It’s been two years on this day that I completed a seminar on finding yourself, and your purpose in this life. My expectations, which were pretty high, were surpassed. I gained a lot of insights about myself and life in general during the seminar. To this day these insights keep unfolding even more, my understanding of their significance deepens – or sometimes I even notice how something I realize now was already there, then. I just wasn’t able to „read“ the sign.
Shortly before the seminar, I read about Ayahuasca ceremonies. What I read reminded me that there is always more than one way. That there is never a single event in your life that everything else hinges on. Yes, there are significant moments in life, and yes, some of them set you on a very specific path. But you only ever know the path you’ve actually walked, so you’re mostly not aware that things could have gone differently, and you’d still be on your path. In fact, life finds ways to open doors for you when the one you (thought you) were supposed to walk through unexpectedly closes.
I realized that I could have chosen something other than this seminar, or that if I were suddenly unable to attend, there would be more ways for me to discover my life’s purpose. When my head has an idea about the significance of an upcoming event, it tends to put a lot of pressure on me and overload everything with expectations. It felt good to suddenly be able to approach the experience with a kind of „light-headedness“. It also made me realize that while, yes, I could have chosen something else, I did in fact choose this.
The seminar I am talking about is The Path Into Light®. If it is part of your journey, too, you may find something in my writing that speaks to you. Or maybe you’ll stumble upon it a few more times elsewhere. If it’s not part of your journey, then nothing anyone could possibly say about it will convince you otherwise. You’ll still be on your path, and that is the point.
That’s what amazes me so much about life: that we all are in it together, just existing at the same time on this earth connects us so deeply. Yet we are all free to have very different experiences, to be on our own path, to be like no one else. Earth is the place where all of that fits in the same space.
Thank you, La, for guiding me on my path into light with so much ease, confidence, and laughter. Thank you, Agni Eickermann, for having paved this road. There may be many paths that lead into light. This one is the fast track.
Recently, I have been through quite a few emotional roller coasters. Since my intuition and I have become pretty good friends, I was able to accept this state even when I didn’t understand what triggered this process at first. Nevertheless, my mind wanted to know. It always does. Here’s the answer I’ve come up with, and what I’ve found to be a good way to deal with conflicting feelings.
The major change in my life has been that I have made some decisions that broke my routine. Well, actually, there hasn’t been much of a routine, that’s the thing: I ended my life as I knew it, and after a period of regrouping I am now at the point where something else is starting to fill the space. Since I have been making a conscious effort to shape this new life, of course, the new that is coming or about to enter means a great deal to me! Somehow I just hadn’t factored in that that is enough to trigger all kinds of emotions.
I finally realized that there is nothing „wrong“ about this process, there is no mistake. Whenever I am engaging in something I care about, I always have seemingly conflicting emotions. I am never only overjoyed. I am never only terrified. As long as I am not indifferent, there is always both – excitement and anticipation at the prospect of change, but also fear and anxiety over the possibility that things might not turn out the way I wish for.
I wrote „seemingly conflicting“ because I believe that those emotions are not in fact conflicting. They are two sides of the same coin. Whenever I feel like there is something to win, naturally part of me is afraid of not winning = losing. I have done enough things I didn’t really care about either way, so that I can confirm that that is the best recipe for complete loss of energy. So that is not the alternative I am planning on applying.
Then what to do without becoming the figurative stoic that says „I knew I had fathered a mortal“ when confronted with the death of his son? Because I definitely don’t want that kind of indifference, either.
Here’s what I’ve found works for me:
1. Accepting that I have feelings and ideas about how I should feel. On everything! It appears to come with the being human gig. It’s only when I step into that trap where I try to deny or fight my feelings that things get ugly, and they end up controlling me.
2. Therefore, the number one priority is to allow all my thoughts and feelings to be heard. I make a point to check how it would make me feel if I listened to any of them. For instance, when the prospect of doing something makes me really happy, but there are some concerns, I accept the concerns but go ahead anyway. Either with a plan on how to tackle the concerns or with the confidence that any problems will be resolved if the need arises. They’re probably not even actual „dangers“ but just my fear’s way of saying „Don’t go there!“.
However, when I realize that the thought of not doing something I had set my mind to actually fills me with relief, and the reasons for doing it are mainly ideas of of what I am „supposed to be doing“, it’s safe to say that it’s a good idea to lay low. Maybe it’s not the right timing, or maybe I the underlying idea of why I should be doing this is misguided. This is the part where it’s helpful to trust that gut instinct, even when I can’t see all the whys at that time.
