I am a life coach. I said it, yes I did. I've been afraid to go there. I've been afraid of another false start, another disappointment so I've skirted the issue. I can't any longer. Today, I've had not one but two sister entrepreneurs shake me up.
It started with one asking me if I still needed a job. Although I was expecting one thing and I'm sure she was too, it turned into her giving me a pep talk. She said that I had talked about doing my own thing. At first, it seemed she had misconstrued what I was actually looking for but as she continued to talk, I realized it wasn't a mistake. She kept saying, "you said you want to work for yourself." I corrected her. I don't remember saying that. "I actually said I wanted fulfilling work," I clarified. I am beginning to wonder if it was a God slip that neither of us was aware of.
Another possible "God slip" happened tonight at Summer Camp for Women. We had a guest speaker whose topic was supposed to be "what you won't do for love," but it took on another energy. Somehow, some way, she began to speak to our dreams. Before long, we were reaching for paper and pens and coming up with names for our businesses and tag lines. Without a doubt, there was creative energy swirling around like an electric current, lighting on each of us and lighting the candle within. It changed the countenance of each person's face. Their eyes lit up as they talked about what they liked to do and what they felt passionate about.
She spoke to my slumber. "Girl, you need to get you a name, go get you a business license as a consultant and work for yourself," she urged. I smiled and nodded like I was hearing her, but inside, I was petrified. Not one, but two women read my mail today!! One thing's for sure. I don't think it was a coincidence that two ladies whom I had never talked vision with went all past my outfit and exposed me to myself. "Maybe the reason you haven't gotten hired yet is because you're not suppose to be doing those jobs," our guest speaker said. Duhhhh, I thought to myself. Makes perfect sense. Why else with your resume and swag would you not be hired yet? God heard me, that's why.
He heard the voice of Purpose within me say, "I want to do fulfilling work." He heard me say, "I want to wake up every morning excited about my day." He heard me say, "I need to feel inspired." So when were you last fulfilled?, I ask myself. It was as a subcontractor. It was!
Over the years, I've had quite a few subcontracting ventures, times I worked for myself and LOVED IT! First there was Odyssey Music Consultants. I subcontracted my musical talents for temporary gigs at church. What I enjoyed was being in charge of my own time and my own resources. Rather than being employed and subject to being there whenever the doors opened, I got to say when, where and how much. Ahhhhh, the freedom!
Bout the same time, I gave birth to Odyssey Administrative Services (yes, I liked the name Odyssey back then). I remember offering secretarial, desktop publishing and bookkeeping services. My favorite jobs were providing clerical assistance to my ex-husband's start up company and creating newsletters for Mary Kay Directors. I loved the collaborative nature of the jobs. Unlike being employed where the job is already pre-canned, this allowed for customization. The terms and scope and compensation were up to me. I could say "yes," or "I'll do this and this but not that." I LOVED that!
I wasn't confined to a belief. I wasn't confined to a desk. I could take my trusty laptop to a restaurant, a home, a park bench and do business. Sure, I worked hard and spent many long nights editing and proofing and printing from my then deskjet printer, but it was worth it. I managed my time. I worked creatively. I scheduled my day the way I wanted. And getting those checks! I loved taking checks to the bank day after day: One from Customer A for an administrative clerical job and another from a bride after playing the piano for her wedding. I LOVED it!
Fast forward a few years and I left a job as a substance abuse counselor with a larger vision. Purposeful Connections I called it. This was my debut as a Life Coach. Although the administrative emphasis allowed for the businesswoman in me, life coaching allowed another part of me to be expressed. The me that connects with the authentic soul of another. The me that delights in a person's raised consciousness of who they are and what would be a meaningful expression of themselves. Like a sculptor, I had chiseled away the excess to reveal the truest representation of my skills, talents and yes, purpose. Life coaching was the PERFECT expression of that. So why didn't it work? That's been the fear I've tried to hide but that these ladies dove all past to get to. There's a scripture in the Bible that says if you build it, they'll come. Well, I built it; but they didn't come.
Here's the thing. When you feel that you put it all out there before and fell flat, you limp away embarrassed and doubting the true strength of your calling. I took a leap of faith, developed my website, wrote articles to drive traffic to my website, opened up for business but it didn't go as I envisioned. Sooooo, I put a spin on it. When people would ask me about my coaching, I would tell them I was but it was expressed in my "consulting" with churches, teaching piano to kids, writing articles and blogging. I said this yes, but in my heart, I felt like a failure. I wasn't doing true life coaching. I didn't have clients who were willing to pay me to coach them. In my heart, I was ashamed.
Secondly, even with my subcontracting, it wasn't sustainable. I would ride high for a minute but then it would fizzle. I didn't know how to handle the fizzle. I didn't know how to sustain or reinvent. I didn't know how to be in that space. So, I'd run back to what's familiar.
I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm going to stop filling out job applications. Sorry, but my faith ain't there. I need income. I can admit however that my last job was suppose to create income so that I could grow my business. I lost sight of that. Instead of holding on to my focus, I slipped into accomodating. I started working more hours and shifted to what I knew best. I betrayed myself. I betrayed myself and it pulled me under like quicksand. That's what today has been for me. It's been a light shining on my shame. It's been a light shining on my shakened confidence. Maybe I'm not a life coach, I've pondered. Maybe I don't have what it takes. Maybe I've got these big dreams and it's all a bunch of hogwash,I've feared. And I've hid. My purpose tucked its tail and went underground while I got a "real job."
I don't know what the outcome will be this time; but I know after tonight that I've got to try again. My need for fulfillment isn't just a wish, it's a cry. I will try again!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Images of My Calling
People who study human behavior concur that most of who we are is determined by age 5. So, I've decided to look back at my first five years and what stands out for me. I don't have complete memories of that time, but I do have images and I do remember certain feelings.
One image is of me riding in the truck with my Granddad Oscar Cannon. I remember sitting in his lap as he drove. I remember the feeling of absolute joy and adoration I received from him.
Another image is my anticipation of my daddy coming home from Nashville NC. He worked there during the week. Week after week, I asked Mom if he was coming home for the weekend. I was very young then. I remember the longing for him to come home. He represented something for me that was missing when he wasn't there. Life was better when he was home. Life was lacking when he wasn't. Mom had told us daddy was coming home. I remember that pacing inside of me as I anguished over when. I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard that familiar bellowing voice that called out, "Alice Lee!," the name he fondly called my mom. I remember running and jumping on him. He laughed and hugged and kissed me. When he put me down, he took out a shoebox. Jumping up and down at the anticipation that he had brought me something, he pulled a pair of tennis shoes from the box. I didn't have the right foot, left foot thing down, so I needed some help with putting them on and lacing them. I can't remember if I got help or put them on the wrong foot myself, but for the rest of the day, I walked, jumped and played, looking down at my feet with absolute pride. One of my happiest memories with my dad.
Just the same, there was some dark images. Images of being the dark, nappy-headed child that people rushed pass to pick up and play with my baby sister. Hearing that light skinned and loosely curly hair was pretty, I learned that I was ugly pretty early on.
I have a very painful image of how I was treated by others when my baby sister was a baby in diapers. Only 1 1/2 years older than my baby sister, I remember her soiled diaper being shoved into my hand by my older sister. Forcefully, she told me to take it to the bathroom and dip it up and down in the toilet to remove the bowel movement from it. I hated it. I cried and resisted while she threatened to spank me if I didn't. While the soiled water splashed on me, I dunked the diaper up and down in that water. I felt so dirty and humiliated. That shame followed me, manifesting in other ways as I grew up.
