I have this heaviness in my heart tonight. I think the last time I felt like this was when I had to transfer my mother from her apartment in the assisted living facility where she had been living, to the Alzheimer's unit because she needed more care and assistance than they could provide where she had been living.
It wasn't the transfer so much that caused the heaviness, as it was my mother's response to the transfer. She stood in the hallway of the Alzheimer's unit, supported by her walker, and as they moved her furniture into her new room, she screamed at me, her face contorted into an agonized caricature of the mother I knew, tears pouring down her face, "What right do you have to do this to me? Who said you could make this decision without my permission? You're a horrible daughter and I hate you."
I knew my mother didn't really mean what she said; that her words and emotions were a result of her mental confusion and cognitive impairment. But it was a difficult experience nonetheless, for so many reasons and on so many levels. I rarely think of it anymore, but when I do, it's never without that heaviness in my heart.
So what happened today that left me feeling so much like I felt that night? Believe it or not, I went to the movies. I saw Twelve Years a Slave and when I left the theater, I was so overwhelmed by my feelings, I had difficulty speaking. It was quite a while before normal conversation wasn't an effort.
I knew the movie wouldn't be an easy one to watch, but I wasn't prepared for the depth of my response. In fact, it's because this feeling in my chest is still so strong, so palpable, so present, that I decided I had to write about it.
If you haven't seen the movie, it's based on a true story about a black man, a free man, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery ( I believe it was 1841.), and remained a slave for twelve years, before he was freed and was able to return to his family.
All I could think about as I watched the movie (and sometimes I had to cover my eyes, because I just couldn't watch), was how could one human being do that to another? And although slavery doesn't exist in this country anymore, atrocities just as terrible as what were enacted on that screen, take place every day somewhere on this planet.
I don't know why it took that movie to make me think about that, or why, now, that movie touched me at such a deep level of raw emotion. I've certainly seen similar depictions of inhumane treatment before, and been affected by what I saw, but I've never been this affected.
Maybe it's because I'm so much more aware now of how connected we each are to one another, and how each action that we take against or for another, impacts not only that one person, but all of us on some level, known or not. What I'm feeling tonight is making me reconsider my own way of being in the world, and whether or not I'm truly doing my best when it comes to my own interactions with others.
I can't personally stop the wars, or end hunger, or provide every person who needs a place to sleep a warm bed, but I can be more accountable, more responsible, for my own actions. I can make a bigger effort to come from a place of love, a place of caring, a place of recognizing the importance and value of every human being that crosses my path and do my best to treat each of them the way that I would like to be treated, with dignity and respect.
That doesn't seem like much in the grand scheme of things, does it? But if we all did that, just that, every one of us, every day? Wow! Just imagine what a different place this world would be!
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Divine Synchronicities
A couple of weeks ago, actually, it was Saturday, January 4, the morning of my first float session, I went to a women's meeting at the church. This is a monthly meeting on the first Saturday, and they usually do some kind of activity, or have a guest speaker. I'd gone to my first one in December, and had decided that I would attend a couple of more and see if they had value for me.
When I got the email reminder for the meeting, the notice said we would be making vision boards, and my first reaction was, 'okay, that clinches it, I'm not going.' (If you're not familiar with vision boards, they became wildly popular following the movie, The Secret. In the movie we were encouraged to cut out pictures of the things we wanted to have in our lives and paste them on a board of some kind, and then as we focused our intentions on that board, the Universe would bring those things to us.) I'm not big on cutting and pasting, and I think part of me just didn't want anyone else to see/know what was going on in my mind at that point.
But two days before the meeting, during my spiritual practice, I not only heard the message, "You need to go for the connections." but I also heard I was to offer to lead the heart chakra exercise I've been using in my own groups to help all of us attending the
women's group to have a deeper experience as we worked on our vision boards.
"Really, God?" I thought. "Are you kidding? I'm new to these meetings, a stranger to most of these women, and you think they're going to let me to do this?" God's response was: "No harm in offering!"
So I emailed the group leader but got no response. Hah! They're not interested, I thought. And to God, I said, "See, I told you so!" I'm sure She was smiling down on me, smugly, of course, knowing I didn't have the whole picture.