I believe that I came here into this life with a plan, where the most important milestones are already decided upon. Our ego is a lot less in control than it likes to make us believe. When I look back at my life, I was hardly ever aware of the significance of the events that really shaped its course. The things that seemed important, which I worked myself up over, turned out not to be. The things that were, were never entirely up to me. In fact, I could even „mess them up“ and „somehow“ they worked out anyway – because that was the way things were needed to be for me to stay on my path.
3. The real challenge then is to achieve that balance where I accept that I have feelings but where I also trust that they are not the complete picture. Yes, of course achieving certain goals makes me happy. And yes, sometimes I experience loss and it feels awful. But the thing is, that is not the totality of life, there is a happiness that is not tied to any achievements or fulfillment of desires – or loss thereof.
This moment right now is something I’ve once longed for: having alone time, being able to use my cell phone and my computer at home (long story, another time). And it’s also something I’ve once been afraid of because I got here losing things and people on the way.
There is nothing wrong with having goals and desires, in fact I am only now beginning to (re-)discover their importance. The happiest life is the one where we can gracefully combine the two: setting goals, acknowledging our heart’s desires, and setting out to achieve them with the confidence that we in fact already have everything we need to be happy right here and now. Anything we set out to do is all about experiencing a variation of happiness, not earning the right to be happy if we achieve a certain goal.
Everything we need along the way will be provided for. No feelings (our own or others‘), mistakes or accidents can jeopardize what is truly meant to be ours. Detours are part of the road, getting lost is, too. Whichever path we choose, it will lead us closer to home – our true self.
So. I guess I’m blogging again. Yay! How terrifying! There has been an ongoing internal debate over the past weeks (months?!) on that issue. 1. whether or not to blog at all, 2: if so, why and why now, 3: what and what not, and finally: how to begin.
In case you are a more result-oriented person: 1. Yes, 2. Because I want to, because now’s a good time 3. Whatever I want to, 4. Like this.
In case you are
a womaninterested in the journey as much as the destination, lhere’s a more detailed version:
1. Yes or no?
When I noticed the wish to blog again, two sides of me emerged: one wanted nothing more than to get started, it even felt that it was absolutely critical that I start immediately, that any delay would be terrible, and that I absolutely must go ahead. Right. Away. The other side felt like I had nothing to say, nothing to share that could possibly be of any value to anyone. And the internet is already full of people who do that.
Also, the side of me that felt hesitant was concerned about the obvious risk in the instant nature of blogging, or social media in general: you think it’s a great idea to share something you’re going through – and then you realize it’s not. Because you don’t get the reaction you weren’t even aware you’d wished for, or maybe you didn’t want to any at all. Or maybe you did and nobody said anything. Bottom line: All that happens is you add drama to your pain.
At the end of the day, conflicting feelings arise no matter what I do when I do it for the first time (or the first time after a long time). And there are always valid points to both sides. (Coming up: a post on how I deal with these conflicting feelings.) For now let me just say that at the end of the day it’s a good idea to be aware of all your emotions involved in a decision – and then to make a choice and do what makes you happy. That doesn’t mean the other side disappears but you can make active choices on how to handle that side of you.
2. Why, and why now?
I realized that my reason for not blogging had been that for a very long time I was afraid that being visible in that way would trigger emotions within me which I could not calculate beforehand. It was a good thing I listened to that feeling for as long as I did feel vulnerable, and people’s reactions (or lack thereof) to what I would have shared only would have caused drama.
Eventually I came to the point where protecting myself by not putting myself out there didn’t feel good anymore. I understood that, yes, if I do allow myself to be visible, I make myself vulnerable, and that will stir up emotions in me regardless of any external reactions. But I had begun to feel unhappier about not allowing anyone to see me. I realized that I would feel a lot better about just doing what I feel like, and there was even curiosity as to what kind of emotions that would trigger, and how I would deal with them. I simply came to the conclusion that I didn’t want to avoid any potential emotions anymore if that meant not doing something I really enjoy. Because no matter where I go, they are always there with me anyway – emotions, thoughts and ideas of how I/things „should be“.
There is a middle ground. It’s possible to face my doubts without forcing myself to tackle anything I’m not ready to take on. To be honest without unnecessarily exposing myself. To write and share what moves and engages me without navel-gazing. To be spontaneous and following anything that intrigues me without being random and all over the place.