I don't know if I was 5, 6 or 7 when this happened, but there was a shift. I remember going to school and decided that whatever I learned, my baby sister had to know. We'd grab our dolls and stuffed animals and I'd create a classroom where they were the students. At the time, we had a piece of furniture that doubled as a chalkboard that became a desktop when you pulled down the knob at the top to open it. With chalk in hand, I taught my students to read, to spell, to do whatever I learned in school that day. My baby sister had a short attention span back then, so I had to threaten her or bargain with her to gain her compliance. I'm not proud of the lengths I went to. Another coercion, if you will, happened when I took an interest in the piano. We had a high-backed antique white acoustic piano in our living room. When I discovered that with one finger I could play songs, I told my baby sister she needed to do this too. Employing my trusty motivators, I compelled my sister to learn to hear the notes and play the piano as well.
Another shift was performing. My sister and I would grab a hairbrush, a pencil or a Popsicle stick and sing into it. We'd plop a stocking cap on our heads so we could have a swinging ponytail and make up songs. We'd sing together. On those days when my mom ran us out of the house so we could get some fresh air, we'd sit on the front porch with flyswatters. We'd soon get bored with swatting flies and gnats and start singing. Even then, we drew a crowd. They would stand and applaud us. We could harmonize even that young! I remember that my mom and dad soon started signing us up to sing at church. My younger sister was apprehensive about it, but I LOVED the spotlight. I loved performing. I loved the energy of it and the approving nods and applause I received. In fact, I remember that music was a safe place. It was something I did well. Even more, my dad approved of me when I did it. I know that sounds minor but to a girl growing into a young woman that heard repeatedly day-after-day how inadequate, wrong, Jezebel-like, unacceptable I was from my dad's lips, it was so wonderful to know that there were three areas of my life where he always spoke well of me: athletics, academics and music.
An extension of this artsy-ness for my baby sister and I was drawing. We'd sit for hours drawing. It was so encompassing that my dad took note of it. He started bringing home stacks of paper for us to draw on. That was GOLD to us. It didn't matter to us that there as writing on one side, as long as the other side was blank. We'd draw and draw and draw, getting lost in it. We were content to stay indoors with a pencil, pen or crayon and draw. Our drawing wasn't doodling but it was purposeful. We created families and life scenarios that we'd express on paper. The name of my major character was Susan Randolph. My younger sister's was Sabrina Randolph. Susan Randolph had a family. I remember Susan Randolph had handsome men in her family that Sabrina's female family members wanted to marry. It amazes me to this day how my younger sister and I created these "families" and worked through issues we observed in our own family, in our community, and on the black and white TV we were sat in front of to entertain us. Issues like love, family and romance were dealt with on paper. Our men and women kissed. We'd draw two heads pressed together with hearts above it. We got scolded for it, but we kept doing it until Mom threatened to whip us if we didn't stop.
How is what was established back then clues to what I am called to do? I was a seeker of knowledge. I loved to tell others about what I had learned. I enjoyed connecting with others and sharing the joy of the connection. Music allowed me to do that.
Even now, I am a student of life. I remember church settings where the preachers would expound on certain scriptures or Biblical passages. Although what they said was received by those spiritual people I wanted validation from, many of their analogies and connections didn't register with me. It just didn't feel right. For instance, I couldn't reconcile what wearing makeup and jewelry had to do with a label of being Jezebel. Or how wearing pants was a sin. Or having to "tarry" for the Holy Ghost when the Bible said it was a gift. I always questioned. Even with some school teachers, if I questioned them, I would be reprimanded, or worst, slapped on the hand with the ruler. Just like a child who has to answer the call from within to walk, I had to question. I guess my son got it honest. I chuckle about it now. God does have a sense of humor.
As I did with my little sister, I have to invite others to seek something greater. I just have to. I can't shut my mouth any more than I could when I was a kid. No number of backhands, whippings, punishments or shaming can turn it off. I don't bully folks anymore, I'm happy to say. I just share and allow the outcome to take it's own form or journey with those I am talking with.
I also have to perform. There is something in it that gives me such satisfaction. Just yesterday, I sang with a group of brilliant musicians and singers at a friend's wedding. I got such a buzz from it. It's another way that I express what's in my heart. It's another way I connect with Something Greater. I sing about what is meaningful to me. I enjoy the art of it, the delivery of it, the swell inside and that familiar flow I learned to connect with at an early age. It feels disinhibiting. My soul dances. Like the little girl who use to dance around the living room while singing "I love the Lord" to the 45 record spinning on the pink phonograph player, I feel such freedom. I connect with the spiritual when I sing. I connect with souls of others and share in the release. It's glorious!
Geography doesn't matter. Whether it's on my front porch or in a stadium, I have to express what I've learned. The vehicle doesn't matter. Regardless to whether it's singing, speaking, writing or working, I have to express my Truth. I have to hone the talents, the gifts, the spiritual insights, the knowledge, the experience in open and empowering ways. My soul dances when I do.
Maybe against this backdrop, it is not surprising that when I took the test of what I am born to do, it came up "knowledge." It suggested that I work in research and development. Now, nothing inside of me wants to do that. Nevertheless, I have a thirst for knowledge. I have a thirst for the deeper and more profound Truth that holds everything together. I'm fascinated with it. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to Psychology and self help. It's the wisdom for abundant living that came out of my suffering. Maybe that's why life coaching appeals to me: Maybe that's why writing is like breathing for me. I get to share the knowledge and the wisdom in ways that helps others to discover the wealth they have inside of them to reach their goals. I believe that is my greatest gift to this world. It might not be received by everybody, but for those who I was created to serve, it will be a lifeline that will outlive my earthly existence.
Before I close this blog, I want to share this disclaimer. I am not sharing any of this about my childhood and my family to dishonor them. God permitted me to be born to my parents, my family, my community, my church. My experience of my childhood is my experience. My mom and my dad loved us more than anything in this world. I don't doubt that. They raised us as best they could with what they knew and who they were. They were works in progress just as we all are. I have the peace that they meant well and I honor them for being the pillars that God trusted with my development. Even my elder sister was little more than a baby herself when she was pushed into an adult role against her will. It only makes sense she would retaliate just as I did when my mom put me in that role after my sister left for college. My older sister was just 7 years old when I was born and just 9 when my younger sister came on the scene. I only share these things because they are a part of my experience. If my honesty can help a parent to rethink how they raise their children or can help to heal a child who carries around shame or guilt, then it would serve a Higher Purpose. I accept that God allowed it. He could have stopped it but He chose not to. I've forgiven that. I believe it's because He knew He could heal every wound and there was purpose in my afflictions. That is enough for me. And I feel humbly grateful, that God allowed me to go through EVERY SINGLE thing.
One image is of me riding in the truck with my Granddad Oscar Cannon. I remember sitting in his lap as he drove. I remember the feeling of absolute joy and adoration I received from him.
