When avoidance strengthens fear, dive in!

I have a theory.  It’s been building itself at night, strolling through my sleeping mind, creating pathways that I don’t see until my fingers touch the keyboard and the words appear.

It’s a theory about pain and fear, and our human aversion to both. It’s a theory I know on a deep level, one I enact upon often, even when I know the outcome doesn’t serve me well.

The forming of this theory stems from the fall I had a few weeks ago. One of the hardest hit casualties is my left shoulder and arm. Since the fall, it has not worked well. In fact, because of the pain in it, I avoid using it and am now in that vicious cycle of ‘it hurts to move it so I don’t use it. I don’t use it so it hurts to move it.’

You got it. I am a contributing architect of my own pain.

Now, the theory that has been wandering my neural pathways is about avoidance. I’ve stated it often, ‘avoidance strengthens fear’. Not only is there the physical sense of relief in avoiding doing something we don’t want to, there’s also a physiological/biological corresponding response — everytime you avoid doing something because of fear, there’s a momentary relief that says, ‘ooohhh. That felt good to avoid.’ Next time you go to do it the brain says, “Remember how good it felt to not do that last time? Want to feel that relief again? Then don’t do it.”

In your avoidance you receive a dollop of serotonin, the avoidance increases, as does your fear of doing whatever it is you’re avoiding.

So… back to my theory.

My theory is based on something I believe to be true for the majority of we human beings. We all have places within our psyches/bodies where we carry old angers, pains and fears. Those things that happened in the past that we kind of, but didn’t really, resolve because we didn’t know how and decided to,

  • push our feelings down and not speak up
  • lash out and then pretend everything’s okay
  • say nothing until the ‘right moment’ appeared to get payback – only the right moment never quite appeared

Ultimately, whatever our choice, the anger, pain and fear got buried. Sometimes, we’d see it, or ‘feel’ it as it expressed itself in some unproductive way, and we’d think, ‘oohh, there’s an interesting response to that situation’, but rather than stop to explore our response, we chose to carry on.

In my theory, our lack of exploring our responses is based on the belief that if we stop to explore them, we’ll discover they say things about us we don’t really want to know. That somehow, we will be exposed in the megawatt klieg light glare of introspection as being really bad people.

Remember, avoidance strengthens fear.

The longer we avoid taking that deep dive into our motivations and responses, unravelling the angers, pains and fears of the past, the more we avoid finding the truth about ourselves is not ‘all bad’. It’s just got pockets of our making not so healthy choices in how we responded to situations that were triggered by our unresolved memories of times in the past when we were hurt, shamed, blamed and felt not good enough. In the present, unable to overcome our desire to avoid deep-diving into our fear we’re ‘bad to the core’, we act out from this moment unaware that this moment is actually just a repetition of many past moments.

I went for an ultrasound on my shoulder last week. The socket is inflamed. I have been advised to go for a ‘shot’ in the joint to bring the inflammation down.

I’ve been avoiding making the appointment.

I remember a time when I was around 8 or 9 years old when I was given a needle and fainted.

My father told me I was faking it. To stop being a baby.

I didn’t like being told I was faking it, or that I was acting like a baby but it was not okay to argue with my father.

Is it possible I’ve been avoiding addressing my anger that I didn’t get the attention I deserved as a child and my fear that maybe, just maybe, I really am a baby, that I do fake it? Because somewhere buried deep in my psyche is a fear that says, ‘you don’t deserve to seek help because help means you’re a baby and anyway, you’re just an imposter and nobody really wants to help you.”  Or something like that.

Time to step into my fear and explore my responses.

Time to book my appointment.

Could it be that simple?

______________________________________________________

If you are interested in exploring all your are and can be in this world in a safe, loving and caring environment, check out Choices Seminars.

One of the greatest gifts I ever received was the opportunity to spend time delving into myself in the Choices room, and then to spend years involved in helping others do the same.

It’s a gift I’m glad I didn’t avoid!

What matters in the big picture of your life?

For several years, I provided ‘homelessness training 101’ to first responders. Every week, I’d meet with a group and we’d talk about homelessness and their experiences working with the city’s most vulnerable. Often, they would express their frustration with having to deal with the same people again and again. About how few resources they had to do anything productive for an individual on the streets other than to ticket them or be their ‘taxi driver’ to get them from where they were to one of the shelters that provided care for those under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

Mostly they told me they wanted to make a difference. They wanted to impact lives in positive and supportive ways. They felt not being able to change the life of an individual experiencing homelessness was a failure. That they weren’t doing enough.

At the frontline, facing the same people in crisis day after day, they couldn’t see they were part of a bigger picture. That they were doing their part, giving their best in that moment. They couldn’t see that their interactions with an individual in that moment, did make a difference.

