Deal with Crazy by Finding Safety
Bridging Gaps #3
Here’s something about me you might not know: I am protective of my people. By my people, I mean those I am connected to including my family, my friends, my clients — in short, people like you. And when one of my people is threatened, I get a little crazy.
It’s this crazy that I have been dealing with the last couple of weeks. When someone threatens me and mine with tons of moving steel in the form of a car and turns our car into a smashed tin can, I get a little crazy. (This actually happened back the end of September. Read more here.)
Not only crazy, I get worried, fearful, anxious, angry, jumpy, nervous and very mistrustful. When the unexpected happens in a bad kind of way, we all get our crazy going. It’s a natural human reaction and a reaction that can be hard to understand, hard to get a hold of.
My chiropractor told me that part of the natural reaction in the face of trauma is to literally let go of your body — to let your awareness flow from your body so that you are no longer consciously aware of your feelings, especially the painful ones. I am living testimony to the truth of this. Several weeks ago, I came to the awareness that something wasn’t right. I could not feel any connection to my body and very little to the thoughts in my mind. Everything got really hard to do, I could barely concentrate on any one thing at a time, much less a day full of seemingly simple tasks like getting dressed, taking a shower, brushing my teeth — though the eating part was fully functioning!!
Somewhere in the fog, I decided that the best thing for me to do was find where I felt safe and go from there. I literally let go of everything including phone calls, email, writing, contacting others. If I could not easily figure out a way to do whatever, I let it go. This was not easy for me. I want to be reliable and highly productive. I want to excel at what I do and anything less than my stilted view of perfection is failure. But I did not feel safe and I did not feel all there/here. I felt that until I could find safety, I wasn’t going to be doing much anyway. And the only place that felt safe is the one where I was not forcing myself to do what didn’t feel right to do. I spent several days just watching TV and going to doctors’ appointments. I spent several more days just letting go. Then I spent a couple more days realizing some more how much I wasn’t fully present. I thought that I had already done this when the car accident first happened. But apparently not enough because here I was again, letting go, looking for safety, looking for me.
Now I am feeling a little more here. I feel a little better at keeping myself present. There is a part of me that is the same ole’ me. But there is another part of me that realizes the old me is doing new things and that a new part of me is emerging and doing some of the same old in a new way. Like a recurring theme, I am realizing just how much my expectations can trip me up and how much my old stories are begging to be let go if I will. I feel safety in letting go of anything I tell myself about what this is all about. I am not finished with the journey, I can only see one step at a time, and I feel that I will follow the road where it leads.
I write this because I think that we all encounter traumatic events where we get crazy from the threat to our people and to ourselves. It’s hard because there is so much commotion inside and out. It’s hard because some of our protective mechanisms after a while just get in the way of getting past the crazy.
So if you find yourself facing your crazy, my best advice is to answer this question for yourself: Where’s safety? Then move to safety and go from there. Your sense of safe helps tone the crazy and allows you to bring you back in. When you feel safe, you begin to connect yourself to your inner power and the place you can begin to let go.
My second bit is a reminder: sometimes getting past crazy is a full-time job. Allow yourself time. Allow yourself some confusion. Allow yourself room for the fog to clear.
That’s all I got right now.
In Joy!
Cheryl
What keeps you from doing what you want to do?
Bridging Gaps #2
In late September, my daughter and I were in a car accident. The car was totaled; we walked away feeling pretty battered and, thankfully with some awesome healing attention, we will get fully back on track with in the next couple of months. As I stood there looking at our ruined car, I kept having the words to an old Elton John song run through my head. Someone saved my life tonight – thank you dear!
When I scurry through all the woulda-coulda-shouldas, events coulda been much, much worse. What I know for certain is this: the quick thinking of my driver daughter saved me from a world of hurt. She is definitely the one I thank! And as we stood there taking in the wreck, she said to me, “Mom, deep breath. Now let go of whatever does not serve you.” (Isn’t it amazing when your kids reflect your words back at you just at the right moment!)
This event is why I didn’t send out my weekly newsletter last week. I already had it half written in my head but I’ve decided to save it for next week. Instead, what’s been on my mind since that evening is this question: What keeps me from doing what I want to do?
It’s actually something that has been rolling around for some time, years in fact. Especially as a whole pile of stuff I promised myself I would get done last week was still languishing as I filled my day with insurance adjustor calls and filing DMV reports.
I think we all get that life shows up with the unexpected usually when it is the least expected. How we act, react, and create within this unexpected is always interesting. And probably very insightful into the deeper, perhaps more truthful, parts of our hearts and minds. I had to really struggle to let myself rest, let myself choose to let go of what didn’t serve me in the moment. I was pushed by the sense that somehow I owed it to myself to keep my commitments to myself even in the face of the unexpected.
