On no pressure


We have to remember that it’s okay to not know the outcome of something right now, or now, or now.  That we are good and fine with each moment, and that the answers will arrive in their own time.  No matter how long that time may be.

This week, I have neither retreated nor come forward.  I am seemingly in stasis, whereby I can neither give to nor receive anything emotional from my husband.  He gives to me, I see it, but I am unable to absorb it or let it be what he wants it to be in me.  I can give him love and gratitude and friendship but I can provide nothing more.

I am at the beginning of learning to be okay with relinquishing control.  No easy feat when it has been the driving force for so long.  It feels foreign.  At times, as though I am floundering.  Am I doing it right?  Shouldn’t I be feeling this, or that?

There is no right or wrong to what you feel.  You just feel.  Or you don’t.  Perhaps the feeling will return.  Perhaps it’s the same but coming at you from a different angle.  When it reaches its destination, hopefully you will know what to do that is best for you.

I have remembered this in a mantra form quite successfully this week whenever I begin to feel overwhelmed.  I breathe deeply, pause, and accept the dull ache in my solar plexus; the worry, and I give it space.  In this way, I will avoid becoming wound up in it.



Purpose in the detour

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What is purpose?  A life devoted to that which feeds the soul?  To pursue that goal in the name of love, of enlightenment and all that is true to the self?

I envy those that can do it, not with hatred; merely a coveting of the free time to pursue the actions of the heart.

Now I would not, for one second, wish my children or my life to be anything than what it is.  I could have taken the path to follow my dreams as a young girl but given the frame of mind I had then, I wouldn’t have survived in such a brutal industry and most likely would have come to some unfortunate end.  I was mildly put out but followed Dad’s wishes and toddled off to college to get some skillz.

I find these days, a frustration swimming below the surface; I want to do and see and take part, but I am not in a position to do so.  I find other avenues which take longer, are less nerve-wracking but are still satisfying.  Until I find that they are unsatisfying to others who would help propel my purpose forward.

There are old hands out there, my Mother included and I’m thinking that in order to really move ahead, it would behoove me to seek impartiality rather than family when it comes to my writing.  I had my first rejection and was not that fussed at first.  A week or so later my thoughts on the subject have become insidious in their jibery and pokery – You write too simply.  You are not eloquent.  Look at this writer, be more like that.  Maybe you should gear yourself toward young adult.  I counter with – I think I’m easy to read.  Being eloquent and flowery isn’t me and most importantly, I love my work.

Eventually, it’s easier to pile other crap on top of those thoughts because let’s face it, there’s plenty going on.  But sometimes, they poke through like Carrie hands from the ground, reaching, pointing, cramping any sort of creativity.  On a whim, I’ll browse jobs that would take me away from writing but they require time and commitment I just don’t have.

I have trouble accepting that writing is all I have time for.  I can move an entire house with pets and children and spouse, set up the new one, write a best-selling novel AND go on auditions, right?  No.  I feel like my Dad to myself.  No, Lisa.  You can’t do that, you have to do this.  And I am petulant for it.

I am a crazy life-driver, veering left and right without signalling.  Sometimes I make the sharp turn only to find the road is blocked and all I can do is stare forlornly at the goings on over there.  I turn the car around and drag my wheels back to the main road that is meant for me and continue on the Highway of Life; searching, writing, doing, coveting, loving, thinking, wanting, and yet… still feeling content with my lot.

Such a strange meeting of feelings.

4/1/13 – the afternoon

I’m fortunate; I have a job that affords me time to myself. So, on days like today when I arrived scattered and chilled so that not even my thermos of Tea. Earl Grey. Hot could help, I am able to really work things through. I had a part-time position as a radio dj all through last year which helped immensely, but I was a different person in a different place and needed that space for entirely other purposes. This space is all about self-discovery and healing.

After my kneejerk entry this morning, I remembered snippets of this paragraph that I had originally found at GPS for the Soul.

“The ego likes to keep our pain-body in place. It would like us to stay in ignorance and suffering, but that doesn’t mean we have to comply. If you notice old thought patterns and limiting beliefs come up, notice, but you don’t need to buy into them. I know for myself, I have to be constantly diligent at my mind’s gate because if one sneaky thought slips by, a few others are sure to follow.”

I reposted it on my Facebook page as a reminder that I do not have to have old reactions to news that feels like it did before.

I can’t really divulge too much but it all makes sense to me.

My meditations have taken a new direction. Just as beneficial and for me, more helpful, in coming to terms with a lot of stuff. Instead of simply sitting and finding peace, or using a mantra to still the mind, I have tried to be more accepting of my thoughts by using techniques to work through some old, limiting beliefs of the ego and their subsequent attached feelings. Once I was relaxed, which took a little longer today, and went within, I carried everything in with me. All the emotional crap that followed me to work like rusty cans on dirty string. I was able to see the thoughts, feel the knotted emotions, ask the questions and answer truthfully. And that’s the nasty nugget…getting down to the truth, and it’s the way to healing. By being honest. With yourself.

On my quest for an ounce of wisdom to help me see clearly, I also read this:

“Trust your wound to a teacher’s surgery.
Flies collect on a wound. They cover it,
those flies of your self-protecting feelings,
your love for what you think is yours.
Let a teacher wave away the flies
and put a plaster on the wound.
Don’t turn your head. Keep looking
at the bandaged wound. That’s where
the light enters you.
And don’t believe for a moment
that you’re healing yourself.”


It’s a foreign concept. I’m 43 years old and been wounded many times but never have I considered breaking open the heart to help it to heal. You think, how can that be? Surely it would hurt more? But when you ruminate on it and consider the outcome, it actually does make sense. Years of pushing shit down, or stuffing it in a box or when I thought I was being healthy by crying and writing (which is still very helpful), it actually wasn’t enough. Because ultimately I still did not acknowledge it. I didn’t take the time to feel fully, with a depth necessary to be able to live with it and allow it to be.

I spent some time doing just this earlier and it’s a small step toward acquiring more knowledge and truth. I still have a small lump of something in my solar plexus but it’s nowhere near as obnoxious as it was this morning. I know that I am not what I think and feel; I am much more than that. My ego has a lot more hiding up its sleeve but I can overcome it. Slowly, slowly catchee monkey.