Often I would ask them, “What if in being kind and compassionate, you left an imprint that perhaps not today, but maybe tomorrow or another time, said to that person, maybe there is another way?”

“What if in treating them with dignity in that moment, you gave them the thing they needed most but that they believed they deserved least?”

“What if you don’t have the answers for their life but you do have the capacity to make a difference in that moment? Would that be enough?”

Like many of us, accepting that we can’t ‘fix what is broken’ is hard. We want to help people. We want to make it right. In our frustration, we judge ourselves as not doing enough.

Sometimes, all we have are our words of support and kind acts. All we have is being ourselves, turning up without judgement and being present to someone else’s pain, confusion, fear, hurt, brokenness.

Like many of us, the first responders I met with developed coping skills to mask their frustrations and to protect their hearts. They made up stories to explain what could not be understood. How homelessness was awash in people willingly breaking laws. They were all criminals. How those experiencing it were lazy. Somehow less worthy of help than those who were at least trying to get sober or to find a job or get their lives back on track.

We all do it. We encounter a situation or person that just doesn’t make sense to us. No matter what we do or say, we can’t ‘get through’ and end up walking away, often muttering to ourselves or complaining to others about that person’s behaviour. In our frustration we make them ‘the other’ and separate ourselves to keep from acknowledging the fear that perhaps there are no ‘others’. We’re all just different aspects of our shared human condition.

I happened to run into someone who was in my course awhile ago.

We talked and laughed about our ‘different perspectives’ when first we met.

I’ve come a long way, they told me. I don’t see every homeless person as criminal anymore. I see them as human beings who have faced such incredible hardships, they don’t know who they are anymore and can’t find themselves without some help.

They told me how now they take the time to talk to those they meet on the street. How they listen to their story and do their best not to judge.

You helped me get there, they said.

I was one piece of a bigger picture, I replied.

We are all one piece of the bigger picture of life in our communities.

May each of us walk with compassionate hearts and open minds to hear the stories of everyone we meet so that in our meeting, they are left with the awareness that their story matters enough to be heard. In our hearing and seeing them, may they know they matter in the big picture of our lives.

Namaste.

 

The art of standing in disagreement and being okay.

I struggle with disagreement. Struggle to hold space for all points of view to coexist on one common ground of possibility. To stand in openness and acknowledge, “I hear your position. This is my position.” And be okay with speaking my truth even when someone else is telling me their truth is the real truth.

Deep within my lizard brain, the little child within hears disagreement as criticism. And criticism means I’ve done something wrong. I’ve been bad. I don’t belong. I am the unwanted.

In that place, I smile with my mouth only and go quiet.

I don’t want to make waves. To be ‘the bad girl’.

I am learning.

Learning that it’s not ‘bad’ to hold a different point of view.

That it’s okay to hold my truth in equal light to someone else’s. That my point of view is relevant too. We all have the right to our own truth, our own beliefs and way of seeing the world.

It isn’t, I am wrong. You are right.

It’s that your position is valid. My position is valid. And just because there’s uncommon ground between us, it doesn’t mean one of us has to let go of our truth. It just means this place of disagreement is an opportunity to learn more about the differences between us and be okay in that space.

I am learning.

I am learning that the little child within is sometimes scared when the adult me finds herself in disagreement.

I’m learning to tell her, it’s okay. We’re okay. We don’t always have to agree. We do always need to be patient and kind. We are responsible in how we turn up. And when I turn up in grace, pay attention, speak my truth and stay unattached to the outcome, the little child within is not afraid.

I am learning to recognize myself in flight, because when I feel unsure, when I feel like I’m being attacked, I am a master of flight. And while flight is beautiful when it’s an eagle soaring on high, it’s not so comfortable for we earth-bound humans.

Flight means I’m running away. It means I am afraid to speak my truth. That I am letting go of my voice.

I am learning to ground myself in my truth where I create space for all the colours of the rainbow to shine bright, even when it’s not my kind of art.

The art is in learning to always be me, in every kind of way, in every kind of place.

I am learning that whether we agree or disagree, as long as I am patient and kind, as long as I do not let fear drive me into taking flight, I am okay with me.

There is an art to standing in disagreement without letting fear drive me away from being true to myself. That art comes alive when I am patient and kind with everyone, including myself. In that place, I can see the brilliant hues of truth shimmering in every point of view and be okay with the multi-faceted perspectives of everything and everyone.

What about you?

Are you comfortable with disagreement? Are you able to stand in your truth and allow others room to stand in theirs without feeling the need to make one right, the other wrong?

Where do you go in disagreement? How do you stand strong in your truth, giving voice to what you see while leaving room for other voices to be heard freely?

 

 

You are… Whole. Complete. Worthy.

Remembering our worthiness is a journey.

We are born worthy, whole, complete and then… life happens and we forget.

We forget our beauty, our brilliance, our ineffable right to shine.

