How the Soul Speaks

How the Soul Speaks

Do you ever have one of those times when your reaction is nuts compared to the situation? I’m learning to pay attention to these over-reactions, for my soul is trying to tell me something that I might otherwise ignore or drown out.

Last week I was doing laundry and my dusting cloth fell in the small gap between the washer and the wall. I felt unreasonably frustrated by this tiny mishap. It was as if my psychic house of cards started to wobble and something deep inside of me recognized that I was in serious danger of losing control. I grabbed my daughter’s onesie pajamas and tried several times to cram them in the space and slowly pull them forward to drag the dusting cloth to where I could reach it before the washer drum finished filling.

Nothing. The damn cloth didn’t budge. I leaned awkwardly across the washer, refusing to quit on this rag, but when I sat up sharply I hit my head on the plastic container that holds grocery bags. All hell broke loose. It hurt like a mother and an overwhelming rage bubbled up and spilled out of me. My poor cats fled in the onslaught of such blue language. There I was, hopping around in my laundry room, rubbing my sore head and cussing the world and everyone in it.

How The Soul SpeaksI yelled. I swore. I bawled. I finally allowed my anger to have its way; to blow through me like a violent storm.

It had everything and nothing to do with the dusting cloth. This grief was a volcano, simmering safely until the internal temperature is finally too high and now the only option left is to explode. When we run from our feelings they find a way to get our attention. They bring us to our knees.

The pressure builds in us and then demands a release. I felt intense relief at the end of my tantrum (mixed in with gratitude that I was alone in the house except for my two surprised cats). I desperately needed to admit that I was not fine. I was hurting, engaging with my own despised human frailty; afraid, alone, angry as hell. It took a hard bump on the head to bring it all up and out so I could finally let go of it.

We can only control so much. Sometimes we reach the end of our desperate agenda. A “T” forms in our path and we must either hang on or let go. Getting honest about this is the first step, even if this looks like swearing and screeching in your basement. Especially then. It’s never easy to admit that it’s not all about you. As Rob Bell says, “There is something else going on here.”

I’m grateful for that dropped cloth and the subsequent bump on the head. When I calmed down I could sense that I was different in some hard-to-define but nonetheless true way. With a flash of insight, I saw that the broom handle would be the solution for my cloth. In two seconds, it was retrieved and placed in the washer, just in the nick of time.

Most of life is like this, provided we don’t catastrophize into the future. Staying in the present helps us find our solution and remain connected to our true selves so we can figure out what it is we actually need.

The Untethered Soul

The Untethered Soul

I just read The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer (thank you, Pam, for the recommendation!). The book blew my mind. As I turned each page, I felt something in my cells and molecules shift and rearrange. Reading it was a holy, beautiful experience.

Singer’s basic premise is this: we are not our psyche. We should be sitting in the seat of awareness; observing what happens, but not being personally involved with it. He talks about how energy is designed to move through us, but we block this healthy process by storing unpleasant emotions and they remain trapped inside of us. This keeps us living in the past, bound up inside by negative energy and fears.

He offers a better way: to feel emotions or notice thoughts as they come, but then relax your shoulders, breathe deep, and choose to let them pass through you. It’s just energy, and not personal to us (even if it may feel personal). This practice helps us learn to live in the present moment instead of remaining fixated on events from years ago or anxiety about what could go wrong in the future.

untetheredcoverI’ve been practicing this and I’m utterly amazed at the difference in how present I feel in any given moment. Life is not meant to be taken so personally. Shit will continue to happen to us. Small and large energy shifts will occur in us, where we feel unsettled, afraid, joyful, optimistic or angry. We can notice these feelings and name them, but the key is to let them go so they don’t stay trapped inside of us.

The same is true with thoughts. Our racing, fevered minds can get us into all kinds of trouble, but we don’t have to engage with the rabbit-trail our thoughts want to lead us on. We can simply observe the thought, “Oh man, I forgot to pick up the dry-cleaning and where in the world did I put that receipt I need for my taxes and the car needs more windshield washer fluid…” and then choose to let it go.

We are much more than our minds or our emotions. We have a higher consciousness, and it can only help to free us if we move beyond the confines of our frenzied thoughts and hyper-sensitive feelings.

The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself has offered me a new set of skills to practice. Whenever I start to feel worried or disturbed by the incessant chatter in my brain, I can observe from my seat of awareness and then allow the energy to pass through me. I don’t want anxiety about the dry cleaners or taxes or windshield washer fluid trapped inside of me for the rest of my days. No thank you!

I’m looking for peace and beauty and inspiration, not a prison of drudgery to whatever stress my mind or emotions can dream up for me. Making a conscious effort to be aware of my thoughts and feelings has anchored me to the present moment in an entirely fresh and real way. I love it. I’m so grateful for this brilliant book and recommend it to anyone and everyone.

What is Hard for You?

What is Hard for You?

We have a key jar (courtesy of our friends at Momastery) that we pull out at supper. In the key jar are a variety of open-ended questions designed to get us talking about more meaningful subjects. The kids love it and so do I (I’m pretty sure Jason tolerates it).

I’ve been thinking a lot about one of the recent questions Ava drew out and read: What is one thing that’s hard for you? A few of the answers around the table were “patience”, “being wrong” and “trying new things”. I said, “Watching people do stupid, mean or irresponsible things and not getting involved.”

Asking ourselves this question, “What is hard for you?” helps us get at our blind spots; those areas of weakness we paper over and pretend they aren’t there. Denial is a powerful force. It protects us from pain, but it also keeps us a prisoner of our own bullshit, making it impossible to move forward unless we summon enough courage to face it.

what is hard for youLetting air and light on our greatest areas of shame give us an invitation to grow. We begin to see where improvement is needed and this helps us outline what to work on in our daily lives. For me, I must practice letting go of any misguided notions of control. It’s egotistical for me to assume I know what’s best for someone else. I simply do not have that kind of reach, power or influence.

