Hide and Seek

Oh....that desire and search for one's "true Self." Perhaps that's a reason why I'm journaling again. Tossing off all the encumbering coats, hoping the person I'm looking for is somewhere underneath.

My "journal master" finds this a delightful subject, encouraging me to put pen to paper. This subject has always intrigued me and I do admit to being on this journey, but it's been a long hunt and wondering if this is just one of those never ending, fruitless games life Farmville. Never enough crops, buildings or animals. Do self-searchers have levels like farmers? Wondering what those statistics say about my progress....and is it progress that I'm looking for OR is it the true treasure....my true Self.

Life is both long and short. Considering if there is actually such a person, and if so, where is she and how can I find her. Is she living in an exact place on my time-line? Is this all nonsense? Should I care?

Then wondering IF she truly exists, do I want to find her? And, for what purpose? Suppose my true Self doesn't get along with my husband, kids or anyone else. What if she doesn't like my career choices and has desires that aren't within my means? What then? More stress? Since I can't imagine anyone free of problems or issues, does she have a new variety for me to deal with? Certainly don't need that.

Remembering the time when I had psychotherapy after being very ill. No longer knew how to be well. Remembering my family not approving of the "new me." I imagined myself a chameleon, changing back and forth, of course, always to please others. My psychotherapist likened me to a caterpillar who was turning into a butterfly. No wonder I was more confused than ever. So much for looking for my true Self.

I ask my pen to answer "do true Selves have eating disorders?" Wouldn't mind being free of that. Life without bingeing or craving junk. Now, that might be worth leaving town for."

That last question must have popped the cork because I'm told that it is time to go deeper down the spiral staircase. Reminds me of my mother when she had enough of me. Yes, I know how to do this, so catching up with my deepening breath, I sit comfortably allowing the breath to take me deeper down. Pleasurable sensations as the body opens, releasing stored tension. The mind quiets, stillness prevails. Comfortable, like being inside a protective womb. Noticing the thoughts going down the path, to a place where thoughts go. Relieved of their duties. Probably exhausted from residing in my super-active mind....like traffic in Times Square.

Finding myself on the golden path and going in the direction of the light. This is where I usually meet up with my emotions, both negative and positive. But, today things are different. My past and future paths are filled with people of different ages, even babies being carried in baby-backpacks. I'm surprised that the very oldest people are walking without any help or devices. While they look old, their energy and spirit are obviously high. I'm confused regarding the number of people and return to my journal to clarify what's going on.

When journaling hypnotically, the pen writes by itself, without any efforting on my part. The question is known before even asking. The people are taking the places of the emotions. The ones from my past path are sitting on the left. Those from the future path, sitting on the right. According to my pen, other than the obvious, this holds no importance. It's not like one side is negative, the other positive as when the emotions appeared. They are simply divided into past and present. The youngest baby is my birth self. The oldest woman is my last self. Each individual carries two books. One represents what they have come to learn; the other what they have come to teach.

"Oh....then...my true Self is somewhere in the crowd?"

The pen writes, "Your true Self is everywhere...in the self-images and in everything else. It has no boundaries. It is not your body, your mind, your thoughts, your emotions, your habits, behaviors or addictions. While it is present in those things, it is not those things. Your true Self is a spiritual essence. Look to the light."

Rays coming down, infusing all who are present including myself. Or, whoever I am, for at this point I know nothing at all, except that "I am."

This knowing is both old and new. I can't say that I didn't know this, because I did, but to sense this in the inner environment where I now find myself, is new. Yes, I have felt the connection before, but not in this way. The difference seems to be the presence of my time-line people. These are my mentors, both past and present. The two books that they hold are filled with gifts for me. A new understanding emerges. The books will guide me forward, even the books of the past individuals. Exactly how this will happen is not clear to me, but I'm assured that all will happen as it is meant to be....now that my connections have been made whole.

Phantom KickBall

Oh...the critical nature! Yes, I've had the top professors...

There are so many different ways to play kickball and just as many self-made rules. Here's one. "If you kick harder you will win." And..."If you aim the ball at a person's head or solar plexus, you'll score a "knockout" and you will win." In other words, "destroy." This is the credo of those at the top!

