing - I can observe from a safe distance.

But now there are no words, no plan, no preview of coming attractions.  If this is my choice - to enter with a blank screen, an empty cup, with utter trust - I must learn to take a breath and Be. 

I have no idea how this works - those of you who are already on this path are so invited to send back a report. 

I only know that as I write this, I am less frightened.  More curious.  More Open.

So it begins.......

 

 

 

 

 

The Invisible Thread

A few years ago, I behaved badly.  Maybe unconsciously would be more accurate, but the bottom line was that I really hurt two people by not being aware of my actions.   At the time, I was so sorry but also filled with so many excuses.

Okay, this is too ambiguous; even I'm getting lost. 

Here's the deal - I had an idea for a new business and was partnering with two friends to develop it.  I had jumped on this idea without any planning and without having worked with one of the partners.    Very long story short - I treated both of these friends with disregard and wound up losing both their friendships and the business.  But I thought I had learned a lot from this basically sad experience.

Fast-forward two years to today. 

I have just been on the other side of the road.  Someone I love and whom I know loves me acted very similarly to my past actions and I reacted exactly as the friends in the story.  And while it would have been easier not to experience this role reversal, I am grateful for the insight.  Before I had imagined how my friends must have felt, but now I know.

I guess where I am going with this story is that we are all the same.  We think we are so unique and in some ways, we are.  But below that uniqueness lays an enormous universe of commonality.  We share the same needs, longings, the same humanity.

I had already been thinking along those lines.   I spent this past weekend with my granddaughters here in Austin.  One is twelve and as I watched her with her friends, trying to find where she fits in the world, I was amazed at how similar she is to how I remember me at twelve.  Yes, now there are texts and malls and rap music, but go down another layer.  There is the same excitement and terror and confusion that was with me six decades ago.  Only the top layer has changed.

And as I interact with my 87 year old mother, I can begin to imagine myself in 25 years - and I feel softer and less critical as she faces this next stage in her life, less independent and feeling her choices are limited.

I want to hold this insight closely and look at it daily.  I want to be easier with those I love and with those I do not know but tend to judge quickly.  I want to take the few moments to put myself in another's place and then take a few more to remove the judgments.  I want to remember that I have probably walked where someone else has, or that I may in the future. 

So what if we all just took a collective deep breath - especially now during this holiday season and just gave to everyone the universal benefit of the doubt?

Yes, this includes the person who cut in line at Target, the guy who almost hit you driving his truck and texting, the politicians who have a new agenda each day.  The wealthiest 1%, the rest of us, the guy holding a sign at the freeway entrance.

What if we just for a moment looked beneath the external differences and instead saw our collective humanness?

 

Now that would be a great holiday gift!

 

"Facing the Cranky" - a new plan

Isn't it the most amazing thing when the perfect info just arrives?  Maybe it is always around, but then I will notice it and everything shifts.  That just happened.

Since arriving in Austin, seemingly the home of all known allergies - seriously, there is a daily allergy report on the local news! - I have quite arrogantly stated many times that I don't ever get sick.  In fact, I have adamantly argued that the constant focus on allergies has probably created them (but that is the fodder for some other blog).

Thanksgiving night I got sick.  I lost my voice and then slowly spiraled into some sort of full-fledged cold.  I was furious, upset, embarrassed.  This was our only 3 days with our daughter from LA and suddenly I was ready to be quarantined - no one wanted what I had and didn't even want to sit by me.

Today, it's Tuesday and I can finally talk (according to my hubby both a blessing and a curse), but I am still feeling lousy. And pissed off and guilty.  But then I got this blog post from Andrea Schroeder.  If you never open any other link I send out, I so hope you will take 2 minutes and read this one.  It completely shifted how I am reacting to this bout of whatever I have and it will become my new plan for the future.  (Granted it is also a lovely endorsement for my new blend - but what I am talking about is Andrea's technique.)

I am not discounting the Law of Attraction in any way - but in my life, I often use it to beat myself up.  Everything is my fault, so very exhausting. Today, I just stopped visualizing myself completely healthy, stopped poking myself for making myself sick, just..... stopped. 

Instead, to quote Andrea, " I turned around and faced the cranky."  I just stopped resisting and had a little visit with my cold. I was cordial; I let the cold talk a bit.  I really listened instead of controlling the conversation.

And the cold told me about my fears - some real, some imagined.  It told me I have not really honored the huge changes in our lives and just let myself be scared.  Scared that I won't find my place in this new city, that what I have to offer will not be wanted, scared that I have lost my soul's support system. Scared that I am not a good enough wife, not a good enough mother, not a good enough friend.

I realize that I have used every particle of energy I have resisting these thoughts - my body is just so depleted.  As I sit and listen to my cold, I feel my shoulders drop and my breathing ease.  These are somewhat reasonable fears, but they are just fears - not facts.  My resistance has made them so much larger. Listening to them in this way puts them in context - they are not the whole picture, they are just small pieces in a much larger puzzle.

As I use Andrea's suggestions and start to give myself some compassion, some gentleness, some self-care, some love, some comfort, I find it is okay to just be with my cold.  Not fighting it, hating it, not being IN IT, just being with it.

This cold will pass - it is not a definition of who I am or who I am not.

Today, I want to love me, even when I am sick, even when I am scared, even when I am wrong.  I am just going to "be gentle with my sweet self".

In case you didn't click on the link (but I really, really, really know you would love it) - I want to introduce you to Andrea and her work.  I'm currently enrolled in her "Give Your Inner Critic a New Job" course (and I am sure that there is going to be much more of this discussion to follow.) 

But for now, no resistance.  I'm going to lie down for a while :)

Thank you Andrea!

