Spirituality: What the hell is it?

Some people think it is religion. Some people think it is absolutely not religion. Some people think it is the law of attraction, being positive, being kind, nice or loving. Some people think it is about getting to heaven after this life or avoiding hell. Some people think it is about knowing there is something bigger than us… something guiding  us. What it is is very personal.

I do think spirituality is partially about a force bigger than us and developing a real relationship with that force, which is beyond intellectually knowing it exist. For me, spirituality is also about discovering that you are in fact also that force. The force is you and yet bigger than you at the same time. It is in you and beyond and outside of you at once. Spirituality is about being fully alive.

The piece I see missing in most religion and spirituality is the second part. The part where we meet our deepest selves and at the same time meet God. The question might then become: How? How do we meet our deepest selves? The answer is not easy or simple, which is hard for us to accept in our hurry up, quick fix culture.  For most people it involves removing the many masks we wear even for ourselves. It requires that we feel deeply even the painful stuff that we like to ignore and pretend doesn’t exist. It requires that we make space to turn off the show and meet what is real. We, in essence, take ourselves to ourselves and allow what actually exists to exist exactly as is it. And when we do we have mercy on ourselves. That is a huge statement and worth repeating. We have mercy on ourselves.

I don’t know of any class on this kind of mercy in traditional schooling, so it takes learning. We let up on the pressure to feel a certain way and to be a certain way. We stop sending the wounded parts of us away, and we instead begin inviting those very important parts into our embrace. Many of those parts have been locked away for so long we barely remember them if at all. They often make their presence known in our dreams and body symptoms and in our triggers… the things and people that set us off. They also make their presence known in the things that mesmerize us. They are waiting, yet afraid. Afraid because we have demonized, analyzed, try to fix or rid ourselves of them. We have done absolutely everything except turn to them and say, “I am here. I am listening. You are loved.” We have instead said, “Go away. You are not welcome. You should not feel the way you feel. You should not exist. You are not worthy.” and a host of other not so merciful things. We tend to keep ourselves in a stronghold and not let up even though, these parts are saying, “Mercy! Mercy! Please let up! Please stop!”. We do what we do to our bodies and force them in directions they don’t want to go.

Did you ever play the game Mercy as a child? You and a friend face each other, grab hands with fingers interlocking and see who hands can overpower whose. The one who can’t push back any longer says, “mercy” and the other one stops and is the winner. This is how we deal with ourselves except parts of us are crying “mercy”, and we don’t let up.

Spirituality is about letting up. It is about re-membering ourselves and calling back the parts we have dismembered and sent into exile. We step into the darkness and find pieces of us there. We discover a whole new kind of light. We learn a new way of being with ourselves and ultimately each other. It is painful and liberating simultaneously. It is overwhelmingly moving. I can honestly say when I have done this I have met God. The experiences have been devastatingly beautiful. That is how I know it is God. Only God is capable of that level of paradox being so clear in a moment.

I have a lot to say on this subject, but it takes me time to grapple with my writing and these big questions that ultimately have no answers. There has to be room for Mystery though. If there is no Mystery it isn’t God or Spirit, Great Spirit in the Sky, the Force, the I AM, the Big It, Nature or whatever you might call It. This writing is the beginning of what Spirituality means to me, which I think speaks to a huge void in the spiritual, religious and personal development arenas. Today’s writing at least allows me to begin.

Don’t Love Me Where I Hurt

I was so stuck and closed off I couldn’t even accept a loving gesture from my husband, and he was perfect in the way he offered it. This was new territory. I knew he was really trying something new for us, but I could not meet him there. I couldn’t let myself receive the gesture, which made me feel worse. Why? What was here for me to see and learn? At least I was aware enough to ask these questions. Still, I felt so vulnerable and embarrassed.

