Category: Thoughts Today

Becoming Embodied, One Ache at a Time

Bringing my spirit back into my body.

That is what I’m about.

Those places that let me hear from them

Are God’s voice, calling me back where I belong.

 

So yesterday I started to notice a real achiness in my lower left back–in my ribcage when I turned my body in a particular way.  Oh no.  Now what? was my initial response.  What’s wrong now?  Why me?  I quickly ruled out travel.  I’d actually made a very long journey, but it had been kind and it had been a couple days since I had arrived home safe and sound.  I went to bed hoping that it would be gone in the morning.

No such luck.  So I made tai chi and my date with my beloved on the roof a priority.  First thing, I was on the roof with my tea in hand.  No gorgeous sunrise, though.  Not even visible stars, with Hurricane Matthew roaring off in the east somewhere.  As I listened to Trina Brunk on my iPhone, I heard her words and they penetrated my soul, opened my heart.

Remembering that my task is to live what I ask others to do, I brought my awareness to my ribcage.  Tight.  Frightened.  Abandoned.

And I realized that as my spirit enters my body, it may need to do so little by little.  And that is what is happening here, though without realizing it, I had been resisting it out of fear.

And so I made an adjustment in my perspective.  Today my spirit is entering my ribcage.  Am I going to greet it with “You are too much!”  “Go away!” “You are such a pain!”  It is asking me for my caring, tenderness, touch.  Curiosity, listening.

Yes, I think I can do that.  What else might be in order?  I could check with a couple books to see what “ribcage” might suggest.  What it means in the universal language of dreams and nature.  What I already know is that this has to do with breathing deeply, turning to the left and flexibility in the face of expanding capacity.

I can rub myself gently and be aware of this tender place in my beloved, vulnerable body.  I can slow down.  I can pause and say, “I notice you, and I’m wondering what you need.  Are you okay?  You have been protecting me and supporting me for all this time, and I have not even acknowledged you.  I am so grateful for what you do for me.  I honor your presence in my body as part of my system.  I recognize that you have needs and I am interested in understanding what you have to say.  Your pain is not so great that I need to shut it out.  I am not afraid of you.  Thank you for communicating with me.  You matter to me.

Ahhhh, that feels better.  And I can add Mantak Chia to my meditation regimen, which will encourage me to breathe more consciously and bring awareness to my organs and inner energy flow.  I realize that I am needing a little more structure to provide boundaries to my days.  I also realize I am needing a durable but expandable container that allows for movement of the whole, while protecting the vital vulnerable parts inside.  Thank you, ribcage.  Welcome, spirit, into my body.  Thank you for your wisdom that I can know with just the right timing and in just the right way that I can understand and allow this amazing, transformative process.  I am willing.  I am grateful.  Aho.

Today I Walk

Thoughts in July

On the last leg of my walk this morning, my upper realms connected with my lower ones and I came to a glorious epiphany.  Let me explain.  In my spine lies a story that repeats itself at countless levels, the most visible and obvious of which is my living situation.

I realized today that my downstairs represents the places in my mind I don’t want to go.  The dark unconscious places that cause discomfort and pain.  Things like fear of being alone; fear of not being able to make it on my own; fear of not being enough; not having enough; not fitting in; not being able to connect, or have a whole, full, conscious, happy life if I don’t make particular sacrifices or tend particular safety nets.  Today, on my walk I let myself venture into those dark places.  What, I asked myself, does my grumpy roommate  represent to me?  She  spends her time in the lower realms.  She represents negativity, emotional immaturity, an unconscious need to protect one’s self from the unpleasant, the unsafe, the uncomfortable.  But this was the path of blaming, and projection, and I knew it was more complicated than that.

Her grumpiness had been on my mind of late.  But this morning I realized that what was at issue with me were my fears, not hers.  What I realized this morning is that my basement had begun to represent my fears to me, and that’s why I didn’t want to go down there.  Didn’t want to feel the ways I felt when I visited there.  Perhaps, because I am an empath, picking up on my roommate’s fears (that tend to resemble mine) was making the situation even worse.