 

Learning to Bend

This morning, it is windy in Austin.   I find myself feeling at one with the trees, bouncing around, unsettled.  As I open The Book of Awakening to begin the day, the words seem to be written for me:  "The hard things break.  The soft things bend."  A word picture of what I am watching from my window.

I think about these words as I watch the movement.  The dead, dry tree limbs so easily snap in the wind.  The living green branches are non-resistant; they seem to embrace the movement.  They open their arms and dance.

Like so many of us, I have been feeling overwhelmed with change.  I wasn’t aware of the toll this has taken until, like the dry tree limb, I snapped apart this weekend.  It didn't take hurricane force winds.  It wasn't even a storm.  But I felt splintered apart as I resisted still more change in my life.

I had received an email from our youngest daughter. She and her husband are moving into a new, larger apartment in the city and making the very adult purchase of a washer and dryer.  Everyday life, nothing life threatening.  Actually news to celebrate.

I was startled as I watched myself dissolving into racking sobs. I felt I was breaking in my resistance to change, even happy change.  I wanted to hold on to the image of my daughter and her husband in their old home - I could imagine them each morning getting ready for the day.  I knew where she sat at her desk working, where she made coffee, where her husband plays video games far into the night.  I had a picture that I felt was rapidly dissolving, without new pictures to take their place.

I felt dry and brittle with loss.  I was like the branches that fight the wind, always losing.

Eventually there was a shift.  I became grateful for this awareness of how painful the dry twigs in my life can be.  I have a sense that change is not over in my life.  Not in any of our lives.  This is an awareness that I will return to, but with a new understanding that meeting change with flexibility, bending with the wind, is not only easier, but more fun.  I want to dance with the winds of change; not cower in the corner afraid of any movement.

Looking back, I see the gift in this awakening. The gift of contrast. I now know that I want to be the green branch that bends, that allows change to flow through my leaves and embraces that moment.  I want the sunlight that floods in when the dead wood has been cleared away. 

And so, I can choose - to stiffen against what is inevitable and then, ultimately break, or I can allow myself that freedom to bend. The freedom to be okay with tossing and flexing and letting life move through me.  To not see change as loss. To welcome the new view that change provides.   To trust that I am safe, that I will not break or splinter.   

To happily bend.

 

 

 

 

A New Perspective

Isn't it just lovely when we notice how the Universe is supporting our requests? (Keyword here is notice).  I admit to often speeding through life, not noticing the support that is right beside me.  And then, something happens and I notice.  And am so grateful. This happened this week.

In my last post, I admitted to feeling very vulnerable and scared while experiencing all the changes in my life at this time.  It helped a bit just to write the words - holding all this in takes so much energy with very little return. And then, the most caring help arrived, completely unexpectedly. 

A few years ago, a friend gave me Mark Nepo's book, "The Book of Awakening".

I love how beautifully he writes, but sometimes weeks go by without me picking up these words of wisdom.  However, a few days ago, I just randomly opened the book (it's compiled with dated, daily thoughts) to August 5 and began reading.

I'm going to just copy what Mark says, as I can't imagine adding to his words.

 

The Chick being born ~ 

Every crack is also an opening.

When in the midst of great change, it is helpful to remember how a chick is born. From the view of the chick, it is a terrifying struggle. Confined and curled in a dark shell, half-formed, the chick eats all its food and stretches to the contours of its shell. It begins to feel hungry and cramped. Eventually, the chick begins to starve and feels suffocated by the ever-shrinking space of its world.

Finally, its own growth begins to crack the shell, and the world as the chick knows it is coming to an end. Its sky is falling. As the chick wriggles through the cracks, it begins to eat its shell. In that moment – growing but fragile, starving and cramped, its world breaking – the chick must feel like it is dying. Yet once everything it has relied on falls away, the chick is born. It doesn’t die, but falls into the world.

The lesson is profound. Transformation always involves the falling away of things we have relied on, and we are left with a feeling that the world as we know it is coming to an end, because it is.

Yet the chick offers us the wisdom that the way to be born while still alive is to eat our own shell. When faced with great change – in self, in relationship, in our sense of calling – we somehow must take in all that has enclosed us, nurtured us, incubated us, so when the new life is upon us, the old is within us.

Thank you so much, Mark  

 

 

"Farewell" - a much needed disclaimer

I know I just posted two days ago, but I have realized that post needed to come with a disclaimer.  As I wrote My Birthday Farewell, I was so relieved - having just  "given notice" to fear (to continue the work metaphor). 

Well....... Fear decided to file a wrongful termination claim and is asking for a huge settlement!

Maybe it was so publicly acknowledging this decision; maybe I would have had the same experience if I had held it closely to my heart. But fear rushed at me like a tsunami, overwhelming me unexpectedly.  I was blindsided by the intensity of the fear that I experienced.  It came first in my dreams and then stayed with me throughout the day, touching everything around me.

I felt I didn't deserve this - then I remembered I create my experiences. Ughhhh- I hate taking responsibility for this one.  Why would I ever choose this pain? 

Thank God for dear friends.  When I told my friend about this rush of panic, she had a brilliant suggestion.  She asked me to write down everything I was afraid of - to give it a shape, a size, a color, lots of details. 

And as so often happens when we turn the light on, the scary shadows began to disappear.  As I wrote out these terrors and described them, I began to see how they are just that - scary shadows.  Yes, some of these fears could come true, but it is much more likely they will not.  I could recognize the thoughts that had so overwhelmed me as just what they were - thoughts.  Thoughts from my fear.  Not facts, not even probabilities. Thoughts.

