Category: being & becoming

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Dancing with the old stories

There is an ebb and flow to this work of undoing all the myths and stories that were overtly pounded or slyly snuck into our heads as we grew up in the world. It is a dance of coming together and holding the stories close while learning not to let them have a hold on you. It is whispering to the old stories that we, us and the story, have transformed while they scream at us.

Sometimes we feel the shift happening. We notice our dissonance and discomfort as a story is about to transform, be re-written, reborn. We are ill at ease and sometimes this comes through as anxiety and sometimes it comes through as physical illness and sometimes is comes through as just not feeling right in our skin, sensing that it is about to shed.

Stories of our worthiness are common. Or rather, our unworthiness. Stories of how we have nothing to offer this world. Stories of how we are terrible mothers or wives or friends. Stories of how we are ungrateful daughters or students. Stories of how we have no real value in this world.

I believe we dance with these stories. I know I do.

These stories stop us from caring for ourselves. From loving ourselves. From honoring ourselves.

These stories allow us to give and give and give to others, trying so desperately to prove our own worth and value, to the outside world, but mostly to our Self. We discount our work as unimportant. We undervalue our gifts. We make self denigrate ourselves when another person recognizes our gifts or thanks us for being in the world.

These stories can be re-written. We do not need to live in a world where we are not valued, not honored, not respected.

We start re-writing by learning to honor, value and respect our Self. We start taking the lead in the dance by making the space to love ourselves even during our busiest times.

These are things I have learned and relearned. My own dance with many of my old stories has become more refined, smoother. I am in the lead and can hold some of my old stories as they cry and scream, like I would hold my own toddler as he is sharing his big emotions with me. I can thank many of my old stories for what they did or tried to do to protect me and then lovingly tell them it is time for them to change, that they can’t bite or kick or hit me anymore.

I can tell them that they have changed, that I have changed. And then I move out of that dance and  into another, another layer ready to be revealed and shed. As I love myself up a little bit more, as I recognize my own value and gifts for this world, for my Self.

I hear the music of my worth. And I change the steps to the dance.

 

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On Grief, Mother-Wounds, and Self-Love

It’s Halloween morning.  As I sit down to write this, the rest of the family is still in bed, sleeping peacefully. My coffee has brewed and I have finished my first cup, along with a couple of peanut-butter Snickers (oh so good!). The wind is blowing like mad and the rain is coming down in ways it doesn’t usually here in Seattle: hard, heavy, filled with sadness and melancholy and grief.

We have been talking about the Mother-Wound in the (Un)Becoming circle, and the grief work that is involved in this healing. The grief of not having the mother we wanted or deserved. The grief of our mothers not having the mother they wanted or deserved. The grief of our grandmothers and our daughters. We have been talking of healing and empathy and finding ways to repair our Self.

It is heavy work. I feel the weight of the grief of the circle as surely as I feel my own. My grief of not having the mother I needed or deserved as a young child. The grief of just when our relationship was becoming what I had always dreamed of, she died. The grief of not always being able to be the mother my daughter (or son) need and deserve. The grief of being human and therefor flawed, imperfect.

In this healing, we learn that our flaws are yes, what make us human, but they do not make us unworthy. They do not make us undeserving of love or nurturing. They do not make us tainted or valueless.

These flaws simply make us human. Just like our mothers, and grandmothers, and sisters and best friends. Just like our husbands and bosses and teachers. Just like our children. We each do things we may not be proud of at times. We each have the capacity for cruelty, even when not intentional. And we each have the capacity for deep love and vulnerability.

I told the circle in my video this week that sometimes I think our fear of love is what makes us do crazy things. It was in reference to the truth that our mothers have to had, or have to currently, love us with the same fire we love our own children, they simply may not be able to show it in healthy ways, in ways we can feel it. I shared a bit of my experience as a mother when my daughter was very young, and the absolute terror I felt at the love I felt for her. My love for her, and hers for me, terrified me to my core. It was too raw, too pure, too unconditional. I was unable to feel or process this love and so in my own ways I distanced myself from her, from us.

Eventually I was able to come back, do the work I needed so that I could be closer to the mother she needed, the mother I needed and wanted to be. This is a slow and ever evolving process. I have my own wounds to heal, as each of us do, and I know she will have hers to heal one day too.

We each have days of not being the people we hope to be, for ourselves or for our children. We each have times of too much yelling, too much distancing. The vulnerability of the love we feel for our children, and they for us, can be overwhelming even in the best of times. And so we screw up and we come back and repair as best we can and we move on to the next moment and the next and sooner or later we will screw up again and come back and repair again. It is the truth of our human experience. It is what makes us human.  It is also what makes us divine, sacred, holy and yes, magical.

