Too fast to write about it

Apr 22nd, 2009 Posted in Being in the process | 2 comments »

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and part of that is because I was directing a lot of my energy into exploring a new technique (to me) called Core Transformation.  But that’s for another time.

Right now I just wanted to talk about how sometimes I can’t write anything down, because before I’ve even got halfway through writing a post my entire outlook has changed.  I can start a rant about something and before I’ve finished the act of bringing my attention to it has changed it.

So what to write about when everything I thinking keeps changing?  The answer: I’ll write about the fact that everything keeps changing so fast I can’t write about it!

A change in focus

The parts that are constantly changing are my patterns, or issues, or unhelpful thinking, or whatever term you use.  These can change so fast that my thinking transforms partway through forming a sentence.  Powerful and also thoroughly confusing when trying to form a post about my thoughts.

So for now I’m not going to write about my thinking.  I can mention that I had a panic about rejection again recently, but then realised that I didn’t need to by the time I’d written it down.  I can write that I suddenly remember how I judge people with my thinking, or react emotionally to what they do, only to then notice that my thinking is unhelpful and have it stop.  But by the time I’m sat down to write about it, or even just grabbed a pen and paper to make a note, it seems like ancient history already.  It’s over, in the past, and no longer important enough for me to need to give it more thought and energy.

I need something else to write about.  Fortunately, I have some new ideas.

Going where I know…

Apr 19th, 2009 Posted in Being in the process | no comment »

I’ve been watching a brilliant weekly series of videos produced by Cedar Lake Dance on youtube.  This weeks was called Where I know and talks about trying to find a new experience outside of what you already know and how difficult that is because it’s so easy to slip into the usual way of doing things.

Oh man does that speak to me.  Not only in a dance context, but in all this work I’ve been doing.  So often I find myself falling into the trap of using my usual way of thinking to approach this new thing, and of course it doesn’t work.

One way out of it in dance is to work with a partner.  You both create something, then you learn each other’s.  You can try to really take on their style of movement, to push your body outside of it’s comfort zone.  It’s an amazing way to open up your own body to a different way of moving.

An equivalent with the mind?  I don’t know, but it doesn’t work nearly as well from books/blogs.  I think the most powerful way of trying on new thinking is in that real-time, interactive space.  I think that even the telephone is a compromise.

Again, I’m wishing I had people  IRL that I could share this with.  It’s not that I love you any less, but I want something you can’t give me.

Of course, the responsibility is then on me to go out there and find that somehow.  Now that’s stepping outside of my comfort zone. :)

Living in the past

Apr 13th, 2009 Posted in Being in the process | one comment »

Today I intended to get on with something concrete.  Just one little thing that I could do to move me forwards.  I still intend to find something, but despite feeling really good about this idea all weekend when I got up this morning the idea suddenly filled me with dread.

Oh, hello fear.

So, I decided to try and find out more about what was going on, because I’ve never been the one to push through yuck and hard, but having learnt other ways of engaging with it I don’t have to ignore it and hope it goes away any more.

Child me

As I sat with the thought for a while, trying to understand what had changed, I realised that when I was thinking about it as a future event I was very calm about it all, I saw all the benefits and really wanted to get some of these things done so as to move towards my goals.  However, once it got into the present a different mindset took hold.  This one was definitely much more of a child’s viewpoint.  The feeling of wanting to stamp my feet and scream “NO!” at the top of my voice, to pout and say “You can’t make me.”

Since I now know that I don’t actually have the mental or emotional age of a toddler, there has to be something else going on here.  So again I sat with the idea as to why I would react so strongly, and in such a child-like manner.

I wondered if, like fear, it was trying to protect me from something.  I wrote out a little note asking child me to let me know what it was protecting me from or wanting to keep me from losing.  I certainly have read enough about adults who have forgotten what it’s like to be a child, and are causing suffering for themselves and others as a result, to want to make sure I didn’t lose the connection to my little playful boy-self but this didn’t explain what was going on for me.  (Which isn’t to say it doesn’t make sense, at least to me, but that it doesn’t have that click-aha feeling attached to it of suddenly seeing what’s going on.  It’s this separation between sense and fit that causes so much well-meaning advice to be completely useless and frankly annoying.)