Another image is my anticipation of my daddy coming home from Nashville NC. He worked there during the week. Week after week, I asked Mom if he was coming home for the weekend. I was very young then. I remember the longing for him to come home. He represented something for me that was missing when he wasn't there. Life was better when he was home. Life was lacking when he wasn't. Mom had told us daddy was coming home. I remember that pacing inside of me as I anguished over when. I just about jumped out of my skin when I heard that familiar bellowing voice that called out, "Alice Lee!," the name he fondly called my mom. I remember running and jumping on him. He laughed and hugged and kissed me. When he put me down, he took out a shoebox. Jumping up and down at the anticipation that he had brought me something, he pulled a pair of tennis shoes from the box. I didn't have the right foot, left foot thing down, so I needed some help with putting them on and lacing them. I can't remember if I got help or put them on the wrong foot myself, but for the rest of the day, I walked, jumped and played, looking down at my feet with absolute pride. One of my happiest memories with my dad.
Just the same, there was some dark images. Images of being the dark, nappy-headed child that people rushed pass to pick up and play with my baby sister. Hearing that light skinned and loosely curly hair was pretty, I learned that I was ugly pretty early on.
I have a very painful image of how I was treated by others when my baby sister was a baby in diapers. Only 1 1/2 years older than my baby sister, I remember her soiled diaper being shoved into my hand by my older sister. Forcefully, she told me to take it to the bathroom and dip it up and down in the toilet to remove the bowel movement from it. I hated it. I cried and resisted while she threatened to spank me if I didn't. While the soiled water splashed on me, I dunked the diaper up and down in that water. I felt so dirty and humiliated. That shame followed me, manifesting in other ways as I grew up.
I don't know if I was 5, 6 or 7 when this happened, but there was a shift. I remember going to school and decided that whatever I learned, my baby sister had to know. We'd grab our dolls and stuffed animals and I'd create a classroom where they were the students. At the time, we had a piece of furniture that doubled as a chalkboard that became a desktop when you pulled down the knob at the top to open it. With chalk in hand, I taught my students to read, to spell, to do whatever I learned in school that day. My baby sister had a short attention span back then, so I had to threaten her or bargain with her to gain her compliance. I'm not proud of the lengths I went to. Another coercion, if you will, happened when I took an interest in the piano. We had a high-backed antique white acoustic piano in our living room. When I discovered that with one finger I could play songs, I told my baby sister she needed to do this too. Employing my trusty motivators, I compelled my sister to learn to hear the notes and play the piano as well.
Another shift was performing. My sister and I would grab a hairbrush, a pencil or a Popsicle stick and sing into it. We'd plop a stocking cap on our heads so we could have a swinging ponytail and make up songs. We'd sing together. On those days when my mom ran us out of the house so we could get some fresh air, we'd sit on the front porch with flyswatters. We'd soon get bored with swatting flies and gnats and start singing. Even then, we drew a crowd. They would stand and applaud us. We could harmonize even that young! I remember that my mom and dad soon started signing us up to sing at church. My younger sister was apprehensive about it, but I LOVED the spotlight. I loved performing. I loved the energy of it and the approving nods and applause I received. In fact, I remember that music was a safe place. It was something I did well. Even more, my dad approved of me when I did it. I know that sounds minor but to a girl growing into a young woman that heard repeatedly day-after-day how inadequate, wrong, Jezebel-like, unacceptable I was from my dad's lips, it was so wonderful to know that there were three areas of my life where he always spoke well of me: athletics, academics and music.
An extension of this artsy-ness for my baby sister and I was drawing. We'd sit for hours drawing. It was so encompassing that my dad took note of it. He started bringing home stacks of paper for us to draw on. That was GOLD to us. It didn't matter to us that there as writing on one side, as long as the other side was blank. We'd draw and draw and draw, getting lost in it. We were content to stay indoors with a pencil, pen or crayon and draw. Our drawing wasn't doodling but it was purposeful. We created families and life scenarios that we'd express on paper. The name of my major character was Susan Randolph. My younger sister's was Sabrina Randolph. Susan Randolph had a family. I remember Susan Randolph had handsome men in her family that Sabrina's female family members wanted to marry. It amazes me to this day how my younger sister and I created these "families" and worked through issues we observed in our own family, in our community, and on the black and white TV we were sat in front of to entertain us. Issues like love, family and romance were dealt with on paper. Our men and women kissed. We'd draw two heads pressed together with hearts above it. We got scolded for it, but we kept doing it until Mom threatened to whip us if we didn't stop.
How is what was established back then clues to what I am called to do? I was a seeker of knowledge. I loved to tell others about what I had learned. I enjoyed connecting with others and sharing the joy of the connection. Music allowed me to do that.
Even now, I am a student of life. I remember church settings where the preachers would expound on certain scriptures or Biblical passages. Although what they said was received by those spiritual people I wanted validation from, many of their analogies and connections didn't register with me. It just didn't feel right. For instance, I couldn't reconcile what wearing makeup and jewelry had to do with a label of being Jezebel. Or how wearing pants was a sin. Or having to "tarry" for the Holy Ghost when the Bible said it was a gift. I always questioned. Even with some school teachers, if I questioned them, I would be reprimanded, or worst, slapped on the hand with the ruler. Just like a child who has to answer the call from within to walk, I had to question. I guess my son got it honest. I chuckle about it now. God does have a sense of humor.
As I did with my little sister, I have to invite others to seek something greater. I just have to. I can't shut my mouth any more than I could when I was a kid. No number of backhands, whippings, punishments or shaming can turn it off. I don't bully folks anymore, I'm happy to say. I just share and allow the outcome to take it's own form or journey with those I am talking with.
I also have to perform. There is something in it that gives me such satisfaction. Just yesterday, I sang with a group of brilliant musicians and singers at a friend's wedding. I got such a buzz from it. It's another way that I express what's in my heart. It's another way I connect with Something Greater. I sing about what is meaningful to me. I enjoy the art of it, the delivery of it, the swell inside and that familiar flow I learned to connect with at an early age. It feels disinhibiting. My soul dances. Like the little girl who use to dance around the living room while singing "I love the Lord" to the 45 record spinning on the pink phonograph player, I feel such freedom. I connect with the spiritual when I sing. I connect with souls of others and share in the release. It's glorious!
Geography doesn't matter. Whether it's on my front porch or in a stadium, I have to express what I've learned. The vehicle doesn't matter. Regardless to whether it's singing, speaking, writing or working, I have to express my Truth. I have to hone the talents, the gifts, the spiritual insights, the knowledge, the experience in open and empowering ways. My soul dances when I do.
Maybe against this backdrop, it is not surprising that when I took the test of what I am born to do, it came up "knowledge." It suggested that I work in research and development. Now, nothing inside of me wants to do that. Nevertheless, I have a thirst for knowledge. I have a thirst for the deeper and more profound Truth that holds everything together. I'm fascinated with it. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to Psychology and self help. It's the wisdom for abundant living that came out of my suffering. Maybe that's why life coaching appeals to me: Maybe that's why writing is like breathing for me. I get to share the knowledge and the wisdom in ways that helps others to discover the wealth they have inside of them to reach their goals. I believe that is my greatest gift to this world. It might not be received by everybody, but for those who I was created to serve, it will be a lifeline that will outlive my earthly existence.