It's just amazing how many people play kickball. For many, the game is on auto-pilot, so they are not aware that the game is in progress. Some never stop playing, so there is no break or recess. I happen to know quite a few of these players. I grew up in a household full of them. I'm never comfortable in their presence and in a way, that saddens me because it was difficult to know their positive gifts or attributes. Yet, I still delight in playing with many likenesses....it's easier when they are not family. It's easier to kick the ball harder.

A well-trained kickball player knows all aspects of the game and types of players. Some people kick hard EVEN WHEN they don't have the ball. It's as if they have a right to go around kicking at whatever they perceive is in their way. To me, these are the ugliest players of all. I call them phantom players. Truth... I've never known a phantom kickball player to win anything.

Why am I journaling about kickers? Am I blocking something...oh, another kickball term. Sometimes I don't know why certain subjects come off of my pen. However, even though I don't know consciously, there is always a reason and so I'll go and find out. There's sure to be a gift for opening any hypnotic journal topic.

Putting my pen down and looking forward to going deeper down... I've had a rough and tumble few days and yes, I do feel like I've been kicked in the head. Now that I take the time to notice, even my body is sore, like I've had a rough game. It always amazes me how sore my body can get without my even noticing. That's how stress works...blind-sided! Oh...another kickball term. How interesting. Remembering that I've been hanging around some major players, and although I took some delight in kicking back, they do tire me both mentally and physically. Take Dolores for instance. At 90 she's a finely tuned player, only second to my mother. That's probably why I find her so enjoyable. I can actually "kick" her without fearing retaliation. In fact, I sense that she respects me as a player, probably because I remind her of her younger version. Had lunch with her and came home with a major headache. Most likely the intensity of the game. !

Kick my mother....kick mySelf.

My "journal master" takes possession of me now. ( another kickball term?) Leading me down the spiral staircase with my breathing technique. With each step, my breath becomes deeper inside my lower abdomen, like a balloon that goes up and down with it's own rhythm. I enjoy balloon breathing and would like to just stay with this, but my "master" waits for just the right level of relax before leading me down the path to the ballpark. The ballpark?? My pen vibrates on my paper. It's "as if" it is getting ready to write on it's own.

"What's on your mind?" Well, for most of my life I've either been kicked around or have spent a good amount of time on defense, avoiding being kicked. The theme of our home. Through the years I've gotten very good at maneuvering, moving mySelf down the field, even getting possession of some balls and scoring. What's interesting is that I never seem to enjoy the scoring part. I like the maneuvering and for some reason knowing this bothers me. I seem to look for these opportunities, instead of just taking on the management of my own life. Yes, I do like to play around with criticizers. It's "home-grown-familiar!" But, the games are exhausting.

It's almost like a craving....addiction....something wanted, but unwanted. Not just unwanted, but despised. Yes, I despised this part of my mother's behavior. It took lots of therapy for me to be able to separate her from her behaviors. But yet, I still find mySelf headed to the ballpark. Looking to release on my old angers? This can't be healthy!"

What does my pen have to say?

"Kicking and maneuvering allows me to feel something. It's intense behavior. I can also kick and run. Attack and hide. My mother did this all the time. Attack and then not speak to me, sometimes for weeks. I remember repeating her behavior. Yes, it's very dramatic, but causes much to much anxiety for me. She must have been made of steel to execute that maneuver."

Remember, you don't have to follow your mother or the teachings of anyone else. Instead think...What do I choose for mySelf?

What would it be like to stop this completely?.... I mean, be free of kickball. No more trips to the ballpark. What would I do instead? Would I miss it like a smoker misses cigarettes? If I really choose to stop that would also mean not "talking about it". No more impressing others with stories of hot-winning games of hit, run, maneuver.

It would also mean letting go of the prodromals....the fear attached to the attack or potential kicking of others. This is big for me and is the crux of a good part of my anxiety. Am I also addicted to this? I can feel the flow of adrenalin. Is my body also used to this? Am I a fear or adrenalin junkie?

Remember, when big boxes are opened, the immediate response is often unwelcomed, but the end result is healing. The box I just opened is very, very big, especially to my origination child. But, I'm no longer that child and I choose to believe.

Apple Carts & People Pleasing

Oh, these darn "apple carts."