It had been a challenging few weeks including a major surgery in the family and a family death. That evening I had gotten into this terrible mood for reasons he couldn’t understand, and my inner torturer took over convincing me that I had yet again failed to take care of myself. It was relentless, and I was stuck in the suffocating shame of it all. This was not by any means the first time I had experienced this feeling. I have experienced this since I was a little girl. In this particular shame I feel closed off, and something has convinced me that I am bad. Something has convinced me that I am difficult. Something has convinced me that my husband must think so too.

In the past, my husband might have agreed with the torturer. Sometimes this was because he was stuck in his own crap, and sometimes it was because I was actually difficult. I would send mixed messages and not say what I really meant. I was less skilled. We both were. Sue me! I am human. Nevertheless, when I am in this place I want to be alone and not the kind of alone where I want to enjoy some quiet time in my own company. It actually feels more like a need- a desperate need. I need to be alone. I need to have time to be quiet and not have to explain myself. I need time to have my bad mood, and I can’t let anyone cast a gaze upon me in this space.

I had been convinced that if he didn’t see the issue the way I see it then receiving comfort from him would not be enough. I was also convinced that if he did not see it my way I must be wrong, and wrong equals bad. Bad then equals shame, and shame sends me to my room. And if he did not see it my way, how could he really even comfort me?

What an absurd notion that if someone does not see what I see then I must be wrong! It was also not helpful to think that if my husband (or someone) did not understand exactly why I was upset he couldn’t possibly comfort me – a lie that I had bought for years. He had already said, “I don’t understand, but I want to be a soft place for you to land”. We weren’t always that for each other. There wasn’t always room for me to be in a bad mood. He would have been too uncomfortable with my discomfort and would not give me my space. He would get flat out angry at my sensitivity and silence. We had both come a long way though, and that day he was on it. He was aware and attempting to create new ground. I wanted that so badly. I have wanted that my whole life, but I couldn’t let myself have and receive it. I could not let myself really be seen and sensitive here.

Ah…being seen – the thing many of us really want but are unconsciously scared to death of. By this time, I had grown myself up enough to have this awareness in the moment. I had done enough inner work to confront the part of me that was hell-bent on convincing me I couldn’t accept this – that I shouldn’t accept this. The torturer loves to use words like should and shouldn’t. Those words have become great clues for me. They let me know the torturer has barged right in unbeknownst to me. He/She typically doesn’t knock and ask for permissions to enter! I had been convinced that I should only accept a loving gesture when I looked good, and I don’t mean physically. God forbid I accept this kind of love when I was actually hurting. Am I only deserving of love when I am behaving in a way that feels good or “right”…when I have it so called together?  This is a deeply ingrained side effect of bad religion, but regardless of the cause, it was my job to break this vicious cycle. I was working on it.

I felt like a big baby, and my torturer was ready and armed to make me feel awful about that. The torturer was pounding away at me, and I was so enmeshed with him (or her) that I did not even realize it was him talking. I did not realize I was being emotionally beaten. Luckily, my inner teacher, adult self, big self or whatever you want to call it was much more present in my life these days. Perhaps I am simply more open to her. She was showing up more and more. My inner teacher had taught me that my child self was not bad. She let me know that when I felt like a big baby it meant I was feeling vulnerable and needed care. My inner teacher and my child self have had many conversations teaching me the value of my younger self and the wisdom of her. The two of them were teaching me that my younger self did not need to be marginalized and criticized. She needed to be nurtured, loved. She needed me to respect her feelings. They taught me that I truly value sensitivity and softness, and that was a wonderful thing. She needed to be protected not tormented. This younger self was desperate for something better…for me to show up better. She was ready for me to stop perpetuating the world’s marginalization of being sensitive. Turns out that doing this inspired my adult self to be more accountable and strong.

