Trusting

This is a difficult word for me. 

In my life, trust has been a cynical idea…nice for the innocent and romantic novels, but completely unrealistic. Most people are aren’t trustworthy 100% of the time, so I never quite know when they’re going to falter. That perpetual unknowingness is stressful for me, and it makes it difficult for me to trust another person at all. And, if I don’t trust someone, there is no way I will share anything about me or my inner world with another…none of my thoughts, my ideas, my aspirations, my disappointments, my challenges…nothing. I keep it mostly to myself, for sharing these things with someone I don’t trust or isn’t fully trustworthy is too dangerous for me.

“Trust another only to the degree that he/she trusts him/herself,” one of my teachers teaches me. 

I think about this for a minute. “That’s not very much,” I reply.

She nods her head.

“There’s a lot of leftover trust then. What do I do with it?” I ask.

“Keep it on yourself and use it for yourself. Trust you.”

I stare at her. What does that even *mean*?!

“Just start,” she replies with a smile. “You’re ready to learn how to trust yourself.”

So I begin.

The last blog post was one of those trusting myself moments. I had received that message a week before I posted it, but I didn’t post it because it made no sense to me. I didn’t understand the purpose for it, and was nervous about putting something up before I understood the message because, what if I got it wrong? 

I didn’t. 

Holding trust on yourself and for yourself is transformative. When you pull all your energetic lines of trust off of everyone and everything, from all lifetimes and all dimensions, and bring them back to you at the level of your higher self, cleaned, cleared, and recalibrated, a space is created. Physics requires that space to be filled, but filled with what? I choose to wait to fill it, and just watch.

Then, I notice other things that are interfering with the trust space. I have energetic lines of control outside myself too…along with lines of safety, power, integrity, empathic sensitivity and personal responsibility. As long as I keep these outside myself, my perception of trust will be skewed.

When my lines of control are outside of myself, I notice that my anxiety sky-rockets. I worry about situations and their outcomes, about people and their reactions or opinions, about whether or not my dreams will actually happen. I get angry and upset when others don’t do what I think they should. So, I try to get them to do or say or believe what I want them to do or say or believe. It never works. I only get angry and frustrated…and my trust is thwarted once again.

When my safety is outside of myself, my anxiety sky-rockets as well, because now I’ve made money responsible for my safety…my job, friendships, circumstances, my home, my car…none of which can actually keep me safe. So, the fear of losing any of these things that I want to believe will keep me safe erodes my self-trust…trust that will often lead me away from these things that may be good but not great, into something better.

The same is true for power. When my power is outside of myself, I notice that I feel powerless to change anything. I also notice that I think others have more power to change things than I do, so I pressure them to fix things for me…things I could fix for myself if I just pull that power back to me…which, is really the only way to do it, because no one else knows how to fix things for me. Even if they try with endless amounts of advice, I’ll just respond with an irritated “No!”…because they just don’t understand all the intricacies around the situation. Why do I keep asking someone else to do things for me when ultimately I end up figuring it out for myself? As long as I give my power to others…to situations…to institutions…I can never trust myself fully, for I don’t have the power to use it for anything.

Integrity is a funny one that I’m just now examining. For the most part, my words and actions are in integrity, but my beliefs aren’t always in line with the other two. When that happens, it means I’m energetically carrying something that doesn’t belong to me, so I have to release that belief or action or thought/words. Now there’s room for everything that remains to shift around and it can be quite disorienting. But ultimately, after the shifting settles, I am much more in alignment with my true self…my soul’s essence. And, by coming into my Divine Line, I can easily compare my experience with my soul’s essence and see the places that still need clearing. For, as long as I’m not in integrity with myself, how can I trust myself?