So the reason for this post is to encourage you - perhaps you too have given fear "notice", and it has so angrily replied.  Maybe what worked for me will help you -

Just give fear its voice, let it tell you all its concerns. Listen patiently.  And then, look at the words.  It's possible that you might have a similar experience and those very words will help to reduce this tidal wave of unwanted emotion.

I don't have this licked - last night my dreams were filled with struggles.  But I am certain that I am on the right path and willing to stick it out for a while; to see where I will go. 

Maybe we will travel together.  It's so much easier with a friend.

 

My Birthday Farewell

Today is my birthday.  I woke up thinking about another birthday, 8 years ago, my 55 birthday.  On that day, I did not have a clue my life was about to change completely.  I ate cake and opened presents and did not even imagine that in a very few weeks, I would change the entire path of my life. 

What happened is that in December of that year, I left the job that had defined my life for so many years.  I had no idea of what would happen, I had no plan - I only knew what no longer fit my spirit, what was not working.  Yet, as I have said before, I was deeply afraid that without this job, without this definition of who I was, I would just disappear.

Well, we know the rest of that story - my life has morphed into something I never imagined.  And while often terrifying, it has also been exhilarating and magical.

So this morning, as I lay in bed slowly waking up and remembering that today is my 63rd birthday, I felt such a yearning to leave something again.  This time, it is not as tangible as a job.  I won't need to pack up photos and send out emails.  What fills my heart is the need to leave fear.  Yes, that 4-letter word is still holding a firm place in my life. 

As I think about leaving my fear and moving on, I am surprised that this thought holds many of the same emotions as I felt when I decided to leave my corporate job.  While I would not say that fear has defined me, it has certainly had a consistent place in my life. It's a big space and very familiar.  I don't think of fear as the enemy - it is just something that I have outgrown, something that no longer fits as easily as before.  I recognize fear's purpose, trying to keep me safe, all that primal DNA stuff working full time.  But I have changed.  I now know that I am safe.  That this is a fact, irrefutable, and this fact completely changes the game.

However, when I think of letting go of fear, of allowing it to pack up and leave me, I have to admit I feel the sense of a huge vacancy.  As I explore this reaction, I am surprised at the amount of "office space" I have allocated for my old friend fear.  And when fear moves out, what will fill the space?  Right now, it feels like it is too big, too empty. 

As I write this, I am aware of how fear has trickled down into so many areas deep inside of me.  It has happened slowly, I never would have noticed it except for the times I would bump into it upon entering an area of my life where it blocked the path. 

But now I see that fear is like the ivy that slowly overtook everything in our yard in Los Angeles.  Left alone, it made its way up trees, over fences, between bricks.  It took persistence to keep it contained. I have not kept my fear contained - I have allowed it to ramble throughout the spaces of my life.  And now, when I am contemplating pulling it up by the roots and removing it, I wonder what lies beneath.

I'm not for sure how this works - maybe it really is more like leaving a job than gardening.  (I seem to be struggling with keeping my metaphors in line.) Eight years ago, I gave my employers a month's notice, staggered my work schedule and took some extra time off.  Perhaps that is how to leave fear - I'll be giving some notice, I'll be around less and then, I'll be gone.  Somehow that feels less intimidating than a "cold turkey" approach.  One thing I have learned along this path - change doesn't have to be chaotic, it can be gentle and quiet.

However, this time I have more confidence as I decide to make the change.  I have experience with this now - I not only survived saying goodbye to something that felt so huge, I have thrived.  I know there is fresh air waiting to pour into the areas that are opening up. This time, I have more of a sense of adventure, of wonder, of excitement.

This time I can thoroughly enjoy the farewell party. 

 

Welcoming Home

The often quoted phrase "you can't go home again" was always fine with me. Why would I want to?  I grew up in a family (and yes, I do believe with all my heart that I made this choice) where I never felt at home.  I left as soon as was possible for me and never looked back.  Yes, I continued some relationship with my birth family, but never through a sense that this was my safe place - you know, the one where supposedly they always have to take you in.

(By the way, who makes up these ideas?  Maybe they are just lyrics in a song that are remembered endlessly, who knows??)

So in moving back to Austin, I did not experience that feeling of coming home.  Austin is a new city for me, which just happens to hold some people I love dearly.

And yet, this weekend, in a completely unexpected way, I experienced coming home.

I went to a slumber party - my first in about 44 years - with 2 of my closest friends from high school.  Through the miracle of Facebook, we had reconnected somewhat, knew a bit of each other’s lives.  Because, at almost 63, I am still terrified of my mother seeing me drinking, the suggestion to have dinner together turned into me sleeping over at one friend's house.  Then we all decided a sleep over would be so fun.  There we were, 3 friends who haven't seen each other in four decades, staying up late and sharing secrets in the dark.

What was so amazing to me was how easily our sense of friendship and trust just flowed right into the evening.  There was no awkward pause when we didn't know how much to share or how to respond.  There was some sort of cellular trust that allowed us to be much more honest than we knew how to be as teenagers.  Collectively, we had a lot of life under our belts and instead of creating distance, it magnified how much we all have in common.

Granted our lives could not have been more different.  One of us is very educated and has traveled the world and made discoveries about herself that have dramatically changed her life.  One of us has chosen to remain in our small town for all this time, and yet her life has not been ordinary in any sense of the word. One of us (me) has tried to escape the inescapable until I surrendered into it.

But as we each shared a chapter in our lives, we gave each other permission to share more.  And as we got down to the true realities of our lives, it became so apparent that we were still those 3 girls who often spent the nights together.  We have just grown up.  We have become more understanding, less judgmental than our teenage selves.  We have been in hard places and made both poor choices and brilliant ones.

And we have survived to tell each other about it.

