I wrote the years ago, on 4/25/08, yet there is so much truth that still floods through the words...
Life is not a destination, but a journey; yet, every journey begins with a clear objective reflecting at the end. The end culminates as an achievement, success, or simply an end. Ends can be negative or positive, or, more importantly, beginnings. how, one might ask, does an end constitute a beginning? The answer comes in the form of the journey itself.
Despite our destinations and how they vary from others, every journey gains momentum with the same energy: a spiritual leap of faith. Consider these ideas:
- working (16) hours a day @ one's job will result in a raise and promotion
- getting accepted into law school, or medical school, or secretarial school will result in increased occupational success
- giving enough of one's self without condition and loving with a pure heart will reap the same
All of these ideas are plausible, with each end possible. The reality, however, is we don't know how it will conclude, or even that we'll want it when we get there. Instead, we move forward on the faith that moving is better than being stagnant, and change is better than regret.
My journey began in an open field. From the time my thick little legs could balance me, I ran full-throttle across the field into the unknown. Speculation, estimation, and consequence were overridden by determination and "knowing." As the years passed and the cynicism of the world wept into my sking through to my heart, I noticed the horizon shift. I found myself pushing as hard, working as hard, believing as much, and giving as much, but my energy and progress became noticably less. The horizon that was once flat became complicated and full of obstacles. The open field combined with the damp, destructive force of cynicism began to saturate the earth below my feet. The green grass and trees mutated into thick brush, impenetrable at times, but never impassable. The change in atmosphere coupled with the change in terrain brought with it significant negative energy. There have been times as I've waded through the thorns, bristle, and muck that the clairty I was seeking shown as a glint amongst the branches. At these moments, I saw that to pass the final obstacle would take me to an opportunity. This opportunity would soon pattern with the obstacle, emerging at critical moments when change was not only imminent, but necessary. I have come to call this convergence of patterning crossroads.
Crossroads are interesting. They serve as significant indicators. They are also unpredictable. You see, there is no guide at the crossroads. At times, the obvious is contrary to the origianl destination. Yet, every crossroads bears a profound influence, regardless of the direction chosen. I do wish they came with a pondering bench and travel brochures..."To the left, you will find a dank, sweltering desert with miles of endless mirages to entertain your thoughts, and to the right, you will discover your truest self...." Instead, you are challenged with the unknown. This above all invokes fear and can stall even the most stealth adn formidable of travelers.
Today, I find myself at a life-altering, irrevocable crossroads. To take it means I leave my present behind. Ironically, I feel as though on this crossroads, I've already been. The path I last chose had me leaving where I am again headed, hurting people I love the second time around as I did the first. The difference is thsi time I see the path. I must continue my journey with lessons learned. I know this path will again diverge. I only hope, as the poem declares, to "take the one less traveled on." I search for growth and knowledge and must not wait for it to find me. I would be forever lost, as I know today where it awaits..I see the glint of shining seeping through the cracks.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Unintended time travel
I started my day in a zone where I was full of astute realizations...the kind that make you say, "Oh, duh!" I like those moments. They force me to look deeper into why I may have missed something so "obvious." The answer occurred to me in the most simple and knowing terms...we get in those not closest to us what we miss in those we most wish to understand. Huh? Yeah. Same vein as treating those closest to us the worst. This is perplexing behavior on the surface, but under the veil of disguise is a pretty simple understanding. To stay on point with the former, the disguise is that we believe we are viewing those closest with the same objective lense we view others...and ourselves. Surely if we care deeply about someone, we will most certainly and generously view their circumstances, behavior, or past with the same non-judgemental understanding and acceptance as we would an aquaintance or stranger. Wouldn't we? I thought I did. I didn't.
I am a root girl. I like to keep digging for the root of a problem, a behavior, a complication, a blemish. I don't look for the root because I enjoy excavation. Although, I am certainly not deterred by getting dirty and working hard. I look for the root because when I find it, I suddenly discover an illuminated view that was obscured by layers of protection. When I am seeking this root within, the excavation is different. There is a manner in which I am able to hold tight to the role of victim while championing my way to the core...at least, I used to journey that way. That victim role is a security blanket. If I am a victim, I don't have to be accountable for how I behave or respond as a result of. So, to protect my core, displacing responsibility for my actions was a learned defense and coping skill. I am grateful to have learned to recognize that this is not beneficial to my overall healing and recovery. Seeking the root outside is a whole different journey. I am only now discovering this.
I have had a number of folks in my world who have encountered life experiences that I cannot begin to comprehend. The depth of my empathy for them is immeasurable, as I have witnessed and experienced the effects of the experiences. Profound, traumatic, emotionally dismantling, and psychologically destructive events have created a survivors' path that only those wearing the shoes can define. Childhood molestation, physical abuse, psychological family warfare, manipulation, secrecy, lying, hiding...the created coping skills and defense mechanisms for these and similar examples are quite literally the things movies are made of. Yet, they are real life. People dwell in the complexities of their experiences. They adhere to them, they influence & distort their present reality, they immobilize their growth. I know for myself, I had to one day acknowledge and accept that my coping and defenses that were appropriate at the time they were developed no longer held a healthy place in a world where I am no longer suffering the same experiences. What I had not applied was the magnitude to which I was not offering the same consideration to others. And in seeing this, I became aware that I hadn't even known I was judging that which I have no right to interpret, let alone judge.
The questions start with benign inquiry in my own thoughts... "I don't understand...," or "Why can't s/he see...," or worse, "I would never...". The last one is the most insulting doozy...I don't know if I would ever, because i didn't have to find out. When questions reflect the interpretation of another's view, when they start with the "if only" inference, or place the blame of knowledge that only detached insight can often provide, I clearly have ventured into territory I do not belong. As spiritually egocentric human beings, we are molded to be all-knowing to the insult and injury of another. It's why we fight to be right, to win, to stand alone and above. I speak of compassion, of understanding, and of empathy. To many degrees, I live what I speak. But I get lost. I get stuck. And most often, it is through lenses that are clouded by inappropriate and unclaimed emotions that are the muck to which I stick and in which I can drown. I can be unforgiving of things that have never had one thing to do with me, of things for which I feel I pay a price for others misdeeds. I punish the idea of a past memory or event. I judge the character of those who perpetrated their ill-driven behaviors. I don't allow for maturity, wisdom, lessons learned, or the potential for change. I deflect blame for those who are arrested in a period of distress, who still harbor the effects and destructive behaviors to cope. I devalue the impact, the damage, the scarring by excusing it. I feel justified in speaking ill against those who caused such destruction. And it doesn't have anything to do with me. Except it does.
In my egocentric wrapping, I believe everything has to do with me. What they did makes you behave and treat me the way you do. Oops. Guess where clarity comes in? The same ego that allowed me to become a victim to my past has now allowed me to become a victim to your past. Your is the greater plural. Your is anyone, everyone. If you treat me badly and I care about you, that isn't your fault, and it isn't my fault. We are both victims of what you have endured. And today, in this moment, with this realization and understanding, I have to call bullshit. I make choices to allow myself to be treated in any way. If I lay boundaries on what I will accept, I give you the opportunity to live authentically in my life as I will in yours. But if I make excuses, and distract, and defer, I allow us both to live in the shadows of the past. I volunteer to travel back with you, instead of inviting you to a healthy present. And then, I blame your past for making me a part of the storyline.
