Sunday, December 04, 2011

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I died this week I died this week. Well, part of me did. And because part of me died to my old self, part of my new self had room to show up and get acquainted. That new self is the one we put into existence by sending out requests to the universe for something different than what has our attention at the moment. Lots of attention. Negative attention. The kind that we are trained to think will somehow result in a solution, but never does. We vividly imagine the horrific more than we do the pleasant. We ardently focus on what we don't want simply from decades of habit. We sincerely believe in our limitations. And we enthusiastically argue for them any chance we get. Until we don't. I started out this week arguing (half-heartedly--I already knew the jig was up) for mine. And it felt like crap. And hanging on to the limitations I was arguing for felt like crap. I was stuck in the "Uncomfortable is the new comfortable" stage of enlightenment. The one where a new level of understanding is about to slide into place. And we go kicking and screaming every step of the way (or not). Fear, doubt, anxiety--all of them bubbled to the surface. And then yowzah showed up. What was on the other side of all that angst was amazingness. Of course. I knew that, on some level. But it had been awhile since I'd dived that deep into completely new, core-bound territory. I had to drop stories about myself I'd been telling for decades. Damn it! But now, I have this entirely new playground available to me. New ideas, new people, new circumstances, new fun. I highly recommend taking the plunge. If you need help, let me know.
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The Miracle in Group Psychology and Other Clever Distractions You've probably seen a video of a flash mob on Facebook or elsewhere on the Internet, those groups of people who start singing or dancing to a practiced routine out of nowhere, delighting those who just happened to be in that public space to witness the amazinginess for a few moments, and then stop just as abruptly, re-engage their regular persona and carry on about their business. The effect this phenomenon has on the audience is remarkable, me included, even though I'm watching the after-market version. It's an opportunity to see a miracle on many levels, and it affects me in that way every time. Knowing what Herculean effort it took to organize such an undertaking, getting people to show up for rehearsals and then the percentage of folks who show up on time for the performance itself--that alone makes something like this miraculous. Another fabulous quality of the experience is the response of the crowd in attendance. Once it's clear what's going on and the audience can relax without worrying that something weird is starting to happen, everyone within hearing distance streams into the usually standing-room only viewing area, electronic recording conveyances of all manner begin to roll, and female elders and small children join in as best they can. People stop whatever they were doing and focus elsewhere. As long as the well-chosen music plays, whatever background noise was playing in our awareness--the thing that's been on our mind today, a relationship that's not going so well, the problem that we keep chewing on and can't seem to let go of--is suddenly dropped and completely forgotten. It might even take a minute or two to recall what the heck it was we were doing and where we were going as we process what just happened back there. This...

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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