As I wander around my life areas, the carts seem to be strewn all over the place. I'm stunned to even find them in my Adult or Teacher Self area. What is this telling me? Of course I know without even asking my Journal. I'm a born pleaser. Even in areas where I excel, I'm so careful not to upset others. In fact, this has matured into a skill of mine. Yes, I'm an expert at not upsetting others.

How do I do this?

By "super-policing" ...noticing early indicators upset in others....perhaps even before they do. I remember someone telling me that I would make a wonderful "English butler." Taking care of everyone's needs, real or imagined, even before the need was born. Obviously, this is a very wearing job and not a healthy one.

The rationale in my conditioned mind goes like this. " IF all needs of others are met, then there will be no interruption in whatever it is that I want to do for myself." And..."if all apple carts are kept upright, then no time needs to be spent picking up the spilled apples." Obviously, this is a very wearing job and not a healthy one.

Question. How to resign from my "English butler" duties and what about those apples that will inevitably spill because there is no butler? Who will keep the carts steady or be responsible for picking up the apples?

Answer. "No one."

As for resigning, consider it done. No one can Journal in this area and not resign. It's a given. This is the power of Inner Hypnotic Journaling. Uncovering a block or unwanted behavior or habit, then releasing it. While you may find yourSelf missing your butler uniform, notice that it is no longer "fitting."

"OK, but what about the apples?" Another indication that it's tough to let go.

"Let the apples roll where they may. You will soon come to realize that the large majority of them don't belong to you." Oh, my control issue appears. The part of me that wants to own and rule all the apples. If I take ownership, then my life will be easier. Another ridiculous story of my conditioned mind. My tired body and mind speak out. "All this apple tending is exhausting. It would be a huge relief to just let go."

All of this looks good on paper, but what about in real life. Questioning if I would really be able to just look the other way when the apples fall and roll. Will I feel guilty? I'm so used to caring for everyone and every thing.

Obviously my desire to control is not going to go quietly into the night. This is such a huge conditioned habit, one that can be traced back to early childhood. "Keep Mommy happy and you will be happy," goes the story. "Upset Mommy and life will be hell for everyone and you will be the cause." Early apple cart training.

Early stories are often very potent and best cared for in deeper trance, so I choose to go there. When the childSelf makes her appearance on the pages of my Journal, this is an indication that a deep release is possible. When she hides, then things are more difficult, so riding my breath now....going deeper down with ease, as if she is helping me to get there quickly.

She's waiting for me as I disembark from my traveling breath. A bit scruffy, but obviously a very responsible child...too responsible for her age. Reminds me of images of children laboring in factories and fields. Uncomfortable to see this. It's a lucky day for me. She is opening the "origination door." This is the earliest mind program. The program that started the need to please. The door is very heavy and I offer to help. "No, I can do it," she says. I find mySelf crying. She's so independent for someone so young...or is she? Sensing this is another part of the mind program. "I must pretend to be strong so I can take care of everyone and every thing."

I push the door open with her. Never again will she be expected to do these things....never again. We find ourSelves in the living area of our house. Our mother is lying on a chaise meant for the garden, making the scene even more imbalanced. Garden furniture belongs in the garden, not in the living room. Mothers don't do these things. Symbols of chaos despite the quietness. Is mother dying? In the eyes of the child, the mother symbol is already dead. The mother is severely depressed following the untimely death of the father. The mother is very angry, but holds it in place below the depression. The father died on the child's birthday and the child is held hostage in the mother's memory bank, as the two are linked together for life.

The child's job is defined by the mother. "Mother is sick and so, be a good girl and keep mother happy. Can you do that?" Of course, I know the child's reply. I've lived it.

Lesson Plan...No apples must fall from the cart. If the apples are kept steady, then things will be better. Always tend to the cart first before doing anything for yourSelf, for the mother is the most important person. If the mother is upset, she will also die and the child will be responsible. The child will become an expert at caring for the cart and all apples will be her responsibility.

I kiss the mother good-bye and take possession of the cart....flipping it over and watching the apples roll this way and that way. The child is frightened, but as laughter fills the image, the child begins to smile. Falling apples are not the end of the world...

Meeting the Imposter Self

Automatic Journaling opens the mind in new ways. There's always some surprise waiting. My "Journal Master" points to that ridiculously big folder of areas where I obstruct. Typical of me....knowing something is asking to be addressed, but I'd prefer not to go to deeply. Like knowing my refrigerator needs to be cleaned out, but it's never the right time. Just another way that I obstruct my progress and growth.