What is the thread connecting it all? I’ll write about what I wish someone would have told me. My earlier mission statement(s) for this blog still passes the test of time: I want to live my life deliberately, and I want to document and share that journey. That is the thread tying it all together, it’s what I’ve been interested in ever since I was fourteen, read Sofie’s World, and understood what it meant to be self-aware. Then came Thoreau’s Walden, and the notion of living deliberately impressed me equally. And a bunch of other books and experiences that are too many to list here (that’s maybe another post – or a gazillion).
My idea of what deliberate living means have changed. For a while I even attempted to follow Thoreau quite literally (although he was never expressly the reason behind the path I’d chosen): living on the country side, growing my own veggies, being close to nature and contemplating what the necessities of a good life really are. I came to the conclusion that for me they were something else. I think Thoreau would have approved because deliberate living is just that: not blindly following someone’s concept of how life should be but coming up with your own.
For me that means whatever makes me happy. I still want to fill my life with as much awareness as possible. Being aware of one’s self is crucial in the pursuit of happiness. At the end of the day, happiness is the meaning of life. Of mine anyway.
What not? I will not share anything that I know still has an emotional grip on me. True, there are no guarantees, comments (or the lack thereof) can hit you unexpectedly. But that is a risk I am willing to take. In fact, that can be a good thing, if you want to know where you still have buttons to push. And I do! (Have buttons, and want to know where they are.)
A way that works for me to put myself to the test, regarding where I really stand on an issue – in this case, whether I think it’s a good idea to share stories about my personal development in a public forum – is asking „How would I feel if everyone did this?“. I have to say: I would love that! It’s in fact the number one thing I am interested in. Not interested in what cause you think I should support, not interested in what political party you support or hate, not interested in what ongoing atrocities you think I should be aware of. If I am following you on a social media platform, I am interested in you. Pictures of and by you, and your perspective on life. I appreciate honesty in social media. That includes pretty pictures, words of wisdom and encouragement. That also includes descriptions of how people deal with the not so pretty stuff. At the end of the day, social media profiles show less of how someone is than how they want to be seen. And I appreciate people who dare to show their shadows as well as their light. I was waiting for someone to ask me to be one of those people, respectively to give me the permission slip. Then I realized, that none of the people who do claim their space do so because they were „tapped“ – they just do it, and that’s all there is to it!
4. How to begin
That’s the one my mind can easily get stuck on, a good place to look when I don’t know what’s keeping me. Often it’s simply that I overburden the beginning with significance. The point, of course, is really just to jump in anywhere. Maybe that was one of the best lessons my philosophy studies taught me: there is no „easy“ place to start, you just start anywhere. In the beginning it’s all uncharted territory but the more you dare to venture out there, the more you learn how to be an explorer.
This is the story of how my head came to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to blog again – and also what it deems worthy of sharing. And I can appreciate it’s job . It’s not like I have a choice anyway, my mind is debating, rejecting and glorifying stuff all the time, so I might as well involve it in a productive process. You know, like those dogs that need a lot of exercise or they’ll trash your home.
However, the true reason is undebatable, undeniable, completely illogical, and beyond rejection and/or praise: I enjoy doing it. I cannot count the number of blogs I have started and deleted over the years since I was 18 or so. They never made me any money, they never changed the world – but I’ve always had so much fun writing them! When you find yourself enjoying something in and for itself, regardless of external reward, you have to trust that you found the best way to spend your life (or as much time of it as possible).
I have found myself coming to this conclusion over and over again, and sometimes I still keep forgetting it. That writing (and sharing that writing) is that for me. The thing I can do no matter what, the magic process that opens up a space where I am the most me. Just out of curiosity: What’s that thing for you? Is it always there with you, or do you also forget/doubt it? What happens when you do? How do you re-discover it? Do you make any conscious efforts to re-discover it, or does it just sort of come back on its own accord?
Lots of epiphanies these past few days. Things that have been a great source of frustration suddenly stopped bothering me, and all that is left is a sense of peace and freedom. Talking things over has helped. Sometimes. And sometimes it helps more to press the mute button and just look at what actually is happening.
It’s like playing a game. With other players. We all agree that we are playing Monopoly. After a while, something feels off. We talk about it. We resume our game. But after a while we notice, things are still the same. Off. We talk some more. We are really going to make an effort this time to get things right! Repeat.
How do we handle this situation? We could keep going anyway, either in the hopes of locating our error or because it’s just what we do: Keep going. We could quit. Or we could stop for a minute to focus on our discussion, and take a good look at our game. We might just realize that we’ve been trying to apply the rules of Monopoly to a chess board all along.