I did what I was told to do, and went to the meeting. As soon as the group leader saw me, she rushed over. "Did you get my email?" she asked. "No, I didn't." I responded, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. "I'd love for you to do the chakra exercise. It fits perfectly in the schedule." she said.
Okay, so much for my 'I told you so' to God! So I did my part and lead the exercise (It brought some people to tears.), and then we started in on our vision boards. I picked a table where no one else was sitting and began leafing through the magazines on the table, cutting out words and images that called to me. Two others joined me, and as we chatted, I continue to do what I was supposed to do. I admit, I really didn't put a whole lot of energy into it.
All that sorting through and cutting out took a lot of time, and since we only had two hours for the whole meeting, most of us didn't complete our boards. Mine was really only a pile of pages that I'd torn out of the magazines and placed in a pile on top of my piece of poster board, intending later to cut out the specific images and words that I wanted to use. When it came time to leave, I was tempted to just heave the whole pile into the trash, but afraid that someone would see me, I decided I'd take it home with me and trash it there. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do
anything else with it once I left.
When I got home, I put the pile on my dining room table, made myself some lunch, and took care of some chores, all the time with my eye on the clock, anticipating my float session.
I did the float session, had the first class with Rev. Denise, and found myself in the abyss that opened as a result. That pile of stuff sat on my dining room table for several days at least. A couple of times I moved it to the top of the cupboard because I needed the space on the table, but I never threw it out. I never gave it much thought, either.
And then one night, around 11 PM, as I was rinsing out my teacup and getting ready for bed, my eyes drifted to that pile of stuff. Normally, there's no way in the world I would have even thought of starting to mess with that stuff that late in the evening. But something drew me to it, and I found a glue stick and a pair of scissors and began to work. "I'll only spend a few minutes," I thought. "Just get it started, and then I'll go to bed." Next thing I knew, the board was done.
As I looked at it, the first thing I did was berate myself for doing it all wrong! This was supposed to be a vision of the things I wanted in my life, whatever they might be. But as I perused my board, there really weren't any things pictured: no new car, no vacations, no new clothes, no images of a woman with a smaller butt and leaner thighs! Nothing. Just words, ideas, concepts. What was I thinking?
But then I heard that God voice in my head: "Look at it. Really look at it. What did you ask for? What do you need right now? What did you tell Rev. Denise you had lost?"
As I listened to the words and stepped back from the table, what I saw on the board were words and images to inspire me! I had asked Rev. Denise how I could get my inspiration back, and God had already been hard at work giving me exactly what I needed, even before I voiced the question, because these were words and images I had chosen before I even took that first class, before I ever asked the question, before I had even thought the question! Sitting in front of me was a tool I could use to help me get my inspiration back. But until I refocused, until I looked at that board from a different perspective, I hadn't seen it.
When I got the email reminder for the meeting, the notice said we would be making vision boards, and my first reaction was, 'okay, that clinches it, I'm not going.' (If you're not familiar with vision boards, they became wildly popular following the movie, The Secret. In the movie we were encouraged to cut out pictures of the things we wanted to have in our lives and paste them on a board of some kind, and then as we focused our intentions on that board, the Universe would bring those things to us.) I'm not big on cutting and pasting, and I think part of me just didn't want anyone else to see/know what was going on in my mind at that point.
But two days before the meeting, during my spiritual practice, I not only heard the message, "You need to go for the connections." but I also heard I was to offer to lead the heart chakra exercise I've been using in my own groups to help all of us attending the
women's group to have a deeper experience as we worked on our vision boards.
"Really, God?" I thought. "Are you kidding? I'm new to these meetings, a stranger to most of these women, and you think they're going to let me to do this?" God's response was: "No harm in offering!"
So I emailed the group leader but got no response. Hah! They're not interested, I thought. And to God, I said, "See, I told you so!" I'm sure She was smiling down on me, smugly, of course, knowing I didn't have the whole picture.
I did what I was told to do, and went to the meeting. As soon as the group leader saw me, she rushed over. "Did you get my email?" she asked. "No, I didn't." I responded, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. "I'd love for you to do the chakra exercise. It fits perfectly in the schedule." she said.