When I first started doing this type of journaling, I rarely touched my most "unattractive areas", but I'm older now and feel more comfortable in my own skin. Still, opening these areas of my life is never an easy choice, but knowing that benefits only come from getting down and dirty, I take a cleansing breath and bring pen to paper. I may be willing to go into an area, such as the obstruction folder, but where to begin? Willingness to take the introductory step is one thing, but where do I place my foot? Now, if a patient asked me this, I would have an answer on the tip of my tongue, but not for mySelf? Why is it so much easier to give advice to others?

My Journal Master is brimming with answers to my questions. Giving me many insights, all helpful. I'm reminded that Automatic Journaling brings answers and plans quickly. It's a very powerful resource....Reminded that's it's easier to be the Teacher Self than the Student Self. The Teacher part brings confidence, focus and Knowledge. While the Student Self may have some Knowledge, it is often not fully developed. The connection to Spirit is lacking. This under-developed part also brings baggage, some of it very old, dank and dark. Reminded that all "carry-ons" must be put aside if one desires to accept Knowledge and then to actually change. These two go hand in hand. Once a rubber band is stretched, it never returns to it's original form. This is a given.

While we all have unattractive or difficult areas, most of us choose not to see them. Common baggage for me includes hiding my truth. I call this my "imposter syndrome." Simply put....pretending. How much of me is pretence and how much is truth? How much is Student, how much Teacher? If I'm playing my therapist, parent or colleague/friend role, this can set the stage for "pretending". Some pretending scripts read that "everything is fine in my life. I'm free of problems. I'm better than you." All hog-wash. When I am in those roles, I can sense my "imposter Self" roaming around behind me with the sign...liar, liar. Thinking, if people really knew the "real me" what would they think? Just about to feel guilty about this when my "Journal Master" puts up the STOP SIGN.

Lighten up. Truly, life is one big "stage performance". My character changes as the scenes evolve. Sometimes she must slip into Teacher or Parent or Adult Self. Even if this role is not perfect, she gets to utilize the power/Knowledge she has collected to this point. It's rather like the student nurse versus the graduate nurse versus the registered nurse. All take care of the patient from the Teacher Level, but each one is different unto itself. This is also how we grow and mature. There is always a level of pretence. This is the way the mind works. Of course, balance and awareness are key. The student nurse knows she is not the registered nurse, but to the patient, she is a teacher.

I remember having this "imposter syndrome" after my children were just born. One moment I was a pregnant woman and then all of a sudden, I was a responsible parent. How strange this felt. I was both proud of my position, but could feel my "liar liar" Self hanging out in the background. "Be careful you don't kill him. You...a parent?? Don't be ridiculous."

This imposter Self hangs around me quite a bit. It seems that whatever "scene" I'm playing, it's never far away. Cooking for company, being a wife, promoted to a new job, even shopping for groceries....yes, that damn shopping cart. Hoping I won't run into any of my patients who will scan my cart, finding the two packages of Hershey dark chocolate. What does that say about me as a "therapist who specializes in eating issues?" You guessed it....liar liar! ( pants on fire ), retorts the nasty childSelf.

My "Journal Master" instructs me to go to my breath and release the garbage that has dripped onto the page of journal. A good place to clean, clear and organize my mind.

Down, deeper down. Feels good. All of the above resembling a big burp.

As I sink into the chair, the imposter part of me wanders away, shrinking as she goes. With every breath she becomes smaller and smaller. Realizing that I can utilize my breath to shrink her whenever she appears. In the past, I've been afraid of this part of me. She reminds me of Hester Prynn, the protagonist in Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter." I've worked diligently throughout my life to keep her in the background, but she only became stronger and more insidious. But no longer, for I am in charge of who plays in my moment to moment drama, as well as the script design. I also design the set. Yes, I'm the writer, producer and director.

I'm led to the area for managing Student Self to Adult or Teacher Self. It's a big wall, filled with indicators and control dials. Each indicator is a line having it's own balancing or measuring device, rather like the sound system on my computer. There is a separate unit for the many areas in my life. Some related to health, relationships, money, prosperity, work and separate projects. In some areas the indicator shows that I'm at a lower or student level. In others, I'm well into my teacher/adult level, and others, somewhere in the middle. As I turn a dial upwards, plans appear on my mind screen, showing me the way to become more adept in this particular area. Yes, this is a powerful growth area. It's clean, clear and decisive. Once again, I'm in charge.

