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Posts Tagged ‘uncertainty’

“It’s not that we fear the unknown. You cannot fear something that you do not know. Nobody is afraid of the unknown. What you really fear is the loss of the known.” Anthony de Mello

Today marks one year since I moved into my place in the Sierra foothills. What a difference a year makes. I’ve traveled the four seasons here and landed back at Winter and snow again. For the most part, as long as my power stays on (I’m on a well, so it is a big deal), I am enchanted by the snow; its beauty and sublime quiet.

But, before I landed here, I had to make the decision to leave dear friends and a place I knew well that was fairly temperate, beautiful and convenient. Looking back, I find it amazing that I suffered with enough anxiety to upset my gallbladder and my sleep for two weeks before and after making the decision. What you will read below, in italics, is what I wrote a year ago November, but never published. On this first anniversary of living in my new home, it makes sense to take a look back and check in on how it feels to have made the leap. I’ll comment more on this at the end.

copyright(c)dec2013 Kathy J Loh

November 2012

I’m facing a challenge and I don’t need to give you the details, because you will likely recognize the dynamics no matter the particles. The questions are similar when we face decisions about career change, whether or not to have a child, moving, buying, selling, marriage, divorce.

When there is a challenge, I know I am at my edge, my personal frontier of movement. I enjoy traveling the frontiers of my thinking, but in physical reality, where everything is a commitment of form and solidity, I am slow to move.

Indecision is a pathway to decision and it is a detour. It depends on how you work with it.

In our multi-dimensional personality, many voices participate. Some truth is spoken by each as well as lies. I am bedeviled by the Trickster. I want to know before knowing is possible. I want “beyond the edge” to be fairly predictable and it is not.

While the heart loves and works its magic, the mind begins to question in response to the threatened body. I would be at the mercy of my mind’s paralyzing spin if I was unable to discern the energies behind the words I think. What is their source? To what are they responding?

When my heart feels sadness for leaving something, someone, or some way of being, behind, my mind wants to solve the emotional dilemma by telling me I didn’t like that thing, that person, that behavior anyway. It uses its “make wrong” technology to lighten a heavy heart. But, all it does is darken my spirit and fog my vision.

Let me simply grieve. Let me feel deeply the impact of my attachments.

Most of us really don’t change or make changes in our lives until it becomes too painful not to. I certainly hold a lot of compassion around that. We put our dreams on hold indefinitely, thinking there is always tomorrow. I hold a lot of compassion around that too.

The frontier, out beyond our edges, is vast and full of infinite possibility. It is where our dreams await us. We have, in our imaginations and desires, seeded that frontier with all we need to call us forward. What is left is for us to have the courage to leave our outgrown self-images, our old identities and old beliefs behind. We need the courage to face and be with the emotional impact of the chaos that is created by stepping over the edge; that line in the sand drawn by fear. The consciousness of the You that lives in that future already has different beliefs and identities. It has already discovered new ways. You know that, because you’ve seen it in your visions and felt it in your bones even if your personality/ego of today is blind and resistant.

First we dream and dreaming is not enough. It’s time to have the courage and take some form of action.

And so, using my free will, I enter what my current ego self perceives as “the chaos,” wave at the gatekeepers as I step beyond my edge of comfort and current knowledge.

And that is where I left off when I filed the notes away on my computer saving them for a possible blog post that, until now, never again saw the light of the computer screen.

The dilemma was, of course, whether or not to move. More than that, it was whether or not to give myself that long-cherished dream of being what one acquaintance called, a “mountain angel,” living among tall trees on a good chunk of property.

So, how did I fare after I waved to the gatekeepers and made the leap? I was blissfully happy my first several months here. I remember telling everyone that I have never been happier in my life. I don’t know what it was, but I was lifted beyond my expectations. Maybe it was the snow, the elevation, the newness, the proximity of Tahoe and the Sierra Buttes. Maybe it was my local friends and one in particular who keeps me active with snow shoeing and hiking.

Mostly, I suspect that exhilaration is what we feel when we step out into the unknown, because that frontier is the territory of heart and soul and it has been calling for a long time. When we respond to that call, we are received with “welcome home.”