As we drank a lot of wine, I thought to myself that we are just like the wine.  We have gotten softer, rounder, more complex with aging.  Now there is more to enjoy, to appreciate than when we were young.  Face it, we are just easier to drink!

So I am revising my concept of coming home.  In these hours, I felt as at home as I can ever remember feeling. 

Here I had no secrets.  These women "knew me when" and they still welcomed me with open arms and hearts.

I have come home!

 

Channeling my inner Joni Mitchell

"I've looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose, and still somehow
It's life's illusions i recall.
I really don't know life at all."

Three weeks ago, we left Los Angeles for Austin, Texas.  It was a journey we had happily planned, ready for our next adventure.  Two little silver cars, driving mostly in tandem, east on the I-10, directly into the sun!

I have to admit I was looking forward to this 1400 mile drive by myself.  Listening to the music and CD's I love.  Planning my new life.  I was ready with a filled iPod and extra CD's just in case, with a water bottle and snacks, in a car packed with boxes of essential oils too precious to be trusted to the movers.

Then, on the third day of this drive (yes, we took it easy - the apartment wasn't available for a week), I was overwhelmed with memories.  You know, those that are sealed up like the boxes that never get unpacked.  1972 came flooding back to me - the year I was on the other side of this highway, escaping to California.

I had just turned 22, and with all of the impetuousness of the adolescent I truly was, I had just made choices that would affect my life and the lives of those I love forever.  Choices made out of anger and fueled by sheer terror and defiance. I had set out for a place I knew nothing about with someone I barely knew in a little green Pinto filled with everything I owned.  I had steeled myself against my broken heart at leaving two babies and the only life I had ever known.  Yet I could see no other choice.

And for 3 days I sobbed as we drove to California.  To the unknown, the only fact being it was as far as I could go in that direction.  I was escaping.  Today, I would probably be diagnosed with post-partum depression, but that was not an option in 1972.  I just knew I was breaking apart and no one seemed to notice.  I had never felt so alone and had no words to express the need to just run away - not just from a very young marriage and tiny twins, but also from the small town where I grew up and the religion that was inescapable.  I felt I was dying.

So I made choices more appropriate for a 15 year old, and because of the enormity of these choices, I thought I had burned all bridges and taken no prisoners in this flight.

Three weeks ago driving the opposite way, back to a place I had never planned to return, my heart cracked open for that young, paralyzed girl fleeing for her life.

Forty years can allow for much change and that has been my story.  Time passed.  A lot of time passed and miracles happened.  My ex-husband and children moved to California and we began the process of re-acquaintance and repair. I found an amazing therapist whom I love to this day for being a good father and allowing me to learn to grow up.  I found myself.  And then I loved myself.

As I drove and wept, I was so stunned by the contrast of that trip in 1972 and this journey of today.  Then, I was running away, filled with defiance and fueled with fury.  Today I am running toward, filled with love and hope and gratitude for becoming a part of the lives of those left so very long ago. 

Because I have looked at life from both sides now, I know I cannot judge another's action.  I know what is on the exterior is usually so different from what lies beneath.  I know there are second chances, and third, and more.  Every breath is a new moment. 

Each highway has two sides.  And I have traveled both.

 

My "Out of Body" Experience

 

If I am really honest about what pushes all my buttons, about what causes me to roar up in righteous wrath and shout loudly that no way could that be true, about what I continually argue with inside my soul - I would have to admit that these are in fact the things I know to be very, very true.  It doesn't matter what you say to me, accuse me of, and label me with.  The only words that really stick are the ones that hold much more than a simple grain of truth.  But it is so easy for this knowledge to get lost in the moment of fury.

A few months ago, I had an experience that deeply affected me - so much so that I am still pondering it.  I wanted to learn how to use a new energy tool and a couple of friends and I were meeting with an "expert".  He decided the best way to show us was to work with us and we eagerly agreed.

When it was my turn to experience this energy work, he paused and made the observation that I was as disconnected from my body as anyone he had ever worked with. 

I was devastated.  And hurt.  And humiliated.  And to tell the truth, I was not even for sure what he meant. 

I just knew this insight felt to me like some sort of accusation that I was lacking in something essential.  That I was flawed. 

Every molecule of ego I possess came roaring to the surface.  I could barely stand to stay for the rest of this "lesson".  And the moment I could, I blasted out of his office, feeling shaken to my core.

A bit of an over-reaction, wouldn't you say?   Altogether, this comment was not more than dozen words and not even expounded upon.  Just an aside statement meant to be a part of the lesson, certainly not intended to crush my world.

But I was so pissed. I won't even begin to repeat the ways I criticized his teaching techniques, his intuition, his very being. I mean, who is he to tell me that I am not in touch with my body?  And the worst part of all this fury is that I couldn't figure out why I was so hurt and angry.  And even more troubling, I didn't even know what he meant.

Time passes.... eventually the moment comes when I can revisit this comment with a small amount of sanity.  Some more time passes. 

But his simple comment continues to whirl around in my mind - what does it really mean? 

**Tiny background note:  My mother was a nurse and the easiest way to get her attention was to get sick.  So I was sick a lot.  As an adult, with a lot of good therapy, I saw the pattern and decided that wasn't going to work for me any more. 

But perhaps I let go of too much.  In my new devout belief that my thoughts create my life, I have left no room for a relationship with my physical body.  If I get a cold, I immediately go to "what is my body telling me?"  If my shoulder hurts, I look it up in Louise Hay's book and do the appropriate affirmation. I haven't been very sympathetic with any illness, mine or others.  When I began to study aromatherapy, I really did not want anything to do with the medical aspects of essential oils. Nope, I was just going to be "spiritual". Yes, now I can see I have been detached from my physical body big time.