My husband fully respected where I was that night, and left me to myself. After a few minutes alone and full realization of the torturer’s presence, I had the space to confront it. This is what that sounded like: “I make a decision that did not work out exactly the way I wanted, and you take the opportunity to pounce on me in my disappointment. That is exactly like you – chicken shit bully!! I can’t even accept an embrace from my husband because you’ve got me in a chokehold, and that shit stops now! You can #### all the way off! You will not keep me from love.” Five minutes later I got up, went downstairs and joined my husband for a movie.  Once again, I was able to give myself the space and nurturing I needed to care for myself and understand what was going on more deeply. In that space I was also able to have an awareness of the torturer and confront it. At the end of the day, I was gaining traction. What a night!

Lessons from Louise - Boundaries

Lessons from Louise – Boundaries

Louise and I were sitting at a table at an outdoor mall. Ok, I was sitting at the table. She was sitting on the ground. A man walking into the store saw Louise and started admiring her. When he got to about 15 feet from us, Louise stood up and started growling. The man respected her limit. He stopped at the 15 feet mark to tell me about his boxers. Louise, still on alert, made sure he knew she did not want him to come closer. After saying a little more, the man went about his business and proceeded into the store.

On our way home, I found myself comparing Louise to other dogs who let people come right up to them. I said, “Louise, why were you not friendly to that man?” As soon as I said that, I heard, “My dog has great boundaries!” I immediately apologized to her for questioning her. The man totally respected her. Why didn’t I? I was like one of those parents who make their kids hug or kiss relatives or family friends when they don’t want to. Oh no! Ok, well, not really, because I did not make her do anything. But still!

The general cultural lesson for young boys and girls when I was a kid was that being polite was more important than following your instincts. This was the unspoken rule when we were encouraged to hug people we really did not want to hug. What a terrible lesson! Fortunately, this has changed a bit since I was a child. The side effects of such a bad lesson are far reaching. How were we supposed to know the limit of this? What was the limit of this rule? When did we get to honor how we actually felt and honor our instincts over politeness? Sadly, many people are still following this rule.

I had worked to unlearn this myself and have worked with many clients on this exact topic. Here was Louise showing me where I still needed to learn – showing me that I still potentially had a potentially unhealthy expectation. Namely, that she should be friendly and polite to any seemingly friendly person who wants to come up to her regardless of how she feels. I wondered if I still had that expectation of myself. She makes it clear that people are gonna meet her on her terms. Her motto is don’t you touch me until I have sniffed you out and I am comfortable!! She made it clear that it wasn’t her job to please this man. It was her job to set boundaries and allow herself to determine her comfort level and her limits. It was my job to back her up. This was all so interesting, because I imagine it was actually me she was guarding in the first place. This baby girl is a great teacher! She reminded me to pay closer attention to how I actually feel when people I don’t know, and even those I do, want to approach, hug or kiss me. She reminded me that following my instincts is more important than being polite! This is a lesson I hope every young boy and girl learns early on. Deep bow to you, Louise! Thanks for helping me remember. Maybe later, if I am brave enough, I’ll share how she taught me the dog bark method! 🤪🤪🤪

Basking in Death

This one is dedicated to those who so bravely teach us how die. May we learn how to die before we die so we can truly live. It is called “Basking in Death”. I wrote it months ago after a hospital visit to a family friend. Tonight I post it in honor of her, other dear friends lost and my husband’s sweet aunt who passed away just minutes ago.

Basking in Death

There she was lying there hours away from dying. She was still breathing but not conscious. Her mouth was hanging open much like a person in deep sleep. My husband wanted to go and say goodbye to this kind woman he has known his whole life. Death is always hard to see. Watching someone who is usually so full of life even in her illness lying there, still breathing but mostly gone is jarring.  Death feels like a haunting presence.  It brings up a lot of questions, emotions and mystery.