Okay, so much for my 'I told you so' to God! So I did my part and lead the exercise (It brought some people to tears.), and then we started in on our vision boards. I picked a table where no one else was sitting and began leafing through the magazines on the table, cutting out words and images that called to me. Two others joined me, and as we chatted, I continue to do what I was supposed to do. I admit, I really didn't put a whole lot of energy into it.
All that sorting through and cutting out took a lot of time, and since we only had two hours for the whole meeting, most of us didn't complete our boards. Mine was really only a pile of pages that I'd torn out of the magazines and placed in a pile on top of my piece of poster board, intending later to cut out the specific images and words that I wanted to use. When it came time to leave, I was tempted to just heave the whole pile into the trash, but afraid that someone would see me, I decided I'd take it home with me and trash it there. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do
anything else with it once I left.
When I got home, I put the pile on my dining room table, made myself some lunch, and took care of some chores, all the time with my eye on the clock, anticipating my float session.
I did the float session, had the first class with Rev. Denise, and found myself in the abyss that opened as a result. That pile of stuff sat on my dining room table for several days at least. A couple of times I moved it to the top of the cupboard because I needed the space on the table, but I never threw it out. I never gave it much thought, either.
And then one night, around 11 PM, as I was rinsing out my teacup and getting ready for bed, my eyes drifted to that pile of stuff. Normally, there's no way in the world I would have even thought of starting to mess with that stuff that late in the evening. But something drew me to it, and I found a glue stick and a pair of scissors and began to work. "I'll only spend a few minutes," I thought. "Just get it started, and then I'll go to bed." Next thing I knew, the board was done.
As I looked at it, the first thing I did was berate myself for doing it all wrong! This was supposed to be a vision of the things I wanted in my life, whatever they might be. But as I perused my board, there really weren't any things pictured: no new car, no vacations, no new clothes, no images of a woman with a smaller butt and leaner thighs! Nothing. Just words, ideas, concepts. What was I thinking?
But then I heard that God voice in my head: "Look at it. Really look at it. What did you ask for? What do you need right now? What did you tell Rev. Denise you had lost?"
As I listened to the words and stepped back from the table, what I saw on the board were words and images to inspire me! I had asked Rev. Denise how I could get my inspiration back, and God had already been hard at work giving me exactly what I needed, even before I voiced the question, because these were words and images I had chosen before I even took that first class, before I ever asked the question, before I had even thought the question! Sitting in front of me was a tool I could use to help me get my inspiration back. But until I refocused, until I looked at that board from a different perspective, I hadn't seen it.
I asked. God provided.
I've got my inspiration board taped to the wall inside my walk-in closet, where I can see it every morning when I get dressed, and every evening when I undress, and whenever else I go in there to change shoes, or get the laundry out of the hamper. At least once a day I intentionally stand there and read each of those statements as I send Reiki to all aspects of those images and concepts. It only takes a few minutes of my time, but I can feel the energy surging through me and around me each time I do it. And the feeling lingers long after I've moved out of the closet.
My inspiration board isn't the only tool I've been using to get me out of the abyss, but I do think it's one of the more powerful, just because I can see it and use it every day. And the effects are obvious: I'm more energized and focused; I'm more excited about my work than I've been since I moved to Nashville; I got some great Guidance about some new events to offer and scheduled them; I've gotten the paperwork to register my business in Tennessee, and I'm committed to completing the teleclass with Rev. Denise. As that old refrain goes, 'I'm movin' on up!' and it feels great!
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Saying goodbye...
It's been a challenging week, a good one, but a challenging one none the less.
I think the 'zone' I went into during my float session last week opened something up in me. And then I had my first teleclass with Rev. Denise on Monday night, and the crack widened into more of an abyss.
One of the comments she made was that to be able to move forward consistently, we need to be inspired, not just motivated. She also noted that it's difficult to move forward if we are experiencing leaks in our energy systems that make it difficult to sustain that inspiration. She urged us to look inside ourselves and see what leaks we might be experiencing.
Her comment about the need to be inspired hit home with me, and during the Q&A, I asked what we could do if we felt we had lost our inspiration. When I was in Pittsburgh and had The Place for Reiki, I truly felt inspired in my work. But since coming to Nashville, I've felt more dispirited than inspired.
After a bit of discussion, Rev. Denise said that she felt compelled to ask me a question, and asked if it would be okay to do so. I said yes, having no idea what the question might be. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Are you happy?" In the silence that followed, I could feel the tears threatening, and finally, in my own, even quieter voice,
answered, "No."