Before I close this blog, I want to share this disclaimer. I am not sharing any of this about my childhood and my family to dishonor them. God permitted me to be born to my parents, my family, my community, my church. My experience of my childhood is my experience. My mom and my dad loved us more than anything in this world. I don't doubt that. They raised us as best they could with what they knew and who they were. They were works in progress just as we all are. I have the peace that they meant well and I honor them for being the pillars that God trusted with my development. Even my elder sister was little more than a baby herself when she was pushed into an adult role against her will. It only makes sense she would retaliate just as I did when my mom put me in that role after my sister left for college. My older sister was just 7 years old when I was born and just 9 when my younger sister came on the scene. I only share these things because they are a part of my experience. If my honesty can help a parent to rethink how they raise their children or can help to heal a child who carries around shame or guilt, then it would serve a Higher Purpose. I accept that God allowed it. He could have stopped it but He chose not to. I've forgiven that. I believe it's because He knew He could heal every wound and there was purpose in my afflictions. That is enough for me. And I feel humbly grateful, that God allowed me to go through EVERY SINGLE thing.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
You've Never Lost Your Life Purpose
This morning I fed my spirit with a full episode of Oprah's interview with Caroline Myss where they discuss her new book, Anatomy of the Spirit. According to Caroline, "People suffer when they pursue a life or chase a dream that doesn't belong to them." She explains that people get fixated on something and feel they have to have it. If someone else's life does not belong to you, however, you are pursuing a life that wasn't meant for you.
"How do you know what is the life or the path that is meant for you?," Oprah asks.
"If you have life, you have purpose," Caroline replies. She goes on to say that if you have one atom, you are as purposeful as the planet. It cannot be otherwise. You can't have one without the whole. You can't take one atom out and say it is separate frin the whole. In the same way, I can't take you out and say you're separate from the whole.
Two things she encourages us to understand:
First, you've never lost your life purpose. You may have taken a wrong turn or ended up in unfamiliar territory. How do you know? Your internal homing device tells you. That part of you that knows when something feels right and knows when something feels all kinds of wrong. If you feel ill-at-ease. if you feel unhappy, if something doesn't fit anymore or where you are is no longer fulfilling, that's your signal that it's time to steer in a new direction. Just as it is in a relationship, you must remember this: if you have to betray yourself in order to remain in it, you know you've gone off course.
The Bible says it this way. We're "led away by our own lust." Modern terminology doesn't call it lust; it calls it ego. A false image founded on fear, doubt and misinformation about what makes you valuable or successful. That'll get you off course every time. It Edges God Out. If we're lucky or, should I say, paying attention, wisdom comes with experience. Some argue it comes with age. I beg to differ. I think it's the repetition of going off course and finding your way home that helps us grow.
Secondly, she says, "Have no judgments about your life. No expectations (in the sense that certain things shouldn't have happened to you that happen to ordinary people). We've all gone through things that made us say, "I can't believe this happened to me" or "I can't believe he/she did that to me." Somehow we think we're special. Stuff like betrayal, divorce, disease and trauma happens to other people. Certainly not us. When you feel that something happened in your life that shouldn't have and you haven't gotten over it or you're fixated on something that didn't belong to you in the first place or you refused to let go of a rage and should have, Caroline believes these are contributors to our desensitization from purpose. Fear, intimidation, unforgiveness feeds our denial and we spiral out of control.
Lastly, give up the need to know what happens tomorrow. Be fully present and appreciate all that is in your life right now." Even the bad stuff. Martha Beck wrote an article about loss and saying goodbye. In her 5 ways to come to terms with change, #2 says, "Focus on a present happiness." Then she says, "Each source of joy has a 'family tree' of progenitor events that get more plentiful the further back you look (just as you have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so on). Keep tracing the chain of events that led to your greatest current happiness until you run across one that seemed painful or ugly when it happened." In essence, what she is saying is that most times, the greatest joys we have experienced have vicariously come from great pain.
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Dealing-with-Loss-How-to-Say-Goodbye-Letting-Go-Martha-Beck/2#ixzz218VYPjp8
Oprah says, "Life speaks first in whispers, then in shouts and then a brick up side your head." That's good news! Your homing system is relentless. Know this, it will persist in sending stronger and stronger signals until you get it. Your mom, dad, or best friend may have been telling you for years that you need to do something with your life, leave that man alone, make a change but real change is not gonna happen unless or until our internal homing device signals us. As I think about it, only a master mind could have prewired us in such a way. The same way that a child knows it's time to walk, we know when it's time to make a change. My God, that's amazing!!! Dr. Dyer calls it the shift.
I've been so concerned about shifting from a life of survival to a life of purpose. I believe God sent Caroline Myss to tell me, "you've never lost your life purpose." Now, that's some good, GOOD news for me. Along with increasing peace and understanding, it's letting me know that I'm back on track!
"How do you know what is the life or the path that is meant for you?," Oprah asks.
"If you have life, you have purpose," Caroline replies. She goes on to say that if you have one atom, you are as purposeful as the planet. It cannot be otherwise. You can't have one without the whole. You can't take one atom out and say it is separate frin the whole. In the same way, I can't take you out and say you're separate from the whole.
Two things she encourages us to understand:
First, you've never lost your life purpose. You may have taken a wrong turn or ended up in unfamiliar territory. How do you know? Your internal homing device tells you. That part of you that knows when something feels right and knows when something feels all kinds of wrong. If you feel ill-at-ease. if you feel unhappy, if something doesn't fit anymore or where you are is no longer fulfilling, that's your signal that it's time to steer in a new direction. Just as it is in a relationship, you must remember this: if you have to betray yourself in order to remain in it, you know you've gone off course.
The Bible says it this way. We're "led away by our own lust." Modern terminology doesn't call it lust; it calls it ego. A false image founded on fear, doubt and misinformation about what makes you valuable or successful. That'll get you off course every time. It Edges God Out. If we're lucky or, should I say, paying attention, wisdom comes with experience. Some argue it comes with age. I beg to differ. I think it's the repetition of going off course and finding your way home that helps us grow.
Secondly, she says, "Have no judgments about your life. No expectations (in the sense that certain things shouldn't have happened to you that happen to ordinary people). We've all gone through things that made us say, "I can't believe this happened to me" or "I can't believe he/she did that to me." Somehow we think we're special. Stuff like betrayal, divorce, disease and trauma happens to other people. Certainly not us. When you feel that something happened in your life that shouldn't have and you haven't gotten over it or you're fixated on something that didn't belong to you in the first place or you refused to let go of a rage and should have, Caroline believes these are contributors to our desensitization from purpose. Fear, intimidation, unforgiveness feeds our denial and we spiral out of control.
Lastly, give up the need to know what happens tomorrow. Be fully present and appreciate all that is in your life right now." Even the bad stuff. Martha Beck wrote an article about loss and saying goodbye. In her 5 ways to come to terms with change, #2 says, "Focus on a present happiness." Then she says, "Each source of joy has a 'family tree' of progenitor events that get more plentiful the further back you look (just as you have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, and so on). Keep tracing the chain of events that led to your greatest current happiness until you run across one that seemed painful or ugly when it happened." In essence, what she is saying is that most times, the greatest joys we have experienced have vicariously come from great pain.
Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Dealing-with-Loss-How-to-Say-Goodbye-Letting-Go-Martha-Beck/2#ixzz218VYPjp8
Oprah says, "Life speaks first in whispers, then in shouts and then a brick up side your head." That's good news! Your homing system is relentless. Know this, it will persist in sending stronger and stronger signals until you get it. Your mom, dad, or best friend may have been telling you for years that you need to do something with your life, leave that man alone, make a change but real change is not gonna happen unless or until our internal homing device signals us. As I think about it, only a master mind could have prewired us in such a way. The same way that a child knows it's time to walk, we know when it's time to make a change. My God, that's amazing!!! Dr. Dyer calls it the shift.
I've been so concerned about shifting from a life of survival to a life of purpose. I believe God sent Caroline Myss to tell me, "you've never lost your life purpose." Now, that's some good, GOOD news for me. Along with increasing peace and understanding, it's letting me know that I'm back on track!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
I am grateful for today's fast from EGO. I was presented with a challenge that had been in the back of my mind but I had prayed and told God I wasn't going to worry. I'd trust Him to resolve it whatever He chose. Well, while writing my earlier blog, I heard a whisper inside. "Let them know how you feel," was what I heard. You see, what is familiar is to avoid uncomfortable situations. To tell myself that it's no big deal. Oftentimes, letting somebody know that something they did was not okay is not the easiest thing. I tend to struggle with denial as a result. However, I knew in that moment that I would betray myself if I wasn't honest about my feelings and why.
As I have admitted in previous blogs, articles and conversations, my problem isn't standing up for myself. When I feel the internal motivation to do it, I'll assert my truth and will defend it valiantly. The problem is how a person responds causes me to second-guess myself. I feel guilt or shame if they get upset.
I know where this comes from. It takes me back to times I would tell my dad how I really felt about something that he did. In a perfect world, he would say, "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. Please forgive me." Well, my world was far from perfect. After all these years, I still get queasy when I open up with someone about something I think they won't like hearing. Blame or shame is the byproduct unless they take my truth well. Trouble is, everybody doesn't do that. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. They must have the right to respond in whatever manner they see fit. They might not agree. They might not see it. And they might challenge me, get upset or blame me for their discomfort. There is always that risk. What I've learned however is this. Behaving as if you're okay with something when you're not is not fair to the other person. Furthermore, it is a betrayal of your soul. Pretending is hypocrisy. Going along to get along breeds resentment. The dishonesty edges God out. And the smoldering resentment edges God out. No matter how we try to put a spin on it, it edges God out.
I am fasting from edging God out. Certainly, I have some growing and some healing left to do. Just the same, I've heard a quote and I truly believe it. We teach people how to treat us. Another one is People don't betray us. We betray ourselves. At the end of the day, I'd rather be disliked for my authenticity than to be liked for my pretense.
As I have admitted in previous blogs, articles and conversations, my problem isn't standing up for myself. When I feel the internal motivation to do it, I'll assert my truth and will defend it valiantly. The problem is how a person responds causes me to second-guess myself. I feel guilt or shame if they get upset.
I know where this comes from. It takes me back to times I would tell my dad how I really felt about something that he did. In a perfect world, he would say, "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. Please forgive me." Well, my world was far from perfect. After all these years, I still get queasy when I open up with someone about something I think they won't like hearing. Blame or shame is the byproduct unless they take my truth well. Trouble is, everybody doesn't do that. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. They must have the right to respond in whatever manner they see fit. They might not agree. They might not see it. And they might challenge me, get upset or blame me for their discomfort. There is always that risk. What I've learned however is this. Behaving as if you're okay with something when you're not is not fair to the other person. Furthermore, it is a betrayal of your soul. Pretending is hypocrisy. Going along to get along breeds resentment. The dishonesty edges God out. And the smoldering resentment edges God out. No matter how we try to put a spin on it, it edges God out.
I am fasting from edging God out. Certainly, I have some growing and some healing left to do. Just the same, I've heard a quote and I truly believe it. We teach people how to treat us. Another one is People don't betray us. We betray ourselves. At the end of the day, I'd rather be disliked for my authenticity than to be liked for my pretense.
50 Times A Writer: Suzette Unleashed: A New Type of Fast
50 Times A Writer: Suzette Unleashed: A New Type of Fast: It is now Wednesday. At the start of the week, I had an inspired thought. I'm going on a fast. Yeah, a fast. I have made a conscious dec...
A New Type of Fast
It is now Wednesday. At the start of the week, I had an inspired thought. I'm going on a fast. Yeah, a fast. I have made a conscious decision that I will fast from Ego. By Ego, I mean:
Edging
God
Out
Edging God Out is like God is in the driver seat and I'm sitting beside Him on the passenger side. Rather than enjoying the ride, trusting in His driver abilities, I'm constantly questioning His every turn and sliding closer and closer to the driver's side. Ultimately, I am pushing Him out the door and taking the steering wheel. Edging God out.
Dr. Wayne Dyer offered an even richer perspective: a striking metaphor of God as the Ocean. "God is the ocean," he said. "If you take a cup and scoop out part of the ocean, it is still the ocean." We are what's scooped out. Apart from the ocean, we are still the ocean but we are vulnerable. We are vulnerable to evaporation. We are vulnerable to being spilled out and absorbed by what we're spilled on. Practically speaking, we are vulnerable to Ego. But if I'm poured back in the ocean, if I stay connected, I have access to all the ocean is. I have the power of the ocean. All that the ocean is, I am. Now that's pretty darn awesome! My fasting is me snuggling back into that ocean.
I'm staring myself in the face, eyeball-to-eyeball, and asking "Why are you really doing this?" If my reasons are anxiety, guilt, accommodating someone else at my expense or fear, I'm deciding "no." I believe that these are learned betrayals to love, trust, faith and joy. They steal from us. Familiar, yes but edging out inspiration. Edging out meaning. Edging out fulfillment. Edging out the abundant life that is our birthright as redeemed children of God.
When I woke up this morning, I said two things--that's all--two things: "Thank you" and "How can I be used today?" That was the extent of my prayer. Starting my morning with gratitude and surrender feels right. I'll do that as part of my fast.
Next, I fed my spirit. I went to online to Oprah.com. Using my VGA cord, I connected my laptop to my flat screen TV and watched one of the full episodes on her website. It was great! I ate breakfast and fed my soul. Yesterday morning, it was her Super Soul Sunday interview with DeVon Franklin. This morning, it was Sarah Ban Breathnach and Dr. Dyer.
I'm inspired to adopt this as part of my fast going forward. I'm also inspired to allow my day to unfold as it needs to, asking myself if what I'm about to do will keep me in the ocean or edge God out. My conscious effort is to stay in the ocean. I expect there will be challenges. Just because I'm fasting doesn't automatically lessen the familiar. But I have determined that I will pray and ask God for help and surrender the outcome to Him. I will see it as His help. I feel strongly that I must refuse....refuse....REFUSE the familiar anxiety, guilt, accommodating someone else (at the expense of my dignity, my joy, my power, my own sense of my season) or fear-driven reasoning.
I've never done this before. This idea of a fast from ego is ...well...inspired so I'm having to learn as I go. You know I'm gonna write about it. You can bank on that..lol.
Edging
God
Out
Edging God Out is like God is in the driver seat and I'm sitting beside Him on the passenger side. Rather than enjoying the ride, trusting in His driver abilities, I'm constantly questioning His every turn and sliding closer and closer to the driver's side. Ultimately, I am pushing Him out the door and taking the steering wheel. Edging God out.