No, I decided, what I owe myself is to respond to the call of my heart, to the truth of this moment. Resting on the couch, allowing the pain and anger to rise and move on — that’s what I felt was truth. When I let go of my expectations on myself for perfect action always, I found that I could relax a bit and allow my body to be guided by its own inner wisdom toward shift and balance. Yes, I have broken commitments made before the unexpected that I have and will attend to. And yes, my week did not go anywhere as planned. But isn’t that both the joy and the challenge of life, figuring out how to deal with the unexpected?
Which is why I think that this question came up: What keeps me from doing what I want to do? And what I was reminded of as I tussled with myself on the couch about my inaction — well, I was reminded of expectations. More often than not, it is what I unrealistically expect of myself at any moment that gets in my way. My expectations like to make me think that I have somehow failed miserably. And my expectations gather power as they get wound up in the stories I tell myself about who and what I am and am not.
But, I have also found it to be true that if I am not doing what I want to, I only have myself to consider. Yet when I look at it deeper, I realize that I often set myself up for heartache because of expectations I set in place before the unexpected happened. With this realization, I find that the only way past the pain is through it by looking at what expectations are holding me frozen. Then I do as my daughter reminded me. Guided by my sense of truth in this moment, I let go of what no longer serves, freeing myself to do what I truthfully know I need to do now.
It’s hard to stay in the flow in the face of the unexpected. But it makes no sense to try to swim in a dry river bed. Letting go of what no longer serves helps me to know when to change rivers.
So, what keeps you from doing what you want to do?
In Joy!
Cheryl
Bridging Gaps to Wholeness
Bridging Gaps, #1
It’s easy to feel that you are not worthy, to have your self-confidence challenged. I use to blindly react to these confrontations, either by striking out or by beating myself up — or both. But once I started understanding my gaps, I found that I was able to get in front of the blind reaction sooner. I found that I could exert some self-control and actually make choices outside of the hot-headed response of unworthiness. By looking at my gaps, I found a new confidence and a new set of opportunities for how I lived my life.
What’s a Gap?
Gaps are holes in our wholeness. Gaps are realizations that balance is shaky or missing. Where you wonder if something about yourself needs adjustment, shift or change. Gaps originate from and are part of the human experience. We all have gaps.
How do you recognize your gaps?
You know a gap by how you feel inside. You feel a gap when the metaphorical band-aid doesn’t stretch far enough. Like a zipper on an old pair of pants which no longer is able to close the two sides, leaving a gap. Gaps can feel like holes or tears, like raw edges and cliffs before the abyss. Sometimes you know why the gap is there and sometimes you don’t. Essentially, Gaps are the sense that our wholeness is not complete.
What is Wholeness?
In contrast, wholeness is feeling complete, in balance, prepared to consider or take your next step. Wholeness has no need to fight or bicker, no need to judge or attack.
Anatomy of a Gap
Once we start taking a look at our gaps, we can begin to develop a process for bridging our gaps. To get going, we need to know what we are dealing with.
1. The Gap Glue:
A Gap is held in place by old stories you tell about yourself which no longer serve you. Gaps are held in place by assumptions and judgments, by fear and blame.
2. The Gap Surprise:
Every gap has a gift, a gift of awareness, an opportunity to see from a new perspective. The amazing thing is that your awareness of your gap will help you figure out the surprise held within a Gap.
3. The Gap Shift:
When you get a glimpse of the glue and the surprise, you open yourself to the opportunity of the shift. Every gap offers the possibility to shift into a new awareness and new understanding about yourself, your life and your path.
Bridging Gaps
The problem with gaps is that they keep us stuck in the same old, repeating what didn’t work the first time around and certainly won’t work now. Gaps get in the way of making new choices, walking new paths. Gaps can make us afraid of change. Gaps would rather us not feel whole. When you find a way through your gaps, a way to connect to the wholeness of your experience, you can cross a bridge and move on in a new direction.
To get started on this process with your gaps, here is a set of four question designed to help you begin to bridge your gaps.
1. Identify your gap:
Where or how do you feel less than whole?
2. Find the glue:
How does this gap stand in my way?
3. Uncover the gift:
What can I learn from my gap which will help me feel whole?
4. Claim the shift:
Affirm: I let go of this that stands in my way. I claim the gifts of my gap.
Ask: Now, what can I do in my life? What is my next step?
