Hello pie-lovers.
I don't actually know if you love pie, but a pie often has a top crust and a bottom crust with a filling inside. But many pies look alike from the outside and are hard to distinguish from one another. I ask you, this week, "What's in your pie?" and " Have you forgotten what's there for you?" This week's NEWS is about Remembering Yourself. And when you remember yourself, you remember even more of what's in your pie and what you most want it to be - and then, you can honestly call yourself a "pie-lover".
This week, my kids started school and on the first day, Sawyer had some homework. I knew this because the teacher has created an organizational tool for the kids' folders, called "Homework Planner". It has the days of the week on it and it has spaces for the child to write in the subject of the homework (Math, Reading, etc.). This time, an adult had obviously written in the subject of "Writing" and under the day of the week (which was Wednesday), had written "How I got my name". I looked at this and asked Sawyer if he was to write about how he got his name. He did not know. I asked him if the teacher had discussed it in class. He did not know. He didn't remember anything about the How I Got My Name assignment. So, I told him that we would just assume he was to write about it and he did - with some resistance.
That same evening, by coincidence (or Divine Intervention?), Bill asked that I go to the grocery store for a few specific items. I went and while there bumped into Sawyer's teacher. I happened to mention the assignment and my uncertainty about what he was to do and she told me he was to write down Notes on how he got his name and then the next day, would write it all up in class. When I returned home, I mentioned this "Notes" thing to him to see if he might now remember, and he burst into tears.
"I'm a complete failure!" he yelled, sobbing.
And he went on to confess how he pretends too much etc. (which, is his greatest challenge and definitely gets in the way when he needs to be listening for instructions). I tried to sooth him a bit, but he was very upset and I asked him to put his hand on his heart and ask ( his Inner Voice, Higher Self - call it anything you like) what he really thinks of this whole "failure" idea - if it thinks he is a failure.
And he said, "I am a complete success."
And when he said this, he calmed down a lot. I told him that's the voice he wants to lean on and believe - that's a stable TRUTH. Being unskilled at something, making a mistake, tuning-out - these are not defining properties in our experience. They do not unearth a great poignant, damning reality of Who We Really Are. Those things are small potatoes. They change, with practice, with intention, with desire, with choice, with time. They are not abiding and do not even have to be judged as "Bad", if we realize we are not defined by them. We are who we are and that exists Within, not as a product of an External. I told him that a mistake is really just DIRECTION - it points you towards the next better step to take., that's all. And that's all it has to be.
Here's another clue:
I was doing our weekly shopping, when I happened to come to an isle with two women in it. One looked like she was somewhere between 45 and 55 and the other looked very young - anywhere from her mid-teens to twenty or so. They both had similar brownish-yellow skin and thicker, kinkier hair. They each had a cart, although they appeared to be together. I wasn't certain but it seemed like the older woman was the younger woman's mother. As I came toward them, the older woman took note and motioned for the younger girl to move her cart out of the way, but the exchange was a completely quiet one. As I rolled past, I looked back out of curiosity and saw the older woman speaking in sign language to the other and all of a sudden, a sense of this intense silence hit me. As I turned the corner to the next isle, I found myself so moved by the extreme stillness of their communication, that my eyes began to tear. Experiencing this stillness had triggered in me, a memory of and yearning for this kind of still communication within Myself. It wasn't for nothing that I was having such a strong emotional response - I was recognizing something about myself that was IMPORTANT.
When You Remember Yourself - like Sawyer did at the moment he left his painful thought process and turned inward, or when I recognized this still communication, you FEEL BETTER. And you know it's YOU because you feel Loved and you want more of it.
So, go back to your pies and see what clues come to you this week about what is there that you have (temporarily) forgotten or are Ignoring. You might just be surprised to find that you are in fact a major PIE-LOVER.
Lots of love to you.
All is Well,
Jen
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Center-point (written 8/28/07)
Hello great souls. It is time to reflect upon BALANCING, Finding the Center-point and Listening to your Inner Voice. My Inner Voice says: Let Us Begin!
When we ride a bike, there's a kind of center-point that we search for, that lets us know we're in a place where we can now balance and go forward. Of course, there is no way to go forward smoothly without balancing first and I think this is true in life as well. On the bicycle, we can FEEL the gap between where we need to be and where we are, and we keep adjusting our bodies and checking in, until we find "it". I think that in order to go forward in the ways we're most wanting we must be in balance emotionally, we must FEEL our way back to the center point.