In the repair is where our magic lies, where the holy lives. When we are able to come back to another we have knowingly hurt and say “I am sorry. I will try to do better next time” — that is where the sacred comes through. When we are able to admit our own humanity, and show others that it is okay to be human, this is when the Divine flows through us and into the world.

When we are able to not only repair with our children, spouses, and friends, but can also come to our Self and say “I’m sorry, I will do better next time” that is healing. When we can look to our own mothers and grandmothers and on down the line and recognize they were only doing the best they could with what they had — not excusing their behaviors, not saying it didn’t or doesn’t hurt— simply acknowledging their experience, the wounds are able to be cleaned. In this acknowledging the humanity of others around us, in finding our empathy for them and their experience, we start to have empathy for ourselves. We can start to see how while we are flawed, we are worthy of love, of nurturing, of respect.

And here’s where the magic comes in: We start to love, nurture and respect our Self. We start to do the little things each day that allow us to show our Self that we love her. We start to breathe a bit easier. We start to feel the ground beneath us. We start to sense the sacred, holy and Divine within us. This is self-love. This is healing. This is magic.

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Sacred in the Everyday

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it is to be a Sacred being. What does it mean to connect with the Sacred and Divine, both within and outside? What does it look like to touch the Holy that lives inside as well as outside of this body? There was a quote on a tea bag for my daughter the other day that said “Your soul is your highest self.” And while I nodded to this truth I also wondered, what the heck does that even mean?  Then on another day my tea gave me this wisdom: “The voice of your soul is breath.” This truth I felt deep within.

And when we put these two little tea quotes together, they are telling us that our soul speaks to us through our breath, and that we can know where our “highest self” is by checking in with our breath. Following this train of thought our highest self speaks to us through our breath, our breathing (or lack of breathing). And then, we can connect to our soul, our Divine, our Sacred, by connecting to our breath. And the deeper we can connect to our breath the deeper we can connect with the Divine.

Simply following a train of logic. Yet still I am left  in this place of, okay, so what does that mean?

I begin every program and workshop with focusing on our breath. It has been a part of my own journey to mindfully and consciously be aware of and connect to my breath for several years, and I truly believe, have believed, this is where our work begins. This exercise has always been for me and my work, a way to guide others to connect more with their body, to find a way to ground and center and be fully present. It is where we can start, easily without needing any thing but our self.

To date, I have not brought the Sacred or Divine into this breath worth, not consciously at least.

Yet these little tea bags are telling me that perhaps I have been inviting and connecting to the Divine in this work all along, without realizing. That perhaps connecting to the body is a way to find connection with the Divine. That the Divine lives within us as well as outside of us and it can talk to us through our own breath and body and being.

In the (Un)Becoming Circle we are about to dive into some of the deep work of healing our Feminine wounds, our mother wounds. Part of this healing is finding connection with the Divine, the Sacred, the Holy; connecting to the Divine Feminine within us and outside of us. And as I told the women in today’s video, this work scares the shit out of me.

The idea of connecting to something that is both greater than the Self and also part of the Self is intense. For some the idea that the Divine is within is where they find resistance. For others it is the idea of the Divine outside of the self that is bothersome. We each were raised with stories of what is Sacred and Holy and what the Divine is or isn’t. More importantly, many of us were raised with stories of how we are unworthy of receiving the Divine within, that it is separate and we do not deserve to be touched by it.

These stories of unworthiness run deep. Deep in our bones, our psyches, our souls. In my work I guide others to dig into those stories, to find their value, to recognize and acknowledge that their own value and beauty. I start tackling these stories of unworthiness by guiding others, and myself, to connect to their breath, to start to fully breath. To stop holding their breath, and to let it out so that fresh breath can come in. To allow the breath to completely fill every part of the body.

The beauty of breath work is that you can do it anytime, anywhere. Connecting to your breath when you are feeling anxious or depressed or just not quite right, is something you can do right now. Or in ten minutes. Or while you are making dinner. Or right before you start to scream at the kids to get their damn shoes on (because you’ve only asked them to do it a dozen times already). Or even right after you have screamed at them so you can take the time to repair as needed.

Breath work can happen at any time.

And if we follow the logic up above, guided by quotes on tea bags, we can also connect to our soul, to the Divine at anytime.