I am still learning what it even means to be connected with my body.  This is something I have not mastered by any means.  I am taking baby steps without a guidebook.  I am starting by appreciating my heart.  My physical heart.  The one that has continuously kept beating for 62 years.  No vacations, no coffee breaks, no "I'll just take the day off".  How amazing.  Every morning I try to remember to just love it and thank it for being so faithful.

If my truth is that I am a spiritual being having a human experience - that includes this human body.  Experiencing this body.  I don't know yet what this includes.

This is a new part of my journey and it seems I have not brought along any maps or suggested routes.  If you have read this far and have some insight, I would so appreciate you sharing with me. 

So, several months later, I am not mad any more.  I am not hurt or even humiliated.  I am grateful for this awareness.  I am finally eager to learn. I know that even though I do not understand it, this new appreciation is an important piece of the puzzle of my life.  A piece that had been misplaced and is now found. 

 

Now - the question becomes - where does it fit?

 

 

A Moment of Panic

PROMPT:  What happens when you simply start to create without a plan?

How does that feel? Do any of the elements needed make you uncomfortable?

Discomfort is great! It always leads to growth – how do you feel about that?

 

(from Natasha Reilly of Creative Nachos @21 Secrets)

Having a plan is the name of my game - I ALWAYS have a plan. One for me and probably one for you.  And the utter confidence that my plan is really, really good.

Starting to create even this post without a plan is a bit unnerving - I feel like I am in a strange place with no map - how will I get around?  What if I get lost?  Deep breath - get real - how lost can I get in Word on my computer?? 

Before the Plan got lost, I have been happily enjoying a great online course called 21 Secrets.  21 (but now 22, thanks to the lovely addition of Andrea Schroeder) amazing women give supportive classes on opening to being creative using art journaling and other inspirations.

When I signed up, I thought it was just for the prompts - the urging to get me going exploring art.  After all, I am so creative!  I create essential oil blends, I put together interesting newsletters for myself and for clients, I re-decorate with scary regularity and I am fearless in the kitchen.  So I thought I had the creative thing nailed.  This would just be a supplement - like art vitamins! 

I pulled together my tools - I love to buy art supplies, I love to buy journals - unfortunately I seem to never use them.  The happy side of this is that I had a bunch of stuff ready to go.  And I laid everything out on the table like an art picnic and sat down.

And froze.  I sat there with my heart beating fast and began to feel like crying. What is up with this??  This is supposed to be fun - this is where I wanted to go when I wrote The Joy in Being "Just Okay" last year.  Easy to write - but so very different as I look at a blank page and have no idea where to start.

As I plunge in - determination is a trait of mine that has its moments - it starts to become fun.  I am cutting and pasting; it's not that different from a vision board.  Then a blob appears and it's not a pretty blob - it looks exactly like what it is - a messy mistake.  And I want to quit. 

I want my pages to be lovely - just like the videos I have just watched.  I want to smear color around in delightful ways and find just the right texture and ink.  My inner judge is demanding attention and is NOT happy.  How can I do this if I am not good - not even kinda good enough?  I am used to being really good at what I set out to do.  And this, using the same tools a 4th grader would be comfy with, is not happening.

I stop and just pause to collect myself.  I have read all the instructions full of encouragement that this is a process and not a test.  That it is a way to go deeper into myself and become more open.  And in that moment, I have the answer to my extreme discomfort.

When I want to create something from my heart, I feel vulnerable.  I feel like my soul is wide open in a different way than writing.  When I write, I can craft the words, I can spell check, I can re-write and use the thesaurus. I can be open, but there is a bit of a safe distance.  When I put paint on the page and add a thought - there is no turning back.  Sure, I can gesso over the whole page, or tear it up or just keep fooling around until maybe it could please me.  But for me, the process seems so much more exposed.

Of course, that is the point.  Can I look at my own imperfection and not run away as fast as I can?  Can I look at messy pages as exactly what they are and not turn them into the litmus paper of my very soul?  Can I be comfortable with imperfection?

I guess we will see - the classes go on until Jan.1.  So progress report to follow.

My Badges of Honor

I was a Brownie for about a week or two (any other Brownie drop-outs out there?) - but I do remember lusting after the older girls' Girl Scout Badges.

Fast forward half a century!  I have a new badge collection - and I didn't have to earn them.  I can sit back and just enjoy them.

These are the badges of blogs and sites I love - they are places that inspire me, make me re-think what I thought I knew, and urge my creative self to spring forward.

So, today's blog is a share day (you know my motto is "Sharing is Caring" - LOL).

Maybe you'll make a new friend or get fired up or even just chill out :)

I'm listing 7 today (with a few extra links thrown in for fun) and maybe soon, I'll share again!

Each badge is linked to the blog - just click on what calls to you.

My Smiling Heart

Jen Saunders is my hero - I love her art, her blog and her commitment to connections.

Stay tuned for her next launch, an eMagazine Wild Sister coming soon.

 

ABC Creativity

I just bumped into Andrea Schroeder and fell in love with her work. I can't wait for our move to be settled and I have time to sign up for her class.  She has amazing free downloads that got me started with opening to creative journaling and her blog is just so heartfelt.  ***Major Fav

 

Kind over Matter

I recently completeld a 30 day course with Amanda Oaks called "Be Gentle- be Love"- I received a post each day with a quality, some thoughts and prompts for me to apply it to my life.  This site is filled with goodies of all kinds and well worth the trip.

 

Roots of She

A great tribe of women you just want to hang with, filled with beautiful posts and other yummy stuff.  Plus links to other fab blogs and sites. Prepare to stay a while!