Empathic sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. I’m still learning how to turn this into a blessing…so far it’s mostly been a highly painful experience. I can feel another’s feelings deeply…as though they’re mine. I can walk into a room and know exactly how every single person is feeling and why and how they got there. A simple slamming of a car door physically hurts my body, for the loud, abrupt sound sends a wave that hits my body with the same force with which the door closed. This also means that experiences such as loud music, loud machines, loud voices, angry voices, and unexpected sounds all physically hurt my body…down to my organs and bones and cells. I’m so overwhelmed with feeling everyone and their actions all the time that I can’t figure out what’s me. In fact, the overwhelmingly brutality of life has caused me to retreat so far that all I am is a walking reaction to everything everyone else is feeling…I’m not actually here at all. 

“All your antennae are turned outwards,” my teacher teaches me. “Turn them inward to you and your divine line…like this.”

Gradually, a stillness envelops me…like a soft, cozy, comforting snuggle blanket. I snuggle down and start to relax. As my muscles begin to soften, I wonder if they’re always that tense all the time…if so, then no wonder I have fibromyalgia. I realize that all the anger I was feeling, all the sadness, all the worry, all the panic, all the frustration…none of it was mine…I was simply feeling what everyone around me was feeling. I relax a bit more and start to feel my own soul…to connect with myself in this space, and I realize how peaceful I am…how strong I am…how powerful I am…how emotional I am…how discerning I am…how much integrity I have…how safe I am. I realize that in this space, filled completely with my soul’s essence, I can trust myself…fully and completely…and it doesn’t matter if I can trust another or not. And, I realize, I don’t ever want to leave this space.

“You don’t have to,” my teacher teaches me. “This is you. Stay in it, for this is where you belong and from where you can make everything happen. The moment you leave, you give something away, and you’re no longer in integrity. The moment you leave, you no longer are personally responsible…you now are co-dependent. The moment you leave, you no longer can trust yourself.”

“How do I do this?” I ask, afraid to twitch a muscle for fear of losing this beautiful experience.

“This is the practice,” she responds with a smile. “Keep your antennae inwards, pulling all energetic lines back onto your Divine Line, and suck yourself into your Divine Line…all day…every day. This is what the chirping sound is reminding you to do…so use it. Use anything and everything as a reminder to practice this…the alarm clock waking you up…the turning of a door knob…the pressing of the brake pedal on the car…your breath.”

I chuckle, “Of course…my breath…it’s all in the breath.”

She nods. 

I breathe.

I practice.

 
 
**Image is “Breath of Life Mandala” by Angela McGerr.**
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Chirping

 

 

I have bionic ears. 

Seriously.

I hear the tiniest things…the softest whispers…I’ve even heard someone picking a lock four rooms away. When it’s quiet, and a small noise happens, my ears twist toward the sound…like a cat’s. When I play music, I rarely turn the volume past three…headphones are quite overwhelming at times. Needless to say, I’m not a fan of clubs or pop concerts…symphonic concerts and operas are my style, and even then, there are some rather loud moments that make it hard for me not to cover my ears. 

My ears are also sensitive to high pitches and frequencies. I have a hard time listening to string ensembles or pipe organs, because the harmonics are louder than the fundamental and I can never figure out what note is actually being played. It doesn’t help that after sitting next to a piccolo (which I loathe) during music school, my left ear is now 1/4 of a step flatter in its hearing than my right ear. 

Enter the chirping smoke alarm. 

On August 8th, I came home to discover that a smoke alarm was chirping. I checked every room in my house multiple times. I listened through all the shared walls to my neighbor’s house…using all sorts of devices to magnify the sound for one ear, and deaden the sound for the other. I checked the garage underneath my house. Multiple times. Finally, after three days, I concluded that a nearby neighbor is the proud owner of the chirping smoke alarm. I figured they must be away on vacation because no one would knowingly just let a chirping smoke alarm continue to chirp.

Not so. A week passed. I considered many options to confronting my neighbors, but I always came back to the issue of not knowing exactly which neighbor it is…and not wanting to be considered “The Crazy One.” 