Dr. Wayne Dyer offered an even richer perspective: a striking metaphor of God as the Ocean. "God is the ocean," he said. "If you take a cup and scoop out part of the ocean, it is still the ocean." We are what's scooped out. Apart from the ocean, we are still the ocean but we are vulnerable. We are vulnerable to evaporation. We are vulnerable to being spilled out and absorbed by what we're spilled on. Practically speaking, we are vulnerable to Ego. But if I'm poured back in the ocean, if I stay connected, I have access to all the ocean is. I have the power of the ocean. All that the ocean is, I am. Now that's pretty darn awesome! My fasting is me snuggling back into that ocean.
I'm staring myself in the face, eyeball-to-eyeball, and asking "Why are you really doing this?" If my reasons are anxiety, guilt, accommodating someone else at my expense or fear, I'm deciding "no." I believe that these are learned betrayals to love, trust, faith and joy. They steal from us. Familiar, yes but edging out inspiration. Edging out meaning. Edging out fulfillment. Edging out the abundant life that is our birthright as redeemed children of God.
When I woke up this morning, I said two things--that's all--two things: "Thank you" and "How can I be used today?" That was the extent of my prayer. Starting my morning with gratitude and surrender feels right. I'll do that as part of my fast.
Next, I fed my spirit. I went to online to Oprah.com. Using my VGA cord, I connected my laptop to my flat screen TV and watched one of the full episodes on her website. It was great! I ate breakfast and fed my soul. Yesterday morning, it was her Super Soul Sunday interview with DeVon Franklin. This morning, it was Sarah Ban Breathnach and Dr. Dyer.
I'm inspired to adopt this as part of my fast going forward. I'm also inspired to allow my day to unfold as it needs to, asking myself if what I'm about to do will keep me in the ocean or edge God out. My conscious effort is to stay in the ocean. I expect there will be challenges. Just because I'm fasting doesn't automatically lessen the familiar. But I have determined that I will pray and ask God for help and surrender the outcome to Him. I will see it as His help. I feel strongly that I must refuse....refuse....REFUSE the familiar anxiety, guilt, accommodating someone else (at the expense of my dignity, my joy, my power, my own sense of my season) or fear-driven reasoning.
I've never done this before. This idea of a fast from ego is ...well...inspired so I'm having to learn as I go. You know I'm gonna write about it. You can bank on that..lol.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Change Your Familiar
A story that has inspired me since I heard it was the one about Nelson Mandela. If you read the Wikipedia account, it simply says, "In 1962 he was arrested and convicted of sabotage and other charges, and sentenced to life imprisonment. Mandela went on to serve 27 years in prison, spending many of these years on Robben Island. Following his release from prison on 11 February 1990, Mandela led his party in the negotiations that led to the establishment of democracy in 1994." What it doesn't say is he was offered release repeatedly. Accounts say he flatly rejected them. He stood for equality and refused to be freed without the dignity of his brothers being freed as well.
To get a better idea what Robben Island was like, I conducted an online search. Robben Island was brutal. "The duty of those who ran Robben Island and the Robben Island prison was to isolate opponents of apartheid and to crush their morale," was one description. It was a place of great suffering.
So how was Mandela able to triumph through such degradation? I didn't see the movie, Invictus, but Sharon Sim-Krause recalls in her blog, Shot of Inspiration, the moment where Morgan Freeman (Nelson Mandela) shares with Matt Damon (Francois Pienaar) how William Ernest Henley's poem helped him to survive. I know that it is controversial in Christian circles as they feel it is a denial of the power of God for a man to say, "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." I don't hear it that way. I hear the God-man speaking. The Greater One living inside of us. How else could 27 years of brutality not break him? How else could he move from being a victim to a victor? When I look at life experience in the context of true courage, nobility and purpose, I perceive that the strength of the human spirit is the Image of God manifesting.
There was a past episode of The Oprah Show where a audience member said she didn't believe in angels neither did she believe in God. She said she believed in the strength of the human spirit. The power that resides inside us as humans. She said she also believed that there's an energy evident in nature. Where does that strength or power or energy come from? I wanted so much to ask her that. Do humans who can't stop themselves from being born or dying manufacture that? Does nature cease to function because we aren't present? Well then, who or what created that? Who set nature on a timer so it knows how to maintain itself? Who created the circle of life? There has to be a master mind, a greater intelligence that predetermined that. I call Him God. (Sidebar: when I say Him, it is inclusive of his maleness and femaleness).
With the aid of this greater intelligence, a flesh and blood man or woman can change. I'm a witness of that. What is now familiar can be changed. Doesn't matter what your familiar is. Where it might be familiar to allow a man or woman to abuse us mentally, emotionally, sexually or whatever-ally, we can change that. We have the power to create a new familiar where we are honored, nurtured and respected in our relationships. Science even tells us that we have the power to rewire our brains thereby changing what we accept and what we attract into our lives. Nowhere in my life experience has that been more evident than when I was working with substance abusers. By educating a DWI offender about the pharmacological effects of alcohol, substances, even prescription medications and how they hijack the brain, he or she was able to make informed decisions about whether to continue using or whether to operate a vehicle. Some got it and transformed their lives. Knowledge is power. Education changes cognition (thinking) and thereby changes behavior. When one understands who he or she is apart from a substance, an experience, a criticism, he can live in the integrity of that understanding. He is no longer defined by externals and can now makes his residence in that higher understanding.
I had to repent. My God, I thought. I have idolized money. For many of us who worship at the throne of the almighty dollar, it is a fear of lack that drives us. For some, it manifests in workaholism. For others, it manifests in suicide. And still others, it manifests in murder. I was willing to sell out my true gifts and talents for an hourly rate. Fear drives us, exacting the whip of intimidation as it threatens poverty, i.e., lack of respect, lack of influence, lack of power, lack of freedom, lack of worth. I'm sure that many of my unemployed or underemployed sisters and brothers are hearing some semblance of those bullying beliefs. "You gonna lose your house," they say. "You're going to lose everything." "You can't provide for your family." I was spending most of strength on trying to morph into something that I wasn't. I wasn't happy. I wasn't blissful. Dr. Wayne Dyer, global wisdom teacher, says that bliss is the byproduct of an inspired life. I wasn't inspired. This is needed to change your familiar.
Here is where I believe the human spirit asserts itself. It throws off denial and says, "No! No more!" It refuses to live in that intimidated, uninspired state. It refuses to cower and pay homage to it. It refuses to deny itself the truest expression of itself. It stares what it fears in the face, grabs it in the collar and says, "I will outlast you! Believe that. I am BIGGER than you!" That, my friends, is what I believe happened when Mandela read Invictus. My, my, my, that's grace. Grace that secures us for the journey.
Once that happens, ideas and creativity and resources are activated. Something bigger. God, the fashioner, the author and finisher of our faith comes alive inside of us. We are the masters of our fate. Whether it's life or death, we choose. We choose if we are willing to die for our cause. No one or nothing bullies us into submission. Whether it's working for someone else or working for ourselves, we choose. Whether it's moving and shaking on Wall Street or moving and shaking on your own street, we choose. His homing device starts signaling opportunities to create, to serve, to share. When I choose fulfillment over obligation, I am the captain of my soul. This changes your familiar.