 

 

Goddess Guidebook

I popped in here yesterday and was hooked.  Goddess Leoni had me at hello! I want to participate in everything - I love the vibe, the visuals, the message. Why did I pack away my markers and glitter???? 

 

Brave Girls Club

And I quote:  'We want to feel alive, every day! We want you to feel alive again….we want you to get your dreams back….remember who you are and what you have always wanted to do with your life. We want you to LIVE A GREAT BIG LIFE!

So what is the GOAL of BRAVE GIRLS CLUB??????
WE JUST WANT TO CHANGE THE WORLD, ONE BRAVE GIRL AT A TIME!!!!"

 

Big Sparkly Life

A col­lab­o­ra­tion between Jo Anna Roth­man of The Receiv­ing Project and Lau­rel Bleadon-Maffei of Illu­mi­nat­ing Souls. They are two amaz­ing intu­itive coaches who are col­lab­o­rat­ing to help you rock your world! Be sure to check out the blog section.

So I know you are going to have some fun and find some new buddies.  I would love it if you would respond with some of your favs - Let's join together and share  the wealth!

 

This is My Now!

This morning, I was hanging out with some of my fav websites and I downloaded Molly McCord's "The Little eBook of Big Affirmations".  It's all gray and gloomy in Los Angeles today and the cover of the book is a salute to Spring Energy - it just called out to me.  Plus I felt sure there would be some inspiration there!

I was reading through the eBook and appreciating how generous Molly is with her work, just rolling along and then.............

I came to the page with affirmations about  "Prosperity and Abundance".  As I begin to scroll down the page, I could feel myself tightening up.  Ughhhhhh - I don't want to think about money.  I want to read the pages about  "Self love and Creativity".  I want to read about "Trust and Faith" and "Living my Best Life".  My comfort level is great here. No buttons pushed, no stiff neck.

**Side note: On my FB wall, there is a lot of discussion about the eclipse this week and the energy of the planet.  Lots of talk about this is the time of really letting go of whatever has been heavily implanted between our shoulders, whatever is weighing us down. Some say this is when everything is beginning to change.

But then, probably because of all those FB comments - time to let go of the past, etc. etc etc., I forced myself to read more of the affirmations on this page.  I watched my reactions with the curiosity of a Sociology researcher.   Well, this is pretty enlightening if I choose to look at it.  Seems some pretty big issues are still lurking around.

"Prosperity and financial abundance are my Divine birth rights now.

Wealth and success are my Divine birth rights now.

I open all doors to receive my Divine birth rights now." 

Molly McCord's  "The Little eBook of Big Affirmations

This is a simple affirmation - why is it setting off this wave of ickiness?  Maybe because it is truly is finally time to let go of my money terrors.  Doesn't matter if they are "fact based", doesn't matter if they have been handed down through my ancestors, doesn't matter that they feel like a part of my DNA.

The only thing that matters is that I can make a choice.  Maybe at first it will be second by second, but I am really confident that I can choose.  I have the energy of the Universe backing me up, I have the knowledge that this is the moment I have avoided and yet been waiting for.

So I take a deep breath, and I read the entire page of affirmations.  And I ask for help and support.  This feels like the last leg of a long journey.  You know, the time when you are weary but the destination is visible on the horizon, so you find the energy to continue.  I want to be at that destination.

Remember a few years ago when Jordin Sparks sang "This is My Now" on American Idol?  At the time, I just loved the song, but I think I relate to it even more today.

I would love to share the lyrics to "This is My Now" - perhaps they will touch your heart too  (If you want to hear them to the music, click on the link above.)

There was a time I packed my dreams away 
Living in a shell, hiding from myself. 
There was a time when I was so afraid 
I thought I'd reached the end. 
Baby, that was then. 
But I am made of more than my yesterdays. 

This is my now, 
And I am breathing in the moment. 
As I look around, 
I can't believe the love I see. 
My fear's behind me, 
Gone are the shadows and doubt. 
That was then. 
This is my now. 


I had to decide. 
Was I gonna play it safe? 
Or look somewhere deep inside, 
Try to turn the tide. 
Find the strength to take that step of faith? 

This is my now, 
And I am breathing in the moment. 
As I look around, 
I can't believe the love I see. 
My fear's behind me, 
Gone are the shadows and doubt. 
That was then. 
This is my now. 

I have a courage like never before, yeah. 
I settled for less, but I'm ready for more. 
Ready for more… 

This is my now, 
And I am breathing in the moment. 
As I look around, 
I can't believe the love I see. 
My fear's behind me, 
Gone are the shadows and doubt. 
That was then. 
This is my now, 
And I am breathing in the moment. 
As I look around, 
I can't believe the love I see. 
My fear's behind me, 
Gone are the shadows and doubt. 
That was then. 
This is my now. 
 

What's Your Next Exit?

 
Are you feeling unexpected changes in your life right now? 

If so, we must be on the same highway - because just when I feel I am pointed firmly in one direction, I have the urge to take the next exit and see what is up that road!

I get a lot of email, newsletters, articles, etc etc etc about how time is moving so rapidly right now and I do agree completely. 

Yet when this shows up in my personal life, I am just floored!  (Isn't it always so much easier to see things in the lives of others than in our own?)

Please excuse me, but I'm going to use a musical reference to talk about a spiritual experience -  this is the best example I could come up with!  It’s like I used to love Bon Jovi and now I listen to Corrine Baily Rae.  Bon Jovi still totally rocks, has millions of fans, and I still like the tunes.  Bon Jovi is still on my iPod - and I listened for hours as I recently scraped wallpaper. It's just not always my first choice any more. I've changed a bit.