Remembering is our responsibility. It is necessary if we are to claim the richness of life without the fear of not deserving it creeping in.

We forget sometimes just how perfect and magnificent we were at birth.

Yet, when a child is born, it is all we see, even while forgetting we too were just like that newborn. Perfect. Magnificent. Whole. Complete. Worthy.

As life layers on its complexities and nuances, we start to cling to the messages of ‘not enough’ that infiltrate the light of our magnificence. The darkness creeps into the light until one day, we look in the mirror and see only the flawed and broken vessel we think we’ve become.

Forget the flaws. Let go of the broken messages replaying themselves in your head and claim your brilliance.

Even if it’s just for a moment, stand in the naked truth of how absolutely miraculous you are in this moment right now and know, you are worthy, whole complete. A magnificent reflection of amazing grace shining for all the world to see just how brilliant you are.

And yes, it won’t feel comfortable. It won’t feel natural.

Doesn’t matter. It is the truth.

We are each of us magnificent beings of light capable of shining brilliantly in darkness and in light.

Namaste.

Let me live beyond the crazy-wild side

The muse and I have an agreement.

She whispers. I listen.

And in my listening, I respond from somewhere deep within me.

I cannot see this place of response.

I cannot define its presence.

It is a knowing. An intuiting. A divining.

Sometimes, her whispers in this place, are soft and gentle, like a summer breeze caressing my skin.

Other times, her whispers are like summer’s late kiss, reminding me to treasure each leaf turning golden before autumn’s fall.

And other times, she is like the wind blowing fiercely in on a summer storm. She wakes me up with her thunderous roar, pushing me over the edge of the known into that place where I leap up to dance in the rain and run through puddles, throwing myself with abandon into the storm.

It was stormy here last night.

This morning, the muse awoke me.

Let Me Live on the Wild Side
By Louise Gallagher ©2018

Let me live on the wild side of this crazy heart
beat beating
ferociously
not keeping time
spending every moment up
to the end of time.

Let me dance ferociously with the wildflowers blowing
free freeing
crazy-wild
to the heartbeat
of my used up life
gone wild in time.

Let me dive fearlessly into the crazy-wild
abandon abandoning
joyfully
not holding back
any precious moment
of life lived free of time.

Can you hear the wisdom of your heart?

It can be easy sometimes to get caught up in believing someone is doing something purposefully to bother you.

To skip over the possibility they are doing whatever they are doing with good intention, not ill. Or that they are simply unaware of the impact of their actions on you and others.

When we are feeling stressed, overlooked or under-appreciated, we humans tend to see ill-intentions all around.

Giving grace, holding space for others to have good intentions or to be unaware is vital to our capacity to live life in peace and harmony.

If you are reading this today and feeling out of sorts or like the world just isn’t going the way it should, ask yourself:

Am I seeing dark clouds everywhere?

Am I looking for fault in what everyone else is doing, creating a story in my head where I am The Victim and they are wrong?

Be honest. Be humble. Be sincere with yourself.

And if there is any iota of a sense of connection with the questions above, ask yourself…

Is it true? Is the story I’m telling myself in my head about the other person their truth or mine in this moment?

Because, when we ask ourselves if our stories about others are true, inevitably the answer is, “I don’t know.”

We never know the stories of another. We never know what is true for them, unless we ask.

So, if you hear yourself telling yourself that someone is plotting to ruin your day, ask them for their truth. And listen to their answer with a soft heart.

We hold many things as true but when we soften our hearts, we discover light doesn’t bounce around with sharp edges like prism’s of sunlight refracting off  a crystal hanging in the window.

In a softened heart, light imbues everything with a warm and loving glow. It soaks in. Warm. Inviting. Welcoming. Healing.

We humans are not all that different. We are all struggling to make sense of this journey of life.

We have all felt heartbreak. Disappointment. Pain.

We have all at some point been confused by the actions of others. Blamed them for our misfortune. Held them accountable for our mis-steps.

We have all felt like ‘nobody understands’ or cares.

And we have all known what it feels like to be misunderstood. Blamed for things we never did. Shunned for things others thought we should do.

It is part of our shared human journey, this place where we jump first to conclusions about another. We tell stories about others and harden our hearts to keep us from standing lovingly in the truth of our own feelings, emotions, accountability, thoughts, creations, mistakes…

As you travel through your day, ask yourself often, “Is the story I’m telling myself about what they’re doing a reflection of them, or a reflection of the story I tell myself about my right to feel…. angry, hurt, confused…. [fill in the blank].

Soften your heart and listen deeply to what it has to say. You may be surprised to discover what your heart truly knows.

Namaste.

 

The Fall. Ouch!

I fell a couple of weeks ago. I was in the kitchen at work and slipped on a piece of cucumber I hadn’t noticed lying on the floor.