Anytime. Not only at church. Or in the middle of the forest. Or by the edge of the ocean. But right now, sitting at this screen. We can each take in and release a breath, connecting to our body, to our Self, and holycrow, to the Divine too.

sacred self boardAbout a week ago I created the intuitive collage board for my Sacred Self program. When I sit down to create these collages, I just clear my head of all other thoughts except the program or project I want to focus on. Creating these boards helps me to find the core of what the program is to be about, helps to birth the program into the world, to make it something of substance instead of just something that is swirling around in my head. I sit down with magazines and scissors and thumb tacks and tear out and cut the images and phrases that speak most to me while I am thinking of the work to be done. I always feel a bit of a thrill as the images come together and the phrases start to take shape and the feel of the workshop or retreat is birthed into this world, on this bulletin board in front of me. Until recently I have never considered this to be the Divine speaking through me, but perhaps it is.

Perhaps there is more of the Divine and Sacred in the everyday than we realize. My daughter has been asking me about mermaids a lot lately. She’s at that age now where she tells me she wants to know The Truth and I see her fantastical world of fairies and dragons and Santa Claus starting to slip away. She asked me if mermaids were real. And I told her that no, they are not real. She responded with: “But the ocean is vast and deep and we haven’t explored most of it. So mermaids could very well be real and live in the parts of the ocean we haven’t explored yet.” I can’t argue with her logic.

Perhaps my daughter’s mother needs to remember it is okay to have faith in the unknown. Perhaps all of us could take a lesson in not needing everything to be cold facts and figures and to allow for a little magic, a little fairy dust, to enter back into our psyches. Perhaps we can open ourselves to the unknown and not shut it out because of fear.

Perhaps, everything is Sacred and part of the Divine. The budding flower. The falling leaf. The sunrise and sunset.

Maybe even those things we can’t see, like fairies hiding in the trees.  Like mermaids living in the ocean depths.

 

 

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Honoring your Self

For the last two years I have provided a free offering called Mindful Mantras, where each Sunday I send out a word or short phrase for the recipients to focus on during the week. I set up the emails each December, all 52 for the year, so that when I receive the Sunday prompt it’s a surprise for me too. I’m almost always amazed how those weekly words fit into my life and how they really do help give me focus. And it never fails that when I start to think I won’t offer the emails again the following year I start getting emails from other recipients telling me how much those single words and short phrases really help them.

I am reminded why I do this work. More importantly I am reminded that I simply need to do the work. It doesn’t matter if any one else appreciates it. And still, it is nice to get notes that say “What you do matters.”

I notice that when I get into my ruts of feeling like what I do doesn’t matter, that I don’t matter, a couple of things are going on. First there is likely a huge shift occurring within me: a layer is about shed or a new one is about to be born; I am transitioning from one way of being to another and the discomfort and dis-ease of process has me questioning All The Things.

In these times of discomfort and dis-ease I am reminded of the need to care for me: to stop; to be; to rest; to replenish. In the Unbecoming Circle this week is our week of rest and I am reminding each of the women of the importance of stopping, of giving permission, of allowing. The importance of accepting our Self. Of being. Being worthy and deserving and enough. And mostly, our simple existence means we matter.

Each of us have gifts to offer this world. We may or may not have the honor of knowing what these gifts are. We may or may not have the privilege of knowing when these gifts have been received by others. We may or may not have “special” gifts. But each and every one us is a gift to this world. We each matter. With out our existence the world would be a little duller, a little less.

We are each Sacred. Often I meet women and men who treat others with so much love and respect and completely dishonor themselves. They would give the shirt off their backs to another person in need, but won’t even stop to give themselves a cup of tea to enjoy. I hear the excuse over and over of there not being enough time; there is too much to do; They need me more; They are The priority. And I almost always respond with, All The Things can’t wait for ten minutes?

Sometimes people have the idea that self-care means taking hours and hours out of your day to nourish and replenish. It can mean that. I think all of us would enjoy that. And yet, self-care can be done in ten minute or less snippets throughout the day. Six ten minute breaks gives you an hour, and while yes, having that full hour all at once would be better, six ten minute breaks during our busiest times is better than not giving ourselves the rest we deserve.

Those breaks give us, and our gifts to the world, the chance to replenish, the chance to nourish, the chance to breathe and be. Those breaks remind ourselves that we are important, worthy and sacred. Those breaks show others that we are important, worthy and sacred and give them the space to honor their own importance, worthiness and sacredness.

I remind the women in my circles, and I include me in this, that we deserve to be taken care of. We deserve the little breaks and the extra effort. We deserve to be loved and honored and respected. This honoring and respecting needs to begin from within. We need to see our own beauty. We need to acknowledge that we are important, even if we aren’t exactly sure what our gifts are. It’s not really our business to know how we are making the world a better place. It is only our business to know that we do; that our existence makes the world brighter, more beautiful, more loving.