This change is easy to write about  - no judgment at all.  And yet the shifts I am experiencing on a deeper level have left me puzzled. I have recently really doubted myself as I find that what called to me a few months ago no longer holds the same energy I initially felt.  I was certain that something was wrong with me if what was of importance to thousands of others didn't really resonate with my spirit in the same way. 

I don’t feel any sense that what previously really interested me is now being wrong in any way  - it just doesn't feel in alignment with my authentic self at this moment.   Very curious.

I think about being a kid - I loved picture books, then I loved to read, then I loved the amazing allure of all the books in the bookmobile, then I found what kind of books I loved most and then that changed as I changed.  I don't judge that - it seems normal, in fact, wouldn't it be weird if the same books I loved at 20 were what I would choose at 60? (Although some are!)  

And yet I question when this similar type of expansion shows up in my spiritual journey.

So I spent some time working with a trusted, dear friend and got some much needed insight. What I know now is that as my energy grows and changes, what calls to me will also grow and change.  So things will fall away for me - they are still wonderful and full of energy for others. But I can trust my own path, can trust that what calls to me is right for this very moment and what calls to me tomorrow will be right for tomorrow.  And be comfortable with these changes.

With every relationship, with every experience, with each new lesson, I expand.

I see that what is calling to me right now may not even be on your GPS and that is just fine.  What is perfect for you may not call to me. This life is a huge highway, and I am no longer doubting my own inner guidance.  I trust that my connection to something bigger than me is happy to show me my own path.

What makes it so exciting is that there is so much highway ahead, and we are all free to explore the exits, check out the back roads and jump back on the highway if we wish.  We are not stuck in the lane we started out in.  There is plenty of highway for all of us.

In closing, I want to include an excerpt from Brenda's Blog 's most recent channeling (one of my very favorites) that just says it all:

"So allow your being to explore each new skill Brenda and others highlight in their channelings. Does their information sound exciting? Then that is your current area of interest. Do you see how simple this process is?

You have the freedom to choose which New Age skills you wish to practice and when you wish to practice them. Maybe today. Maybe next month. Or next year. Allow yourself the same freedom that the Universes have given to you."

Let's fasten our seatbelts, trust the journey and have some fun!

The Benefits of Layering

A day spent stripping wallpaper - not my usual path to enlightenment.  But the universe works the loveliest, most mysterious ways!

 Before I begin this post, I need to make a "Public Service Announcement":

To all young parents - your child will quickly grow up and move away. Six colors of paint on top of vinyl wallpaper do not yearn to leave so readily.  Your child can express her individuality just as well on a smaller palette. Trust me - You will thank me later.

Okay, back to enlightenment - it took a few hours of cursing and then a couple of hours of Bon Jovi for me to get into a space where I was willing to see the larger picture.

I began to see the value in each layer - yes, collectively they are a real pain, but individually, they brought back sweet memories.  In a way, these layers are as true a recording my daughter's life as all the photo albums.  It seems about every three years, she would try on something completely different.  The sweet pink wallpaper that she loved at 3 gave way to the bright aqua walls that made her feel happy at 7.  At 11 came the navy blue cave she created - a place she could hide from all the changes she was going through.  At 13, it took many coats of white to create the look of an apartment - her fantasy of how it would feel to have her own place. Ah, and then at 16, to recreate her world in deep merlot enamel. (Although she has become an amazing designer  - ***Note: remember above PSA!)

So as the hours passed, my nostalgia about her life turned to contemplating my own. As I scraped the walls inch by inch, I saw how tenaciously I too have clung to all the layers in my life. I have held on to some in shame, some in pride, some just from habit. And just like now with my impatience, my scraped knuckles and my achy arms, searching for my deepest self has sometimes been painful and time consuming.

I saw that I have looked at the struggle to get past all the layers and not seen the wealth that came with each layer.  At 62, I have more layers than Katie's walls, but though many seem painful, they have also brought such gifts into my life.

• I now understand what it feels like to be unseen, unheard and to act out as a kid to get some sort of attention.
• I now understand being a teenager without any sense of self and making choices I will regret and life decisions that cannot be undone.
• I now understand the pressure being a young, overwhelmed mother who has never been mothered and has no idea of what to do.
• I now understand the pressure of feeling I was faking it up the corporate ladder, always wondering when someone would see the scam and call my bluff.
• I now understand being the mother of a teenage girl and the heartbreaking struggle of separation.
• I now understand having a dysfunctional relationship with money and all the pain that can lead to. 
• I now understand yearning for a spiritual life, yet recoiling from organized religion.
• I now understand finding my tribe - the importance of connections to sustain my spirit.
• I now understand becoming older, and being treated differently, and how that makes me feel.
• I now understand that there is more.

So I am thankful for the spiritual practice of stripping wallpaper. The lovely perspective it has given me of my life has compensated for the mangled nails and the sore shoulder.

I can't wait to experience the room down to its core of drywall - ready for a new life.  It appears I will be stripping layers away for days, giving me lots of time for contemplation.  What will the next layer be in my life?  For the first time, I see I have a choice.

Ah, the gift of home improvement!

 

Adventures in Babysitting

Who knew that learning a new way to live my life would result in an unexpected round of babysitting?  

While exploring this journey into authentic being, it seems my inner child has woken up and decided to have a tantrum. 

As my comfort zone has been invaded by new questions, new insights, I have become aware of just how scared this little girl is.  She has a list of rules that have worked for so long, and now I am telling her there is another way.

Her contribution is screaming "No" at the top of her little lungs.

She doesn’t really trust me.  That's understandable - I haven't always thought to make sure she was taken care of, that she knew everything was okay.  I have just blasted along with my adult mindset, intent on completing this part of my journey as rapidly as possible.

