Sunday, May 13, 2007

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still small voice It's 3:37 PM - do you know where you still small voice is? I've been thinking a lot about mine lately - what it is, what it means, how it works, what its favorite color might be. Over the past decade the little bugger's dimensions may have morphed at times to shrill and gargantuan, but I have to admit that it wouldn't have gotten my attention any other way. No matter the proportions it takes on, it is mine and mine alone. No one else could tickle its fancy or could possibly identify with it. And no one else is supposed to. That's the whole idea. Unfortunately, many of us on the planet find ourselves born into families and raised in religious communities and immersed in cultural swimming pools that have a vested interest in drowning out that still small voice. Of course, at some point along the way, most of theirs had been similarly smothered, so this saga takes on a chicken-or-the-egg quality. Eventually something has to just clear the barnyard. In the meantime, those of us who manage to resurrect those voices and begin to listen to them again, I'm encouraging you to form your own dousing squads and practice those skills. You know, the ones that effectively put a damper on any detected attempts to mess with said voices, yours or anyone else's. The trick here is to not get caught up in the very mindset out of which you've recently extracted yourself. Requiring someone else to view something the way you do, well, that's where the seeds of enmity are planted. Give them enough time and attention and they will grow to embody the fate of the cast of Romeo and Juliet. Or the storyline of 911. Instead, try diffusing those energy hooks early on with...
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the occurence My recollection of the first day of ninth grade is my first sense memory of The Occurrence. I don't remember exactly if it was prompted by a previous reading of some rah-rah self-esteem article in Glamour or Seventeen magazine, the irony of which I can only roll my eyes at now, but I do recall deciding quite consciously that day, just hours before classes started, that THIS first day of school was going to be spectacular. Cliques and teen-aged insecurities be damned, I was going to enjoy myself and have a great time. And I did. Thirty years later I can still feel the wonder and the power of the decision I was able to make based on The Occurrence. This phenomenon I describe as a thought that materializes from seemingly out of nowhere that brings with it a very palpable shift from the funk in which you might have found yourself, say, the night before, to a feeling in a more northwardly direction on the emotional scale the next morning. It's almost as if one awakens in another country. I feel like I'm back on a balcony overlooking an Italian beach - the light is sharper, the air is sweeter, and the food is a hell of a lot better. This has happened to me too many times for me to ignore or pass off as some random circumstance. Its effect is especially striking in contrast to the aforementioned funk. The swiftness and the intensity with which it pervades and improves the overall condition my condition is in, well, quite simply knocks my socks off. The energy it would take for me to pull something like this off by myself is staggering to contemplate, so I adorn The Occurrence with lofty uppercase letters and bold font to denote the...

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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