This whole realization comes down to one simple truth. I am what I allow, what I accept, and what I invite. I have spent a lifetime inviting others' pasts to be my present. This has caused significant complications that I never realized. I am continuously amazed to be reminded that for every projected fault I see outside of myself, I really am seeing my unresolved behaviors reflecting back, taunting me to acknowledge where the blame of action truly lies...within. Ugh. This whole growing up to be a healthy adult is hard. But more so, completely worth it.
I am a root girl. I like to keep digging for the root of a problem, a behavior, a complication, a blemish. I don't look for the root because I enjoy excavation. Although, I am certainly not deterred by getting dirty and working hard. I look for the root because when I find it, I suddenly discover an illuminated view that was obscured by layers of protection. When I am seeking this root within, the excavation is different. There is a manner in which I am able to hold tight to the role of victim while championing my way to the core...at least, I used to journey that way. That victim role is a security blanket. If I am a victim, I don't have to be accountable for how I behave or respond as a result of. So, to protect my core, displacing responsibility for my actions was a learned defense and coping skill. I am grateful to have learned to recognize that this is not beneficial to my overall healing and recovery. Seeking the root outside is a whole different journey. I am only now discovering this.
I have had a number of folks in my world who have encountered life experiences that I cannot begin to comprehend. The depth of my empathy for them is immeasurable, as I have witnessed and experienced the effects of the experiences. Profound, traumatic, emotionally dismantling, and psychologically destructive events have created a survivors' path that only those wearing the shoes can define. Childhood molestation, physical abuse, psychological family warfare, manipulation, secrecy, lying, hiding...the created coping skills and defense mechanisms for these and similar examples are quite literally the things movies are made of. Yet, they are real life. People dwell in the complexities of their experiences. They adhere to them, they influence & distort their present reality, they immobilize their growth. I know for myself, I had to one day acknowledge and accept that my coping and defenses that were appropriate at the time they were developed no longer held a healthy place in a world where I am no longer suffering the same experiences. What I had not applied was the magnitude to which I was not offering the same consideration to others. And in seeing this, I became aware that I hadn't even known I was judging that which I have no right to interpret, let alone judge.
The questions start with benign inquiry in my own thoughts... "I don't understand...," or "Why can't s/he see...," or worse, "I would never...". The last one is the most insulting doozy...I don't know if I would ever, because i didn't have to find out. When questions reflect the interpretation of another's view, when they start with the "if only" inference, or place the blame of knowledge that only detached insight can often provide, I clearly have ventured into territory I do not belong. As spiritually egocentric human beings, we are molded to be all-knowing to the insult and injury of another. It's why we fight to be right, to win, to stand alone and above. I speak of compassion, of understanding, and of empathy. To many degrees, I live what I speak. But I get lost. I get stuck. And most often, it is through lenses that are clouded by inappropriate and unclaimed emotions that are the muck to which I stick and in which I can drown. I can be unforgiving of things that have never had one thing to do with me, of things for which I feel I pay a price for others misdeeds. I punish the idea of a past memory or event. I judge the character of those who perpetrated their ill-driven behaviors. I don't allow for maturity, wisdom, lessons learned, or the potential for change. I deflect blame for those who are arrested in a period of distress, who still harbor the effects and destructive behaviors to cope. I devalue the impact, the damage, the scarring by excusing it. I feel justified in speaking ill against those who caused such destruction. And it doesn't have anything to do with me. Except it does.
In my egocentric wrapping, I believe everything has to do with me. What they did makes you behave and treat me the way you do. Oops. Guess where clarity comes in? The same ego that allowed me to become a victim to my past has now allowed me to become a victim to your past. Your is the greater plural. Your is anyone, everyone. If you treat me badly and I care about you, that isn't your fault, and it isn't my fault. We are both victims of what you have endured. And today, in this moment, with this realization and understanding, I have to call bullshit. I make choices to allow myself to be treated in any way. If I lay boundaries on what I will accept, I give you the opportunity to live authentically in my life as I will in yours. But if I make excuses, and distract, and defer, I allow us both to live in the shadows of the past. I volunteer to travel back with you, instead of inviting you to a healthy present. And then, I blame your past for making me a part of the storyline.
This whole realization comes down to one simple truth. I am what I allow, what I accept, and what I invite. I have spent a lifetime inviting others' pasts to be my present. This has caused significant complications that I never realized. I am continuously amazed to be reminded that for every projected fault I see outside of myself, I really am seeing my unresolved behaviors reflecting back, taunting me to acknowledge where the blame of action truly lies...within. Ugh. This whole growing up to be a healthy adult is hard. But more so, completely worth it.
Friday, August 1, 2014
The art of "OH!" Helping is a good thing.
Ya know, sometimes life has a way of whacking you upside the head and forces you to observe how a seemingly harmless and factual comment can impact someone else's perception. This happened a couple days ago, but only really settled into my consciousness today. I am really deeply moved by the understandings that have come to the forefront. While part of me will need to have a conversation with the other person involved regarding said perception, I also have to explore my own understanding.
Two days ago, someone very important to me said that asking me for help was a really big step. My response was to say, unintentionally flippantly, that she asks for help all the time...has for a long time. The following day, we discussed a situation for which I had offered to help. It was a two-fold offer. First, I genuinely wanted to be part of the process and be both holistically and monetarily invested. Second, being invested make me feel closer to the subject, more involved and a part of something outside of myself. There were selfish components, but overall, the offer had no expectations and no strings. Yesterday evening, what had been agreed upon was revealed to have not occurred. In addition, a prior agreement was also withdrawn from the table. Completely perplexed and with no input regarding the situations, all I could do was let it go.
Later that evening, a very brief conversation occurred in which the statement was made for not wanting me to be taken advantage of. I let the conversation lapse relatively quick, as there was a sense that I had more to uncover within myself before I could more fully explore this topic.
Thankfully, my revelations came swiftly and with perfect clarity. The following are what I have uncovered.
1. I also struggle a great deal with asking for help. The reasons vary, but largely reflect a fear of appearing weak, not in control, incapable of handling my own affairs, and an awareness of imposing on someone else. A lot of these had a shift in perspective for me with this situation. I have always understood that people on both sides of a helping task are rewarded. The term I found to best encompass this view is interdependence, and the definition most fitting is, "2.with mutually dependent elements: relying on mutual assistance, support, cooperation, or interaction among constituent parts or members." My unwillingness to ask for help was not only restrictive for my own wellbeing, but also for those who would gain their own benefits. I was denying others the opportunity to understand the depth of my trust and belief in them.