That same week at work, I passed two different buildings that also had chirping smoke alarms. At first I thought my brain was creating the sound due to my neighbor’s incessant contribution to noise. However, as I scoped them out, I realized that no, these were, indeed, chirping smoke alarms. I was grateful that I couldn’t hear them from my office.

The next week, I went to visit a girl-friend who lives several hours away. We met for dinner, and when we stepped into her home, her smoke alarm began chirping…loudly. I hollered at it, and turned to my friend and said, “I don’t care if this doesn’t bother you, I’m fixing this bugger!” Fortunately, she heartily agreed, and we spent the next 30 minutes calming our rattled nerves with tea.

The following week, I went to a restaurant, and, sure enough, there was a chirping smoke alarm. I turned to my dinner companion and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me! How is it possible that everywhere I go has a chirping smoke alarm?!”

At home that evening, my neighbor’s chirping serenade still ever present, I realized that there might be a bigger reason behind all of these smoke alarms. I’d had more than three of these pop into my life, and the insistence and frequency indicated that there might be a rather important message behind them.

After another couple weeks of meditating on what that message might be, I heard this:

Come into yourself.

Pull all your energy and energetic connections off of everyone and everything, and bring it all back to you and your Divine Line.

Gently release all attachments to people, events, places, and things, and instead, increase your attachment to only yourself and your life’s journey here as a multi-dimensional being.

Lift all your tools and mastery and wisdom off of everyone and everything, and bring them back to your Divine Line at the level of your Higher Self, cleansed, cleared and recalibrated.

Deepen your commitment to only yourself and your life here as a multi-dimensional being, and use your tools, wisdom, and mastery on you and for you…not on or for anyone or anything else. Everyone has their own available to them…just show them how to access it and use it for themselves so that everyone is in a place of energetic integrity and wholeness from a place of personal responsibility rather than co-dependence.

Practice connecting to others from this place of your Divine Line, rather than putting energetic lines onto others, by radiating your essence from this place, allowing others to reflect it back to you…rather than basing the quality of your life on your circumstances.

Feel the immense and unlimited support available for you from within your Divine Line…feel the wealth of potentials, dreams, possibilities, resources, and love. Sit in this energy…relish it…receive it…claim it, for it’s yours. 

Then wait…expectantly…ready to take the next step when it’s time…for it’s soon.

It’s now been almost eight weeks since this started. My neighbors continue to treasure their relentless tune, and I still hear those alarms as I walk to and from work each day. But, rather than be consumed by irritation (I’m now only occasionally irritated), I now realize that I can use these as reminders. Reminders to come into my essence…to be powerful from within, and to feel the support from within…releasing others from the obligations of supporting, encouraging, seeing, or doing anything toward or for me…they can just be

My neighbor’s alarm just chirped.

I go ever deeper into my essence.

My soul soars in freedom.

 

Assurance

Yesterday, I saw two of these within five minutes of each other. And while there wasn’t a third one, I was surprised to discover that I was expressing gratitude at my inner reaction…or rather, the lack of the usual reaction, and the new one that is taking its place.

When beginning the process of dreaming a bigger dream, I had many many doubts as to the reality of it ever coming true. My dreams seemed so big and so out of reach and so impossible…the idea that they could happen to me was ludicrous. While a part of me did believe that anything is possible…and I still do…I just couldn’t reconcile the gap of reality between where I was and where my dreams were. Whenever I saw my threes, I felt my insecurities…my unworthiness…and the vast divide separating me from my dreams seemed too big for any bridge to span in this lifetime.

The threes became slivers of hope after a while…hope that even though I couldn’t quite believe in my dreams, I knew that someone did, and I held on to that other’s hope in me…hoping that one day I’d be able to carry that hope and certainty for myself.

Today, as I only saw two, I realized that the insecurities are almost gone…definitely, the unworthiness is gone. There was a calm sense of certainty…of knowing…of assurance…that not only were my dreams possible, but that they actually were going to come true. 

I smiled.

My soul danced.