After saying our goodbyes we ran into some family downstairs at the hospital. We visited for a while and for a few minutes talked about life after death each of us sharing our musings. One of our relatives talked about her belief in reincarnation and how right now our friend’s soul could be traveling to enter a baby about to be born. One of my in-laws said, “That baby already has a soul. Maybe it’s a baby about to be conceived”. I added, “Yeah, maybe someone is taking a pregnancy test, and the result is confusing”. Everyone was taking comfort in the idea that our friend lives on and laughing a little about exactly how that happens as if anyone really knows. After taking it all in I said, “Man, I hope she gets a long beach vacation or something first. It seems like a lot of work to have to immediately begin again”. Everyone erupted in laughter. It was hilarious especially because I was serious.

The next morning we found out she passed away. In my sadness I giggled thinking about the pregnancy test possibly being clearer today. Then I found myself thinking, “I hope she gets to bask in death for a while.” Death  – the point at which we stop completely. We are so afraid of it we make any kind of stopping the devil including stopping to simply to rest. We’ve got to keep moving, proving and producing.  We have to make our mark. We have to LIVE! Why is it that we don’t wish people would “rest in peace” until they die? It is as if living and resting in peace can’t coexist. Here on Earth it is all about doing for the humans anyway! At least that’s the case where I live on Earth.

Have you heard the old adage, “A body in motion stays in motion. A body at rest stays at rest”? I don’t understand what is wrong with that. Yeah, yeah, I know the saying is meant to promote exercise, but I am more concerned that it promotes “rest and you will die”. You must keep going no matter what!! What the hell? A body that rests is a healthy body. Think about it. You get sick, you are told to rest. I have never heard of rest causing harm. To the contrary rest often cures what ails us when even traditional medicine won’t.  It’s rest AND motion not rest OR motion. They are both necessary, but we marginalize rest.  We have made real rest an unproductive thing, and I could not disagree more. Even phrases like “power through” marginalize rest even though they may not mean to. Producing and doing are revered and resting is lazy or somehow not enough. We walk around trying to prove how much we have to do as if it legitimizes us. Sadly, it does to many people. It places us higher in some strange hierarchy that we seem to accept as true.

Learning how to truly rest is one of the most productive things I have ever done! I am not only talking about rest when I actually stop, get still and breathe, play dead, nap or sleep. I am also talking about the rest that comes when I allow things to happen instead of reacting to every little thing and living in a state of brace. When I get my mind out of the way and die to the idea that there is certain way of doing things, I am able to tap into my own way of doing things (my own nature) and things happens so much more effortlessly. I get way more done in smaller amounts of time, and it often feels like my everyday self isn’t the one doing things. It is like I have tapped into a bigger self.  None of this would be possible without stopping.

We separate life and death just like we do everything else. We make one good and one bad. If one is happening then the other is not, which nature consistently disproves with her seasons. Nature, with her seasons, shows us life and death happening simultaneously all year long. In her own way she reminds us that, “Death is not the end. It is the release”. [1]

[1] Hampl, Patricia, Virgin Time (Ballantine Books), p.14

Inner Persecutor vs Julie

Conscious Conversations: Short stories and other musings.

Inner Persecutor vs. Julie

I got so sick of reading other people’s stories. I had reached a point where I really wanted to connect more deeply to my own…to hear myself. I looked to books and “experts” for confirmation more than I looked inside myself. I knew I finally had to stop looking for confirmation and insights outside and start spending time inside. It had been a year since I shut down my counseling practice, and it had become glaringly clear that spending time inside my house did not equal spending time inside myself. Or maybe I was spending time inside myself and realizing how very chaotic it was in there. I quickly learned that having nothing to do was not exactly stress free. In some ways it was a little harder. There was not much to distract me from me. I came face to face with some really harsh voices that before now I just thought were common sense or smart. One in particular was actually quite mean and full of torture.

Constantly spouting off what I should do, what makes the most sense and questioning every move I made the Torturer (or Inner Persecutor as I sometimes call it) was abusing me. It was constantly telling me I could do better, I could be wiser, I should be doing more, I could say things differently, which were all ways of saying that nothing I said or did was good enough. I learned that the Torturer was truly with me 24/7. It got into EVERY SINGLE MOVE I made, every feeling I had and every decision. It was a devil cloaked in angel’s clothes convincing me it had my best interest in mind all the while keeping me captive.