A growing conscious aversion to the lower realms is what had guided me to discreetly move my bedroom upstairs in the past month.  This along with other conscious shifts in my behavior based on my relationship with my body, my higher power, my guides, my inner knowing have resulted in a subtle but noticeable improvement in my connectedness with myself.

This morning’s walk allowed me, for the first time, to go certain places in my mind to entertain the most frightening of thoughts, to explore how true they were, and to notice my feelings about them.  What if the natural consequence of my behavior is that my roommate can’t tolerate living with me if I don’t share the lower spaces of the house with her, or for some other reason she decides not to be a partner in the household?  What then?  Would it be a crisis?  For either of us?  Going through all the places in my mind: separation, splitting assets, furniture, all that we have built in the past three years, buying her out, determining real equity, etc.  What would it be like – a future without the stability she has represented for me?  In a way she has served as an emotional anchor.  Without that anchor, who and where would I be?  A rudderless ship afloat at sea?  I think about my traveling sister, Tracy, living out her dream but seeming at times so alone.

And somehow my thoughts, on the last third of my walk, came back around to what I know.  Being tethered to a particular person in a particular place is not the grounding I seek.  What grounds and centers is intimacy with the self.  And that, for me, today, is knowing at my core that regardless of the players at the physical level, there is enough, and I am enough, I have enough.  Connection, creative opportunity, guidance, love, purpose, affection, worth, credibility, strength, etc.  Whether I have the responsibilities of caring for small children or not, whether I have an incredible client base or not, whether I have a wonderful home or not, whether I have a partner or friends or savings or not, I am okay.  When I am connected to myself, I am not alone.  Those I know, those I have yet to know, and those I will never know; we are all connected.

Without a doubt, feeling some efficacy around money, probably for the first time, has helped me achieve this place.  Not having to worry about whether I’m going to bring in enough money to make the mortgage payment or meet the next financial obligation that comes with being a parent can consume so much psychic energy that it’s almost a luxury to tune in to the deeper inner realms.  Reaching this stage in my life has been a long time coming, but now that I’m here I can breathe a little more freely.  I can afford to entertain ideas one has a harder time entertaining when the biggest numbers are red.

So the great epiphany.  Maybe two-thirds of the way around my circuit, maybe a little more, I straightened a little taller, allowing my head to be suspended by the light nimble energy from the heavens.  I pushed my shoulders down, brought my jaw back and sent my shoulder blades down my back once more, and I felt it, if just for a moment, the connection with my core, my upper leg muscles, my psoas, my abdominal wall.  This was the feeling I had been wanting to avoid — and still do, if you want the honest truth — as these core muscles are so weak as if they are only now waking up from a very long slumber.  I’m not sure of the extent of the power that lives here; it’s so far been easier to let it sleep.  But now, as I watch my father (who is wrestling with the question of life and death) playing with the idea of waking up, and as the Universe pushes me to wake up, connecting upper with lower, I realize I’ve been slumping and restricting my movement and avoiding life experiences because I have been afraid.

Bringing consciousness to these dark fearful places, using the guidance I have learned to trust, feeling the resulting feelings, and building intimacy with myself is a sustainable path.  And it is a path of joy and deep fulfillment.  And to this path I say a heartfelt yes.  For you I am so grateful.

Breaking Free from the Control Trap

Today is Monday.  I’m sitting at my desk with the gift of an hour at my disposal. I’m looking out on a sunny, green day with a cup of homemade almond milk.  I pick up Melody Beattie’s book, The New Codependency and begin to read.  I’m reading from a section called Breaking Free from the Control Trap and Getting Some Grace.  I’ve underlined “Harmonizing demands setting aside ego and our need to win or be right.  It doesn’t mean we’re weak, passive, or being doormats.  The more powerful we are, the more we can use diplomacy to harmonize, negotiate, and live in peace.  We’ll have enough esteem to be able to compromise and meet most people halfway.”  Here are the steps to facilitating an argument:

1)  Immediately (or as soon as possible) let go of resistance to the problem.  Accept that it exists.