Gratitude Journal Entry #19

 

Tonight, I’m grateful for journeys. I’m grateful for all those difficult and challenging times that have led to deeper and more intimate relationships…both within myself and with others. I’m grateful for life-long companions on this journey, and for the acceptance and support we offer each other.

I’m grateful for alone time to integrate lessons and experiences…and silence to support the process. I’m grateful for the companion in the ocean as I process in silence…her ebb and flow allowing me to release all that no longer serves me.

I’m grateful for language that allows me to think, and to communicate thought with others. I’m grateful for my life…that is so much more messy, complicated, uncertain, filled with gray areas, and ever-changing…and that it’s ever so much richer in love because of that.

I’m grateful for chocolate pudding that often makes a new perspective see-able.

I’m grateful for my favorite library patron who flung his three-and-a-half-year-old pool-soaked body into my arms…and the pure ecstasy that followed for us both.

I’m grateful for details that reveal so much about everything in life.

I’m grateful for small gestures that carry significant implications and tilt the world dramatically.

I’m grateful for passion.

I’m grateful for humanity.

I’m grateful for lowering inhibitions.

I’m grateful for community.

I’m grateful for love.

 

Emergence

As one begins the process of emerging, one finds words again…able to organize thoughts into coherent lines…have a bit more energy…feel restless. By the end of June, everything is back online again…fully functional, even though I know things are different. It is as though I’ve been hiding in a cave for six months, and have just stepped out…blinded by the light…realizing loneliness…desiring connection with others.

Three weeks later, after practicing my new “feet” and “balance” in my new self, I set off on a month of adventures. I revisit old, familiar places…finding pieces of myself from 10 years ago that I have left behind. I meet, talk, and commune with people…some of whom I haven’t seen in over 10 years…some of whom live many states away and hadn’t planned to see me. Again, I see myself reflected back to me in new ways. Old stories challenged. Old memories challenged. Nothing is quite like I remember it, and yet…I am still there…left behind like a hidden, shameful secret. Professionally, I learn new skills, confronting and pushing through barriers I didn’t know I held for myself. My temporary colleagues reflect back to me my confidence and competence…my passion and my sensitivity, and again, I pick up pieces of myself that I had forgotten even existed.

As the pieces keep coming back to me, my internal peace increases. Where once I would have been terrified to be seen fully and completely for who I am, I gradually begin to realize the safety that exists within me. As internal safety increases, my confidence increases…with startling reactions. People flock to me. They share their souls’ yearnings and dark questions…as though I somehow have answers for them. Of course I don’t. All I can offer is the assurance of safety in pursuing individual paths by staying internally connected. By the time I leave two weeks later, my heart overflows with an abundance of love, joy, and gratitude for the blessings that consume me.

A week later, I journey to another place for a few days. Again, I am confronted with pieces of myself in places with old family history. Grandparent history and family culture history. I see family patterns and stories in new ways, and see my child self in a new light…and I am filled with compassion for her. Again, stories are rewritten…and my place and purpose changes. Again, as my pieces come home, I am startled at the response…an unknown woman stops her truck, rolls down her window, stares at me in awe, and finally tells me that I look absolutely stunning…wishing she could tell me specifically why.

A few days later, I travel to another state. For the first time, I’m completely unorganized and unprepared for a trip. I barely make the airport shuttle and am completely rattled by the time I sit down. As I go within, seeking calmness, I discover an incredible amount of love and compassion. I choose to just sit in that space the entire trip to the airport. Once there, and easily through security, I discover that the flight is delayed. Mildly annoyed due to eagerness to reunite with family on the other end, I wander into a bookshop…always my first place of solace. I realize that I will be purchasing at least one book, so I consciously intend that only books with a life-long impact will make their way into my hands. I leave with the book “Aleph” by Paolo Cohelo.