2. What I realized next was profound, at least for me. I realized that unwillingness (I keep wanting to write inability, but not asking is a conscious choice, not a lack of ability) is the bottom plateau of a hierarchy. When I picture it in my head, I see arrows...one thing leading to another. It looks like this... Ego - > pride - > fear - > not asking for help - > safety. The root cause leads back to a conditioned ego that has been taught how to be independent and self-sufficient, to use judgement and fear to deter interdependence, and to provide a false sense of self and inner-strength. We hold on so tight to this conditioning, because as a society, we are born to be this. But then I consider how many other cultures operate from a platform of collectivism. They function within a community as a community, being a family of (2), a church of all pews filled, a neighborhood, a school, however they gather, they are interdependent. In this, I realize that we are all interdependent. And so in being, we are always functioning from the reciprocal give and take of helping. From a most fundamental level, we are even interdependent with our earth. This is the reason we as a human population have concerns regarding global warming, extinction, the world of re's (recycle, reuse, reduce, repurpose, etc). If I remove a piece of trash from a river, I have helped by the act of doing to influence the natural balance of the waters. The river didn't ask. I didn't offer. It just was what needed to be done. And so to can we look at helping each other.
3. This brings me to number three, and the most relevant of my understanding pertaining to my conversation. It is an awareness. A glaringly bright, much needed awareness. It is also about letting go, and realizing when I am not doing quite as well with this as I strive. But in the same vein, it is also about reframing. You see, I wasn't wrong. There has been tremendous amounts of help interchanged. But it came from such a pure and selfless place, and much of it was never vocalized as a request, that it never was catalogued as such. I think that may be why we both were so surprised by the other. For me, there was a deeply entrenched interdependence. The links became worn and untended, but they were there. Now the links are being polished and fixed. Broken pieces are being repaired, or where necessary, replaced with newer and stronger links. The old links are put in a container. They no longer serve a purpose for this new leg of the journey, but they are reminders of where I can end up if I am not authentic and pure in my offerings. From the other side, I imagine my words sounded almost chastizing, or judgemental. They were not in any way either of those things. They were reality. They were fact. And in the most genuine form, they were evidence that interdependence between two people who trust one another can occur with neither having to discuss it. This was important to me, as well. I think discussing it is necessary. I believe that for me to have effective, healthy, balanced relationships, acknowledging where each person stands throughout the course of time is necessary. Are you getting what you want and need? Are you feeling valued and appreciated? Am I getting what I want and need? Am I feeling valued and appreciated? These need to be asked outloud to each other. If any or all answers no, the time to repair what is not in balance can be addressed before any negativity has a chance to latch on. Negativity is much like a parasite and we are the hosts. If we don't protect our shells, our boundaries, and our health, we are vulnerable to being infused with parasitic negativity, the destructor of all that is meant for our lives. It seems so simple. It makes so much sense. And yet, we struggle.
These three lessons have emboldened my understanding and rebooted my faith recognizing how I can misrepresent my own needs, and the ripple effect that has on the world around me. Likewise, I also recognize that by not monitoring how I say something, or taking into account a reference point for what I am saying, I am likely to open a rabbit hole of unnecessary travel. I am responsible for these actions. I am responsible for my words. And I accept that responsibility.
Two days ago, someone very important to me said that asking me for help was a really big step. My response was to say, unintentionally flippantly, that she asks for help all the time...has for a long time. The following day, we discussed a situation for which I had offered to help. It was a two-fold offer. First, I genuinely wanted to be part of the process and be both holistically and monetarily invested. Second, being invested make me feel closer to the subject, more involved and a part of something outside of myself. There were selfish components, but overall, the offer had no expectations and no strings. Yesterday evening, what had been agreed upon was revealed to have not occurred. In addition, a prior agreement was also withdrawn from the table. Completely perplexed and with no input regarding the situations, all I could do was let it go.
Later that evening, a very brief conversation occurred in which the statement was made for not wanting me to be taken advantage of. I let the conversation lapse relatively quick, as there was a sense that I had more to uncover within myself before I could more fully explore this topic.
Thankfully, my revelations came swiftly and with perfect clarity. The following are what I have uncovered.
1. I also struggle a great deal with asking for help. The reasons vary, but largely reflect a fear of appearing weak, not in control, incapable of handling my own affairs, and an awareness of imposing on someone else. A lot of these had a shift in perspective for me with this situation. I have always understood that people on both sides of a helping task are rewarded. The term I found to best encompass this view is interdependence, and the definition most fitting is, "2.with mutually dependent elements: relying on mutual assistance, support, cooperation, or interaction among constituent parts or members." My unwillingness to ask for help was not only restrictive for my own wellbeing, but also for those who would gain their own benefits. I was denying others the opportunity to understand the depth of my trust and belief in them.
2. What I realized next was profound, at least for me. I realized that unwillingness (I keep wanting to write inability, but not asking is a conscious choice, not a lack of ability) is the bottom plateau of a hierarchy. When I picture it in my head, I see arrows...one thing leading to another. It looks like this... Ego - > pride - > fear - > not asking for help - > safety. The root cause leads back to a conditioned ego that has been taught how to be independent and self-sufficient, to use judgement and fear to deter interdependence, and to provide a false sense of self and inner-strength. We hold on so tight to this conditioning, because as a society, we are born to be this. But then I consider how many other cultures operate from a platform of collectivism. They function within a community as a community, being a family of (2), a church of all pews filled, a neighborhood, a school, however they gather, they are interdependent. In this, I realize that we are all interdependent. And so in being, we are always functioning from the reciprocal give and take of helping. From a most fundamental level, we are even interdependent with our earth. This is the reason we as a human population have concerns regarding global warming, extinction, the world of re's (recycle, reuse, reduce, repurpose, etc). If I remove a piece of trash from a river, I have helped by the act of doing to influence the natural balance of the waters. The river didn't ask. I didn't offer. It just was what needed to be done. And so to can we look at helping each other.
3. This brings me to number three, and the most relevant of my understanding pertaining to my conversation. It is an awareness. A glaringly bright, much needed awareness. It is also about letting go, and realizing when I am not doing quite as well with this as I strive. But in the same vein, it is also about reframing. You see, I wasn't wrong. There has been tremendous amounts of help interchanged. But it came from such a pure and selfless place, and much of it was never vocalized as a request, that it never was catalogued as such. I think that may be why we both were so surprised by the other. For me, there was a deeply entrenched interdependence. The links became worn and untended, but they were there. Now the links are being polished and fixed. Broken pieces are being repaired, or where necessary, replaced with newer and stronger links. The old links are put in a container. They no longer serve a purpose for this new leg of the journey, but they are reminders of where I can end up if I am not authentic and pure in my offerings. From the other side, I imagine my words sounded almost chastizing, or judgemental. They were not in any way either of those things. They were reality. They were fact. And in the most genuine form, they were evidence that interdependence between two people who trust one another can occur with neither having to discuss it. This was important to me, as well. I think discussing it is necessary. I believe that for me to have effective, healthy, balanced relationships, acknowledging where each person stands throughout the course of time is necessary. Are you getting what you want and need? Are you feeling valued and appreciated? Am I getting what I want and need? Am I feeling valued and appreciated? These need to be asked outloud to each other. If any or all answers no, the time to repair what is not in balance can be addressed before any negativity has a chance to latch on. Negativity is much like a parasite and we are the hosts. If we don't protect our shells, our boundaries, and our health, we are vulnerable to being infused with parasitic negativity, the destructor of all that is meant for our lives. It seems so simple. It makes so much sense. And yet, we struggle.