2) Release emotions first, before talking to the other person.  We’re more effective if we’re calm and clear.  When we communicate from an emotional base, our emotions are controlling us.

3) Set aside ego.  Do you want to win or do you want peace?

4) Consciously see the other person’s POV.  How would we feel if we were him or her?

5) As much as possible, acknowledge the validity of the other person’s POV.  If you were going through what that person is going through, or came from where he or she did, maybe you’d feel and see things that way, too.

6) Propose creative solutions so all people get what they want.  Is there a solution available that allows both people to win?

Does it seem to you that we could all learn a little something from Melody Beattie?

Today I Know

When I notice rage or hate, I can understand that I’m carrying beliefs from the past that tell me that my discomfort should be attended to by others, and that my survival, in fact, depends on it.
Today, I know that my discomfort is my business. In the light of this knowledge, I bring consciousness to this part of me. I can choose to ask for your attention or your help in a way that is respectful and kind. I can tolerate your no, knowing that I can get my needs met in more ways than one. I know that I do not depend on you to meet all my needs.
I now understand that my emotions belong to me alone. I can use them to inform me. I am learning to tolerate them as they move through me. This understanding makes it more possible for me to allow you to own your emotions (and allow them to be your business – not mine) as well.

When I see myself rushing from one task to another, without resting or attending to my basic needs, I can understand that I’m carrying the beliefs of others who taught me that my worth is conditional.

I now choose to bring consciousness to this idea of my worth being conditional. Here is how the programming seems to go (as modeled by the people around me when I was growing up). Sometimes the emphasis is based upon how hard I work. (I am worthy when I work.) Sometimes it’s on how much I accomplish. (I am worthy when I get lots of stuff accomplished.) Other times, it’s on how pleasant (translation: agreeable) and/or how strong I am. (I am worthy when I don’t rock the boat or make demands.)
This mistaken belief goes something like this:
• If I don’t have enough it’s probably because I’m unworthy.
• If there is the appearance of lack, or imperfection, it’s probably my fault.
• If there is an appearance of lack or imperfection, I have no business resting or playing.
• The more I work the more worthy I am.
• I am beyond reproach if I am always working my hardest.
• I am exempt from the scrutiny of others when I work and remain continually productive.
• I can avoid feelings of vulnerability if I can provide for all my own needs and if I require nothing from others.
• Asking others to help me meet my needs is humiliating and unacceptable.
• It is shameful and humiliating to have unmet needs.

Today I know that my worth is unconditional. I am worthy whether I am working, playing, resting, or just being. I am learning that it is normal to have needs and that it is good and right for me to attend to them. I am learning that my needs are real and important, and that I will not self destruct if they are not immediately met. As with any skill, it will take time for me to learn to attend to my needs with grace and dignity.
I can allow myself the time that I need to learn.

Making Pie

The conversation I had with my pie crust this morning was one that I will not soon forget.  I’ve been working on perfecting my crust for a couple months now.  It’s a very exciting process.  I love to take the food surplus I have around the house and make it into a pie.  Not that I love making pie crust, please don’t misunderstand, but I definitely like eating pie, and I’d certainly like to enjoy the crust creation part more.  This morning the process was even more juicy than usual.  Sometime well before I began rolling the dough, it occurred to me that what the crust really wants is to have a lightly floured surface underneath.  If it’s not smooth and floury under there, it’s physically impossible for it to slide and grow to the shape and thickness I want.  The cookbook gently reminds me, moreover, that this process cannot be rushed.  It takes time.  Going into the process this morning, I remembered the dough’s simple request.  It was not unreasonable.  The dough doesn’t request much; just one small thing so that we can both be happy.  But besides being the dough’s request, it’s simple physics – nature’s law.  Smooth surface, ease in expansion.  Less friction, more movement.