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What calls to you? If you have a tough decision to make, if you have been putting off your cherished dream(s), you will benefit from coaching with me and certainly a one-year walkabout would get you over that edge and well on your way. Everyone needs support. Let’s talk about how I can be that for you. Email me at kathyloh@coachkathy.com and we can set up a time for that conversation.  Don’t wait another moment. Moments add up to years.

Copyright © December 2013, Kathy J Loh, all rights reserved, including images

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With the help of a small pre-lit tree, borrowed from a generous friend, and a Christmas music channel on Pandora, I am beginning to feel like it might be Christmas. Which is helpful, since today is Christmas Eve.

I moved in early December and I am still getting things into place. Last night, I finally got my home theater components hooked up and in the entertainment armoire (which took a lot of reaching, bending, flexing and patience). I’m still missing the speaker wire for the sub-woofer, no boom-boom sounds for now. My printer is still offline since it was not installed to communicate with the AT&T wireless modem that AT&T insisted I buy to use instead of my perfectly good Netgear model.  (Yes, I’m complaining. AT&T has always brought out the best in me – challenging me to find my most patient and compassionate self.)

I think I have bought  two gifts. Thank goodness our family event is not until the New Year, almost.

I have had the magic of snow, the frustration of things gone missing, the unnerving of trees swaying wildly with the wind and rain and power outages that, in this neck of the woods means I can’t pump water either.  It also means I wear long-underwear and polar fleece jackets indoors.  I have had ice that dares me to go anywhere in a car and forces me to walk with tiny baby steps across my deck to the garage and laundry. I know, it’s all sissy stuff compared to what most people live with.

Today, though,  the sun is shining and I am absolutely in love with my new home. Trees make for wonderful companions. The other day, I saw two jack rabbits that came right up to my deck and peered at me through the window. Today, I saw the coyote who is their likely enemy, chasing after something down the hill in the direction from which I’d seen the rabbits come the other day. Though my first view of the coyote was right out my kitchen window, by the time I got my camera, it was weaving in and out of the trees. Coyote was so intent on the hunt, it did not even notice me as I stepped into the yard for another peek. They are fluffier and healthier looking up here than the ones I’ve seen up in the Marin Watershed.

Here are some photos of the coyote in the morning woodland fog. I did not touch them up. I like them looking as mysterious as it felt.

copyright (c) Dec 2012 Kathy J Loh All Rights reserved coyoteEnlrg

Animal sightings are pure magic for me.  My delight rises from my wild nature through my heart and out my mouth as a simple gasp and single word of surprise “coyote!”

Coyote is the trickster; reminds us of how we lie to ourselves in a way that makes rational sense. My lie was that I did not need to decorate for Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve already and I am having holiday meals at other people’s homes. Why would I go to all the trouble to get ornaments out of boxes and deck my house and then have to go to all the trouble to put it all away in a few days? Why?

Coyote reminded me of magic. There is a magic I want to feel around the holiday and there is a child in me who insists on decorating the tree. So, I listened to her. We put on the music, we chose just-right ornaments that speak to me now – most of them woodland creatures. Enchantment rose in me and illuminated my new home.

Later today, I will go for a hike with my friend who is now my neighbor. We might even go snow-shoeing which would be a new activity for me, one I look forward to experiencing.

I said I moved here because I wanted adventure. I have not been disappointed yet. It’s just the sometimes it is hard to remember that adventure is not always comfortable. There is no predicting the Mystery and yet, there is no need to wait for enchantment.

We are all magicians traveling this Full Moon Path.

What illuminates your path?

How is the Mystery speaking to you today to get you to follow it into the woods of timelessness and create a little magic of your own?

Sending you all love and enchantment!

copyright (c) Dec 2012, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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“Failure is the path of least resistance.”Sir James Matthew Barrie

Another quick post today, to simply share with you a beautiful example of one’s willingness to fail on the road to success.

Did I say willingness? How about enthusiastically embracing failure as an essential part of the process of creating, inventing, constructing?