Does it get scary sometimes? Yes. Does the familiar send bullying or self-limiting thoughts sometimes? Yes. Nevertheless, like Nelson Mandela and those brave souls of ancestors past, something Greater spurs us onward. I want my life, my environment, my familiar to reflect wholeness. To be inspired. Doesn't matter to me whether it's writing a column, running a business, coaching a client, playing for a church, bookkeeping or lending administrative support to a company. I've taken off my mental ideal of what will be the avenue. I'm just open. I'm just willing. I'm just experiencing. I'm experiencing the joy of leading a summer camp for women. I am experiencing the fulfillment of making coffee and giving a warm smile to families of children on the pediatric floor of the hospital. I am enjoying opportunities that are presenting themselves. And surpising to me, I am enjoying being a part of an accounting team of two for 12 hours a week.
One step at a time. One decision at a time. One opportunity at a time . One interview at a time. I'm surrendering to that energy that knows. I am being led, moved by compassion instead of coerced by obligation. I am living life my way instead of trying to live up to some presumed or perceived standard that so doesn't fit anymore. I am changing my familiar. With the strength of God and the supportive angels He has placed in my life, I will advance--greater, richer and more alive than I've ever been. I am changing my familiar. You can change your familiar.
To get a better idea what Robben Island was like, I conducted an online search. Robben Island was brutal. "The duty of those who ran Robben Island and the Robben Island prison was to isolate opponents of apartheid and to crush their morale," was one description. It was a place of great suffering.
So how was Mandela able to triumph through such degradation? I didn't see the movie, Invictus, but Sharon Sim-Krause recalls in her blog, Shot of Inspiration, the moment where Morgan Freeman (Nelson Mandela) shares with Matt Damon (Francois Pienaar) how William Ernest Henley's poem helped him to survive. I know that it is controversial in Christian circles as they feel it is a denial of the power of God for a man to say, "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." I don't hear it that way. I hear the God-man speaking. The Greater One living inside of us. How else could 27 years of brutality not break him? How else could he move from being a victim to a victor? When I look at life experience in the context of true courage, nobility and purpose, I perceive that the strength of the human spirit is the Image of God manifesting.
There was a past episode of The Oprah Show where a audience member said she didn't believe in angels neither did she believe in God. She said she believed in the strength of the human spirit. The power that resides inside us as humans. She said she also believed that there's an energy evident in nature. Where does that strength or power or energy come from? I wanted so much to ask her that. Do humans who can't stop themselves from being born or dying manufacture that? Does nature cease to function because we aren't present? Well then, who or what created that? Who set nature on a timer so it knows how to maintain itself? Who created the circle of life? There has to be a master mind, a greater intelligence that predetermined that. I call Him God. (Sidebar: when I say Him, it is inclusive of his maleness and femaleness).
With the aid of this greater intelligence, a flesh and blood man or woman can change. I'm a witness of that. What is now familiar can be changed. Doesn't matter what your familiar is. Where it might be familiar to allow a man or woman to abuse us mentally, emotionally, sexually or whatever-ally, we can change that. We have the power to create a new familiar where we are honored, nurtured and respected in our relationships. Science even tells us that we have the power to rewire our brains thereby changing what we accept and what we attract into our lives. Nowhere in my life experience has that been more evident than when I was working with substance abusers. By educating a DWI offender about the pharmacological effects of alcohol, substances, even prescription medications and how they hijack the brain, he or she was able to make informed decisions about whether to continue using or whether to operate a vehicle. Some got it and transformed their lives. Knowledge is power. Education changes cognition (thinking) and thereby changes behavior. When one understands who he or she is apart from a substance, an experience, a criticism, he can live in the integrity of that understanding. He is no longer defined by externals and can now makes his residence in that higher understanding.
I had to repent. My God, I thought. I have idolized money. For many of us who worship at the throne of the almighty dollar, it is a fear of lack that drives us. For some, it manifests in workaholism. For others, it manifests in suicide. And still others, it manifests in murder. I was willing to sell out my true gifts and talents for an hourly rate. Fear drives us, exacting the whip of intimidation as it threatens poverty, i.e., lack of respect, lack of influence, lack of power, lack of freedom, lack of worth. I'm sure that many of my unemployed or underemployed sisters and brothers are hearing some semblance of those bullying beliefs. "You gonna lose your house," they say. "You're going to lose everything." "You can't provide for your family." I was spending most of strength on trying to morph into something that I wasn't. I wasn't happy. I wasn't blissful. Dr. Wayne Dyer, global wisdom teacher, says that bliss is the byproduct of an inspired life. I wasn't inspired. This is needed to change your familiar.
Here is where I believe the human spirit asserts itself. It throws off denial and says, "No! No more!" It refuses to live in that intimidated, uninspired state. It refuses to cower and pay homage to it. It refuses to deny itself the truest expression of itself. It stares what it fears in the face, grabs it in the collar and says, "I will outlast you! Believe that. I am BIGGER than you!" That, my friends, is what I believe happened when Mandela read Invictus. My, my, my, that's grace. Grace that secures us for the journey.
Once that happens, ideas and creativity and resources are activated. Something bigger. God, the fashioner, the author and finisher of our faith comes alive inside of us. We are the masters of our fate. Whether it's life or death, we choose. We choose if we are willing to die for our cause. No one or nothing bullies us into submission. Whether it's working for someone else or working for ourselves, we choose. Whether it's moving and shaking on Wall Street or moving and shaking on your own street, we choose. His homing device starts signaling opportunities to create, to serve, to share. When I choose fulfillment over obligation, I am the captain of my soul. This changes your familiar.
Does it get scary sometimes? Yes. Does the familiar send bullying or self-limiting thoughts sometimes? Yes. Nevertheless, like Nelson Mandela and those brave souls of ancestors past, something Greater spurs us onward. I want my life, my environment, my familiar to reflect wholeness. To be inspired. Doesn't matter to me whether it's writing a column, running a business, coaching a client, playing for a church, bookkeeping or lending administrative support to a company. I've taken off my mental ideal of what will be the avenue. I'm just open. I'm just willing. I'm just experiencing. I'm experiencing the joy of leading a summer camp for women. I am experiencing the fulfillment of making coffee and giving a warm smile to families of children on the pediatric floor of the hospital. I am enjoying opportunities that are presenting themselves. And surpising to me, I am enjoying being a part of an accounting team of two for 12 hours a week.
One step at a time. One decision at a time. One opportunity at a time . One interview at a time. I'm surrendering to that energy that knows. I am being led, moved by compassion instead of coerced by obligation. I am living life my way instead of trying to live up to some presumed or perceived standard that so doesn't fit anymore. I am changing my familiar. With the strength of God and the supportive angels He has placed in my life, I will advance--greater, richer and more alive than I've ever been. I am changing my familiar. You can change your familiar.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Decide To Decide
Until last night, I didn't know that the inability to make a decision was a symptom of menopause. With wonder, I listened as a group of us women went through the laundry list of symptoms only to discover indecisiveness can be one of them. Something as simple as what to buy from the grocery store or what to wear to work can become a major hurdle.
Barring menopause and its symptoms however, life brings us to various pivotal points where we have to decide. We have to impose a just-this-far-and-no-more moratorium on things. My just-this-far-and-no-more came with a family member. We had years of missteping with each other. We'd offend the other without trying, accusee the other for our discomfort, go or a while without speaking, then we'd feel bad inside or long for the connection. One of us would reach out to the other. It would feel great for a while, then the other would do something or say something wrong. The cycle would repeat itself. Sadly, each time this happened, the relationship slipped deeper into despair. In time, we both assumed the victim role. We argued who was the bigger victim and lost trust.
