Thursday, March 25, 2010

crack me open

I've been using this mantra lately--"Crack me open, universe."

Putting my energy into not pushing-against is what made this phrase hop into my head.

It's a version of let go and let god, I suppose.

I've wanted to get to some new awarenesses, new emotional set points, new platforms from which to create. You know, have something different in my experience than what I've usually gotten.

The old ones, well, I've out-grown them to the point of being bored with them. And they are so tedious.

There's another phrase that people use in this situation--"Be careful what you wish for."

The beliefs you hold around what you wish for are what color the version that shows up, not what you wish for. If you don't believe you're worthy of it, or that you don't deserve it, or that someone else will go without if you get what you want, then you do indeed need to be careful.

This crack-me-open strategy apparently went beyond all that. And I've not been disappointed in what the universe has arranged for my energetic entertainment.

Notions I've practiced over decades are coming up for serious review, and I'm experiencing shifts in ways that I wouldn't have been able to conjure on my own mortal time.

The process continues, and my life will most likely be unrecognizable to me.

And that's the whole idea. 

Mar 25, 2010 6:12:57 PM | energy, Thought Chaperone

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a box that was designed by someone else This is when Sister A sprang into action. She was so furious that the hair under her veil was soaked and sweat dripped down the back of her neck. If there wasn’t a commandment that said, Do Not Kill, she would have her hands around Margaret’s meaty and evil little throat in a second. She came around the corner so fast that Meggie had no idea what hit her, and she was definitely hit. Sister A backhanded her across the face, and there was an instant welt on her right cheek the exact size of Sister’s knuckles. The slap took the wind out of her and for a moment she thought she would faint. No words were spoken. Sister A grabbed Meggie by the arm and dragged her across the gym, down the brown-tiled hallway, and threw her, actually threw her, into the teacher’s lounge. No one Meggie knew had ever been into the teacher’s lounge, and this is where Meggie discovered that nuns go to the bathroom. This is where she also discovered the potential cruelty of the human heart. The room was empty. Sister Aloysius backed Meggie against the concrete wall and pushed her face against Meggie’s. Meggie could see down her throat and she sensed something so horrible that she had a hard time breathing. Evil. She sensed something evil. “Who do you think you are?” the nun hissed. “Do you really think you can be who you want to be? Do you?” Meggie could not speak. She was afraid she was going to wet her pants. She prayed, because prayers were supposed to save you, but there was no saving her from Sister Aloysius. “Girls are nothing, absolutely nothing. We are here to serve the men, the priests, the men who will be lawyers and politicians...
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Tuesday afternoons make a big difference I turned 50 recently. More frequent AARP mailings are testimony to that fact. What genuinely marks the occasion for me however is the profoundly pervasive feeling of anticipation and wonder and awe at just how incredible being alive on the planet can be. When I turned forty, I felt like my life had really begun, finally. I started making choices that reflected who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. Ushering in this newest decade, the bar has been raised and the possibilities fully engaged. The dreams that I dreamed for myself and kept alive, experienced as hopes and wishes, are part of my reality now. I'm proving to myself on yet another level what focus and intention bring about when we allow them to. The subterranean work that went into that effort was sizable. Fists were pounded on table tops, and groans of frustration were set free into the atmosphere plenty of times. There is no way around the investment of time and energy and committing to a process that in the beginning seems nebulous and inchoate at best, unfathomable on the worst days. But really, what else have you got goin' on a Tuesday afternoon that's worthy of your attention? Sometimes that's what it all comes down to. Crossing that line in your head, moment by occasionally endless moment, til you've got thirty or forty or fifty candles lit up in front of you. Tuesday afternoons make a big difference.

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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