And then there’s patience, persistence, resilience, commitment, faith.

Notice how wholeheartedly he embraces the potential for a “gazillion” failures on the road to success.

He relishes sharing both with the world, not just hiding out with failure and showing off success.

Finally, ah! the sweet and full celebration of success.

Let’s re-resonate this word, failure. Let’s unplug it from the socket of being humiliated and exiled.

How about we fill it with the resonance of being fully alive, playfulness, exploring, adventuring?

What will make “failure” your new eagerly sought-after goal?

Enjoy!

 

copyright (c) March 2012, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved (except video)

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Two years ago, I wrote a post about my roller coaster ride of a birthday / Summer Solstice weekend. This year, I got another bumpy ride, literally.

I was driving up Pacific Coast Highway, along a scenic stretch between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay, where beach after beach awaits exploration.  I’d taken the coast route because it was an exquisitely beautiful day and I wanted to gift myself some pleasure on my birthday. At the same time, having been away for eight days on a no-cation (meaning I’m off work and away, but attending to other business), and having been on the road the whole day prior, I was anxious to get home and “start my day.”

What’s up with thinking the destination is the point to the journey? What’s up with the notion that the fun begins when I retire, when I finish this project, when I have a certain sum of money (when I’m dead)? Oh boy, here comes the John Lennon quote: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” Yep, and my birthday is what was happening to me while I was busy trying to get home to celebrate it.

Because of my focus on getting home, it never crossed my mind to stop at one of the beaches, which is unusual for me. I was also easily triggered by the leisurely pace of some of the drivers on the two-lane highway. And so, with my hackles up and my sights on my final destination, the bumpy ride began.

It began with a ka-clunk sound that had me think something in the back of my VW Camper had fallen. But a quick look over my shoulder revealed nothing out of place. Moments later, the dreaded “thunk-thunk-thunk” noise and the way the steering wheel was taking on a mind of its own told me the ka-clunk sound was something I ran over and I had a blowout.

Picture, HWY 1 – minimal to no shoulder in many places, one lane each way, no divider, cars traveling 50 to 60mph … My first thought was, “where do I pull over?” I was gifted with a small stretch of sandy parking space across the road and no on-coming traffic. I tucked my van into the one spot left among five parked cars and assessed the situation; brand new tire, flat to the rim.

Pumping with adrenaline, I pulled out my AAA card and prayed for a cell signal. Prayer answered. I could not pinpoint my location, but AAA operators are very patient and the tow truck driver (who is local and knows the area) could call me on my cell if he could not find me.

gull taking off -- copyright(c) Kathy J Loh, All rights reserved

As I awaited AAA, I took in the warm sunshine, watched fishermen catch rockfish and discovered I was at A Wit Bird Rock which is part of Bean Hollow State Beach. There was an abundance of wild flowers, birds and butterflies to enjoy. Life decided to have me notice it instead of my plans, and so I did. I got an hour at the beach. If I wasn’t going to go to the beach, the beach would come to me, in the only way it knew how.

I came to see the blow out (once I knew I was safe) as the call to adventure.

We often say that something like this is meant to slow us down and bring us present. Yes that and… it was the wildflowers wanting to be seen and the ocean breezes wanting to be felt. It was the fishermen wanting to be celebrated and the birds wanting to be heard. That’s what I mean by the call to adventure: those experiences and moments that are begging to be had and noticed, that take us out of our well-worn grooves and off our beaten paths.

To be with the unknown, to embrace the Great Mystery, we are called to be adventurous.

I realize I’ve been treating my birthday, Summer and Winter Solstices and New Year’s Day as heavenly oases in a desert of obligation, duty and struggle. On my birthday I celebrate me and on Solstice and New Year’s Day, I plant the seeds of intention.

That’s way too big a desert and way too few oases. I’m not a camel, though I can imitate one pretty well.

Life celebrates itself every day all day long. That’s what I want for my journey and my time on this planet to be too: passion, adventure, celebration.

I still got home in plenty of time to enjoy a last minute invitation to dinner at a friend’s home.

Oh and Solstice?