Funny thing is, until she asked the question, I didn't know I wasn't happy. In fact, if someone had asked me if I was unhappy, I would have promptly answered "No," and felt quite truthful in doing so. So it seems to me there is a netherworld somewhere between being happy and unhappy, that I had slipped into without my knowing.
By the time the call was over, I felt emotionally drained, and for some reason, physically exhausted, although I had done nothing that day to merit that. Obviously her question had struck a deep chord and what I was experiencing was a result of that strike. I went to bed shortly after that, knowing that I had work to do around this issue.
You don't need a blow by blow description of what the week has been like, but in the course of filling half a journal and using more than a box of tissues, along with a lot of self Reiki, I've come to recognize that on some level I've been grieving the loss of The Place for Reiki and who I used to be when I was in Pittsburgh.
Once the realization hit, and I really gave it some thought, I realized that I had never intentionally grieved for what I had left behind. I had closed the doors, packed up my things, and moved on, never giving myself the opportunity to say goodbye, or acknowledge, all that I was giving up. But just because I hadn't intentionally grieved the loss, didn't mean that grieving wasn't happening. It was, just at a subconscious level that was slowly, but surely, draining my energy, consigning me to that netherworld between happy and unhappy, entirely without my knowing, and certainly without my permission.
And I think because I hadn't said goodbye, hadn't acknowledged that I was leaving it behind, I had been holding on to the image of who I was, and how things used to be at The Place for Reiki, and trying to figure out how to be that same person and do that same kind of work here in Nashville. The problem is, I'm not that person anymore and The Place for Reiki doesn't exist except in my memories. In order to move forward, I have to let go of what was, acknowledge the end of all of that, and allow myself to become whoever I'm supposed to be on this next part of my journey.
The Place for Reiki was a container that gave me a space to become the person I needed to become back then, the person I would eventually need to be in order to make this move to Nashville. And just like I had to leave my job at Holy Family completely to make room for The Place for Reiki and the person I became there, I had to recognize that it's now time to intentionally leave behind the way things were in Pittsburgh, in order to make room for whatever is coming in Nashville.
To formalize the process, to make it more real for myself, I decided to write a letter to The Place for Reiki, and to the essence of who I was there, not just to say good-bye, but to express my gratitude for all that happened in that space, and during that time. As I wrote, the words came easily, as did the tears, and although much of what I wrote was not a surprise at all, giving myself permission to grieve the loss, to acknowledge it, to own it, brought up other things that were connected to that loss that I didn't even realize were connected.
It was a very powerful, very cleansing, very freeing experience, and when it was over, I could feel the difference in myself. Yes, I felt lighter, but I also felt looser! I hadn't realized it, but my whole body had been tense and tight for a very long time. But until it wasn't anymore, I hadn't realized that it was.
To help my body acclimate to the change, I scheduled a second float session. I may have zoned out again, although I'm not aware of doing so. Instead, it seemed as if I was aware of every breath that I took for the entire time, and my body jumped and jerked, releasing and realigning as a result of the emotional work that I had done. Some of the muscle releases were so subtle that I didn't even feel them physically, but instead felt the movement of the water that occurred when the release took place and the muscles shifted position.
I'm not sure what to expect now. I don't have a clear idea of the next step to take, but since I've only just completed the work, perhaps it's too early to expect that I would. I know transition is a process, and processes take time, so I'm going to be gentle with myself, and patient, and see where the process leads.
I do know that I'm grateful for the black and orange butterfly that showed up and guided me to Rev. Denise's class, and I'm grateful that she listened to the Guidance that lead her to ask the question I needed to hear. And I'm especially grateful that I had the courage to answer the question honestly and to pursue a solution. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, but it was something I needed to do.
I think the 'zone' I went into during my float session last week opened something up in me. And then I had my first teleclass with Rev. Denise on Monday night, and the crack widened into more of an abyss.
One of the comments she made was that to be able to move forward consistently, we need to be inspired, not just motivated. She also noted that it's difficult to move forward if we are experiencing leaks in our energy systems that make it difficult to sustain that inspiration. She urged us to look inside ourselves and see what leaks we might be experiencing.