I've seen stories in which a person finds him/herself a dire situation: about to be raped/attacked, in an out-of-control car, accidentally buried alive - whatever it is, in which they suddenly hear an Inner Voice speak the guidance they need. From the responses on the shows I've watched, it seems like many people are willing to accept the idea of a person hearing a voice under these kinds of circumstances. I believe that, if that voice is there during those times, we have access to it all the time. It may be quieter, or it may just come as impulse, but it is there. The question is how much do we use it, how much do w e value it, and how much do we believe in it.
Yesterday, I was watching the Illusionist Chris Angel on television. He has a show called: "Mind Freak" in which he does tricks based on magician-type illusion and some based at least partly on his intuitive skills. In this show, he had a man standing behind one of three screens while he was drove at full speed through one of them without being told (so they said) which one the man had chosen to stand behind. He discussed his Inner Voice and how he's cultivated it and come to trust it. The first round, he drove directly through successfully. Then, he decided to do it again, this time with there being a fifty-fifty chance he might hit the man. But this time, as he drove, he slowed before the middle screen and asked the man if he was there. He was. Chris Angel said the problem was that the man had been so anxious and nervous that the signal he was sending was uncertain until right before he had approached on his motorcycle; so he was getting the clear information too late to be able to go at full speed. At any rate, they did it once more successfully.
I think that in life, we are receiving information all the time about what's safe and what's not, the best direction, the right person, new opportunity, but I think our own focus on our fear , anxiety , and lack of trust in ourselves blocks the signal, so to speak, until or unless it really becomes dire and is basically upon us. When we consciously search for the center-point though, for that feeling place from which it feels easier to balance, we become tuned in, and find it infinitely easier and safer to go forward.
Years ago, when Max wasn't yet two, I got pregnant. It was earlier than we'd planned, but we very much wanted a second child and were excited. At the end of my first trimester, I was spotting and had an ultrasound and a week or two after, I miscarried. The ultrasound had shown no baby. There was a placenta and a sac, but no one home; the beginnings of this person had just not worked out and had already been reabsorbed by my body. At the time, I was calm at first, and then more distressed as I waited for my body to get the message and miscarry what was left of the pregnancy. Once I miscarried, I remained in a mental state of confusion and distress for several months. I let myself focus on fear and lack of TRUST, and built upon the idea that perhaps I wouldn't ever be able to have another child. This fear grew in me and took me down other roads of thought that were very painful. My body became an obsession, as every pang, every twang, any clue of "abnormality" became a grave cause for concern and anxiety.
Finally, I knew I had to pull myself in and reach for something better. I tuned in, and felt around for that center-point, and I heard my inner voice. And it had much to say. I realized, like other times in my life, I was mourning the Loss of something I never really had in the first place. It was just an idea - an idea that never came to fruition. My inner guidance said to HAVE WIHAT I HAVE and to let go of the sorrow. For it was all just an Idea of something I wanted. Nothing is truly lost when you trust in your ability to create more. I was focusing my energies completely in fear, building upon the idea that I couldn't create more. And , of course, I was hurting over this.
I started having what I did have, starting with my little (at the time) boy Max and our family and I let myself have my life and all the good in it without regret. I made peace with where I was. And life started to move me again.
Hearing your Inner Voice is a choice, believing in it is a choice, validating it is a choice, honoring what you know to be true is a choice. So, we have many choices before us. Focusing on my fear kept me disconnected from my own knowing.
Yesterday, I was at the park with Sawyer and Max and they were having a climbing contest. It was a tie , so Max came up with a challenging event for the tie breaker. It was to make it across this particular climbing apparatus (involving ropes in a row) without feet ever hitting the ground. Sawyer looked at it and said in a low tone, "I've never done that before." I encouraged him to try any way. HIs first attempt, he fell and sobbed, not from pain, but at the belief that he'd LOST. He regrouped and took another approach. He struggled. Midway through he was in absolute terror as he tried to negotiate a particularly challenging part. I was in a position where he was so high up, I couldn't spot him. I was anxious, striving not to be, and encouraged him to come back down. And he did, but as he did, he followed his own impulse and handled the whole thing in another way, and continued on and made it across. Afterwards he was happy and kept telling Max, "I was so scared. I was so scared." But he was happy because some how he had put his fear down, and allowed an impulse through. And that impulse guided him to an experience that, although it didn't technically involve his original concept of " winning", was what he really wanted.