Oh, and here’s the other thing:  I’ve watched myself, making pies, as time goes along.  I make a pie, then I make another, each time learning, adjusting, experimenting.  Each time I make a pie, it’s a little different, but each time I learn a little something, and with each attempt I at least end up with a semi-edible pie, and my family is happy with me.  But each time, there’s this place in the process where I’m grimacing and cursing under my breath, my entire body tense and full of uncertainty.  It’s that part that I’d like to examine a little here, so indulge me.  As a moderately conscious person, I am aware of the power of thought.  I can accept that I have negative thoughts, and my goal is not to eliminate them, but to use them to heal and grow.  If I do not bring these thoughts into conscious awareness, they continue to go unnoticed.  Noticed or unnoticed, they have a tremendous impact on my life.  Bringing awareness to my thoughts in a difficult moment, I am almost always surprised at what I hear.  This morning, if I’d turned up the volume of this radio frequency, here’s what you would have heard: This is never gonna turn out.  What did I do wrong?  I’m not gonna be able to salvage this.  I’m wasting my time.  How is this stupid recipe supposed to work?  This doesn’t make any sense.  Why do I do this?  This is not fun.  Maybe I’m just crazy – a glutton for punishment.  I suck.

I promise you, those were the words that fluttered through my mind along with feelings of angst, anxiety, dread, fear, uncertainty, doubt, annoyance, powerlessness, anger, blah!

What comes to mind as I’m lifting the crust off the counter with a spatula and pasting in pieces to cover the holes, is the way I flounder about when I’m not sure what it’s supposed to look like, and I haven’t yet had enough successes to feel confident that this thing is actually going to survive.  So it’s at this point in time, somewhere just short of something completely acceptable – maybe even magnificent – where I’m floundering, believing the bad things I’m telling myself, even though I am well on the way to what I have been creating all along.  This hump just happens to bring out the very most ungraceful parts me, and I thrash and curse and wail.  Still, looking back, I have made it through this highly dramatic process a good number of times.  Mental note to self:  If I can just make it through this difficult part without giving in to all those thoughts and emotions, I arrive at a new level of beauty and accomplishment, somewhere in the vicinity of my goal.  I will actually reach the place I was headed not so long ago when I set out with my recipe and my ingredients, and my idea.

Another thought occurred to me while I was making my pies this morning.  What I need is to watch someone who’s already mastered this process, making pie.  Just once or twice.  How nice it would be at this stage of my pie-making development to see it done by somebody who’s really got it down.  All my senses would be attuned at that moment when the water gets sprinkled in, and everything begins to congeal.  I bet I would consciously or unconsciously pick up the information I needed to make a few very minor adjustments that would take some of the angst out of my process.  Just knowing how it looks when someone else reaches this stage would bolster my confidence.  A big part of what makes me thrash and curse is the vulnerability and hopelessness I feel in that moment when I’m really not so sure that I can pull it off.  Maybe it’s the not having seen it done well by someone else that makes me feel so angry and frustrated.  Maybe having such an opportunity to see it modeled by someone who has already learned would transform that dreadful stage of the process so that it is not so dreadful anymore.

Damn.  That’s not just pies we’re talking now.  That’s life.  Maybe we didn’t have stuff modeled as we would have liked when we were young, and maybe we’re still mad about it.  But we don’t have to stay mad.  There are those around us who have the skills we want, the resources we need.  I could even go buy a pie crust from the grocery store if I wanted, and I probably will, but not today.  In mastering the skill of making pie, I get to enter a learning process as a child does, starting without skills or confidence, yet steadily approaching mastery with each attempt.  I know that continued practice will eventually bring the experience and confidence I seek.  And when I send out a request for help, I can get what I want and need.  With this learning comes the grace and faith that those who are watching can benefit from.  I’m still looking for someone who’s willing to let me watch her make a pie, but in the meantime, it’s coming to me, piece by buttery piece.  The information and support I need are available all around me.  And they come from the most unexpected places when I listen.  Today my pie crust helped me understand what it needed, and it turned out to be the flakiest pie I’ve made yet.