I must learn to stop obsessing or worrying about what other people are doing. It’s none of my business. If I am asked to help, I can decide at that point if I want to offer assistance. But if I am not asked (which is most of the time), I do not need to trouble myself with any swirling drama, chaos or fall-out from the life choices of other people.

It seems freeing to state it like that – a marvel of healthy boundaries. It’s not so clear-cut or easy to carry out in regular life. I get angry too fast over perceived injustices, frustrating parenting examples, a stranger’s rudeness in a store. Perhaps the only thing I can do is take a long, deep breath and clarify again that I am not the moral conscience of the universe.

As the recovery movement so succinctly declares: Let it begin with me. I must be the change I wish to see in the world. It’s obnoxious for me to tell other people what they are doing wrong, for after all, this is only my opinion and therefore highly subjective.

I rarely tell people how much they annoy me, which I can slot in the “win” column. But I lose too much of my energy, joy and peace thinking about situations that are not my direct responsibility. Bringing this up at dinner has clarified the need for me to put effort into this area.

Strengthening my boundaries is a worthwhile goal, so I can focus on my own priorities instead of worrying about messes and problems I had no hand in creating. Bringing these buried and dusty weaknesses to the light is a painful process, but it gives us a road map to follow when it comes to our own emotional health.

How about you? What is one thing that is hard for you?

Impermanence

Impermanence

Coming to terms with impermanence is a task for every living person. Nothing lasts. Try as we might, not one of us can hold onto anything or anyone. The days turn into years, our children grow up and away from us, and anticipated events and seasons pass and fade into memories.

The good news is that we can choose our attitude to the certainty of change and loss. It makes us better or it makes us worse. We grow or we resist growth. Both states are uncomfortable.

To be human is to be in a state of flux, with our feelings and the circumstances that comprise our days. We feel melancholy, then grateful, and occasionally suffused with unexplained joy. Our emotions ebb and flow like the tides, often surprising us with their force and power.

impermanenceI think the key is holding all of it loosely. So easy and healthy-sounding to write and so challenging to live out. I know that fighting the inevitable is useless. We can’t change the passing of time. All we can do is adapt to it by accepting that the process is bigger than we are. Each of us exists as a cog in a much larger wheel, stretching back into the past and extending far beyond us into the future.

And yet, impermanence itself leads us to gratitude for whatever is currently in front of us. When we stop running from the truth that our life on planet earth will not last forever, we can sweeten our experience of this particular day. It means more, because we only have a limited number of them to come.

This concept of time passing is more keenly profound in middle age. We are at the halfway point (if all goes according to plan), and we find ourselves astonished by how much of our life is already behind us. Then we look ahead, and we see old age in a way that seems much closer than it used to.

One of the hardest parts of living authentically is bravely facing up to these truths, instead of numbing them with food, alcohol, work, other people’s problems or the enormous time suck that is the internet. Being true to who we are involves recognizing that what we are building into will not last forever, but when we invest in those we love, we can pass those skills and securities to the next generation.

I’m attempting to focus on what brings the most meaning, to myself and to others, in the days and months ahead. How I define this will continue to shift and change, as I do, but it’s a helpful way to channel my energy into something positive and worthwhile. I hate to feel paralyzed by panic and fear at what I cannot control. I’m better off staring this anxiety straight in the face and stating, “I accept you, exactly as you are” and then going along my merry way with a lighter heart because I’ve addressed the darkness instead of ignoring it.

It’s a hallmark of dysfunction to feel isolated in our sadness, but when our sense of loss is part of our shared human experience, it helps a little to actually share it. To bare our souls with as much courage as we can muster, in the midst of our brokenness, and hear another say those healing words: “Me too.”

The load is lighter when others help us carry it. Nothing lasts forever, but as long as we are alive, we get to choose how to spend our time and who we share our lives with. And those choices determine the quality of our days, which matters a great deal.

The Ashes of Peace

The Ashes of Peace

I’d love for this world to make sense. For people to take responsibility when they mess up. To own it by naming it out loud and saying, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

So many things are out of our direct control. We can’t make anyone do anything. Not one of us can stop people’s rage and fear on the Internet right now over the refugee crisis. I long for kindness and weep at the vitriol I read and see. It’s agonizing to live in such a knee-jerk world; so hostile, fearful and rejecting.

I know that real change only comes from the inside. You can’t legislate it, mandate it or manipulate your way to it. Transformation blooms in the heart, watered by pain and loss. It’s always an inside job. Looking to the Internet for solace and compassion is a dead-end game. We must go inside for these valuable commodities, growing them like a garden, and drawing those we know, trust and love near to share them.

The ashes of peaceWriting these things is calming for me. It’s isolating to be sensitive at this time and place, with the world such a cruel mess. We are all capable of wounding each other. I must take responsibility for the awful things I say and do, extending mercy to myself as much as to others.

I crave certainty, honesty and beauty. Those qualities are in short supply right now, but when they are scarce we must breathe them to life in ourselves. We can make space for love, forgiveness and generosity, even if others are calling publicly for the opposite.

It’s time to slow down. To inhale and exhale. To stare out the window and pet the cat. To indulge in a chocolate bar. To feel reassured that tomorrow the sun will rise and we will all get another chance to do a little bit better.

It won’t be dark forever. We can learn to let go of what is not ours to own. We can blow on the ashes of peace in our soul and try to ignite them back into flame. We can do only what we can do to lighten up the darkness and bring hope to those who feel hopeless.