As you’ve noticed, I’ve been making more time to write here. Stealing minutes here and there (as Julia Cameron suggests in The Right To Write) really works. Of course, telling myself I’ll write just a little bit always leads to spending more time than I’d originally planned for. Which is exactly the point.
I’ve also been telling myself that to get back into the swing of things on this blog, it’s maybe more important that I write (at least during the week, when I can use the computer) than what I write. So far, that has worked as well. Once I start, there’s always something that wants to be said. I may start by ranting for a few paragraphs, which I most often delete later on. But at some point, something always wants to be said, and it is always something that is worth saying.
Two paragraphs in, I still feel like this is going nowhere, and maybe that’s because the things that want to be said at some point aren’t quite ripe yet. I do believe in sharing the process, and not just the result but sometimes the things we don’t live fully yet are better kept inside our hearts for a while longer before sharing them with the world.
Looks like a rant will have to do for today.
It’s been an intense week. Lots of things happening around me, and I find myself getting drawn into this stream of external stimuli and events. Ironically this week was not just the week where I realized that there is time for everything. It’s also been the week where I skipped my morning ritual (writing and oil-pulling, meditating, a few sun salutations) a twice because I wanted to make time for other things.
I’m a person who loves/needs structure, planning ahead, to do lists. Deviating from my schedule usually scares me. I start worrying that making exceptions is just the beginning of a downward spiral into chaos. I told myself instead of writing and meditating before work, I could still fit that into the day somehow, which has proven true for writing more than meditating, although I try to remain/go back to being self-aware as much as I can. But I can still catch myself getting scared that that is a lie, and I’m just slacking off.
And that’s where the flipside of the coin becomes apparent:
When we’re abiding our schedule for fear of not being “good” otherwise, then it seems to me we’re kind of missing the point, and maybe we need to learn how to handle the “chaos” of not having a schedule and just going with our instincts?
This morning I sat in front of the fireplace for a few moments. That feeling that it somehow wasn’t right that I’d just get dressed and drive to work crept up on me. Interestingly, I thought I was being self-aware when I told myself:
“You know that that’s not true. Don’t let this thought take you over. Be in the present and you’ll see there is no problem.”
And I was fine. For about half a second. Then I thought:
“That’s weird, why is that feeling still there?”
In hindsight, my mistake is obvious: I was not taking measure to not let my thoughts steer – I was suppressing an emotion. Realizing this, I tried the opposite – going deep down into that feeling, allowing it to presenting its case, taking it all in, being interested in what it was.
“What if this is just a lame excuse? You said you could find time for everything, so why didn’t you get up earlier to make time for this? You’re slacking off, and this is the beginning of you neglecting the things that are important to you. Soon you’re days will be all work and no play, and you’ll be back to where you never wanted to be again! You’re on your way to the life you never wanted. Being a drone, working, eating, sleeping – nothing more until you die.”
All that sounds really dramatic and terrible – and the hardest exercise I find is not objecting to anything. But it’s like when your best friend is going through a rough time: she does not want you telling her that her feelings aren’t justified. She isn’t expecting you to fix her situation either. She just needs you to listen. It took me a long time to understand that when it comes to others. Seems like now is the time to learn to accept that the same applies to myself. Just allowing the feeling – however dramatic it is, which it always is because on some level it’s ultimately always about the fear of death – is all it takes.
Our feelings want one thing: to be acknowledged. If we fight them, they’ll just fight harder to get our attention. If we accept them and acknowledge their existence, they dissolve eventually.
It seems to be either the only thing we have, or the thing that doesn’t exist at all – or both. Either way, observing my own thinking more I noticed that a lot of stress for me comes from just this one thought:
I don’t have time for this.
„This“ can be both pleasant and annoying. I don’t have time for the things I really do want to do, and I don’t have time for things to go wrong. Whatever it is I feel I don’t have time for – me not having time invariably seems to become a fact as a result of the thought. Very stressful.
Magically – and luckily – it seems to work both ways: More and more frequently, when I’ve noticed myself get worked up over something, and thinking „I don’t have time for this“, I made a conscious effort to let go of that thought, relax, and think:
I do have time for this.
And there it was. By taking time – and I am talking allowing things to take the time they require instead of trying to rush them – I somehow made time. I still managed to do all the things that needed to be done, plus the things that I often don’t feel like I can afford to squeeze into the day.