Another dear friend and I drove along country roads and over forested hills to an un-crowded beach where we delighted in the perfect temperature mix of sun and ocean spray, watched seals watching us, cooled our toes in the water and simply savored the longest day of the year.

At one point, I ventured to begin a conversation about intentions and my heart wasn’t in it. I was already living what I’d intentioned a few weeks back: adventure: taking off with a friend in her souped-up Jetta, hanging at the beach, watch-free, judging time by the angle of the sun and the tan lines on our shoulders, moving when the time felt right to move. We explored and found a place to eat when we got hungry and by the time we got home, the Solstice sun had set.

What’s different now from 2009, is that I am moving into experiencing life more and planning it less. Each moment is sacred and every day is another opportunity to assess, reassess and offer intentions. The signs and feedback, which I used to view as playful ways to make meaning, are becoming the constellations by which I navigate.

Something big happened to me when that tire blew out. I have felt altered ever since. I have felt more disconnected from the stuff that doesn’t really matter and more connected to that which does, as if that which matters most claimed me for its own.  The stuff that doesn’t really matter was really high maintenance and took a lot of my time, needed constant vigilance and upkeep, required lots of planning, manipulating and analysis. It’s all just a big smoke screen; a huge distraction from that which really matters, including me.

So, dear reader, what, what adventure great or small, calls to you today? How will you respond?

Copyright (c) June 2011, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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From the farthest reaches of a dark passageway, at the end of which I could see the reflection of heat and flame, came a giant turning lathe.  It was not menacing. In fact it was benevolent. (I don’t even know for sure what a lathe is, but I knew it to be one). The lathe was a bit larger than me and as it approached, I heard a booming voice ask, “What do you want?”

So many pictures ran through my mind: musician, photographer, writer.  I want to live in the country, have a solid coaching career, be an artist. I want romance, love, adventure, health, to be inspired, to make a difference. I had to make a choice and I could not do it.

The lathe paused, though it kept turning in preparation, and the voice inquired again, “What do you want?”

I grew anxious. I was unable to move. I knew that whatever I picked, the lathe would create for me or even of me. Though there was a sense of urgency in making the choice, I was not in need of Superman’s intervention or rescue. The voice and the lathe were not threatening. They were patient and generous. They wanted very much to give me what I want.

I awoke in the midst of my indecision. I experienced this dream in a half-awake, half-asleep 6 am state. I laughed as my now-awake mind quipped “Is there a combo platter?” I often go to humor to release my anxiety.

Beetle, copyright (c) Kathy J Loh

Lost? (K J Loh)

Now that I am in this bigger house with plenty of room for my various activities, I am still facing the fact that there is not enough time to do everything I want to do; at least, not to the degree to which I want to do them.  As I wrote in the prior post, I am in the midst of reviewing my interests and activities (and the stuff that supports those activities that have come out of the boxes).

I’m a Gemini. I have no lack of ideas (three boxes full of little notes with ideas on them) and no lack of interests. Sometimes, I am content with simply being present to now, enjoying what I enjoy and at other times I want to really dive deep and achieve mastery at something, some one thing. I’m probably what Barbara Sher calls a “scanner.”

But the lathe and voice were not interested in combo-platters or scanning.

“Wood turning lathes never make mistakes, only kindling!”

I found that quote when I looked up “lathe” on the web. No wonder I was anxious in the dream. Picking one thing makes kindling of the rest. Aaack!

My dream-interpreting friends will advise me to become the lathe, become the voice and get their perspective. The voice loves me. The voice wants me to have what I want. The lathe loves me. It is ready to create for me whatever I ask. They are the parts of me that feel a deep desire for something. The me that faces them is the confused one. She who is feeling lost.

What I am coming to realize is that, while form matters to some degree, the deep desire, the longing in my heart is more about function. The forms of composing/playing music, photography, writing are all forms of creative expression; intimacy with words, sounds, nature, connecting with self and other. What I notice when I review my personalized combo-platter, is that the underlying function or essence of every option is intimacy.