The edgy anxiousness I have felt should have been a clue.  But I was too busy learning a new way to take time to notice.

But, just as a child melting down in the aisle of the grocery store cannot be ignored, this little girl eventually had all she could handle and her outbreak could not longer be tuned out.  I am so aware of her feelings of insecurity, of her questioning, of how she doesn't know how to play this game.

She knows how to please others, how to change in order to fit in, how to shut down her needs so not to bother anyone.

But being authentic feels too expansive, too open.  What if no one wants to play?  What if she's left alone? What if she says how she really feels and someone gets mad? She doesn't know many others who are learning authenticity. To her, this new game feels dangerous - so much to lose.

But luckily, I have chosen the role of the adult babysitter and this is a topic I have been studying.  I hold her close and tell her she is safe.  I reassure her that she won't be alone. I am there too, and I am sure this is a better way. I remind her that once we know the rules, once we have played this game for a while, it's going to be really fun.  Just like riding a bike.

I tell her that just being herself is going to be enough - she doesn't have to figure out anything.  Just showing up is all I ask. And also, just being okay with saying she doesn't know, that she's scared, that she's sad. And when she is okay admitting this, she'll find out she's really having a great time.  That life is filled with happy surprises. I promise thisis true.

So I'm holding her hand as we learn this together. As I comfort her, I know that I am comforting myself. My reassurances to her are reassurances to myself. Babysitting both of us..........

The Rewards of Extreme Vulnerability

Christmas Day, 2010.  10 AM.

My life changed.  Alone at my computer, watching a video. The shift was tangible; I felt six decades worth of "stuff" fall into place.The crucial piece of the puzzle had been found.

Wow - that sounds dramatic - perhaps worthy of a movie trailer.

But I know I will  remember this moment for the rest of my life.

 
Okay - now you are hooked - right?

I have not embraced Twitter, yet because of participating in the "reverb10" project, I have begun to check out tweets to see others' writing.  

Ah, the threads of the Internet.  A tweet led to a site, to a blog, to another blog, to a video.  I have no idea what caused me to want to watch this - I am pretty selective on YouTube - must be under 3 minutes ( 5 if I really love someone) and this one was over 20 minutes long.  My natural response would have been to just move along.

But I clicked the little arrow and sat back.

And the focus of my life spun 180.

A bit of info about the video:
Brene Brown speaks at the TED convention 2010 -  the general focus is on expanding our perception. Her theme is how the connection that gives purpose and meaning to our lives comes from our vulnerability.  In this video, she describes (in a nutshell) how she began researching the connection between shame and fear and our ability to feel whole, to be joyfilled.  

What she found is that when we disconnect from our vulnerability (because of the fear that these feelings will touch a deep core of shame, an intense sense of unworthiness) we also disconnect from the birthplace of joy, of love, of the sense of belonging we all seek.

As Brene researched "whole-hearted" people - those with a sense of worthiness, of courage and compassion, of connection - what she found was the capability for excruciating vulnerability.  The immense trust to allow oneself to be really seen, to tell one’s story with one's whole heart, with compassion for one's self and the courage to let go of "who I should be" to embrace "who I am".

She found that there is a direct connection between the vulnerability of facing our fears, our shame and the experiencing of joy in our lives. As we face our deepest regrets, our moments of utter humiliation, our feelings of never being enough, the gift that resides below glowing like a precious jewel is the knowing of being okay, of being enough, of being whole.

The joy of aliveness.

It seems I cannot choose areas in my life to practice whole-heartedly being seen and other areas to cloak in regret, in guilt, in darkness. I cannot selectively numb the areas that I elect. It's an all or nothing deal.

As I watched and listened, I began to see so clearly how I have created a fortress that hid my fears, my shame. It had felt like protection, but now I am so aware that it is a prison.  And what is incarcerated is not only the scared teenager, the overwhelmed young mother of twins, the career longed for and then rejected, the financial missteps, the messiness of life - but also the pure joy of living, the happiness that is not based on accomplishments or accolades, the deep love for myself and my own journey.

And I saw that my sense of protection had been rocked to the core by others' vulnerability.  I slipped so easily into the role of judging others with the same punishing condemnation that was so familiar to myself.  How could I have encouraged a friend to be totally open, completely real - when I was using every resource available to me to run from this very position? 

How could I have never seen this before?  And yet, now it is in front of me, made crystal clear by a 20-minute video on a Christmas morning.

The answer seems so simple and yet feels so complex.  How do I dislodge years of wall building?  Perhaps one stone at a time.  Maybe, for me, it could be kinder, gentler, to go softly into this new world.  Instead of my usual gusto of rushing full throttle into realization, what if I just sat?  What if I just absorbed this information and allowed?  What would it be like to just open like a bud? One layer at a time?

But I feel the urgency to move forward - to install this change into my life - I want it now!  

And yet, what feels like my path is to go moment by moment into this, giving myself the gift of time.  Time to readjust from years of hiding, time to become familiar with joy.  Time to meet the self I want to show others. Time to forgive.Time to feel enough.

So, as I look at the possibilities, for me there can be no choice except to learn to allow myself to be fully seen - flaws, cracks, moldy spots and all and know these are balanced with a deep compassion for myself and for others. With a knowing that I am perfect in my imperfection.  With a sense of the worthiness of belonging based on the simple fact that I am alive.
And a willingness to go forward with no guarantees, no control over others' reactions, no script in hand. To stand in my own aliveness and experience life.

Just the unspeakable joy in the belief that my vulnerability is actually my strength; that by letting down walls, I become whole. That by allowing myself be deeply seen, by telling my story with my whole heart, by experiencing loving with no guarantees, by choosing to practice daily gratitude and joy in my life - I am enough.