Changing At The Speed of Thought

When I sat down to write this entry, I had a completely different slant in mind. Suddenly life bubbled up in front of my and off I went in a new direction. Returning to my computer, I notice now that what I was going to write about had shifted entirely. In fact, I find myself noticing just how often those shifts occur - without me even noticing!

So often what appears in this forum is my attempt to make sense of the world and my experiences. The process usually begins with something that resonates deep within my body. If I am willing to pay attention, I begin to hear its strains emerging all around me in the conversations that I have with others, the books that attract my attention - even snippets of overheard conversations in a grocery store check out will seem to echo a part of it. It seems that every where I go, I notice the same riff with subtle variations which form a harmony too synchronistic to ignore. And before I know it, here I sit with humming through me, ready to integrate it in some way.

The observation that has been hard to ignore for the past few days is the one of self-sacrifice, and surprisingly, it was some of male friends through which these discoveries came to light. I say surprisingly because I am very familiar with the female version of this story of self-sacrifice, obsessive care-taking and yes, ladies, whether intended or not, we often wear the robes of martyrdom. The female version of this tale makes so much sense to me in light of our cultural conditioning to care take relationships, to be "good little girls", to be "nice"... you fill in the blank, because it maps to my own experiences.

Everything reached a crescendo in a conversation with a male friend recently. It was with great interest and compassion that I listened to him share his frustration and growing resentment of the burden he has taken on in supporting his family, his employees and anyone else who needed rescuing. This is a man with tremendous energy and zest for life whose primary desire is to live life fully and with excitement. As a rule, passion for living pours out of him, and yet recently, I had noticed that some of that spark was retreating.

As we talked, I realized on a deeper level, the cultural conditioning that men carry about being the provider, the hero, the rescuer and the one with all the answers. I understood how lonely that place could become; how small the space can be. I nearly jumped out of my seat to cheer as he claimed his ability to choose himself first. Claiming his right to create his own experience in life by choosing who he invested energy in, choosing who he spent time in conversation with, choosing time for himself over the myriad of details waiting on his desk was magic to witness. And yet, it was evident that this was a challenge to many of his beliefs about his role in his family and work life. Reclaiming himself in this way meant shedding some aspects of his old identity. As we spoke and he said these thing aloud, I could see that spark returning. He changed at the speed of a thought. A shift in perspective unlocked the box and there was a crack of light peeping through! Light that I suspect will continue to radiate everywhere as he continues living the choice he made to create life differently.

Finding yourself as the buffet that feeds everyone else was not an experience unique to women! What an enlightening discovery for me!! This conversation and thought has changed me in ways I am still discovering. Before that conversation it was an intellectual concept, today it is a deeply felt realization.

I find myself mentally reviewing a conversation recorded by Louise LeBrun, Founder of the WEL-Systems Institute, called "White Knights and Reluctant Heroes". As I ponder, I notice that much of what leaves men and women drained, frustrated and resentful is the roles we have co-created together. We can't wait to be released from these limitations - we must choose ourselves first.

As a woman, I am now noticing how I continue to hold beliefs about men that are not based on reality so much as habit and I am grateful to mind friend for opening my eyes and inviting me to change with the speed of thought.

If you are interested in the audio recording mentioned above, check out the product section of www.WEL-Systems.com

Ahem! Clearing My Throat

I have been on a journey these last few months .... and probably longer, to unlock my voice. I'm not exactly sure when I shut it down except that it feels like a very long time ago.

The throat is an interesting part of our anatomy. Not only is it one of the most vulnerable spots in our body, it is the conduit through which the sound that we are in the world emerges. The sound of our voice is distinct, even with its infinite variations in tone and volume. Our sound is part of what makes us uniquely "us".

What I find peculiar with my voice is the dichotomy that exists for me between spoken and written word. I carry considerable fear in my body about saying the "wrong" thing. Some of this resides in what was instilled from my early years about good manners. Much of it comes from surprising and undesirable results created when I "spoke my mind".

I recall a game my grandfather used to play with me in which he would joke and tease me, twisting my words and being witty. While it felt like a fun game and it certainly increased my vocabulary and capacity to be succinct - it also left me feeling frustrated, misunderstood and perpetually wrong.

It wasn't until recently that I made the connection between my current fear of being misunderstood and the familiarity of all the sensations that used to arise during my word matches with my grandfather. I know he had no malicious intent, it was simply his love of language and of me that sparked this game Because I didn't have the maturity then to make sense all the feelings that would arise, this memory has been lying latent in me, affecting me to this day in how I choose to communicate. Breathing deeply and relaxing into the sensations still there all these years later, I have been discovering that they no longer trigger the automatic censorship they once did. When I do find myself censoring, I am much more aware and curious about it rather than it being my habituated way of communicating.