I sat in meditation with this and discovered how lost I’d gotten along the way. As far back as I can remember (and I have memories from when I was 3), I have looked to others to know what I “should” do in life. I have followed the bread crumbs of acknowledgment, rewards and high marks. Gifted children have many talents. Not all of them speak to their heart’s desire, while too many of them speak to well-meaning parents, teachers and counselors. I had many ways I could make others happy and get their love and approval.

My own way went into hiding, deep in the recesses of my heart. For whatever reason, I felt a need to protect my desires (and me) from shame and humiliation. As a result, I’ve been a lot of things to a lot of people and mostly lost to me. People don’t know me as well as they think because so much of what I love to do, I do in solitude and in the hours that are not taken by the activities deemed as productive, useful and helpful. And, as this dream shows, even I don’t know me as well as I think I do.

The intimacy I crave has been (until now) doomed by the very behavior that was meant to preserve it.

Awakening to being lost isn’t such a bad thing. As these words unfold before me, I recognize it to be a story shared by many.

Being lost is uncomfortable. It is edgy and vulnerable. At my age, it is fodder for the “wasted-your-life” vortex. It’s also an opportunity. I intend to stay lost for as long as it takes. The voice and the lathe will wait. I know it’s about intimacy, yes, and I know it’s about Love (with a capital L).

I have been declaring my willingness to be changed by Love. I am standing still and listening. I am sitting with an open heart. I am playing with the sounds that come out of my throat. I am seeing the world up close and personal through the camera lens. I let words unfold in speech and on the paper and let myself be surprised by them. I am not able to identify myself as this or that.

I am co-creating with Love and I am not declaring the outcome. Is feeling lost uncomfortable? You bet it’s uncomfortable, agonizingly, joyfully, mysteriously, intimately uncomfortable.

Postscript: As I reviewed this prior to posting, I was struck by this: What I love about these activities and about intimacy is actually that same feeling of being lost – the taste of the infinite and timeless. Perhaps lost is where soul is found.

copyright (c) September 2010, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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“You carry all the ingredients to turn your existence into joy. Mix them, mix them!” – Hafiz

What do three friends, a book, a dozen squabbling woodpeckers, three caterpillars, Neale Donald Waslch and Joni Mitchell have to do with each other? Anything and everything and they have all conspired to lift me to a new level of awareness. They have at once been the container and the ingredients of a personal insight. Do you have a few minutes? Here’s the story and a little music too…

There are some big changes afoot for me, big decisions to be made and I will be writing about them; revealing more as the weeks go by.

Decision making is not my strong suit, or has not been thus far. What I notice is that I will receive an incredible opportunity, get very excited and then begin the downward spiral of analysis paralysis. The rabbit that takes me down that hole is my fear of making a mistake, of being sorry I made the choice I made, finding out there was something better, feeling trapped.

Well, at least I thought that was my fear. And it is. At least it is the trunk of the tree of that fear. I got a clear insight that it was not the true fear when the first friend, Pemma, asked me “So, what if you do make a really big mistake?” I started to laugh. I didn’t know why in the moment, but I knew that the answer was simply, then I walk away and do something else. For a shining moment, my fear of making a mistake, even a really big one, had vanished, poof!

Later, my friend Joette, sent me an email and asked what the root of my fear was. I set it aside for further musing. Sometimes the mere invocation of a question allows an answer to reveal itself down the road.

Fighting Woodpeckers

Acorn Woodpeckers (K J Loh)

I stepped outside to photograph the dozen or so Acorn Woodpeckers squabbling over territory. Woodpeckers are symbolic of mental activity (red caps) and these completely mirrored my inner experience of the discord between my body, mind, spirit and heart, not to mention my higher and lesser selves. My mind was in a distortion spin cycle. Several of the woodpeckers were drumming loudly and furiously on trees and posts. Their drumming encouraged me to invite new rhythms into my life.

That afternoon, I was scanning the book The Trance of Scarcity to gather some abundance momentum, muster up some courage for risk-taking, and remind me that living small creates smaller living. Author Victoria Castle tells a story of a trip to Yosemite. She writes of wanting to take in all the grandeur and beauty on her day of departure. She tries to breathe it in, but can’t seem to hold it, to keep it. As she walks back to her cabin disappointed, she hears something rumbling deep inside.” She stops to listen and hears,

“How about if you let us absorb you?”

