Dare to be Whole

"It is our very fear of the future that distorts the now that could lead to a different future if we dared to be whole in the present.” Marion Woodman

As a coach, I hear the pain in a client's voice as they tell me they don't know why they can't get this job, get this promotion, hit a certain tier of success, stop negative behavior, make the relationships in their life work, etc.  They tell me they try to project what they want in the future, but their past keeps them stuck. I understand the trap of the past, and how it can keep us just far enough out of reach from our goals to cause frustration. When my 19 year old marriage ended, I interpreted that loss as a personal failure. I told myself, If I had been better, I would have had a fuller, more honest marriage. I defined myself as less than because my ideal marriage had not been achieved. We all have ideals, which either keep us tethered to the past, constantly going over and over why we are not achieving the results we want, or focused on the future.  This cycle can feel impenetrable, but it absolutely can be resolved.  

 

 The first step is to surrender to the moment. When we shift our gaze from our past and future and accept the present, our perceptions are allowed the freedom to become fluid.  We can consider the possibility that our current circumstances may hold lessons that will instruct us.  We may miss these important clues without this important shift in perspective. Asking, "What is the lesson that I need to learn," can yield the promise of our dreams if we keep our attention on the present. I began to understand the lessons of my past, and I began to let go of my ideal future when I let the gifts of the present unfold.  For the first time in my life, I knew from somewhere deep inside of me that I was perfect just as I was because the circumstances that I had once deemed a hardship were really a loving, instructive gift.  Every piece of my life's path was exactly as intended.  My inner compass, that soft, gentle voice, was enough.

The second step is to go inward.  When we go inward, we begin to see the beauty in each step in life's dance. We understand why we didn't get that promotion because something else was forming that was better. Meditation gave me the space to go inward. It also gave me the eyes to see the dew on the petals of a flower, the myriad colors of a setting sun, and the beauty in each human being that has come into my life. When I adjusted my gaze from what went wrong (the past) and how I am going to fix it (the future), I could see the beauty in my ex-husband, my children, and even in the death of a loved one. 

I helped to care for my mother-in-law in the last years of her life. I took her swimming twice a week, and when she could no longer swim, I took her to some of her favorite places−the library, the bookstore, and The Dollar Store. When I first began this journey with her, I was not present as a thousand things I could be doing instead flooded my mind. My ideal of relationship looked differently, and I almost missed the gift in front of me.  It didn't take long, however, to see that gift. My mother-in-law shared her dreams, her hurts, her regrets, her secrets, her wisdom, and gratitude. I was connected to this beautiful soul, and she was connected to me. Connecting is the beauty of life and what really makes us whole. While we want the job, the promotion, the right dollar amount in our retirement fund, being loving and being loved is the ultimate gift.

I have come to know that the only way to truly confront the world is with open eyes and an open heart. When we give up expectations, we can see the gifts and lessons that in the present moment, demonstrates that we are whole and on the right path. Thich Nhat Hanh's book The Miracle of Mindfulness states, “Many people are alive but don't touch the miracle of being alive.”  When I surrender to what is happening in any given moment without a preconceived notion, I am present for the gifts of life even in the face of tragedy or death.  When I give up what I think my life should look like, then the dreams can be unveiled, and the money, jobs, and relationships can come into view.  When we are whole, we are connected.  When we are whole, we achieve.  When we are whole and we experience the miracle of of being alive. 

God's Gym

In graduate school I had the space to write, read, and to fall in love.  Love came fast and furiously with Junot Diaz's Drown, his debut offering of short stories that gave me permission to write the rhythms of my neighborhoods in Los Angeles that were not all lush, honey-colored beaches and swaying in the breeze palm trees.  I rekindled an affair with Toni Morrison,  J.D. Salinger, and AndreDubus, Jr.  It was a time of quiet reflection and a shifting into something unknown until I met John Edgar Wideman's ducking and jabbing Mama from his collection of short stories, God's Gym.  In Wideman's story titled Weight, this Mama rocked my quiet world of contemplation and continues to do so.  The family Wideman's Mama inherited needs prayer, love, and understanding, but most of all, they need the woman at the helm to be in fighting-ready condition to deal with the life she has been given. Wideman writes:

 "My mother is a weightlifter.... Not barbells or dumbbells ... The weights she lifts are burdens−her children's, her neighbors, yours." 

Before I found Wideman's fierce and ready to deal mother, I tended to only don my spiritual armor in times of trouble but mostly came up short because my spiritual body was weak and out of shape.  No matter how much thoughtful contemplation I give my trials, no matter how many pleas I made to the Universe, I still felt defeated and unsure.  

The practice of love, forgiveness, faith, and patience is just that− a practice.  The day-to-day stretching and pumping of spiritual iron makes it easier to step into the ring with our wounds, doubts, feelings of unworthiness, victimhood, and fear.  The practice of hitting God's gym daily, hourly, and especially when times are good and the going is easy, builds the muscles needed to look uncertainty square in the face.

On my bathroom mirror is a bright, yellow post-it with the words "Choose Love" written with a thick, black Sharpie.  I wanted it to stand out because I need to be reminded that love is a practice.  Each in-the-moment decision to choose love strengthens my love muscles.  Prayer and time spent on my meditation pillow is time well spent in my spiritual gym, but it is not enough.  I then have to build on that practice by offering up a parking space in the Wawa parking lot when I see a hurried somebody eager to cut me off, and practice patience when my beautiful eleven year old boy rolls his eyes because I tell him to brush his teeth. 

The minute-by-minute practice of consciously choosing within the thousands of choices presented to me each day strengthens my ability to choose love, faith, forgiveness, and patience in both times of trouble and when the going is as easy as the palm trees of my childhood swaying softly in the warmth of a California breeze.    