As the flight takes off, I marvel at my surrounding companions. No one is quite together or controlled. Across the aisle is a tall, black, gay man, clearly terrified of flying, who retreats to a world of lyrically expressive rap…vocalized…volume increasing with his fear. Two rows back sits a family from India, the small boy addicted to kicking the seat in front of him. In between them is a father and son, connected to the mother and daughter sitting next to me. Because their children want the window seats, I’m in the middle of the passing of anything and everything between the two sides of the family. Behind me is a row of women who must have some sort of water issue, for there is rarely five minutes of time that passes without one of them exiting to the restroom…pulling my hair every time. In front of me is a young man, wearing role-playing clothes, a long ponytail and a choke collar. Next to him is a woman in her late sixties, clinging to her youth with her brightly and badly colored red hair, botched plastic surgery, and a smoker’s cough. In front of her is a young woman in her 30s, also embracing the goth culture, clearly smitten by the handsome 20-something Australian men to her left. In order to gain their attention, she puts on her massive headphones and starts to fully rock out in her seat…rarely does her derriere touch the seat for any length of time. Between songs, she turns to talk loudly to the young man in front of me, until he resorts to rocking in his seat…at which point, she talks to the red-haired woman. The Australian young men look around for another place to sit…trying not to panic because there are no other seats open on the flight. It is precisely at this moment, realizing that nowhere else on the plane is there a solitary twitch of movement, how fortunate I am. I’m surrounded by people fully embracing who they are and fully living in the moment. I’m surrounded by people who are unafraid to connect with those around them…creating a network…a web of memories that no one else in the plane will experience.

As the week unfolds, the plane’s lessons stay with me. In the gift of the web of connection with my chosen family…all strongly and beautifully flawed, completely open in brutal honesty…I again discover pieces of myself. Pieces that I’ve left with them…in stories we share…stories that we now realize we want to rewrite. So we do. We recreate ourselves and our web…piece by piece…into a strong foundation of a richer, deeper, more compassionate community.

On my last night of my adventures, exhausted with joy and memories and sorrow at separation, I read this in “Aleph”:

“I skim an article about Chinese bamboo. Apparently, once the seed has been sown, you see nothing for about five years, apart from a tiny shoot. All the growth takes place underground, where the complex root system reaching upward and outward is being established. Then, at the end of the fifth year, the bamboo suddenly shoots up to a height of twenty-five meters.”

I stop.

I realize, I’m completing my fifth year.

I’ve emerged and am reconnecting…preparing to shoot up twenty-five meters.

Stay in the flow…massive change is about to happen.

Trust.

Be Joyful.

Be Peace-filled.

Be Love-filled.

Be.

Gratitude Journal Entry #18

Today, several worlds collided: libraries, cemeteries and San Francisco…all because of Harvey Milk.

I finally watched the film “Milk” today.

It’s been on my list of films to watch since it was released, but like other films, such as “Marie Antoinette,” anything on JFK, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., “The Winds of War,” “The Last King of Scotland,” “Hotel Rwanda,” etc., it’s really hard to be motivated to watch them…because I know how they end…violently. And, when so much of my life has been about surviving violence in some form or another, watching it in another’s life is often more than I can bear. But, when I do finally watch, I always learn something new…about my world…about my perceptions…about myself.

I returned to live in the United States at the age of 18…after living 12 years in  foreign countries…the last of which was ravaged by war. My family eventually settled in the San Francisco Bay Area, which I grew to love as my home in the United States. I loved The City. I loved the diversity. I loved the tolerance. I loved that no matter how odd or geeky I felt or looked, there was always someone nearby who was even more so than I…and I especially loved that no one cared. This is where I learned to drive. I figured that if I could survive a foray into The City with a Honda Civic hatchback stick shift…navigating Market Street and stop signs that required the use of the hand-brake, I could do anything. San Francisco showed me that there was a place for me…that I was powerful…that I was unique…that I was valuable. Apparently, I’m not the only one who experienced the magic of that city. And now, I understand why I love Yerba Buena Gardens and Moscone Center…the War Memorial Opera house, where I heard my first opera…city hall…and The Castro. These places have always been beautiful to me…now they are even more so…because someone who lived there before me made a choice to make a difference.