I always thought it was somehow „unfair“ that I felt too tired at the end of a work day to do the things that I do just for the fun of it. Again, it was reading The Power of Now that steered me back towards the right track:
When we can feel the joy of simply being, it doesn’t matter what we do. That joy is always present, always there for us to choose.
I find this to be true.Whether I’m folding laundry, enjoying the company of a friend, sitting in a traffic jam or at work doesn’t matter when I am self-aware enough to choose to truly be connected to myself and thus the divine source. I find Eckhart Tolle’s metaphor of the sun and the candle very helpful, too:
The joy of being is like the sun light. It’s always there. When we don’t see that light, we can get exstatic over the comparatively small light of a candle. When that light goes out, we’re upset, frightened. When we have the sunlight in our life, we can still appreciate the beauty of the candle light – but it’s not as dramatic when it’s not there. Our happiness is not dependent on it.
I try to remind myself of this whenever I find myself stepping into that mind trap where I go through an episode of „fighting time“(or its lack). It’s as if I am fighting for the right to be unhappy with something. It is completely possible to do that, sure. But what does that really do for me in the long run?
The biggest difference for me when I manage to tell myself that there is time, is, that I am not as tired at the end of the day as I get when I live in a state of frustration over time running through my hands like sand through the hour glass.
It seems as though I might have accused „time“ somewhat hastily of being the villain in the drama of my life …
Yesterday was one of those rare occasions where Peter and I went in to town together. We had an appointment at the homeopath we’ve been seeing for little over a year now. I always feel hopeful after these visits, despite the fact that Peter’s health – for various reasons – so far hasn’t improved since we first started going. Not one bit. What makes me optimistic is that we personally know people with the same issues (electromagnetic sensitivity) who are completely symptom-free today, thanks to this doctor.
We try to make these outings pleasant by doing something „normal“ like eating out, which used to be something we’d enjoy doing (like most couples, I guess). I know that it’s hard for Peter sitting through a meal when the environment is far from ideal with fluorescent lights, wi-fi and people talking and surfing on their cell phones all around. I appreciate that he does it anyway, largely for my benefit.
Yesterday, when we sat there, I thought about what the doctor had said: that he had discovered a mal-function he hadn’t been able to spot before, and that the new treatment should make a difference. That, if he was right, Peter should be able to notice that difference right away. Our next apointment for check-up is in March.
Thinking about the possibility of Peter, if not of being back to „completely healthy“ at least to being better, it made me realized how used I’ve gotten to the craziness we’ve been living with. The concept of us being able to do „regular stuff“ we never used to think about twice (going to the movies! going out for dinner! meeting freinds in town!) seems so out of this world now. It feels unreal that we might get back to that type of normal at all, let alone in the near future.
Peter, as always, managed to point out the most important issue at hand: „What if all this expensive equipment I’m buying today will be completely useless because I’ve gotten well?!“
Yeah, because if you really are going to be well again by March, our biggest priority will be regretting how much money went down the drain on 19 January …
I guess it’s like the doctor said: When we’re ill, we prioritize our health, are willing to put time, effort and money into regaining it. When we’re well, things are just supposed to run smoothely on their own accord.
Here’s to hoping, and to Peter regaining his health. And to remembering the things we do have that are good. Right here, right now.
I’ve been reading Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now again. It was much needed but it also sent me off right onto an emotional roller coaster. I think it’s the ego feeling threatened and trying to trick you into feeding it. And it’s also the ego that’s telling you „No, no, this time you’ll be fine. No need to worry about any drama because you’re self-aware now.“ Well, guilty as charged – I walked right into that one.
Although there is tons of wisdom in The Power of Now, and much quote-worthy material, there was one paragraph that spoke to me especially when reading it this past weekend. Its content was this:
When there’s an inner conflict between your thoughts and your feelings, it’s your thoughts that are the (relative) lie, and your feelings that are true – also relatively speaking. True in the sense that they are the body’s reaction to a situation, telling you how you really feel about something at a given moment.
Naturally, I read that paragraph after I let myself get into that major argument with my fiancé. It was as if I’d followed the instructions for How To Be Unaware And Completely Identified With The Ego to the letter.
Afterwards I could backtrace the detonation of the emotional firecracker to this: we were having a conversation, and Peter questioned something that we in my mind already had agreed on. That happens. A lot. Unfortunately, the next thing also happens. Everytime Peter is having second thoughts about something that is already set in stone in my mind. What does happen is, that I freak out, and if I’m being completely honest, the feeling that surfaces is this:
This man is ruining my life with his constant doubt. All he sees is obstacles, and if I let him say no to everything, it will literally be ball and chain when (if?!) we do get married. I’ll be the prisoner of his fears, not his partner. I can’t allow him to do that to me!