Images or words or impulses, strong feelings can all be communication. You know it's the real you, when it's positive, life-affirming and feels like relief.
Love to You All.
All is Well,
Jen
When we ride a bike, there's a kind of center-point that we search for, that lets us know we're in a place where we can now balance and go forward. Of course, there is no way to go forward smoothly without balancing first and I think this is true in life as well. On the bicycle, we can FEEL the gap between where we need to be and where we are, and we keep adjusting our bodies and checking in, until we find "it". I think that in order to go forward in the ways we're most wanting we must be in balance emotionally, we must FEEL our way back to the center point.
I've seen stories in which a person finds him/herself a dire situation: about to be raped/attacked, in an out-of-control car, accidentally buried alive - whatever it is, in which they suddenly hear an Inner Voice speak the guidance they need. From the responses on the shows I've watched, it seems like many people are willing to accept the idea of a person hearing a voice under these kinds of circumstances. I believe that, if that voice is there during those times, we have access to it all the time. It may be quieter, or it may just come as impulse, but it is there. The question is how much do we use it, how much do w e value it, and how much do we believe in it.
Yesterday, I was watching the Illusionist Chris Angel on television. He has a show called: "Mind Freak" in which he does tricks based on magician-type illusion and some based at least partly on his intuitive skills. In this show, he had a man standing behind one of three screens while he was drove at full speed through one of them without being told (so they said) which one the man had chosen to stand behind. He discussed his Inner Voice and how he's cultivated it and come to trust it. The first round, he drove directly through successfully. Then, he decided to do it again, this time with there being a fifty-fifty chance he might hit the man. But this time, as he drove, he slowed before the middle screen and asked the man if he was there. He was. Chris Angel said the problem was that the man had been so anxious and nervous that the signal he was sending was uncertain until right before he had approached on his motorcycle; so he was getting the clear information too late to be able to go at full speed. At any rate, they did it once more successfully.
I think that in life, we are receiving information all the time about what's safe and what's not, the best direction, the right person, new opportunity, but I think our own focus on our fear , anxiety , and lack of trust in ourselves blocks the signal, so to speak, until or unless it really becomes dire and is basically upon us. When we consciously search for the center-point though, for that feeling place from which it feels easier to balance, we become tuned in, and find it infinitely easier and safer to go forward.
Years ago, when Max wasn't yet two, I got pregnant. It was earlier than we'd planned, but we very much wanted a second child and were excited. At the end of my first trimester, I was spotting and had an ultrasound and a week or two after, I miscarried. The ultrasound had shown no baby. There was a placenta and a sac, but no one home; the beginnings of this person had just not worked out and had already been reabsorbed by my body. At the time, I was calm at first, and then more distressed as I waited for my body to get the message and miscarry what was left of the pregnancy. Once I miscarried, I remained in a mental state of confusion and distress for several months. I let myself focus on fear and lack of TRUST, and built upon the idea that perhaps I wouldn't ever be able to have another child. This fear grew in me and took me down other roads of thought that were very painful. My body became an obsession, as every pang, every twang, any clue of "abnormality" became a grave cause for concern and anxiety.
Finally, I knew I had to pull myself in and reach for something better. I tuned in, and felt around for that center-point, and I heard my inner voice. And it had much to say. I realized, like other times in my life, I was mourning the Loss of something I never really had in the first place. It was just an idea - an idea that never came to fruition. My inner guidance said to HAVE WIHAT I HAVE and to let go of the sorrow. For it was all just an Idea of something I wanted. Nothing is truly lost when you trust in your ability to create more. I was focusing my energies completely in fear, building upon the idea that I couldn't create more. And , of course, I was hurting over this.
I started having what I did have, starting with my little (at the time) boy Max and our family and I let myself have my life and all the good in it without regret. I made peace with where I was. And life started to move me again.