In pondering the film as the credits rolled, I thought of all the books that are passing through my hands at work…a project that involves all the biographies in the library. Each time I work with a book, I learn something new about a time period, a person, event, a place. And, each time, I marvel. I marvel at the ordinariness of these people’s lives…and the magnificence that mingles with the mundane. Most of the biographies I see are about people history will never teach. And yet, these people did significant things in the eyes of those around them. They made a difference. It may not have been on the scale of averting a world war…but…perhaps it was. And, while Newton’s Third Law may have application in the physical world, not all actions have equal and opposite reactions. Sometimes, human actions have exponentially more powerful reactions that propel something further, or in a new direction,than the original action…and all it took to start the cascade was one tiny word or smile or vote. And then I think, I’m the fortunate one…to be able to learn about all of these people, who, by their seemingly small and unknown lives, have contributed to my life…simply by living…and being…and participating in life.

Then I realize this is why I love going to cemeteries. It’s not because I’m a zombie fan…I’m not. It’s not because I have a love of the macabre…I don’t. It’s not because I have a fascination with death and the dead…I don’t. I’ve seen death…in others, and in my face as I looked down the barrel of an automatic weapon…several times. I’m not afraid of death, but neither do I celebrate it. What I celebrate are the lives of those who have lived before me. When I’m in a cemetery, it’s as though the collective wisdom and experience and knowledge of all those people buried there teach me. It might be something as simple as sitting still, watching the grass grow. It might be the awareness that life is short and that I have the opportunity to live without fear. It might be that I’m inspired to be open to the passionate devotion of a lover and spouse. It might be to strengthen the bonds of friendship with someone who has melted into the background of my life. I never leave unchanged…I never leave without being just a bit wiser…because of someone else’s life.

So, tonight, I’m once again in deep awe and gratitude for all the people who have lived before me…documented either in films, books, or on tombstones…whose lives created tiny changes, that after many years, added up to massive changes for a better existence for humanity. I’m especially grateful for the ordinary, unknown people who often did more significant things…they just didn’t realize it at the time. They just lived their lives…some of them more gracefully than others, but all of them worthwhile and courageous. Tonight, I’m grateful for all of these people…for all the things they did that we might never know…for all the small choices they made that made the world tilt slightly…so that my life could be what it is.

Thank you.

Gratitude Journal Entry #17

 

Tonight, I’m grateful for being greeted at the door with a hug by my 2.5-year-old piano student, first thing this morning. I’m grateful for a thoughtful, gluten-free breakfast provided by my piano students’ mother. I’m grateful for my 7-year-old piano student who told me that he wanted to wait another week to put a sticker on his piece because he knew he could make it sound better by practicing it more. I’m grateful for silly play with the boys and all the fun sounds my voice can make.

I’m grateful for sustained energy today, in spite of the fog, that both inspired and resulted in a clean kitty box, a clean tub, a clean bathroom counter and mirrors, clean dishes and kitchen counter tops, vacuumed carpets and mopped floors. I’m grateful for the music that kept me company during my cleaning commitments.

I’m grateful for Netflix for providing me with documentaries whilst sewing.

I’m grateful for the beautiful orchid that is blooming in my living room.

I’m grateful for the unexpected call from a former student. I’m grateful that I was able to share out of my abundance with this friend and offer her a home-cooked lunch. I’m grateful for the lovely time we spent together.

I’m grateful for the new clothing items that came in the mail, and that all but one fits perfectly.

I’m grateful for colors.

I’m grateful for textures.

I’m grateful for flavors.

I’m grateful for creativity.

I’m grateful for naps.

I’m grateful for love.

Gratitude Journal Entry #16

 

Tonight, I’m grateful for the life of my Aunt Betty. I’m grateful for her strength as a woman in a family of overbearing men. I’m grateful for her presence in my life as a child, modeling that strength, and understanding and supporting me in ways no one else could.