I have also noticed of how often my throat feels congested and I am aware of how often in life I have swallowed the opinions of others, spoken the party line and regurgitated what was expected and accepted. That was then and this is now. I am uncovering my capacity to say what is means something to me. It may not always be what someone expects to hear and I'm not invested in being right - only in adding my opinion to the mix rather than swallowing my thoughts on the subject in order to be nice and likeable.

There have been the times in my life, as I suspect there have been in yours when I silenced the scream, the anger, the rage because it wasn't pretty, or nice or safe. Strangling my sound and choking it back so that if it was heard at all it was a little, ineffective squeak that never conveyed the full measure of what I was feeling.

My voice in the world reveals me to the world. Although many have told me I am an eloquent speaker, I know inside myself that I struggle with incredible internal censorship which allows only the bare facts to emerge, revealing only a fraction of what I have to share. My role as a secret keeper and confidante all these years further contributes to shutting down my throat. Somewhere deep in my belly the warning bells begin to ring signaling "DANGER!" when I speak in a group. Discovering a sense of safety, connecting to who I am now and NOT who I was then, relaxing into my body as I speak - have all been effective in creating more and more room for expression in my life recently. And there is always more! The "more" becomes easier to claim as I stay awake to it.

In writing, my voice on the page allows me to bypass much of the physical device of voice and I notice that I do very minimal editing and that thoughts arrive complete, full and with a distinctive voice. Writing offers me an outlet and a place to discover the many varied thoughts that pass through my awareness without them feeling tight and constricted. It doesn't bother me that written words have a permanence to them where the spoken can dissolve as they are uttered. It is where I discover what I have to say in this world.

Writing returns me to the child-like innocence of speaking for all to hear....And I don't think the full reclamation of my speaking voice is far behind!

Strutting Your Stuff!

I've recently developed a fixation with peacocks. Thinking back, it began on a shopping spree with my buddy, Gwen, who took me to this beatiful store in Pakenham. Once there I feel in love with the most georgeous peacock blue blouse and a skirt that blended that tone of brilliant blue with a rich brown. Although not a style I would usually wear, I tried on this ensemble and was stunned to see how it came together.

Let me tell you honestly, that I have struggled most of my life with issues around weight and feelings of insecurity about my physical appearance. When I came out of the dressing room and saw the effect of this combination it felt like a homecoming. The richness, the vibrancy, the sassiness and the sophistication I saw staring back at me in the dress shop mirror was the part of me that had been waiting for a long time to be born.

I bought the outfit....and yes, a few other things too (the cat's already out of the bag now that my husband saw our joint visa bill!). As I stood waiting to pay, it was all I could do to not tell the wonderful saleswoman to hurry up before I changed my mind! I was wrestling with all kinds of thoughts about how my lifestyle really didn't match the beauty and sophistication of the clothes, did I deserve it, maybe I should just lose some weight and then look around for something similar....you know, the usual hoops I know many women jump through. ( I wonder do guys go through the same check out agony as we do? - that's another entry!)

Although I didn't notice it at the time, something had really begun to shift inside me. A desire to create a life outside of me that matched the one inside me more closely. A few days later, though the Creativity And Life Program process I created a painting covered with peacock -like feathers. Although muted in tones and a bit cloudy, as I sit looking at it over my desk, I'm really struck by how the process of painting captured the beginning of this re-birth. Not yet at full vibrancy, but clearly emerging.

Since then, I've begun to see the vibrant and irridecent shades of blue, green and golds making their way into my painting, my wardrobe and most recently my decor. The amazing part for me, is that it is not with a conscious intention! And so I have begun to ponder what the metaphor of the peacock might be for me.

It is perhaps the most Phoenix-like bird that I can conjure up in my mind's eye. In the myth of the Pheonix, it burns up and rises from the ashes - re-born and resplendant. A powerful metaphor for re-birth and transformation. The elements of fire and air indicate a swift and rapid shift.

A peacock is really hard to ignore. They are bright, shiny, exotic....and LOUD! For such a pretty package, they have quite a set of pipes. Peacocks don't skulk around the edges. They strut, unconcerned about being noticed as they go about their business. They aren't trying to fit in or be any less "peacock" than they already are. You don't see groups of them masquerading as pigeons, colluding with each other about their magnificence. (At least I haven't ...send me a note if you have and together we'll out them.....)

I love the beautiful "eye" on each of the tail feathers. As a peacock opens its fan for all to see, you notice that all the eyes are looking forward. They aren't looking behind at where its been but are focused forward on where it is heading. Eyes are a symbol of identity. In the chakra system, the third eye is the seat of the soul, the perpetually unfolding identity, who it is possible to become.

This is the gift of my peacock obsession - that a blouse isn't just a blouse or a pillow just a pillow - they are the reminders of who it is possible for me to become. They represent my self-acceptance at the deepest levels after years of trying to please. I've worn a pigeon disguise myself on many occasions and may have even fooled a few folks - or decided to pretend that I didn't notice that they were also in disguise. As I wear my blouse, and smile at the hit of colour in my living room, I know that I am creating my inner life on the outside and it feels marvelous!