Hearing your Inner Voice is a choice, believing in it is a choice, validating it is a choice, honoring what you know to be true is a choice. So, we have many choices before us. Focusing on my fear kept me disconnected from my own knowing.
Yesterday, I was at the park with Sawyer and Max and they were having a climbing contest. It was a tie , so Max came up with a challenging event for the tie breaker. It was to make it across this particular climbing apparatus (involving ropes in a row) without feet ever hitting the ground. Sawyer looked at it and said in a low tone, "I've never done that before." I encouraged him to try any way. HIs first attempt, he fell and sobbed, not from pain, but at the belief that he'd LOST. He regrouped and took another approach. He struggled. Midway through he was in absolute terror as he tried to negotiate a particularly challenging part. I was in a position where he was so high up, I couldn't spot him. I was anxious, striving not to be, and encouraged him to come back down. And he did, but as he did, he followed his own impulse and handled the whole thing in another way, and continued on and made it across. Afterwards he was happy and kept telling Max, "I was so scared. I was so scared." But he was happy because some how he had put his fear down, and allowed an impulse through. And that impulse guided him to an experience that, although it didn't technically involve his original concept of " winning", was what he really wanted.
Images or words or impulses, strong feelings can all be communication. You know it's the real you, when it's positive, life-affirming and feels like relief.
Love to You All.
All is Well,
Jen
Into the Feeling (written 8/2007)
SHE'S MAD AS HELL AND SHE'S NOT GOING TO. . . WHAT?
This week the NEWS is about being MAD and in PAIN. Or you could call it angry, irritated, perturbed, pissed-off, or just bugged and miserable. Let's ride the rocky road!
When I was a child, I saw myself as moody and difficult. At least I felt moody and difficult. And seeing myself in this way was a source of great distress to me. I did not want to be complaining or negative. I wanted to be happy and easy-going. But that always seemed just out of reach . Even when I was very small, I was bothered by a hood tied under my chin, or clothing that felt tight. My pillow case had to be all cotton and smooth. And while I was two and three, I had a favorite dress that I insisted upon wearing most of the time.
Angry upset feelings always seemed ugly to me and I wanted to be pretty. And yet. . . it seemed like life, itself, was pushing at me in such a way that was MAKING ME feel this way. I was continually on a loop of reacting to my circumstances instead of responding to my feelings. For, REACTING means feeling uncomfortable and working to change/control the OUTSIDE conditions to make us feel better. And RESPONDING means feeling uncomfortable and going within to address the INSIDE conditions that are throwing us off balance.
Recently, I awoke one day with back pain. It has been a while, and usually, if it recurs (This all started when I was twenty five in art school and very stressed) I work through it steadily and fairly calmly. I reduce the drama as best I can; I stay focused on exercising and breathing and I allow it to pass. And I've been doing better and better with this to the point that I don't usually think of myself as someone with back problems. And don't want to. But this time, I awoke with it, which I have never done before. And this time, although I stayed true to my usual approach (mental and physical), the discomfort was so great that my resolve began to crumble. And even though I would have momentary relief, my mind would wander into shear disbelief, despair, and hopelessness in a matter of moments. So, I had to continually regroup, rebound, and re-count my blessings, and my ability to continue - my ability to HELP MYSELF. To take another step.
My internal mental argument was powerful though:"But look", I would hear, "I can barely move. It hurts so much; it hurts so much; it hurts so much; it hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much." And then the tears. And then I would begin again, make a little progress, then something would happen (thought-wise or physical) and I would find it seizing up again. And I would get angry. Angry at my circumstances, angry at my life, angry at ME. Again, I was in that loop of looking for something outside of me to sooth me, to bring me back to myself, that life itself was making me feel this way, that I have no choice. And when you believe this, of course, there is nothing more painful.
About seven years ago, I was gearing up to go to a writer's conference. It would be the first one I'd ever attended.
Months before I was striving to create drawings I thought were "professional enough". And my right eye was the first to feel the stress and tension, and produced a condition that caused me much pain and distress for about two weeks. Frightened something was "really wrong", I went to the eye doctor who seemed to do everything but take my eyeball out and rinse it under the sink. I left with an unsatisfying diagnosis and instruction to clean my eyelashes and some drops to numb my eye, so I could forget about the pain.