These three lessons have emboldened my understanding and rebooted my faith recognizing how I can misrepresent my own needs, and the ripple effect that has on the world around me. Likewise, I also recognize that by not monitoring how I say something, or taking into account a reference point for what I am saying, I am likely to open a rabbit hole of unnecessary travel. I am responsible for these actions. I am responsible for my words. And I accept that responsibility.
Friday, July 18, 2014
The trail to 44...
On July 16, 2014, I took to the trails with the simple intent of getting exercise. As I began walking, a symbolic turn began to evolve. I decided that I would use the crest of the mountain to be my cliff to relinquish all that had been my 43rd year. While there are positives to be gathered, overall, it was a remarkably difficult, emotionally draining year. Unbeknownst to me at that time, this became a journey sprinkled with wonder and messages.
Prior to my hike, I had made a stop and considered buying an armband to hold my phone and key. Being a cheap-ass, I decided against it, choosing instead to tie the key to my shoe. I had done this before, and I was confident it would be just fine. My feeling was if my shoe untied, I would know the key no longer in place. I kept an eye on the way up, just to ensure it was held securely. The walk was beautiful. The time was about 7:30pm, and I don't think I could have placed an order for more perfect weather. The sun was shining, but beginning to shift in preparation of setting. There was a gentle breeze. The temperature was in the low 80s with no humidity to note. I couldn't have asked for better conditions. I received a call as I parked. It was from someone who generally doesn't call, and I definitely was not expecting this at this time. A nice surprise. I also found this call to open a window of emotion that I didn't anticipate. That came later.
The hike up the trail led me through a fairy village, Girl Scout style. I loved it, as they had left behind their creations, and invited others to share in building their little area. I smiled as I walked through and observed their efforts at creating a land of mystery. Very sweet little detour. From there, I passed a number of other hikers. There is a kind nature about hikers. They tend to be friendly in a passing sort of way. It's nice.
As I began to reach the peak, I was taken by a surge of emotion I did not expect. I was genuinely overwhelmed as I sat on one of the Indian Seats and looked out at the horizon. The sun was beginning to soften, yet was blaringly bright. As I sat, the emotions that took hold did not identify themselves, and to this minute, I cannot put concrete terms to what they represented. But they were ready to leave. I cried. Hard. Snot and tears were pouring down my face. To sum it best, it was a sort of cleansing that left me feeling strong and at peace. The reaction was profound and unanticipated. My emotions tend to be pretty raw and at the surface, but these came from somewhere so deep that I was a bit unnerved. I am so grateful to have had that moment, and to have embraced it rather than try and pretend it didn't exist. The ladies next to me, however, must have felt differently, because they left. Oops.
I spent maybe 10 minutes at the top, but knew dusk would be settling in soon. I started my trek back down the path. I had been thinking for some time about starting to run. I figured with gravity on my side, and short patches of smooth, flat ground, this was as good a time as any. As I started toward my first "burst," I passed a man and woman. As I stepped by, I started off with a runner's gait...and swiftly tripped. I did not fall, but it was certainly comical in my world, as well as typical. They asked if I was okay, and I laughed and said yes. I was off.
When I reached what I now refer to as my bench of peace (close to the trailhead,) I realized I had to pee in the worst possible way. Good news! I was very near the fairy village! So, off I went to have a most satisfying experience in the fairy village. I appreciated using their facilities:) And there is a certain peculiar giddiness that comes with peeing in the woods, so I felt a little burst of energy. Because I was getting close to the trailhead, I reached to take the key off my shoe. To my surprise, the key was gone. Now, it bears repeating that my whole confidence of using this key holder was if my shoe untied, I would know the key was gone. That is where the mystery begins. I don't know that the mystery will ever find an earthly, end. You see, my shoe had not untied. It was still as tied as when I started. And the key ring was not a flimsy one. It was one that would not randomly work its way off and disappear. And I know with certainty I had the key when I began to trek down. I made sure. Just in case. And it was there. And now, my real experience began.
I had only one option at this point. I had to make my way back up the mountain to see if I could find the key. If I was lucky, I could find it and get out before dark. I wasn't lucky...at least in that sense. Instead, this is how the remainder of the evening went...
I encounter a couple, a man, and two women as I started back up the trail:
The couple was very kind. The man asked if I needed a ride (I didn't), and the lady respectfully asked if she could pray for me to find the key (I accepted.) When she concluded her prayer, she looked at me and said with confidence that I needn't worry. I would find the key.
Next came a man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s. He was running...not in the way I would have been, but for-real running. I asked if he had found a key, by chance. By the time the sentence was out of my mouth, he was pretty far past where I stood. He came back and said he would run (not kidding. He just finished his run and he was off again) up the trail to see if he could find it. And he meant it. He asked what he would see, and I described the key, ring, and the little swippy things like you use at CVS and other stores. I wouldn't see him for some time.
Finally came the women. One didn't speak, but the other said she (the silent one) had lost her key before and it was HORRIBLE! Just the worst thing! (She was very emphatic about this being awful.) She said they got the keys back, but not for two days. She also said if she found them, she would put them on the bench.
For these five people, I was very grateful. The runner guy came back without the key. He let me know how far he had gone (I kept going, as there was much more distance to cover.) By this point, it was dusk and I was using the light on my phone. He said if he passed it on the way out, he would put it under my windshield, and he would let the ranger know I was up there. I thanked him profusely. He went on his way, and I on mine.
From the moment I knew the key was missing, I felt nothing but calm. I did not have a sense of worry, fear, anxiety. Nothing. Just calm. It was an adventure with the adreneline. I continued up the trail until I was about 1/3 of a mile to the top. I realized my battery was draining, and I would be in a world of trouble if my phone died. So, I turned around without my key. I called for Pam to pick me up, and let her know my phone might die. I figured at worst, I would have Pam bring me back early in the morning, and I would start the hike again. I walked the trail back in darkness, except for the light from my phone. I felt no urgency or distress. In fact, at one point, I was thinking how I hadn't even seen any animals...not even a squirrel! I did realize there could be coyote, but everything seemed still. Right at that moment, I hear a short but definite howl. I'm not kidding. But I wasn't scared. I actually laughed, as if to acknowledge I knew they were out there, but thanks for the reminder.
With another mile plus to go, I heard a man's voice calling out. I could not understand the words, and if they were not knowingly directed at me, I did not feel it necessary to advertise myself. So, I kept walking. Soon thereafter, I saw what I thought was Pam's car lights in the distance. I smiled at being able to see them. Then I laughed because I realized there was no logistically possible way it was Pam. I called out, "Hello?" I figured at this point I better let it be known I wasn't afraid to confront whoever might be there. The response was that he thought I was who he was looking for. I asked, "Do you have a car key?" To which, he replied, "Yes."