Team of one

At first, I wondered if there was a way for adult-me to choose what to do, and boy-me to choose how to do it.  So that both were happy.  But thinking this through with examples showed that to blatantly fail very quickly.  It needed a more combined approach, where both adult-me and boy-me were involved in all decisions, which is tricky because I don’t want to end up with a life that looks like a camel and frankly the idea of installing some kind of beauracray in my head just to make decisions sounds terrifying and nauseating.  Rather, finding a way to get back to a feeling of wholeness where I include both these sides is what experience tells me is the route to take.

Still, until that happens I’ve got two competing ‘voices’ to deal with, so I sat them down to talk.

Adult Me (AM): I need a CV in order to improve my chances of X. [yup, I'm still being coy about the details for now]

Child Me (CM): BORING! *pout*

AM: It could be fun remembering all the stuff we did before.

CM: … (ouch)

It turns out that remembering all that stuff actually hurts.

Peeling back the layers

Once I get to an ouch, I know that I’m starting to get underneath the surface of what’s going on.  The next thing I wrote says it all:

I’m still so afraid that people will laugh at me & think I’m odd.

Which triggers shame at still being afraid, compassion at being human, and pain from the memories that caused this protective fear to get put together in the first place.

More to the point, if someone laughs at me I’ll remember what it was like at school.  I’ll remember all the hurt, and the loneliness, and the misery, and the hatred, and the fear, and the anger, and the resentment, and the confusion, and the betrayal, and the pain.

Can’t think why I’d want to avoid that.

My current plan is failing

I didn’t even realise I had a current plan, but it slowly dawned on me that I was trying to forget about all of this.  Trying to erase what happened and give myself a new childhood full of happy thoughts, good friends, fun times and laughter.  And it’s not like these are bad things to have, it’s just that I can’t have them as a child and as an adult at the same time.  And that’s where we come back full circle to the original problem.

I’m trying to be a kid and an adult at the same time.  I’m trying to be fully self-actualised (yuck, spit, ack – need a better word for this) and at the same time to rewrite my childhood by giving myself what I didn’t have before.

Turns out that doesn’t work.

I suppose I could put a hold on the adult stuff and try and give myself a wonderful new childhood, but the lovely denial siren is going off in my head at the thought.  I know that I wouldn’t be satisfied with that, it wouldn’t be real, and it would cause as many problems as it might seek to solve.  So I need another plan.

If I am not able to fix the crappy parts of my childhood, can I accept them?  Can I forgive myself for not knowing then what I know now and let what happened be what happened?  Not let it define who I am now?  Not need to fix it, but rather start from here and move forwards?

Right now, I’m not sure, but it sounds like a better plan to try.  It’s a more mindful plan, a kinder plan, a more compassionate plan.  I’m just not sure how to make it happen.

Soft vs Hard vs Easy

All this stuff is working in the soft still.  That is, working with emotions and mindsets as opposed to real world systems and actions.  Now that I have an idea of what I want to happen for me I’ve this drive to get into the hard stuff as well.  And I can do both at the same time, it’s just that the hard (concrete) stuff will be hard (difficult) whilst I’m still working on the soft connected to it.

Knowing that I’m working on making the hard (concrete & difficult) stuff easier (but still concrete) makes it easier in itself, or more palatable at least.  It becomes a choice between waiting indefinitely or working to get the rewards, rather than a choice between doing the hard (difficult) stuff or not.  It seems that child-me can get on board with the first option (waiting is boring after all) but not the second.

[I'd edit that to make it make more sense, but I can't be bothered.]

Whatever happens, I plan to start letting go of the past, let it be what it was, and instead look at the present and what I can do now to change the future.