Give yourself time to consider and reflect. Some gaps just need a brief glance to understand, some need a lot more attention. Some gaps you can look at yourself and sometimes you need help looking. Either way, giving yourself the opportunity to find the bridge allows you a new view on your life. Bridging gaps is about opening to new possibilities and new perspectives.
Let me know how it goes!
In Joy!
Cheryl
The Difficult Path
No free lunches vs. No need to die trying. Which is it?
We tend to bounce between two extremes. On one hand, we want the easy way: please, just tell me what to do! And on the other hand, we excel in making everything so hard that we never get anywhere. A vicious circle. Fortunately an alternative point of view is available.
The Difficult Path is the path where you are willing to find the middle ground, the point where there is no resistance to moving forward but you also do not find yourself sliding off into the other side of the easy-peasy fix of instant gratification.
I call it the Difficult Path because at first glance you don’t immediately know the answer. You will need to find within yourself the necessary motion to move beyond “I don’t know” into a process of reflection and consideration where you allow your knowing to make its way into your awareness. This is difficult because you will find other flows — like your ego — which will push you to take the easy way. This path is difficult because, instead of being distracted by these contrary flows, you are going to need some time to allow the answer to come to you.
The Difficult Path requires that you show up in your own life and take a hard look at yourself. You look where you can. You ask: Am I perpetuating self-deception at some level?
The Difficult Path also requires that you commit yourself to noticing where you push yourself beyond your truth into punishment for not being perfect. And it takes time to learn to trust yourself to realize the difference between too much and too little. The hard part is that as you move along your path, this middle road shifts and will not be in the same position even from day to day.
The Difficult Path lets go of the demand for NOW and focuses instead on the feeling of truth in this moment. The push of NOW can override your sense of truth. Noticing where you push yourself will help you realize when NOW becomes the domineering captain of your ship.
The Difficult Path can be lonely and the rewards intangible. But when you allow yourself the opportunity to explore and reflect, you open a gap between your experience and blind reaction. The gap allows you to focus on the possibility of your choice while encouraging you to create a new way of BE-ing.
Today is not about getting IT right. Today is about what is truth for you now. The Difficult Path follows this truth and helps you find IT within your heart and the actions of your life.
The affirmation of the Difficult Path:
I claim my Difficult Path as my flow of truth,
releasing what no longer serves me,
embracing All in balance with my BE-ing.
We are complete.
In Joy!
Cheryl
Quiet Motion
As you might know, I lived in Japan for a while and learned to speak Japanese. There is a word that I have always been intrigued by which comes to mind right now.
Nigiyakana means lively, bustling, noisy, like the busy office or crowded party. There is motion and lots of it in all directions. Voices are eager, emotions are high, and the energy can be intense. So intense that Nigiyakana can sometimes move into overload, a bustling, noisy rattle in your awareness that can be overwhelming. Nigiyakana in my head is not always a good thing. Nigiyakana can be too much, like an eggbeater in my brain where lively may become a deadening mess.
In contrast, I also am intrigued by another word: Shizuka. Shizuka is stillness, quiet, peace. Shizukano tokoro is the quiet place, the point of calm. In my head, Shizuka feels comfortable and safe. Oddly, it is not necessarily a place of no motion. In my head, Shizuka is the point where I can witness the motion of me inside and out. In my head, Shizuka is the opposite of Nigiyakana.
One way of describing life is to acknowledge life’s shift between the bustling, sometimes exciting, sometimes burdensome, motion on the one hand, and moments of tranquility which can witness balance and clarity. Bouncing between a flurry of motion and the calmness of quiet, life can seem to be both distraction and focus, uproar and serenity, trivial and substantial.
Though I tend toward moving away from Nigiyakana whether it is in my environment or just in my head, I have realized that part of this busy motion is a drawing in of an abundance of potential. Nigiyakana is offering me possibility. However, my job is not to figure out all the motion. My job is to learn to focus on what works for me in this moment. My job is to find the point of Shizuka, the point where I can give attention to the one motion needed by me now.
I am deceiving myself if I think that the only place to witness my motion is in the stillness. My challenge is learn to witness all of me in all moments. Learning to witness when there are fewer distractions helps me develop the skill and the awareness to not be so picky on when and where I get who I am in this moment and how I want to live now, in this moment.
Shizuka offers the gift of awareness and Nigiyakana offers the gift of discernment. Both offer me the opportunity to find quiet in the noise and my sound in the stillness. I hear because I can feel in all places the motion of my truth. What I learn in this moment, guides me to my next moment with its infinite and eternal possibility. I hear the mountain and begin my journey.
In Joy!
Cheryl