She then allows the majesty of Yosemite to absorb her and that is how she “knew the oneness [she] had longed for.”

Reading these words, I knew that I would not lose what I was leaving behind, if I allowed it to absorb me. I don’t have to try to pack it all into my memory or find some way to take it with me or recreate it. I can be absorbed by it and know that, in our oneness, these days, these places, these experiences, these people are always with me as I am with them.

Later, my friend Alicia held a beautiful space of mindfulness in our conversation and I got in touch with how my wounded ego uses drama to scare me; the drama and pain of good-byes. I also discovered how I make up that I need to suffer mightily in letting go to prove my love for something or someone.  It can’t look like it was too easy. Alicia reminded me to express and receive gratitude for these people, places and times and release the drama and story about goodbyes that create suffering.

Neale Donald Walsch’s message for the day read:

On this day of your life, dear friend, I believe God wants you to know…

…that when you see the light at the end of the tunnel, it

is not beneficial to go out and build more tunnel.

Cocoon/chrysalis copyright (c) April 2010, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

Dissolved (K J Loh)

I thought of the third caterpillar that had crawled across my driveway, up the front wall of my house and attached itself a fair distance from two others, to begin its metamorphosis. When we have been through the chaos of transformation, why would we want to create more darkness for ourselves? Why would we not wholly embrace the emergence as a winged creature feeding on the nectar of life? The only answer I can come up with is fear.

I return to Joette’s question, what is the root? What is the threat my wounded ego holds over me regarding mistakes? The answer came through:

If you make a mistake I will never forgive you. I will shame you and berate you for your stupidity. I will punish you mightily.

I used to do that to myself, but it’s hardly how I am with myself now. It’s more an old habit than a current reality. It’s a flinch with no punch to back it up.  I think this is why I could see it. The root is no longer submerged in my unconscious. I am aware of my self-talk and have changed it to be more nurturing than critical.

I made a pact with myself that enabled me to move forward with my decision making process. I will love, respect and forgive myself if it turns out that I want to make a different choice in the future. I will not punish, berate or shame myself. I will make another choice and move on. I will look for the gratitude for all that the apparently mistaken choice has taught me.

You see, it’s not the mistake that feels so bad; it’s not the coulda-shoulda-woulda’s, themselves. It’s how mean we are to ourselves that scares us.

For me, this insight was an invitation to release the delusion that mistakes have to inflict painful consequences; that learning is painful and if you don’t feel enough pain, you haven’t learned much.

I awakened the next day at peace and the woodpeckers had stopped squabbling. Only the original family remained.

When we contract, we pull in our energy, our world gets small, our thinking becomes circular or numbed by habit. We become an energy vortex, sucking things in an inward spiral. We feel the pain of separateness. There is never enough of anything and at the same time we refuse and are even blind to all that is offered to us.

When we expand, our energy grows; alchemy and synthesis are available to us. The world becomes a friendlier place; even enchanting. Our thinking evolves and there is always enough. We are open and we receive. We know we are not separate.

The important thing to remember is that contracting and defending in order to create a sense of safety actually results in less safety.  It’s dangerous territory when you live with a sense of “me against the world.”

And Joni Mitchell? Where does she come in? As a post that came across my Facebook feed, it was yet another wink. Both sides now – child and adult – before and after – caterpillar and butterfly.

The aspect of me that thinks there is such a thing as a mistake or a failure thinks there is something to know about life. Something to learn that will be the ultimate key for success and happiness.

What is there to know? Hindsight is not 20/20. It’s a story.

“It’s life’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know life at all.”

And I have to say, in this moment, that feels darn good – a huge sigh of relief! The beauty of not knowing and not having to know leaves lots of room for play, exploration, adventure.

A caterpillar undergoes total dissolution in the chrysalis/cocoon. It becomes fully absorbed by its new form.

The chrysalis on my wall will be abandoned in 7 to 10 days.