The accompanying images playing in my mind are real, now inviting me inside to explore, play and grow. I'm on my way...

Anger Land

Thanks to all who have sent comments to my blog. Unfortunately, I had some sort of a computer glitch & I couldn't respond to you. So...please write to me again.

And now...

Approaching my journal with some angst...

Since I've been working in the Library of Desires and Talents my body has been experiencing even more tension. This is somewhat of a mystery to me and certainly not what I want to experience. I want to be rid of this body tension! It's the reason I returned to Inner Journaling. I thought returning to "fun and games" would bring delight and relaxation to all parts of me. That's why I started off in the early years area. This is when I had time to play all day. Do what I wanted. Even played hookey from school. Sometimes I wish I could play hookey from my current life, but of course, that's not an option. Too many responsibilities. The idea of hanging out in this area of my inner mind was to play hookey of sorts, but instead, I get a super-tense body! Yes, I do enjoy living inside the memories, but is this the only time I get to enjoy? Is this just another escape mechanism like alcohol or eating a bag of chips in the dark?

I am so !@#$% angry today. For those of you who follow my blog & of course, for those of you who live with me....this is obvious.

"Today?" responds my "journal correspondent. "Perhaps you would like to re-think that. Look inside your anger. You will see how long the path winds, through so many years. In fact, you might like to take a walk there, but best wear a protective suit."

I'm somewhat nervous to begin my session today. Yes, I do want to go inside my anger. Knowing this is the way to release, I'm still arguing & resisting. My body already hurts so much and I still don't understand how the tension got to this level, especially since I've been playing in the "theater of my mind" with my happiness toys.

"Why did you play with your happiness toys? What was their purpose?" The questions are clear and on mark. Of course, there was a reason for them, for everything has a reason. Just because I was a little child and lacked insight, doesn't mean that they didn't have their own purpose. Yes, I was escaping even then. Now it's becoming clearer why I am having this body tension. I was looking at my toys "as toys" and not as a mechanism that served me well during those times. Playing hookey was another mechanism to keep me protected. If I didn't have to leave my "toy factory", then I didn't have to deal with what was outside. This included leaving my safety place, or my home.

I'm coming to realize that many of my early issues have not been "cleanup up" and if they have been, it's not nearly enough. No wonder I am so angry. The anger runs deep, like rivers cutting through the middle Earth. Obviously I was not able to approach these rivers as a young child, not even as an adult. I'm realizing that it takes not only courage, but a high level of life experience and insight to walk the paths that go to meet these deep rivers. I'm game for this now, because "if not now....when?" I'm no longer a child, nor a young adult, nor even a middle age adult. It's time and I have both the desire, deep wisdom and freedom from many other weights that allow me to walk into deeper parts of mySelf.

Perhaps this is why I've been brought back to my inner journaling. I find that I can enter by choosing a favorite "early toy." I pick up my kick ball and foot it down the path. Always been good at kickball. Always able to find the hole in the opposition and make the pass for an easy run. Kicking the ball, running forward and sensing the freedom as my feet hardly touch the path. The sign tells me that I'm almost to the "village of anger."

Expecting it to be dark and dank, but it is neither of the two. Actually, it's quite alive with a high level of energy. Many games of intense kickball going on. Players practicing and very focused. Never thought of my inner anger in this way. I've known about my repressed anger for many decades, but I've never been to this area and I'm finding it quite exciting. Yes, the other interpretation of anger could be excitement. The air of forgiveness floats over me, like a breeze refreshing my body and mind. I sense a feeling of respect for mySelf and those parts of me that have been living in this area for so long.

Each player has a history that is written on her shirt. Here are memories long forgotten, but seeds for my current !@#$%%. The youngest parts of me have shirts filled with writing. I'm understanding that these little Selves had no voice and so the writing on their shirts is long and intense. I have the desire to hug them, hoping I can release some of their angst. How old their shirts are and how stiff are their little bodies! I feel tears welling behind my eyes. One child appears dead, and then another appears looking dead. The dead parts of me are now coming forward, too despondent to even play kickball. Yes, it's true. Looking closer at the kickball players. They represent my older or more recent Selves. The older or earlier life representatives are inert. Of course, these are the parts of me that hold me in my depressed state. The other parts, the more recent kickballers, are my more active-angry Selves. I know everyone here.