As the eye problem abated, I developed diarrhea which went on and on until again I became frightened that something was "really wrong". Reticently, I went to the doctor for tests. The results were all normal, but my body still was not. I knew I was in an overdriven anxiety state, spurred on by how much I wanted to do my work and by how afraid I was of what people would think of it.
Eventually, the diarrhea let up and my hair started shedding excessively. And this has continued for the last years. I went to the doctor again, was tested again. I went to a dermatologist and an endocrinologist and I went to a homeopath and a naturopath, and then I quit looking for someone else to help me. For a while, the dermatologist had me collecting my hair and so, the top drawer of my bureau was filled with creepy bags of hair in order to judge whether the situation was worsening or getting better. For a while, I was so stressed about how much was coming out, that I would go without combing or washing it for a week (even though I exercise most days). I have cried in the bathroom many times; I have stared at mounds of hair in disbelief, trying to rationalize how it could be okay. I have envisioned myself bald, with scarves, with wigs, with male pattern baldness (the ring of hair), or like the old ladies one sees around occasionally with sort of "see-through" hair. I have cried over cleaning it all up off the bathroom floor, pulling it all off my sweaters, and out of drains. I have seen it come out on my children as I've gone to hug them. I have cried unable to fall to sleep at night thinking, thinking, fearing, fearing about it. And I have been ANGRY at the experience, angry at each hair that falls, considering myself a slave and a victim to the experience.
After Max was born, about two years later, I got pregnant again, only this time , I miscarried. And it was a very difficult time for me. And after that miscarriage, I had continuing pain on one side of my abdomen. Eventually, after some missteps on the part of my original doctor, I found another doctor who sent me in for an ultra sound and they found an ovarian cyst - the source of my discomfort. When I came to her with the results of the ultra sound , she said that it was harmless and small. I said, "But what about the pain?" and she said, "You'll get used to it." At the time I thought the words were insensitive, but I did not think my doctor was. She seemed compassionate, but as though she had a perspective I did not. I was willing to accept her disinterest in operating as intelligent conservatism and decided to trust that she was right about the Pain.
And what I went on to learn was that she was right.
The pain that seemed seemed so immovable and permanent simply was not. Whether I got used to it or not, some how I stopped feeling it. So, one way or another, I let it go. As I walk through the process of feeling the painful tightened muscles in my back and the distress over my hair, I understand that it is always the willingness to go into the pain (be it physical or emotional or both) that restores my sense of my power and allows me to move on. It is allowance of my feelings (whatever they are), that serves as a portal for me to feel love for myself again. It's willingness not resistance that restores balance. And when I get to THAT place, I can feel all will be well because I know all is well. And then I don't have to fight against or react to everything outside me and being so mad just sort of melts away. Because I'm only mad I when I've convinced myself I've got no power. And that is simply never true.
Thank you all.
Lots of love.
All is Well.
Jen
This week the NEWS is about being MAD and in PAIN. Or you could call it angry, irritated, perturbed, pissed-off, or just bugged and miserable. Let's ride the rocky road!
When I was a child, I saw myself as moody and difficult. At least I felt moody and difficult. And seeing myself in this way was a source of great distress to me. I did not want to be complaining or negative. I wanted to be happy and easy-going. But that always seemed just out of reach . Even when I was very small, I was bothered by a hood tied under my chin, or clothing that felt tight. My pillow case had to be all cotton and smooth. And while I was two and three, I had a favorite dress that I insisted upon wearing most of the time.
Angry upset feelings always seemed ugly to me and I wanted to be pretty. And yet. . . it seemed like life, itself, was pushing at me in such a way that was MAKING ME feel this way. I was continually on a loop of reacting to my circumstances instead of responding to my feelings. For, REACTING means feeling uncomfortable and working to change/control the OUTSIDE conditions to make us feel better. And RESPONDING means feeling uncomfortable and going within to address the INSIDE conditions that are throwing us off balance.
Recently, I awoke one day with back pain. It has been a while, and usually, if it recurs (This all started when I was twenty five in art school and very stressed) I work through it steadily and fairly calmly. I reduce the drama as best I can; I stay focused on exercising and breathing and I allow it to pass. And I've been doing better and better with this to the point that I don't usually think of myself as someone with back problems. And don't want to. But this time, I awoke with it, which I have never done before. And this time, although I stayed true to my usual approach (mental and physical), the discomfort was so great that my resolve began to crumble. And even though I would have momentary relief, my mind would wander into shear disbelief, despair, and hopelessness in a matter of moments. So, I had to continually regroup, rebound, and re-count my blessings, and my ability to continue - my ability to HELP MYSELF. To take another step.