I started to write down things that would go through the mind that were torture. These were common thoughts I had since I could remember, but this was the first time I was realizing they were torturing me. This list was constantly growing. The Torturer wasn’t interested in what I wanted or what felt good and free to me. It was concerned with “rules” or what made the most “sense” or what was the smartest and most logical. Even though I had ignored it many times in my life when it came to the big things like switching careers, moving to Michigan, marrying into a different culture, opening my own practice, closing my practice and others, I did not realize the Torturer was working non-stop on every other detail of my life all the way down to whether or not I should eat something for dinner if I had it for lunch. The Torturer never consulted my body. It only consulted the rules of the world – none of which were my creation. This Inner Persecutor was constantly on my case. It found every opportunity to beat me up. It even beat me up if I tried something new and didn’t like it whether it was food, clothing, a class or whatever. Anything that didn’t work out perfectly was a fail and a shameful waste of money in the Persecutor’s eyes.

Good thing my eyes were becoming my own and no longer one with the Torturer. It was no wonder my body was often so tender and sore. It was the Persecutor’s punching bag. Sometimes I felt like I had literally been beaten up. One thing was for sure: It was time to become the boxer. “Float like a butterfly, and sting like a bee” in the words of Mohammed Ali.

Two of my uncles were boxers, and I had boxer dogs most of my life. I figured my ancestry and my dogs had somehow prepared me for this. When the torturer started jabbing I had to learn how to duck and float. When it locked its stare, boxed me into a corner and started whaling on me I had to sting that bastard. There were times when I actually shadow-boxed around my house (which my boxer, Louise, really loved). I was training for one of the biggest fights of my life. My biggest moments happened after I studied its moves. I learned its patterns and shut it down at the first whiff of even a jab.

My favorite punch of all times was inspired by a “Grace and Frankie” TV episode. A character on the show told her domineering jerk of a husband who was always on her case to shut the f### up in the most amazing way I have ever witnessed. (The video is called Shut F##k Mountain and can be found on YouTube.) Watch it! I watched it over and over again until I could recite it in unison. I added several of my own lines, and this was the knock out punch that night when the Torturer tried to get in my head – which was the beginning of its pattern. I was victorious. The bastard was down, and my arms were up…literally my arms were up!!!

Is the Inner Persecutor part of me? It is part of a cultural voice? It is probably both, and where it comes from manners less than how it made me feel (emotionally and physically). I have heard many healers say, “you can’t dislike parts of yourself”, which I find useless because it takes people away from what they are actually feeling. The feelings are the guide. Either way, like people, parts of me sometimes need to be confronted and put in their place.  After all, the parts are not the whole. No one part is in charge even though this might have been the case for a long time. We have other parts that are dying (sometimes literally) to have a voice. When conflict between the parts comes up the conflict needs to be facilitated. We need to learn how to be facilitators and orchestrate a smoother dance.

A final note: As I was writing this, I noticed when I wrote the words “Inner Persecutor” or “Torturer” I wrote them capitalizing the first letter in each word. Logic made me change that at first because capital letters are only reserved for God, names or proper nouns. This Inner Persecutor was a tremendous force, so the caps stayed. For good or bad this force called me to the carpet (or into the ring) over and over again. One way or another it was gonna teach me to stand up and fight. I was beginning to see it as neutral – rather than good or bad. I simply see it as existing. It simply is. Trying to label it as good or bad immediately limits the wisdom. We spend too much time labeling things as good or bad, which immediately gets in our way of really knowing experiences or people and discovering any wisdom that may be present. Don’t get me wrong the “torturer” can still be a real pain in the ass, but I’ve got its number.

Conscious Conversations: Short stories and other musings.

Conscious Conversations: Short stories and other musings.