And now, the rest of the crazy story. The man with my key was the ranger. I asked if the man in red had found it. He said he had. This man, whose name I know only to be Chris (he didn't want this to be a deal, so preferred to be anonymous), had gone to ranger with my key and told him I was up on the trail. He was in town from Pennsylvania on business and happened to find the mountain, which suited his running needs. He wasn't in town for long. The key was down the trail, where I had not been since last knowing it was on my shoe. In addition, the second lady also stopped to tell the ranger about me. She told him that she said she would leave the key on the bench, but she was worried a crow would pick it up (???--A crow??) He told me that was funny to him, because his (ranger) last name is Crow. At that point, I needed to go. The number of crazy details to sort out had hit a max. Let me just say, I am SO grateful to each of these people, and deeply appreciative for their interest. And to the universe, who issued me such a deep and amazing kiss-off to 43? Nice job. I liked it. :)
Prior to my hike, I had made a stop and considered buying an armband to hold my phone and key. Being a cheap-ass, I decided against it, choosing instead to tie the key to my shoe. I had done this before, and I was confident it would be just fine. My feeling was if my shoe untied, I would know the key no longer in place. I kept an eye on the way up, just to ensure it was held securely. The walk was beautiful. The time was about 7:30pm, and I don't think I could have placed an order for more perfect weather. The sun was shining, but beginning to shift in preparation of setting. There was a gentle breeze. The temperature was in the low 80s with no humidity to note. I couldn't have asked for better conditions. I received a call as I parked. It was from someone who generally doesn't call, and I definitely was not expecting this at this time. A nice surprise. I also found this call to open a window of emotion that I didn't anticipate. That came later.
The hike up the trail led me through a fairy village, Girl Scout style. I loved it, as they had left behind their creations, and invited others to share in building their little area. I smiled as I walked through and observed their efforts at creating a land of mystery. Very sweet little detour. From there, I passed a number of other hikers. There is a kind nature about hikers. They tend to be friendly in a passing sort of way. It's nice.
As I began to reach the peak, I was taken by a surge of emotion I did not expect. I was genuinely overwhelmed as I sat on one of the Indian Seats and looked out at the horizon. The sun was beginning to soften, yet was blaringly bright. As I sat, the emotions that took hold did not identify themselves, and to this minute, I cannot put concrete terms to what they represented. But they were ready to leave. I cried. Hard. Snot and tears were pouring down my face. To sum it best, it was a sort of cleansing that left me feeling strong and at peace. The reaction was profound and unanticipated. My emotions tend to be pretty raw and at the surface, but these came from somewhere so deep that I was a bit unnerved. I am so grateful to have had that moment, and to have embraced it rather than try and pretend it didn't exist. The ladies next to me, however, must have felt differently, because they left. Oops.
I spent maybe 10 minutes at the top, but knew dusk would be settling in soon. I started my trek back down the path. I had been thinking for some time about starting to run. I figured with gravity on my side, and short patches of smooth, flat ground, this was as good a time as any. As I started toward my first "burst," I passed a man and woman. As I stepped by, I started off with a runner's gait...and swiftly tripped. I did not fall, but it was certainly comical in my world, as well as typical. They asked if I was okay, and I laughed and said yes. I was off.
When I reached what I now refer to as my bench of peace (close to the trailhead,) I realized I had to pee in the worst possible way. Good news! I was very near the fairy village! So, off I went to have a most satisfying experience in the fairy village. I appreciated using their facilities:) And there is a certain peculiar giddiness that comes with peeing in the woods, so I felt a little burst of energy. Because I was getting close to the trailhead, I reached to take the key off my shoe. To my surprise, the key was gone. Now, it bears repeating that my whole confidence of using this key holder was if my shoe untied, I would know the key was gone. That is where the mystery begins. I don't know that the mystery will ever find an earthly, end. You see, my shoe had not untied. It was still as tied as when I started. And the key ring was not a flimsy one. It was one that would not randomly work its way off and disappear. And I know with certainty I had the key when I began to trek down. I made sure. Just in case. And it was there. And now, my real experience began.
I had only one option at this point. I had to make my way back up the mountain to see if I could find the key. If I was lucky, I could find it and get out before dark. I wasn't lucky...at least in that sense. Instead, this is how the remainder of the evening went...
I encounter a couple, a man, and two women as I started back up the trail:
The couple was very kind. The man asked if I needed a ride (I didn't), and the lady respectfully asked if she could pray for me to find the key (I accepted.) When she concluded her prayer, she looked at me and said with confidence that I needn't worry. I would find the key.
Next came a man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s. He was running...not in the way I would have been, but for-real running. I asked if he had found a key, by chance. By the time the sentence was out of my mouth, he was pretty far past where I stood. He came back and said he would run (not kidding. He just finished his run and he was off again) up the trail to see if he could find it. And he meant it. He asked what he would see, and I described the key, ring, and the little swippy things like you use at CVS and other stores. I wouldn't see him for some time.
Finally came the women. One didn't speak, but the other said she (the silent one) had lost her key before and it was HORRIBLE! Just the worst thing! (She was very emphatic about this being awful.) She said they got the keys back, but not for two days. She also said if she found them, she would put them on the bench.
For these five people, I was very grateful. The runner guy came back without the key. He let me know how far he had gone (I kept going, as there was much more distance to cover.) By this point, it was dusk and I was using the light on my phone. He said if he passed it on the way out, he would put it under my windshield, and he would let the ranger know I was up there. I thanked him profusely. He went on his way, and I on mine.
From the moment I knew the key was missing, I felt nothing but calm. I did not have a sense of worry, fear, anxiety. Nothing. Just calm. It was an adventure with the adreneline. I continued up the trail until I was about 1/3 of a mile to the top. I realized my battery was draining, and I would be in a world of trouble if my phone died. So, I turned around without my key. I called for Pam to pick me up, and let her know my phone might die. I figured at worst, I would have Pam bring me back early in the morning, and I would start the hike again. I walked the trail back in darkness, except for the light from my phone. I felt no urgency or distress. In fact, at one point, I was thinking how I hadn't even seen any animals...not even a squirrel! I did realize there could be coyote, but everything seemed still. Right at that moment, I hear a short but definite howl. I'm not kidding. But I wasn't scared. I actually laughed, as if to acknowledge I knew they were out there, but thanks for the reminder.
With another mile plus to go, I heard a man's voice calling out. I could not understand the words, and if they were not knowingly directed at me, I did not feel it necessary to advertise myself. So, I kept walking. Soon thereafter, I saw what I thought was Pam's car lights in the distance. I smiled at being able to see them. Then I laughed because I realized there was no logistically possible way it was Pam. I called out, "Hello?" I figured at this point I better let it be known I wasn't afraid to confront whoever might be there. The response was that he thought I was who he was looking for. I asked, "Do you have a car key?" To which, he replied, "Yes."