I’m celebrating immersion and emergence!

What is the sound of butterfly wings clapping?

Butterfly Copyright(c)April2010, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

photo: K J Loh

Note: for more information about the symbolic meanings of butterflies and woodpeckers, see Ted Andrew’s Animal Speak.

copyright(c)April 2010, Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved

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Today, my love for mystery is bumping up against my archetypal victim.

Phooey on evolution and new ways of thinking and being.

Phooey on dreams and visions that require me to be more vulnerable.

Phooey on cleaning up, empowered relationships, and mastery.

And double phooey on social media upkeep.

The only thing that soothes me is the comfort of nature. That, and food; gooey sticky tummy-filling comfort food. Oh,  music too.  If I think about it, I’m speaking “womb;”  surrounded by good energy, well held and well fed while listening to the rhythm of the heart and singing of  blood as it’s pumped through the veins.

I’m floating in the void; at one and the same time comfortable and extremely frustrated.

When I am in this in-between space and in the grip of “victim,” I find myself waiting to be rescued. I’m hoping that the next email, the next phone call, the next mail delivery will bring me a pleasant surprise. I’m hoping that this next trip into town will yield a chance encounter that turns golden. Sometimes, it does. I will get an email inquiry from a potential client, checks in the mail or make a new connection. But most days it’s just bills and junk mail and a bag of groceries in the back of the car.

Where is my knight in shining armor?

Where is Publisher’s Clearinghouse with my million-dollar check?

Waiting to be rescued is a sign that I don’t want to take responsibility for my life, my visions, my happiness. Responsibility feels punishing; like really hard work with high odds of failure. Well, at least that’s how my victim sees it.

I’m rattled by the mess that the fallen oak tree left. No one is stacking firewood. No one is cleaning up the limbs that are dangling from the trees that were slammed by oak on its way down. No one cares about the huge pile of dead boughs. To top it off, the wind carried a big bright blue plastic bag into the center of the whole scene as if to garishly announce  “trash heap.”

These thoughts followed me out to the hiking trail.

The view from my window is not what it once was. It’s not what it will be. It is what it is. I don’t want to take responsibility for it and I want it to be a certain way.

My life is not what it once was. It’s not what I imagine it will be. It is what it is. I don’t want to take responsibility for it, but I sure as heck want to control it.

Video still

Snake (Kathy Loh)

And that’s the moment in my rant that a snake and I came face to boot on the hiking trail. It was a striped racer, not a threat, and a great reminder of the process of transformation and rebirth.  When snake sheds its skin, its eyes cloud over. My eyes are clouded. I can’t see. I’m shedding my old skin. It doesn’t feel good.

In my old life, I did things the hard way. I suffered to earn reward, love, and worthiness. Responsibility was a burden. Discipline was like living in eternal boot camp. I was hard on myself. OK, I think I was actually darn cruel to myself at times.

Who I am becoming is self-nurturing, inspired by Love to walk the path of Beauty, a dancer in the Great Mystery, truly enchanted by life. To this evolving me, responsibility is the “ability to respond” and discipline is “being a disciple to.”

I want to remember  (re-member) what makes me happy and be a disciple to my passions. I want to be able to respond to the winds of change. I want to know and speak the language of the heart.

This experience of floating in the void, this bumping up against like the incoming and outgoing tides, that feels like I’m going nowhere, this shedding of skin and waiting for the new to dry; waiting…waiting….waiting…is full of tension.

This tension is pure creative energy.

I know I am in a deeply creative process and I’m itching for resolution.

I suspect that powerful re-solutions arise in their own time and are not especially responsive to control.

So, I set down control and I surrender to creative chaos.

I allow myself to be enchanted by the mystery of it all.

I am grateful to snake for the reminder that I am re-minding from brain to heart and that it is a process that knows its own timing.

So…

Phooey on control.

Phooey on making things hard.

Phooey on waiting to be rescued.

Uhm, except …

I’d still gladly accept that prize from Publishers Clearing House.

Copyright (c) November 2009, Kathy J Loh, all rights reserved

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