I had become obsessed and hyper focused on a creative project. I could only focus on this one thing and other things were getting a little lost. At least it felt like it. I couldn’t do anything else until I figured this out. I realized I was stuck and having trouble taking a break. I realized I was caught in the grip of some strange yet familiar pressure telling me, “Figure it all out now. Take care of it all now.” Then this conversation ensued.

Small Self: I hate myself right now. Why do things that seem so simple to others feel so damn hard and overwhelming for me? Why do I have to struggle so much about things that really aren’t urgent at all? Why do those things feel so urgent and create this terrible anxiety? Why can’t I change this when the issue is so clear to me and has been for so long? I hate feeling this way. I don’t know how to fix it.

Big Self: Julie…show this side of you more especially with your close friends.

Small Self: What!! Are you crazy? Wait, that actually gives me a little relief. I could feel myself breathe more deeply. It also terrifies me. I do feel relieved though in my body.  I feel like I need to write this down.

Big Self: Wait, Julie. Stay here. It is not about fixing. It is not about telling the world things. It is not always about helping others. It is not always about what would make a good blog. Sometimes it is about YOU, Julie, despite what you have learned about sacrifice and helping. It is about your presence to you. It is about giving yourself the same compassion you give when you know someone is struggling. It is about the struggle and sitting in it rather than struggling with struggle or resisting struggle. It is about what you need right now in this very moment. It is about you feeling this relief and terror at the same time and holding the paradox. It is about you having this experience and simply being in it and letting it breathe…letting you breathe. Let yourself feel the relief and terror and wait. It is for you. It isn’t for others. You don’t have to run and leave yourself so quickly. You don’t have to give yourself away. There is wisdom in this, but it requires you staying here for you first otherwise you will always be running. Give yourself some space and tenderness. The anxiety is awful to feel, and it can also carry important information.

Small Self: I know, but it can creep up and snatch me and make me forget. I forget myself. I forget that it (the anxiety) is often the thing notifying me that I need tenderness. I forget because I am too busy struggling against it or buying its lies.

Big Self: That is certainly understandable.

Small Self:  It consumes me and pounds away at me until I realize what is happening and can create a separation. At first I feel like it is trying to convince me I have to get in the race NOW. I have to hurry up and share my writing. I have to prove i know things… that I am worthy, worthwhile and relevant.

Big Self: My dear, you are those things already whether you ever write another word, see another client, give another speech or teach another class in your life or not. If you write because it gives you life, then by all means write. If you are writing to hurry up and put something out there or solely to help others you are building a house on sand that so easily gets blown over by every little wind. Write because of what it does for you. If it ends up helping others then fine, and if it doesn’t that is fine too. Pay attention to what energizes you. Do what brings you life. Helping others hasn’t always brought you life. It has exhausted you at times, because you were more aware of the needs of others than your very own. Be in your own space. Be with you and let this learning take root a bit longer and a bit stronger. There will be time for the rest. You know how to engage with anxiety and create a space of tenderness. So, remember, dear Julie. Remember you.

When You Hate the Haters

Let’s face it, when you see people show up with torches and Nazi flags professing their hate it can ignite anger, hate, disgust and a host of other emotions in you. How can you handle these emotions responsibly?

First, be mindful. When you see images of angry torch bearing protestors you may think, “What is wrong with these people? They are so ignorant, uncultured or evil.” Yes, it is awful, but we can’t stop there. What are you really saying? Are you saying you are smarter, more evolved and better? Are you saying they are beneath you and you are superior? Superiority is superiority. Yours is not better than theirs. This mentality is the root of the problem in the first place. We have to do better. We have to look deeper at this.

If you spend a few seconds on social media, you are quickly immersed in people telling other people what they need to do about this. You see people pointing fingers in every direction, which actually gets us nowhere. All it does is relieve the ones pointing the fingers from doing anything about it. Blames tricks people into believing they are powerless. The fact is there is something each of us can do about it, and it might be the last thing most people are actually willing to do – deal first and foremost with your own feelings. No one else is responsible for your feelings. They may be responsible for their behaviors, but your feelings are yours. Spewing them all over social media, the office or your home might feel good for a minute, but venting is much different from healing.