But the whole thing would just be too easy if I allowed that feeling to exist, right? So what do I do? Right. I let my mind speak its, well, mind. And that line of thinking goes something like this:
You know that that is not true. That is only your view of Peter, which is tainted by your own fears. Your lack of faith in the fact that no one else can control your fate but yourself. It’s stupid to believe that he could have that kind of power. Feeling this way is unfair to him.
And you know what? My mind is 100% right. That’s where this whole thing gets messy though. For what am I supposed to do with that? I choose, as I more often than not do, to agree with my logic (since it is true), which effectively means that I forbid myself to feel the way I do. The outcome this Sunday was me standing in the kitchen, alternating between yelling at Peter and crying into the waffle batter. Because, you know, it was Sunday and I like fancy breakfast on the weekend, so the part of me that had decided to not feel what I was feeling decided it was a good idea just to go ahead and do that waffle breakfast.
But (as I would read later): when your own thoughts and feelings are in conflict with each other, the thought is the lie, and the feeling is the truth. So, no matter how logical my thinking was, no matter how right and „above“ the childishness of my fear it was – my feeling did not care.
When things where at their worst then and there, I suddenly saw myself in the situation, and saw that it was exactly the kind of drama I didn’t want anymore, and that I even had thought I wasn’t capable anymore because, you know, I knew. I thought „How the hell do I get out of this?“ I got two answers. My ego said this:
You have to win this thing. The only way to end this is to make Peter acknowledge that you are right. Then, and only then are you done with this. You cannot back down now that you’ve gone this far.
That is pretty much me in a nutshell in any kind of argument or even discussion or debate. That’s one of the reasons I don’t enjoy arguments or discussions or debates. I find it exhausting to feel like I have to be right, yet I inevitably get this feeling when I’m in a discussion/debate/argument. It’s like you tell yourself, „ok I’m playing this game but I can only let myself play it if I remember the whole time that it’s a game“. Of course, once you start you want to win, and then you’re already in the game.
I have fallen for this trap many times. I have seen the destructive outcome. Every time. There is no „win“ because that is not really what this is about. Because it’s not me against Peter (or him against me). Sure, you can destroy someone with hurtful words. But that doesn’t mean you win. Maybe it was having consciously thought about this, having observed myself, having read about it, maybe it was something completely different. Whatever it was, something opened me to the truth this time, when I was standing there, crying, and wanting to get out of this, and feeling my ego’s craving to win this argument at any cost. The truth was – is – this:
There is a way out. It is there at any moment for you. You can leave this situation by acknowldging that that is what it is: your situation. This is not you. There is nothing that says you cannot admit to Peter, and more importantly: to yourself, that you’ve just now realized that. You don’t need to follow through on this argument. And you’re right, it could last forever. Because it’s not about what Peter said or did. It’s about you feeling threatened by something he said, and resenting that feeling. And that won’t go away, it wouldn’t even if you did make Peter admit everything was his fault.
So I did that. The relief of exiting the drama came instantly, and that to me is the beauty and the truth of The Power of Now: no matter where we are in life, how deep we’ve gone into the narrative that our ego/ our intellect has fabricated to persuade us to do their bidding – it is never too late or too complicated to leave. There is no repercussion for admitting that we’ve made mistakes, even huge ones. We are allowed to and capable of freeing ourselves if we want to.
Later, I asked Peter what he thought I should have done. How I should handle a situation like this (and trust me, there will be more), so that things don’t go so wrong from the get go. His suggestion:
Say how you feel. Honestly.
He was right. As soon as we realize that we’ve gotten lost in the story, identified with a thought or a feeling, we are shining a light on them, seeing them and exposing them for what they are. And we realize that they are not us. By admitting to ourselves how we do feel, and maybe even confiding in someone we trust, we are accepting the truth of what is at that moment. It is the only alternative, if we don’t want to fight a battle we can’t win: us against ourselves. It is love.
I am writing again. Journaling, letters, something that could turn into a novel – and here. All thanks to Julia Cameron’s The Right To Write – or thanks to my friend A., who lent me TRTW? Or thanks to the book launch of another friend that made me want to write again? Or maybe thanks to everyone and everything at once. Either way, I am grateful.
Where to pick up again after such a long absence? How about here and now…ish.