My internal mental argument was powerful though:"But look", I would hear, "I can barely move. It hurts so much; it hurts so much; it hurts so much; it hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much. It hurts so much." And then the tears. And then I would begin again, make a little progress, then something would happen (thought-wise or physical) and I would find it seizing up again. And I would get angry. Angry at my circumstances, angry at my life, angry at ME. Again, I was in that loop of looking for something outside of me to sooth me, to bring me back to myself, that life itself was making me feel this way, that I have no choice. And when you believe this, of course, there is nothing more painful.
About seven years ago, I was gearing up to go to a writer's conference. It would be the first one I'd ever attended.
Months before I was striving to create drawings I thought were "professional enough". And my right eye was the first to feel the stress and tension, and produced a condition that caused me much pain and distress for about two weeks. Frightened something was "really wrong", I went to the eye doctor who seemed to do everything but take my eyeball out and rinse it under the sink. I left with an unsatisfying diagnosis and instruction to clean my eyelashes and some drops to numb my eye, so I could forget about the pain.
As the eye problem abated, I developed diarrhea which went on and on until again I became frightened that something was "really wrong". Reticently, I went to the doctor for tests. The results were all normal, but my body still was not. I knew I was in an overdriven anxiety state, spurred on by how much I wanted to do my work and by how afraid I was of what people would think of it.
Eventually, the diarrhea let up and my hair started shedding excessively. And this has continued for the last years. I went to the doctor again, was tested again. I went to a dermatologist and an endocrinologist and I went to a homeopath and a naturopath, and then I quit looking for someone else to help me. For a while, the dermatologist had me collecting my hair and so, the top drawer of my bureau was filled with creepy bags of hair in order to judge whether the situation was worsening or getting better. For a while, I was so stressed about how much was coming out, that I would go without combing or washing it for a week (even though I exercise most days). I have cried in the bathroom many times; I have stared at mounds of hair in disbelief, trying to rationalize how it could be okay. I have envisioned myself bald, with scarves, with wigs, with male pattern baldness (the ring of hair), or like the old ladies one sees around occasionally with sort of "see-through" hair. I have cried over cleaning it all up off the bathroom floor, pulling it all off my sweaters, and out of drains. I have seen it come out on my children as I've gone to hug them. I have cried unable to fall to sleep at night thinking, thinking, fearing, fearing about it. And I have been ANGRY at the experience, angry at each hair that falls, considering myself a slave and a victim to the experience.
After Max was born, about two years later, I got pregnant again, only this time , I miscarried. And it was a very difficult time for me. And after that miscarriage, I had continuing pain on one side of my abdomen. Eventually, after some missteps on the part of my original doctor, I found another doctor who sent me in for an ultra sound and they found an ovarian cyst - the source of my discomfort. When I came to her with the results of the ultra sound , she said that it was harmless and small. I said, "But what about the pain?" and she said, "You'll get used to it." At the time I thought the words were insensitive, but I did not think my doctor was. She seemed compassionate, but as though she had a perspective I did not. I was willing to accept her disinterest in operating as intelligent conservatism and decided to trust that she was right about the Pain.
And what I went on to learn was that she was right.
The pain that seemed seemed so immovable and permanent simply was not. Whether I got used to it or not, some how I stopped feeling it. So, one way or another, I let it go. As I walk through the process of feeling the painful tightened muscles in my back and the distress over my hair, I understand that it is always the willingness to go into the pain (be it physical or emotional or both) that restores my sense of my power and allows me to move on. It is allowance of my feelings (whatever they are), that serves as a portal for me to feel love for myself again. It's willingness not resistance that restores balance. And when I get to THAT place, I can feel all will be well because I know all is well. And then I don't have to fight against or react to everything outside me and being so mad just sort of melts away. Because I'm only mad I when I've convinced myself I've got no power. And that is simply never true.
Thank you all.
Lots of love.
All is Well.
Jen
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