It was a textbook, slapstick-style movie fall. Both feet went flying up from beneath me and I landed hard, my body sprawled out like a starfish on the beach. The resounding crash of my landing brought my co-workers running to the kitchen door.

Naturally, I tried to pretend it was nothing. That I wasn’t hurt.

Needless to say, my body was not happy — with my attitude nor the fall.

I’ve been going for treatment, ice, heat, creams, taking it easy. Not lifting things. You know, playing the princess prima donna. But in truth, I really messed up my left side so if I want to heal, I need to heed the doctor’s advice. Take it easy.

And I was. Until Saturday that is.

I was at an event where dancing is the order of business.

I love to dance. Love it.

My challenge is, when the music starts, I lose all sense and sensibility. I forget how my body feels and let the music take me where ever it wants to go.

On  Saturday, it took me.

And now my body is saying, it took you too far.

Okay. Okay. Being 100% accountable for my actions means I can’t lay the blame on my body. I let it happen. And whining isn’t going to change any of that, nor is blaming it on the music!

Whining is not the point of writing this out anyway. It’s about finding the value in all things, looking for the gift in the mud, seeing the beauty in the darkness.

And that’s where I’m struggling. To find lightness of being when my body feels like it was hit by a truck. To remember, this too shall pass and I shall once again not feel like an old lady with arthritic bones.

Oh wait. I am edging closer to being an old lady than a lithe young thing. And I do have arthritis!

Maybe the point of this is to find the grace that resides within, no matter my body’s age, and to let the joy of being who I am supersede the way I feel right now.

To acknowledge dancing like no one is watching doesn’t mean dancing by letting it all hang out. It means, learning to heed my body’s signals of when it’s appropriate to let go of every joint, muscle, and inhibition when I dance. And when it’s not.

It means letting the music have its way with my senses, not my sensibilities.

Perhaps the point is, I love to dance, but just as I no longer jog, maybe it’s time to curb the free stylin’ and become a little more in tune with not just the music, but my body too.

Because believe me, falling has jaundiced my outlook and my back being out of sorts has cramped my style! And it’s definitely given me pause for reflection, to stop and think about the things I’m doing that do not create ‘the more’ of what I want in my life.

Fact is, I’ve never really treated my body like a temple. I’ve never considered its needs before my desire to go places, get things done, feel free of constraints.

Perhaps, it’s time to grow up and tune into the music within so that the music around me doesn’t carry me away from all sense and sensibility!

Namaste.

 

 

 

…but not under this sun.

Yesterday, Ana Daksina from Timeless Classics responded to my post with these beautiful words:

When you are travelling through darkness and cannot see; turn on the lights.

When we cover our light for fear we will outshine another, when we mock those who would shine brightly, we give way to the darkness and diminish the brilliance of our human essence.

When we choose to ignore the darkness, or let it rest in place, we walk in darkness too. No matter how hard we want to pretend there is no darkness, it is always present, always searching for ways to encompass the light just as the moon seeks the light of the sun.

May each of us find the courage to speak with loving hearts in the face of anger, may we all search for ways to create common ground that reflect the best of our humanity.

And in our hearts, may we all carry only love as we walk under the light of this sun together.

Namaste.

____________

Thank you Ana for your inspiration.

 

Will you choose compassion?

I had an OpEd published in our local newspaper on the weekend. It was about homelessness and choice.

There were many voices of support. Of people applauding me for my words and insight.

I like feeling connected to people who agree with me. It’s immensely human and makes me feel good!

But what about those who wrote in to disagree? Who believe, even though I wrote that homelessness is not a choice, it’s a lack of choice, a lack of resilience, a lack of many things — that homelessness is a choice. That if people just got jobs and cleaned up, their lives would be all better.

In the face of their words, I don’t feel so connected.

Their words cause me despair.

Their view of the world causes me consternation.

In the face of their differing worldview there is a part of me that would really just like to call them names, tell them they’re wrong, tell them to ‘get a life’.

Yet, their views have as much right to be heard as mine. Their views are equally as important to the conversation as mine because in their words the truth of the world according to their view rings true.

What will I choose?

Will I choose to condemn and complain?

Or will I choose compassion.?

Will I listen to understand, not to judge?

Will I create space for common ground, rather than a battleground?

In those moments of dissent, finding compassion, acting with integrity, being present is vital.

Because if I lash back, if I choose to discount or ignore their voices, then I am creating a world where us versus them is the norm. Where my voice is the only voice that matters to me and they can damn well go… blah blah blah.

Bottomline, when I respond from a place of condemnation, I am contributing my worst, not my best.

To understand another’s point of view, to find common ground, we must stand with open mind and heart. We must listen deeply without judgement and be willing to be vulnerable.

To be vulnerable, we must choose compassion.

Namaste.