Her comment about the need to be inspired hit home with me, and during the Q&A, I asked what we could do if we felt we had lost our inspiration. When I was in Pittsburgh and had The Place for Reiki, I truly felt inspired in my work. But since coming to Nashville, I've felt more dispirited than inspired.
After a bit of discussion, Rev. Denise said that she felt compelled to ask me a question, and asked if it would be okay to do so. I said yes, having no idea what the question might be. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Are you happy?" In the silence that followed, I could feel the tears threatening, and finally, in my own, even quieter voice,
answered, "No."
Funny thing is, until she asked the question, I didn't know I wasn't happy. In fact, if someone had asked me if I was unhappy, I would have promptly answered "No," and felt quite truthful in doing so. So it seems to me there is a netherworld somewhere between being happy and unhappy, that I had slipped into without my knowing.
By the time the call was over, I felt emotionally drained, and for some reason, physically exhausted, although I had done nothing that day to merit that. Obviously her question had struck a deep chord and what I was experiencing was a result of that strike. I went to bed shortly after that, knowing that I had work to do around this issue.
You don't need a blow by blow description of what the week has been like, but in the course of filling half a journal and using more than a box of tissues, along with a lot of self Reiki, I've come to recognize that on some level I've been grieving the loss of The Place for Reiki and who I used to be when I was in Pittsburgh.
Once the realization hit, and I really gave it some thought, I realized that I had never intentionally grieved for what I had left behind. I had closed the doors, packed up my things, and moved on, never giving myself the opportunity to say goodbye, or acknowledge, all that I was giving up. But just because I hadn't intentionally grieved the loss, didn't mean that grieving wasn't happening. It was, just at a subconscious level that was slowly, but surely, draining my energy, consigning me to that netherworld between happy and unhappy, entirely without my knowing, and certainly without my permission.
And I think because I hadn't said goodbye, hadn't acknowledged that I was leaving it behind, I had been holding on to the image of who I was, and how things used to be at The Place for Reiki, and trying to figure out how to be that same person and do that same kind of work here in Nashville. The problem is, I'm not that person anymore and The Place for Reiki doesn't exist except in my memories. In order to move forward, I have to let go of what was, acknowledge the end of all of that, and allow myself to become whoever I'm supposed to be on this next part of my journey.
The Place for Reiki was a container that gave me a space to become the person I needed to become back then, the person I would eventually need to be in order to make this move to Nashville. And just like I had to leave my job at Holy Family completely to make room for The Place for Reiki and the person I became there, I had to recognize that it's now time to intentionally leave behind the way things were in Pittsburgh, in order to make room for whatever is coming in Nashville.
To formalize the process, to make it more real for myself, I decided to write a letter to The Place for Reiki, and to the essence of who I was there, not just to say good-bye, but to express my gratitude for all that happened in that space, and during that time. As I wrote, the words came easily, as did the tears, and although much of what I wrote was not a surprise at all, giving myself permission to grieve the loss, to acknowledge it, to own it, brought up other things that were connected to that loss that I didn't even realize were connected.
It was a very powerful, very cleansing, very freeing experience, and when it was over, I could feel the difference in myself. Yes, I felt lighter, but I also felt looser! I hadn't realized it, but my whole body had been tense and tight for a very long time. But until it wasn't anymore, I hadn't realized that it was.
To help my body acclimate to the change, I scheduled a second float session. I may have zoned out again, although I'm not aware of doing so. Instead, it seemed as if I was aware of every breath that I took for the entire time, and my body jumped and jerked, releasing and realigning as a result of the emotional work that I had done. Some of the muscle releases were so subtle that I didn't even feel them physically, but instead felt the movement of the water that occurred when the release took place and the muscles shifted position.
I'm not sure what to expect now. I don't have a clear idea of the next step to take, but since I've only just completed the work, perhaps it's too early to expect that I would. I know transition is a process, and processes take time, so I'm going to be gentle with myself, and patient, and see where the process leads.
I do know that I'm grateful for the black and orange butterfly that showed up and guided me to Rev. Denise's class, and I'm grateful that she listened to the Guidance that lead her to ask the question I needed to hear. And I'm especially grateful that I had the courage to answer the question honestly and to pursue a solution. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, but it was something I needed to do.
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