It just so happened that the umpteenth conflict arose while I was in conversations with wise friends and sage advisors. Who knew you could meet such people while attending a meetup or while searching for a life coach online! It happened. This friend said to me that when we have an intense reaction to something or someone, there is some pain that Life wants to heal. While pondering that, the answer came.
In that moment of clarity or Higher Consciousness, I saw two things: (1) I owed my family member an apology and (2) I needed to attend to the wound.
Up until that moment, I blamed her for the emotional distress I had been feeling. "It's your fault," I said to her everytime she disappointed me in some way. I took it personally and held her responsible. After all, when an interaction with someone bumps into unfinished emotional or psychic pain, you no longer feel safe with them. You just don't. Trust is eroded more and more everytime you don't feel your experience is regarded. Isn't that at the core of resentment? Most of us would say so. I would have said so. Nevertheless, in this moment, it got challenged. The source of resentment has nothing to do with someone else. I'll say that again. Your source of resentment has nothing to do with someone else. I believe the source is requiring someone else to give us relief. We bully them to answer the way we want and act as we want. When they won't, we blame them. We reject them. We talk about them. We harrass them. I had to apologize for that.
No doubt, when we are mishandled by someone, it hurts. It hurts like heck! However, it is misguided to expect the perpetrator to stop the pain and heal the wound. Even if they repent and want to make amends, they still can't do that. You have to attend to your own pain and your own wound.
A first step is forgiveness. There goes that F word again. Forgiveness is no longer holding the precipitant liable for the pain or loss or wound. I always like to use practical examples to illustrate my point. Say you get shot. The shooter runs away and leaves you lying on the floor. Do you lay on the floor, bellyaching over why you got shot, what kind of person would shoot you, how dare they shoot you? Do you yell to the shooter, "Come back here! It's your fault! You fix this!" and tell yourself that the reason you're bleeding and in pain is because he or she won't come back and help you? No! Understanding the seriousness of a gunshot wound, you drag yourself to a telephone or cell phone or neighbor and get some help. "I've been shot," you tell the 9-1-1 operator. One of the first things the operator will tell you to do is try and stop the bleeding. They'll walk you through it as they send emergency services to your location. Not one time will the operator entertain rantings about the shooter unless the shooter is of immediate threat.
What happens if you fail to call 9-1-1? What happens if you fail to do as the operator advises? You could risk blood poisoning. You could lose a limb. You could even die. Whose fault would it be, the shooter's or yours? I know you want to say the shooter. I feel ya. But, I beg to differ. If the phone is lying nearby, you are conscious, there is a shirt you can rip apart to put pressure on the wound, something, the responsibility is on you. If you don't attend to your wound, you are the one at fault.
When I understood that, my decision was clear. I knew I had to attend to the wound. This would require distance as it had grown more painful and more infected. I assured my family member that my love wasn't in question. I loved her deeply. I wasn't okay though. I was compromised; hence, I couldn't give her the kind of friendship she needed and deserved. I asked for room. She consented. Dr. Phil says, "We have moments in our lives where we can step up and do powerful and meaningful things." This was one of those moments. I think we both stepped up in that moment. I shifted my focus to me and did the work to heal. I am happy to say she and I are in a healthy place.
When we decide to decide, we stop the bleeding. Yes, there is some work on the other side; but it starts with a decision.
Barring menopause and its symptoms however, life brings us to various pivotal points where we have to decide. We have to impose a just-this-far-and-no-more moratorium on things. My just-this-far-and-no-more came with a family member. We had years of missteping with each other. We'd offend the other without trying, accusee the other for our discomfort, go or a while without speaking, then we'd feel bad inside or long for the connection. One of us would reach out to the other. It would feel great for a while, then the other would do something or say something wrong. The cycle would repeat itself. Sadly, each time this happened, the relationship slipped deeper into despair. In time, we both assumed the victim role. We argued who was the bigger victim and lost trust.
It just so happened that the umpteenth conflict arose while I was in conversations with wise friends and sage advisors. Who knew you could meet such people while attending a meetup or while searching for a life coach online! It happened. This friend said to me that when we have an intense reaction to something or someone, there is some pain that Life wants to heal. While pondering that, the answer came.
In that moment of clarity or Higher Consciousness, I saw two things: (1) I owed my family member an apology and (2) I needed to attend to the wound.
Up until that moment, I blamed her for the emotional distress I had been feeling. "It's your fault," I said to her everytime she disappointed me in some way. I took it personally and held her responsible. After all, when an interaction with someone bumps into unfinished emotional or psychic pain, you no longer feel safe with them. You just don't. Trust is eroded more and more everytime you don't feel your experience is regarded. Isn't that at the core of resentment? Most of us would say so. I would have said so. Nevertheless, in this moment, it got challenged. The source of resentment has nothing to do with someone else. I'll say that again. Your source of resentment has nothing to do with someone else. I believe the source is requiring someone else to give us relief. We bully them to answer the way we want and act as we want. When they won't, we blame them. We reject them. We talk about them. We harrass them. I had to apologize for that.
No doubt, when we are mishandled by someone, it hurts. It hurts like heck! However, it is misguided to expect the perpetrator to stop the pain and heal the wound. Even if they repent and want to make amends, they still can't do that. You have to attend to your own pain and your own wound.
A first step is forgiveness. There goes that F word again. Forgiveness is no longer holding the precipitant liable for the pain or loss or wound. I always like to use practical examples to illustrate my point. Say you get shot. The shooter runs away and leaves you lying on the floor. Do you lay on the floor, bellyaching over why you got shot, what kind of person would shoot you, how dare they shoot you? Do you yell to the shooter, "Come back here! It's your fault! You fix this!" and tell yourself that the reason you're bleeding and in pain is because he or she won't come back and help you? No! Understanding the seriousness of a gunshot wound, you drag yourself to a telephone or cell phone or neighbor and get some help. "I've been shot," you tell the 9-1-1 operator. One of the first things the operator will tell you to do is try and stop the bleeding. They'll walk you through it as they send emergency services to your location. Not one time will the operator entertain rantings about the shooter unless the shooter is of immediate threat.
What happens if you fail to call 9-1-1? What happens if you fail to do as the operator advises? You could risk blood poisoning. You could lose a limb. You could even die. Whose fault would it be, the shooter's or yours? I know you want to say the shooter. I feel ya. But, I beg to differ. If the phone is lying nearby, you are conscious, there is a shirt you can rip apart to put pressure on the wound, something, the responsibility is on you. If you don't attend to your wound, you are the one at fault.
When I understood that, my decision was clear. I knew I had to attend to the wound. This would require distance as it had grown more painful and more infected. I assured my family member that my love wasn't in question. I loved her deeply. I wasn't okay though. I was compromised; hence, I couldn't give her the kind of friendship she needed and deserved. I asked for room. She consented. Dr. Phil says, "We have moments in our lives where we can step up and do powerful and meaningful things." This was one of those moments. I think we both stepped up in that moment. I shifted my focus to me and did the work to heal. I am happy to say she and I are in a healthy place.
When we decide to decide, we stop the bleeding. Yes, there is some work on the other side; but it starts with a decision.
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