And now, the rest of the crazy story. The man with my key was the ranger. I asked if the man in red had found it. He said he had. This man, whose name I know only to be Chris (he didn't want this to be a deal, so preferred to be anonymous), had gone to ranger with my key and told him I was up on the trail. He was in town from Pennsylvania on business and happened to find the mountain, which suited his running needs. He wasn't in town for long. The key was down the trail, where I had not been since last knowing it was on my shoe. In addition, the second lady also stopped to tell the ranger about me. She told him that she said she would leave the key on the bench, but she was worried a crow would pick it up (???--A crow??) He told me that was funny to him, because his (ranger) last name is Crow. At that point, I needed to go. The number of crazy details to sort out had hit a max. Let me just say, I am SO grateful to each of these people, and deeply appreciative for their interest. And to the universe, who issued me such a deep and amazing kiss-off to 43? Nice job. I liked it. :)
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
I am that girl...
Over the past few weeks, I have spent a fair amount of time hiking. I also have committed to a re-alignment of how I eat. With my favorite foods having historically been heavy, starchy, fatty, and delicious, and having seen the rewards of my endevours with those foods, I determined if I am to be happy with my physical self, I was due for a change. And so it began.
I am not sure where my weight topped the scales when I started this venture, as I was too ashamed to see the number that popped up. I do know that clothes were grossly uncomfortable and unattractive on my body. A visit with the doc for an annual exam revealed I had come to a landing number of 192...three long and hyper-focused weeks after beginning my new way of being. I was both sad and happy at the same time. I was sad to see how far off track my life had taken me. I was sad to see that I had worked three weeks diligently to see the scale at a number that I had chased away long ago. But I was happy, because I thought the damage was to be much higher than what was reflected back on that scale. I settled into the knowing that regardless of where my body had been, it was on its way back to a healthy state.
As mentioned, I have taken hiking and walking as my primary form of exercise. They work well for me. In doing so, I don't always encounter many people. This also works well for me. While I believe that hikers are generally really pleasant, I appreciate the solitude with nature. The reacquired interest in health has brought about some significant self-realizations. The one that repeats most frequestly is, "I am that girl."
As an observer, I frequently find myself mentally lauding people who defy the limitations their weight may hold on them, and instead set out to exercise. The "big girl" biking, the man with the extended belly pumping his arms and shuffling his feet as he works to make it further today than yesterday, anyone who has exceeded a comfortable weight yet pushes themselves to get outside, breathe fresh air, and fight to be one step healthier. And then I realized..."I am that girl." I am the girl who, for reasons that mean nothing to an outside observer, let life get the best of me for awhile. I am the girl who, with little else to comfort myself, ate whatever crap I could put my hands on. I am that girl who made fast-food a way of life, because without a steady place to land, it was just easier. I am that girl who spent the past year wallowing in the pity of my choices, and not standing up to do what needed to be done for me. I am that girl who's weight got out of control, and I became the girl I was mentally applauding while I drove down the road eating my #16 from Steak and Shake. I really am that girl.
Initially, this realization was not particularly self-flattering. I felt disappointed that I had lost myself so deeply into patterns that I had tried to release from my being. I got fat. I got lost. I got sad. I got got. I was done in by my own choices. And then I got relieved. Recognizing that I am that girl became humbling. I had created a victimhood where I lived. It is a neighborhood that doesn't thrive on change or awareness. And now, I was aware. I was aware that my choices had spun me into the body of someone I didn't want to be, someone with whom the healthy me couldn't identify. I was hiding. I was self-sabatoging. I was self-deprecating. I was failing.
Knowing now that I am that girl...that I am every girl...who has been given more at times than is comfortable to handle, who copes in ways that are familiar, even when they are destructive, who wants more than she is able to reach on her own. I am every girl. I am not alone. I am not isolated. I am not the anamolie. I am what we all encounter at various times. And now, I am that girl who wakes up, takes control of that which I can change, and starts to move. I am that girl on the roadside putting one foot in front of the other, monitoring what kind of foods I allow into my body, feeding myself water and fluids that are beneficial. I am that girl who is healing, who is wanting happiness and peace, and who no longer strives for imbalance.
I am every girl.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Awakenings
The past three and a half months have generated an extraordinary insight into who I am, how far I have grown, how much I have healed, and how life is nothing more than a continuing journey in which we get realize our potential with every breath. I have also realized how far away from myself I got. The past three weeks, I have endured an emotional whiplash on a number of levels. What I have come to realize bit by bit, and profoundly as of today, is that I am the creator of my emotional whiplash. I am the person who has instituted the guidelines by which I accept people into my life. The acknowledgment that I am the sole author of these rules by which I have projected responsibility to others has created a profound and intense release. The sum of the awakening to ownership occurred in over teh course of key interactions. To unearth some of the deeper-rooted lessons, I must first reveal the trajectory of the events.
In trying to convey my feelings of inadequacy and unimportance, I discussed in detail events that had occurred, and that supported why I feel so strongly regarding this interpretation. Example after example would roll off my tongue to create support of my argument. Some of the events were recent enough to warrant that the pattern continued, despite several conversations about how the behavior impacted me. The last example occurred approximately 3 weeks ago. I was sick in my stomach. I expressed how I felt and went for a walk. I like walking. I am able to process through my thinking, and respond to physical cues that I am not always able to understand. This particular walk, I felt angry, frustrated, and hurt. It was during this walk, somewhere around the cow pasture, that I had a significant "A-ha!" moment. There were two very important revelations. The first was that I am guided to knowing I have something more personal, internal, that I need to be uncovering when I have that sick feeling in my stomach. That feeling is my cue that I am supposed to be learning a lesson about ME, not someone else, during those moments. What I found the lesson to be was hugely impactful. I FINALLY came to the realization that, for all of my evidence to support my argument, I WAS AT FAULT. I had created an environment of acceptance in which this person was given permission BY ME to treat me "less than." I allowed it. I accepted it. I encouraged it. And then I resented it. This was such a tremendous revelation!! I have spent years coming to the point where I acknowledge and own my accountability for the relationships I create. But I was blinded in this one. I had become unhealthy in my role. I had become lost from my ideals. I had invited someone to not treat me equally.
As I write this, I sound as if I am excusing behavior. I am not. And she does not. The behaviors have been discussed, and she has owned her role. She works hard to transform how she interacts. Last night, there was a significant exclamation for me. In conversation, I had interpreted a comment that she felt I was remiss in accounting for her behavior as being taken "personal." My opinion is that it was personal and not inappropriately identified. Part of our healing is to have open dialogue when something is amiss. I took that opportunity to sit down and discuss how I was feeling. The conversation began exactly as I had hoped. Open and honest. But rather quickly, I became caught in an emotional web. I felt the urgency to replay the past occurances. They were examples. They were my "evidence" of wrongdoing. I got stuck. And now I pay a price.