My journal advocates tell me that it's time to hold a meeting with all parts of me that live in the "village of anger." There is much work to be done here. Much healing. Much release. Much re-programming and education. Now, I'm understanding the toys. They march past me, some from very young years, others from my teens and young adulthood. Surprised, but not really, at more recent toys....each asking me to "follow." Leading me down paths less traveled, but paths that will open secrets long buried.

Cliff Hanging

As I mentioned in my last journal blog, "waking up is both delightful and challenging." Over the past few days I've been stunned to see parts of me that exhale different levels of anger and it's relatives. These are not new, but now I'm seeing/sensing them from a corrected awareness. It's like improving one's eyesight with new glasses. Seeing/sensing clearly can be very uncomfortable. I no longer have a defense system to protect these behaviors or thoughts. I dismantled that awhile back and so I'm left defenseless, embarrassed and saddened by my volatility and cutting tongue.

I rarely reveal this side of me publically. It's saved for certain people, some who are close to me and others who I don't know at all. Like swearing in the car or cursing under my breath when finding mySelf behind someone pushing their cart slowly in the center of the supermarket aisle. Yes, I did notice this part of me before I took down my defense system and I must admit to not liking it, BUT without the defense system my feelings about mySelf are much more intense. It's like waking up and finding mySelf with uncombed hair and dirty hands. Not how I choose to be. It other words, I'm experiencing the "raw me". Boomerang. Smack right in the face.

Bringing this to my journal and wondering what to do with it...

Took some time off this afternoon. Rare for me. If I'm not working, I'm at the gym where my intensity finds an outlet. But not today. A part of me prefers to be quiet, to connect with my Higher Self and journaling mentors. It's "as if" a note was placed on my desk redefining my afternoon activities. No questions asked, just follow the leader. OK

I never know what I'm going to write and actually enjoy that freedom. Tending towards always being disciplined with a whip at my tail, the idea of just going with the flow is both appealing and comes with automatic relaxation. "I don't have to do anything. I don't have to think or act, but just BE HERE IN THIS MOMENT." Remembering that years ago, before learning TM ( transcendental meditation) I would wake up to music blaring. There was no silence in my life....ever. Noise everywhere. When my meditation teacher told me that would have to change, I remember thinking "no way." But, yes "way" and now I look for this special place throughout my daily activities. One of my biggest faults is my compulsive attraction to goals and activities, always working, working, working. Yes, it's true. I'm working now, but this is not the same part of me. The "working working" part of me is sitting over there in a meditative trance, while this "outside part" of me is connecting with my journal connections.

"Never allowing mySelf to be free." Those words appear on my journal page. The toys come forward. Noticing that most of them are "action toys." Competitive, hard working toys that certainly remove me from the intense story of my life, but never offer me complete freedom. "What is complete freedom anyway?" I ask my journal. "Peace and love" is the answer given. "Oh, we always go back to that". My critical nature has taken over. "Why can't you just accept and let go? What do you think will happen?" The first words that come to mind are "that I will die."

Dying doesn't just mean "dying." It means losing out or not having control or being behind others, like in Farmville when someone is at a higher level than I am. Oh my. How I bring this intensity even into silly games that are designed to be a diversion from my work. Now I understand. "Never allowing mySelf to be free." Thinking of some conversations I had just this morning. Everything is so competitive. Tensing the body. Striving. Efforting. An absence of freedom to the body and mind.

"Where do I find this?" My journal correspondent now holds the journal, removing it from my critical nature, who feels somewhat deflated, as she should be. As I receive the answer, I understand why that part of me needed to be removed, because the answer would have made her skin crawl. There are some things parts of my just don't want to hear. Those parts prefer complicated answers with many parts and certainly not what was now appearing all over my journal page. In big, bright letters, I might add.

BREATHE. BE STILL.