Have a Dream? Let Your Body Lead the Way

Photo by A.Edmonds

As a life coach, I am privileged to be in a position to hear the dreams of others.  I am privy to the most inspiring, bright and beautiful places men and women want to move in their lives.  I also often hear this phrase, "I don't know what's blocking me." 

In some cases I hear clients tell me that they know they are supposed to be doing something more meaningful, but they are not sure what form that meaning should take in their lives.   

How can we move from sensing into fully knowing?  What prevents us from being able to move our dreams from the body into the light of the world?  In short, how do we get clear, get unstuck, and get moving?

The answer to these questions is simple but not easy.  The body holds the answers.  Our emotions and bodily discomforts give us clues to why those dreams lay dormant. 

When I was in my early 20s, I spent 30 days in the hospital for an eating disorder.  I was diagnosed with anorexia and bulimia, a deadly combination that threatened my life.  While I learned tools to deal with my disorder, it wasn't until I was pregnant with my first child did the lessons my body was trying to teach me through the gift of that dis-order come into view. 

Because of the love I had for the growing child in my body, I gave myself the space to examine my actions when I wanted to restrict myself from eating, or when I had the impulse to overeat and then use exercise to purge.  What I discovered was that I had developed those behaviors when I was a child in order to protect myself.  I turned to food when I was frightened as a little girl.  Toasted bread with butter protected me when Daddy was hurting Mommy.  I, in turn, began to purge when my appearance was not pleasing to my mother.  I ran and ran and ran to make the food inside of me go away.  I did this in my marriage as well.  I ran and ran and ran when I felt I was unpleasing to my husband, when I felt him stray from our marriage.  That scared and wanting to please eight year old was still controlling my life.  Every time I was frightened or felt unloved, I returned to my little girl way of coping.  One simple question shifted my behavior.

What is the most loving thing that the adult Stephanie can do in this moment? 

That questions shifted me away from solving problems as a child into the clarity, wisdom and mature love of the adult woman I had become.  It also opened me up to my dreams.  I sometimes had to comfort that little girl inside of me.  "It's okay," I told her when I felt resistance to a new way of confronting problems.  I could now take that little girl by the hand and guide her right into my deepest dreams and desires without fear because the adult Stephanie was now leading the way.

It takes practice to catch ourselves when old behaviors arise.   The practice of placing our attention on the body, to notice any discomfort, pain or emotion will open us to an awareness of the wisdom of our emotional landscape.  When we ask ourselves, "What is this emotion, behavior or pain teaching me?" the answer can liberate us to move forward.

This work is not new.  Many mental health practitioners use inner child work in their practices, which harkens to Carl Jung's Divine Child Archetype.  The work of  Dr. Doris E. Cohen has informed my coaching practice and deepened my own healing.  Her book Repetition holds valuable exercises to help us heal our childhood hurts, empower our adult selves, and with clarity, take the actions necessary to boldly and fearlessly step into our dreams. 

The Practice of Forgiving

 My father and I circa 1966

"Your daddy's grandmother was a full blooded Indian." 

This is what my beautiful great-aunt, a woman I had not seen in 30 years, told me when I visited her in Mississippi two years ago.  It was a homecoming of sorts and the bittersweet end to my journey to find my father.  My mother, two sisters, and I escaped his alcoholic terror when I was 12 years old.  At the time, I was relieved.  At the time, I never thought I would leave my own family to scour the streets of an unknown state and city to find a man who caused me such pain.  

After my great-aunt and I cried, embraced and got reacquainted, she shared the pictures that she, on arthritic knees, had climbed into her attic to find.  I saw myself as a girl, I saw myself as a baby being loved my father, and I saw my great grandmother. When I looked at the petite, red clay skinned women with dark flowing hair, I felt her strength, resilience and hope.  I have been exploring my Native American roots since that visit.  The Choctaw Nation is on both my mother's side, and resides within my paternal great-grandmother.  

In the Native American tradition of old, a woman determines if a man stays in the home, even if that man built the physical house.  A woman decides whether a man is worthy to be in her company and in the company of their children.  A man expelled from the home must provide a daily offering of food until he is either invited back, or another man takes his place.  This tradition of graciously and generously yielding to a woman's wishes did not reside within my father even though Native American blood flowed through him.  It did not reside within my ex-husband either.  

I forgave my father, but I could not fully forgive my ex-husband.  While I had wonderful moments of forgiving and healing during the first year of our divorce, I still continue to struggle.  Holding on to my anger and feelings of betrayal, I noticed that I began to feel drained, powerless, and victimized.  Just as I had chosen to forgive my father, I chose to continue the forgiving process with my ex-husband.  With the help of Debbie Ford's seminal book, Spiritual Divorce, I continue to forgive and to heal.  I repeated the exercise from Debbie's book and like magic, my ill-feelings clear.  You can do it, too:

• Write down your version of the events fully with all the hurt and emotion present.  Don't hold back or try to be kind or understanding.  Let your raw emotions flow.

• Write down the other person's version.  Imagine all of their hurt and emotion.  Let yourself indulge in their feelings by fully stepping into their shoes.

• Write down a neutral version with just the facts. 

When you are done, you can create a ritual of release.  You can burn the three versions, bury them, or shred them into confetti and release them into the wind.  Choose something that is meaningful to you to achieve a full sense of letting go.

Taking the time to do this ritual again helped me to discover that forgiving is continuous.  It is a daily practice like any other in my life.  When I wake, I can choose to forgive myself and others for any acts that I may have deemed harmful.  What I also discovered, as I wear the spirit of my great-grandmother, is that I, too, can practice as my ancestors did.  I can stand in the power that I get to decide who comes into my physical, spiritual and emotional house.