During the early stages of talking, she was gifted with tremendous insight from her spirit team. She had an awakening of her own, an identification of root. She began to recognize that she was guilty of this same behavior in many prior relationships, and she identified the origin of programming. I was so caught in the past drama, and so controlled by the demonic ego, that I couldn't settle my mind enough to shift in the conversation. She cut me off, shut me down, and said she couldn't hear anymore. I felt slighted. I wanted to be right. Why couldn't she let me get it out? And yet, despite this moment that could transform how she interacts with people forever, I was minimizing her experience to stay on my pout. And as I was leaving, she apologized to me. As I write that sentence, I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. This is where the completion of my awakening began.
My trip down ego-driven crazy was not conscious and took less than an hour to realize, but I spoiled one of the most beautiful moments to witness. The moment was the kind where deep understanding occurs,and where healing begins. By the time I reached my destination, I was feeling really low. I couldn't text her fast enough to apologize. I had failed both of us in a moment that I couldn't get back. I cheated her from fully absorbing her awakening, and I cheated myself of being able to wholly share in that experience with her. So, I apologized. Big deal. But I knew I had hit a major crossroads, whereby I was either going to go all-in or be forever regretful. I spent 12 hours living with regretful. I am so blessed to have a friend that I can bounce my crazy off of after I have sat with it awhile. Sometimes I can find clarity on my own, but I have tried that most of my life and it hasn't worked out. Part of my individual growth is to reach out when I need perspective, because one of my biggest weaknesses is asking for help. But I did it. And through talking, I became acutely aware that this was an ego-driven block that I had to confront. So, I did. I acknowledged that I was trying to push my anger and guilt toward what I had created and make her take responsibility. I was foolish. She already has taken accountability for her role. And over time, I have talked a lot about forgiveness and acceptance. And in words, I meant it. But it took me until this morning to own that I had not let go.
Holding onto the past meant that I was cheating both myself and her of living in the now. Holding on meant I was not allowing myself to trust in her growth, or my growth. Holding on meant I would be forever chained to the old relationship and unable to grow in a healthy way. Holding on means I am carrying chains that are dragging me away from where I want to be. I was failing to practice what I preach. I was allowing words to be stagnant ideals. I am a believer in actions speaking louder than words, and I was subconsciuosly being a hypocrite. I must now live my words, bringing into action the person who lives inside, but has hidden behind the ego and programmed ways of getting to what I say I want. Guess what? Following the old tapes has failed me everytime, and the ego is a shape-shifter that leads me to follow the shiny promises if I just buy in. Fuck the buy-in. I now move toward forgiveness and release. This movement is not just about other people. Most importantly, it is about me. Change sucks, but being stuck sucks worse. It's time to move. It's time to rise. It's time to be. A great part of who I am is that someone who will accomplish what I commit to. And to this, I commit.
In trying to convey my feelings of inadequacy and unimportance, I discussed in detail events that had occurred, and that supported why I feel so strongly regarding this interpretation. Example after example would roll off my tongue to create support of my argument. Some of the events were recent enough to warrant that the pattern continued, despite several conversations about how the behavior impacted me. The last example occurred approximately 3 weeks ago. I was sick in my stomach. I expressed how I felt and went for a walk. I like walking. I am able to process through my thinking, and respond to physical cues that I am not always able to understand. This particular walk, I felt angry, frustrated, and hurt. It was during this walk, somewhere around the cow pasture, that I had a significant "A-ha!" moment. There were two very important revelations. The first was that I am guided to knowing I have something more personal, internal, that I need to be uncovering when I have that sick feeling in my stomach. That feeling is my cue that I am supposed to be learning a lesson about ME, not someone else, during those moments. What I found the lesson to be was hugely impactful. I FINALLY came to the realization that, for all of my evidence to support my argument, I WAS AT FAULT. I had created an environment of acceptance in which this person was given permission BY ME to treat me "less than." I allowed it. I accepted it. I encouraged it. And then I resented it. This was such a tremendous revelation!! I have spent years coming to the point where I acknowledge and own my accountability for the relationships I create. But I was blinded in this one. I had become unhealthy in my role. I had become lost from my ideals. I had invited someone to not treat me equally.
As I write this, I sound as if I am excusing behavior. I am not. And she does not. The behaviors have been discussed, and she has owned her role. She works hard to transform how she interacts. Last night, there was a significant exclamation for me. In conversation, I had interpreted a comment that she felt I was remiss in accounting for her behavior as being taken "personal." My opinion is that it was personal and not inappropriately identified. Part of our healing is to have open dialogue when something is amiss. I took that opportunity to sit down and discuss how I was feeling. The conversation began exactly as I had hoped. Open and honest. But rather quickly, I became caught in an emotional web. I felt the urgency to replay the past occurances. They were examples. They were my "evidence" of wrongdoing. I got stuck. And now I pay a price.
During the early stages of talking, she was gifted with tremendous insight from her spirit team. She had an awakening of her own, an identification of root. She began to recognize that she was guilty of this same behavior in many prior relationships, and she identified the origin of programming. I was so caught in the past drama, and so controlled by the demonic ego, that I couldn't settle my mind enough to shift in the conversation. She cut me off, shut me down, and said she couldn't hear anymore. I felt slighted. I wanted to be right. Why couldn't she let me get it out? And yet, despite this moment that could transform how she interacts with people forever, I was minimizing her experience to stay on my pout. And as I was leaving, she apologized to me. As I write that sentence, I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. This is where the completion of my awakening began.
My trip down ego-driven crazy was not conscious and took less than an hour to realize, but I spoiled one of the most beautiful moments to witness. The moment was the kind where deep understanding occurs,and where healing begins. By the time I reached my destination, I was feeling really low. I couldn't text her fast enough to apologize. I had failed both of us in a moment that I couldn't get back. I cheated her from fully absorbing her awakening, and I cheated myself of being able to wholly share in that experience with her. So, I apologized. Big deal. But I knew I had hit a major crossroads, whereby I was either going to go all-in or be forever regretful. I spent 12 hours living with regretful. I am so blessed to have a friend that I can bounce my crazy off of after I have sat with it awhile. Sometimes I can find clarity on my own, but I have tried that most of my life and it hasn't worked out. Part of my individual growth is to reach out when I need perspective, because one of my biggest weaknesses is asking for help. But I did it. And through talking, I became acutely aware that this was an ego-driven block that I had to confront. So, I did. I acknowledged that I was trying to push my anger and guilt toward what I had created and make her take responsibility. I was foolish. She already has taken accountability for her role. And over time, I have talked a lot about forgiveness and acceptance. And in words, I meant it. But it took me until this morning to own that I had not let go.