There is power in anger, which is why feeling angry can feel good. It is also why it can be addictive. Think about it. When you don’t own your anger and decide it is always someone else’s fault you feel righteous and superior. It feels powerful, but that power always requires making someone else wrong. Just ask the protestors in Charlottesville.

What does it mean to own your anger? In my office it means expressing anger unfiltered and on purpose. This is incredibly challenging for people. They like to jump right into analyzing and fixing and right over being with what they actually feel. What they don’t understand at first is the fix is in the feeling.

Noticing what is here now and being present with that takes learning and practice. I invite people to say whatever they want regardless of how petty, mean or childish it may sound. This is when they drop the act completely and have one goal: to be real and raw. We pause, notice and feel deeper into moments. Old wounds that need to be mourned might show up. They might meet face-to-face with a situation in which they feel oppressed that needs attention and action. The experience is different for each person, and it is often surprising.

I must tell you being with yourself this way requires bravery. I am thankful to those who embark on this type of journey. They are moving themselves forward and in the process inching the world forward. Peace in the world is actually an inside out kind of job. The war within is where you begin. Are you brave enough to go there? Will you do your part in moving the world forward?

How to Deal with Election Anxiety

This election has many people feeling stressed out. Check out this piece featuring yours truly on Fox 2 Detroit for tips on how to handle election stress.


An Open Letter To My Body

Dear Body,

I sometimes still treat you as something to conquer instead of the friend and guide that you are. I promise I am really getting this more and more. And even though I had the realization that I looked at you as something to conquer quite a while ago, I still fell into the familiar pattern of judging your messages as problems instead of seeing them as messages from you. You are the one who has always been with me – the one who is with me more than any other.

As my ally, you are constantly letting me know what works and what doesn’t. You are constantly showing me what needs attention. As much improvement as I have made in listening to you, there are still times I shut you up. I tried to convince you that the issue had been fixed when you knew better. As a matter of fact, what I perceived as an issue wasn’t even that; it was an attempt on your part to communicate. You never gave up though. You never stopped telling me. I am grateful for that and know my actions didn’t always show it. I am grateful that my learning here continues in large part because of your persistence and because of my willingness to expand myself.

I am committed to continued growth in this area. I am committed to expanding my awareness and paying closer attention to your messages a little sooner. I will give you more attention instead of putting my busyness first or trying to shut you up because some expert gave me the solution. My God, how many times have I told you to be quiet because an expert had the answer? No more, my friend.

You have showed me so many things. Remember years ago when I used to drag you to work when you were clearly telling me that wasn’t a good idea. Remember when I was forcing so called healthy foods down your throat when you were telling me no. I’m so glad I’ve gotten clearer. Remember when I was forcing dozens of supplements down your throat. Man, you made that one so clear, and I still did it for over a year. I kept doing it all because someone, check that, many people knew better. At least that is what I told myself and you.

What about the times I would feel guilty for taking a nap or the times I said no to a nap because I bought the lie that those were unproductive. HA! Oh and sexuality, how many lies did I buy about that! Thank you for setting the record straight. You have taught me so much. You told me when I was working too many hours and putting too many things or people before me. You let me know when I had emotions that needed space for expression. Sometimes I put you through hell. You had to use some tough measures because I didn’t acknowledge your initial messages. Remember when I wouldn’t speak up because I didn’t want to seem rude or difficult even though you were clearly uncomfortable. My sincere apologies, dear Body.

You even taught me not to beat myself up about the times I didn’t hear or ignored your messages. You made it clear that beating me up doesn’t resonate at all with you. I couldn’t pay someone enough to teach me what you have taught me, and I sure as hell tried. Thank you, Body. I am here, and I am listening.