Honor yourself today. Recognize the truth that you matter; you are worthy; you are sacred. Give yourself the love and respect you would, and do, give to others. For ten minutes. All The Things can wait, trust me.

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Ebb & Flow: the Ritual of Self-Care

The last two nights my daughter and I have settled down before bed with a cup of ginger tea, some light snacks and watched an episode of Gilmore Girls. We’ve been watching GG for a while now (we’re on season 5) and she loves it (I watched it when it originally ran and loved it then too). It’s become our quiet girl time at the end of hectic toddler-centric chaotic days. Being in our new home, with it’s new set up, is giving us permission to start new routines and rituals; new ways of caring for ourselves and each other; new ways of being together.

As we settle more into our new home, we are settling back into some of our old routines and rituals, too. This weekend the office got more unpacked and out came the magazines and scissors and glue sticks and pushpins, along with the bulletin boards and blank journals. My girl and I each started new intuitive collage boards and she has been filling up her new “inspiration journal” with magazine cuttings and her own sketches.

I have been trying, and floundering a bit, to find my own ritual again with writing. Writing is my main form of self-care. Getting my thoughts out on the screen or page is so fulfilling for me and grounds me in a way that nothing else can. It allows me to empty my head so I can be more present and in my body. Stream of conscious writing allows me the space for insights and understanding, of myself, my children, and others.  I have tried many times, even before the move, to write at the end of the day, to empty my head so I can settle into sleep. And the truth is I am so depleted by the time I can get a few moments of quiet to gather my thoughts, that what I really need to simply zone out a bit: watch some TV, read a book, catch up on some blogs, text with friends. Each of those is also a form of self-care and each one helps to center and ground me in its own way, helping me to replenish and relax. They are my real end-of-day grounding, giving me that small break between the chaos of the day that has been and the chaos of bedtime that is to come. It gives me that needed time to replenish so that bedtime doesn’t end in meltdowns (mine) or screaming (mine) or tears (mine).  (It doesn’t guarantee they won’t meltdown or scream or cry, but it gives me the reserves to manage their emotions calmly and lovingly).

This morning the stars aligned and I am up before the toddler and sitting at the laptop and writing. As I was making my coffee my daughter awoke, came downstairs and got her own breakfast. We said our good-mornings and I came up to the office and started to write and then a few moments later she came in and grabbed her inspiration journal to draw in while she watches a YouTube video (or five). I am feeling this new ritual, of up before my toddler, being born and am thinking it may be time to start going to bed earlier so I can have these quiet mornings I so desperately need to start my days.

I am not a morning person, or really a night person either. I have always needed to come into the world slowly as I wake. At various points in my life I have been able to honor this, and at other times not so much. The last few days have been filled with intensity and meltdowns (mine and theirs) and exhaustion (mine and theirs) as we figure out how to function without naps during the day (over-tired toddler, over-wrought mama, over-stimulated almost-preteen). Yesterday, as I took little breaks to breathe, and then once my husband was home, a slightly longer break to replenish, I remembered again my desperate need to start the mornings on my terms, and not theirs.

I don’t have much control in the chaos of toddler and preteen life. The oddest things (to me) set either of them off into tears and frustration. I, of course, do my best to create an interesting life for the two of them, always playing with the ebb and flow of activity and downtime to meet their ever-changing needs. I can find myself so focused on creating a good life for them that I forget to create the pockets I need for my own well-being. As mamas this happens often, we get so hyper focused on creating the “perfect” (ha!) life for our children that we deplete ourselves and find ourselves unsatisfied and frustrated. This is what it is to be a parent in this modern age.

Yet, we need to remember to care for ourselves. The ebb and flow of focus on them and then on us is healthy and natural. Our children need to see us caring for ourselves so they can learn to do the same. They need to see us pursuing our passions so they will have the courage to do the same. They need to watch us set boundaries and give space for us to replenish ourselves, so as they grow older they know it is okay for them to do the same.

This is how we model self-care: not by taking care of them every moment of the day, but by slowing down and sometimes even stopping and taking care of ourselves, and allowing them to witness this ritual. It is in modeling for them this natural ebb and flow (sometimes I am focused on you and sometimes I need to be focused on me) that they learn it for themselves.

How do you take little breaks in your day to replenish and nourish yourself? How do you model self-care and self-love for your children? How do you create a fulfilling life for yourself?

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