Holding onto the past meant that I was cheating both myself and her of living in the now. Holding on meant I was not allowing myself to trust in her growth, or my growth. Holding on meant I would be forever chained to the old relationship and unable to grow in a healthy way. Holding on means I am carrying chains that are dragging me away from where I want to be. I was failing to practice what I preach. I was allowing words to be stagnant ideals. I am a believer in actions speaking louder than words, and I was subconsciuosly being a hypocrite. I must now live my words, bringing into action the person who lives inside, but has hidden behind the ego and programmed ways of getting to what I say I want. Guess what? Following the old tapes has failed me everytime, and the ego is a shape-shifter that leads me to follow the shiny promises if I just buy in. Fuck the buy-in. I now move toward forgiveness and release. This movement is not just about other people. Most importantly, it is about me. Change sucks, but being stuck sucks worse. It's time to move. It's time to rise. It's time to be. A great part of who I am is that someone who will accomplish what I commit to. And to this, I commit.
Fragmented thoughts about words
Words. I received a text last night from the person closest to me, and the one who inspires my thinking in ways no one else can. This text threw my perspective into a realm of new understanding. She said, in summary,that we should not use words to compartmentalize experiences. Our words, when used to identify an event, or relay our feelings or impressions on any given topic, infer that the person to whom they are being shared will be on the same level of understanding. Additionally, time and context can alter the same message. Perspectives change. Understanding changes. People change.
Even with this person, our most frustrating times are when we are saying the same thing, but in different ways. She and I get stuck arguing why the other doesn't understand. The effort to convince the other of our position becomes almost comical at times, because ultimately, we say our point louder, but not different. And different is what is required. Because I am not her. And she is not me. And we are not the same. So how we express what we see or feel is individualized, although often parallel.
When I read this text, I got excited! I thought, for nearly 44 years, it has been so difficult for me when people don't "get it." I suddenly realized that the "it" in and of itself is the problem. The "it" is a mirror through which we can't see another's reflection. "It" lies stagnant, in place, without anything kinetic to move toward greater understanding. On dictionary. com, there are 17 explanations for the word "it." There is not an actual defnition. The word is an indicator of varying degrees. As a stand-alone, "it" amounts to nothing specific. Thus, I have wanted people to "get" something abstract, which of course means subject to interpretation. Otherwise translated, I would be frustrated people don't "get what I am saying or doing." This is specific. This is me trying to figure out why my way of being in the world doesn't connect to someone else. This is a very narcissistic and isolated stand. If I am not able to look outside myself to determine how to help someone "get" me, then I should not be surprised when I am not understood. Hmm.
Words give meaning, create labels, allow us to communicate. There is an inherent, unspoken truth about words. Our belief is that how we think, how we speak, is all the same. But the reality is that each of us, in our own life experiences and language, create a method of interpreting events that can be vastly different. In fact, the intepretation has so little to do with the words. Consider the number of definitions for "love," or "happiness." What is "success?" These words are understood in some context by most people. Even within the US states, words exist that cannot be translated into English. For example, in Hawaiian, Pana Poʻo: "You know when you forget where you've put the keys, and you scratch your head because it somehow seems to help your remember? This is the word for it." Friedrich Nietzsche said, "Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon the absolute truth.” This may be the result of cultural influences, language spoken, geographic location, coping and defense skills, or a million other nuanced reasons. So why do we assume (such a dangerous word) that our spoken word deserves to be unquestionably understood by anyone in the way we intend?
Evolving perspective, as well as cultural and place-in-time influences. Words are the meaning we give them. I have come to conclude that I give words entirely too much power. I have used words to impress, to imply a higher level of intelligence, to defer or distract, to manipulate and control. I have used words to comfort, to encourage, to support, and to love. In the end, the power of words ended as they exited my lips. What transpires as a result of or after the words is the true power. Words are but inert action. Without activating the intent of words, without generating the energy to move them into existence, we are but a book without a reader. No action comes from words, yet they can be overtly harmful in their intent. I have learned a lot of lessons over the years regarding how I say something. I have learned also that saying nothing has immense power. Silence itself can be action, even more powerful than words. And in that silence, I can build myself or destroy someone. Silence is a weapon. Silence is also a sanctuary. I have learned to utilize my silence to heal. I have created damage by misusing silence. Today, I accept accountability for all that my words have created, for what they have influenced, and for how I have failed them. I alone am responsible for my words, and the actions that make them breathe. That's a heavy reality, but one I accept.
Even with this person, our most frustrating times are when we are saying the same thing, but in different ways. She and I get stuck arguing why the other doesn't understand. The effort to convince the other of our position becomes almost comical at times, because ultimately, we say our point louder, but not different. And different is what is required. Because I am not her. And she is not me. And we are not the same. So how we express what we see or feel is individualized, although often parallel.
When I read this text, I got excited! I thought, for nearly 44 years, it has been so difficult for me when people don't "get it." I suddenly realized that the "it" in and of itself is the problem. The "it" is a mirror through which we can't see another's reflection. "It" lies stagnant, in place, without anything kinetic to move toward greater understanding. On dictionary. com, there are 17 explanations for the word "it." There is not an actual defnition. The word is an indicator of varying degrees. As a stand-alone, "it" amounts to nothing specific. Thus, I have wanted people to "get" something abstract, which of course means subject to interpretation. Otherwise translated, I would be frustrated people don't "get what I am saying or doing." This is specific. This is me trying to figure out why my way of being in the world doesn't connect to someone else. This is a very narcissistic and isolated stand. If I am not able to look outside myself to determine how to help someone "get" me, then I should not be surprised when I am not understood. Hmm.
Words give meaning, create labels, allow us to communicate. There is an inherent, unspoken truth about words. Our belief is that how we think, how we speak, is all the same. But the reality is that each of us, in our own life experiences and language, create a method of interpreting events that can be vastly different. In fact, the intepretation has so little to do with the words. Consider the number of definitions for "love," or "happiness." What is "success?" These words are understood in some context by most people. Even within the US states, words exist that cannot be translated into English. For example, in Hawaiian, Pana Poʻo: "You know when you forget where you've put the keys, and you scratch your head because it somehow seems to help your remember? This is the word for it." Friedrich Nietzsche said, "Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon the absolute truth.” This may be the result of cultural influences, language spoken, geographic location, coping and defense skills, or a million other nuanced reasons. So why do we assume (such a dangerous word) that our spoken word deserves to be unquestionably understood by anyone in the way we intend?
Evolving perspective, as well as cultural and place-in-time influences. Words are the meaning we give them. I have come to conclude that I give words entirely too much power. I have used words to impress, to imply a higher level of intelligence, to defer or distract, to manipulate and control. I have used words to comfort, to encourage, to support, and to love. In the end, the power of words ended as they exited my lips. What transpires as a result of or after the words is the true power. Words are but inert action. Without activating the intent of words, without generating the energy to move them into existence, we are but a book without a reader. No action comes from words, yet they can be overtly harmful in their intent. I have learned a lot of lessons over the years regarding how I say something. I have learned also that saying nothing has immense power. Silence itself can be action, even more powerful than words. And in that silence, I can build myself or destroy someone. Silence is a weapon. Silence is also a sanctuary. I have learned to utilize my silence to heal. I have created damage by misusing silence. Today, I accept accountability for all that my words have created, for what they have influenced, and for how I have failed them. I alone am responsible for my words, and the actions that make them breathe. That's a heavy reality, but one I accept.
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