I’m grateful for her never-ending support of me through my parent’s divorce and my father’s illness. I’m grateful that she understood what my true responsibilities were even when I didn’t…and that she encouraged me to go live my life without guilt or responsibility for them or their actions.

I’m grateful for her honesty and wisdom.

I’m grateful for her earthy sense of humor and common sense.

I’m grateful for her consistency and her devotion to those she loves…even when it was painful.

I will greatly miss not having her as a resource and guide in human form, and I’m grateful that I’m developing the ability to hear her soul even if it no longer resides in a human body.

Thank you Aunt Betty for your life…I’m grateful to have been a small part of it.

Backlash

As the reconstruction continues, a curious thing happens…there’s a backlash.

Some people call this karma, some call it ego resisting change, others call it a test for the lessons just learned…I call it backlash…a law of physics. Newton’s 3rd Law of Motion to be more specific: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction (simplified).

As the foundations of my self complete, I now start to build, orient, and reference myself from this new foundation…this new me with updated ideas, thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors. At this point, the change or shift isn’t really optional…it’s happening no matter what. And, to be honest, I’m greatly relieved, for I’m tired of that old way and am ready for something new.

But.

The people around me may not be.

Hence, the backlash.

I can’t really say that I blame them for being angry…or confused…or upset…or sad…or frustrated. After all, the person they thought they knew isn’t really there any longer. My interests are different…my conversations are different…my reactions are different…how I stand…how I hold space is different…what is acceptable to me…my boundaries are different. I know what is happening and why this is happening, but they don’t. Often, they’re not even consciously aware of what has changed…just that something is different…and they don’t like it.

So, they use the most effective and efficient tools they have to try to get me to revert to the me they knew…the me that is familiar to them…the me that feels safe to them…the predictable me. They use these tools in order to achieve a level of peace they’re used to. These tools, however, are usually some form of anger…passive or direct. I’m grateful that, many years ago, I read the book The Dance of Anger, providing me with understanding as to what’s happening. But…the emerging me is struggling to find the new, effective, and appropriate ways to respond…not only to their anger, but my anger as well…my anger that is triggered from theirs.

After several months of wrestling with this backlash, all while in the midst of my transformation, I’m gifted with a beautiful group meditation involving six other wise, spiritual women. We begin by sharing our revelations from the past week. I share that I’m grateful for the peace that I experience when I turn off my brain. They’re curious about this practice. I struggle to explain it to them. So, we go into meditation to experience it energetically. As I communicate with them, I simultaneously receive and share this message:

When you turn down the brain chatter,

you turn down all the stories

all the beliefs…

all the ego that seeks to run your life.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

the emotional programming cannot activate.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

you are no longer able to

engage with the thought that would trigger the feeling,

which would then lead to the story and a resultant emotion or loop.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

a vacuum is created.

The laws of physics don’t allow a vacuum to exist,

so something new fills it.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

the heart activates,

filling the vacuum,

connecting you to your soul and your wisdom.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

you cannot be triggered…

instead,

you experience life from a place of

Unconditional Love,

Clarity,

Non-reactivity.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

you become the teacher…no longer the student.

When you turn down the brain chatter,

you receive the gift of backlash…

Peace.

Gratitude Journal Entry #15

To the most amazing senior class I’ve ever had the pleasure to know: Thank you.

Thank you for your unwavering dedication and commitment to excellence every single day of your high school career.

Thank you for your default setting of kindness, thoughtful communication, and humble leadership.

Thank you for setting examples…not in never making mistakes, but in how you handled the consequences.

Thank you for your hearts…for sharing your genuine spirits that resulted in others following your example.

Thank you for letting me be a part of your lives for four years and for exploding my heart into a million pieces in order to feel all the emotions I felt today.

Thank you for the tear-producing laughter, the thought-provoking conversations, the exquisite writing and life-changing research.

Thank you for being the kind of people who, simply by being who you are, will change the world.

Congratulations Class of 2012…I’m grateful for you.

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