As I read those words, I find mySelf entering them, as if each letter was a separate door into the recesses of my mind. My body feels like it is falling off a cliff. My mind fluttering like birds crossing the sky in delicate patterns. Another door, deeper down. Letting go, dying in a sense, but not the dying that has poisoned me for so long, for this is not dying but living. Truly being alive. Tight, nasty emotions are releasing, smiling back at me with love and peace. They also needed to let go. Remembering that they've been tight for a very long time. Some of them hold up "origination signs." That tells me how old they are. Goodness!! No wonder my intensity!

There is a party going on down the path. It's near to the "light" and as I find mySelf going in that direction, I notice that I'm uncomfortable. Realizing that this is like traveling to an unknown country. I'll have to get used to it. Rather like new shoes! Pretty to look at, but uncomfortable for the first few miles!

Pulling the Plug

One never knows when a plug is going to be pulled, or a lesson is going to appear.

Some plugs have more impact than others. But even small plug pulling can provide an opportunity for "roads less traveled."

Yesterday we lost our cable connection. No TV, no internet, no phone. Thinking it would only be for a few minutes, I went on with my life, but after an hour my ansy-Self checked it. "How long is this going to be? What if it is off all night????" And yes, it was. The worst scenario. Having to make "small conversation" through the entire evening. I was stunned to feel my uneasiness and displeasure with having to do this. Of course, I could have read a book or spent some time writing, but I found mySelf more interested in my emotional reaction and the behaviors that accompanied them.

"How will we know when it has been restored?" My husband's concern. So, I wasn't alone in this world of not liking my patterns disturbed. "Let's leave the television on, so when it comes back we'll know immediately." Oh...immediately. Certainly wouldn't want to miss a minute of anything trivial.

I decided to do "nothing of the sort". Instead, inviting my "journal master" to join us, I suggested that this would be a good time for us to converse at some deeper level, I mean something other than what was found on the last refrigerator hunt. Or, what should we do on the weekend, etc. "Deeper level??" Sensing the uneasiness, deciding to ignore the emotion, "just begin" said my "journal master."

Rather like "speak-journaling." Oh...will secrets slip out as I let go or jump off the cliff? "Would that be so terrible...to speak my truth?" Sensing mySelf removing my protective jacket, my words feeling permission to flow. Like opening the faucet. Shifting in the chair, releasing some tight areas, the words enjoying the freedom from the obstructions. Asking mySelf, "How often do I practice obstruction?" Practice obstruction. Now there is an interesting concept. But yes, I do this habitually. There are so many ways to do this. Some are direct, while others in-direct, such as living in my private patterns....that have now been removed by the cable company. The cable company as Therapist. Comcast CEO sitting at her desk. "Exactly what will happen if we turn off the service to homes all over the city? " Her desk? Well, yes. This is more woman-speak. Apologies to my male counter-parts.

My counter-part is waiting in anticipation of what comes next. Now, my obstruction coat is invisible, but I'm sensing that he knows I have it off.

I hand him a copy of my Therapist'sCOUCH blog. I honestly don't know why, but it seems like a good jumping off point for the evening's proposed deeper conversation. " Do you really post this on the internet?" Well, yes I do. "People actually read this?" Well, yes they do. "Why?" I honestly don't know. Perhaps it helps them in some way.

Flowing now...

"I never realized you had so much stored anger that went back to your childhood." Well, it's not something I'd discuss at the end of a work-day or over dinner. Besides, it's my inner work. Things I want to explore and put to rest on my own. Noticing that "inner work" is not a comfortable phrase. Too psycho-babble.

Realizing that as a therapist I have a tendency towards psycho-babbling, perhaps obstructing our relationship at some level. Something I can change. Never really thought about this before. Always so busy jumping from one activity to another. I tend to treat my life as an non-ending marathon that I'm obligated to run and run and run. That's what is great about "therapy", whether it be with a professional or self-administered. We stand still in quiet, non-judgmental observation. We witness our life as it has played out, or as it is playing out. We have the opportunity to spend time in areas that we often by-pass. In this instance my conversational tonality and choice of words. After all, I'm talking to my partner, not a colleague. I also wonder if this is a subconscious way of blocking or obstructing. My answer to this is....yes.

I ask my "journal mentor" to open other areas where I obstruct. Feeling like this is an opportunity to show me other aspects of my Self that will benefit this special journey.

My mentor agrees to oblige, taking out a ridiculously big folder! Oh...