A couple of weeks ago I met up with Shame. I was in a therapy session and remembering something that I don’t really remember and “what emotion lives here” and it was Shame. I knew she was around. But wow, like she’s big.
I met Shame the other day. Her arms are like tentacles. She sits on a throne. She’s been running the kingdom since, oh God, when has she not been running the kingdom. She is soul eating. (Shame is a soul eating emotion says Carl Jung). This is disjointed. I’ve been disjointed. I have parts. We all do. Different parts of ourselves that show up when we need them. Archetypes maybe. Some of them anyway. So these parts—we all have them in this, we hope, seamless flow of ourselves. The parts that make up the whole. But the question begs (I do love this phrase, who coined this phrase?) the question begs, who’s running the show? Shame is a soul eating emotion. (Says Carl Jung). So these parts, there are a lot of them. And they show up during all the different parts of my life. Each one when I need her. We all have them. The different parts that serve the whole and serve each moment we are in. It’s the Internal Family Systems model. Do you know about Internal Family Systems? IFS assumes that we all carry multiple parts playing multiple roles. These parts often emulate sub-personalities, and they drive you to act in certain ways. One of the goals, in IFS, is to unfuse our parts from our core self. So that we’re in control. Our parts, they serve a purpose. We just want to choose them. They don’t get to be the leader. They don’t get to run the show. So Shame. She’s been running the show. Been. She’s not anymore. I met up with her. A few weeks ago when I was in a therapy session and remembering something that I don’t really remember and “what emotion lives here” and there she was. It is interesting to me (curiosity) that she’s been running the show all these years, and never told me. All these years. Like 62 years! I thought it was me running the show. But it was her. All these years. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew she was around a little bit. Well maybe more than a bit but running the show? No fucking way. But then, wow, here she is. On her throne with her tentacle arms. Here she is. So where was I? This is the curiosity part. (Did you know that moving from shame quickly into curiosity takes you out of the self-shaming of shame?) So this curiosity part. Like where was I if she’s been running the show? This is weird. I know. But not really. Because when I ran into Shame these few weeks ago, in that instant—it was truly an instant—she was gone and there I was. Well not gone, she’s here, but I’m on the throne now. In an instant. Shine the light on Shame and, man, she bolts from that seat. And I’m on the throne now. In an instant. When we find ourselves, we know ourselves. And we say “I am so glad I found you.” So I’m driving home from this play that I had gone to see yesterday.
And I’m having a conversation with God. I always know it’s Him talking because He answers me before each thought is clear because He knows what it is I am going to say. When I’m talking to myself, I have to get my words out before I can answer them. It’s a timing thing. I know I’ve mentioned this before. So anyway, I’m talking to God. God He’s smart. And I’m working through this piece of this puzzle that I’ve been putting together for like, God (yes, He says), almost two years now. It’s tricky. This piece. Because it’s highly focused in but it’s big. Like it’s the missing link piece. It’s the big shebang. It’s the thing. Like I get this, and I’ve got this. And I’m thinking “I’ve just gotta trust this.” And He’s saying “you can trust this.” And I’m thinking “I’ve just gotta let go.” And He’s saying “you can let go.” And “I’m scared.” And He’s “I’ve got you.” And He’s “I am You.” So anyway, I’m talking to God. God He’s smart. And then this song comes on. I feel compelled to share this song. I mean seriously. This song. Sent to me from God. On my drive home. During a conversation that I know He’s answering. Because He answers before I form my words. That timing thing. Like this song. Timed just right. Perfectly dropped in. Right in this moment. My God, it’s a beautiful song. Without A Map, by Markéta Irglová— https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dFp4SIMlbs —Lyrics-- God, I've been sent here blind to learn to see Remembering you were always there with me But do you know just how hard that's been? Could all of this have really been foreseen? I'd like to say a prayer, how does it go? I'm tired. Tell me, God, does it show? What could have called for such a handicap? I was sent out here without a map All this time I've had to guess the way To keep moving when I wished to stay I've been wrong as much as I've been right You tell me: 'Walk by faith and not by sight, and Keep your heavy heart afloat You are a timber carved by knife, but Someday you may serve as a boat.' What I lose here on earth… …Is lost in heaven If I ask you for help… …it will be given But you've waited this long… …you weren't ready My devotion was strong… …it wasn't steady I have one more question… …you have the answer too But what does that mean? You're I, and I am you Why speak in riddles? Then let me show the way That's all I've wanted That's all you've had to say Well come on then, God, show me Which way you would like me to go, and I won't resume to question How I was ever supposed to know There have been signs along the way, but They've been so very obscure At times I thought I knew their meaning, but How could I've ever been sure? God, I was sent here deaf to learn to hear To have faith in you and never fear Life is an ocean, you its every wave Your arms would cradle me, and keep me safe You're right, all this, and more I need to learn All this unease just makes my stomach churn It was I not you who set this trap, but You did leave me here without a map All this time I've had to guess the way To keep moving when I wished to stay I've been right as much as I've been wrong, so All I hear from you is: 'You are strong enough For all you'll ever have to face The only map you need is Love To guide you through this illusion of a maze.' Our Father, who art in heaven Hallowed be thy name Thy kingdom come Thy will be done On earth, as it is in heaven Give us today our daily bread Forgive us, Father, all our sins As we forgive those who sin against us, and Lead us not into temptation, but Deliver us from evil, for thy is the kingdom, and The power, and the glory Now and forever more Amen ~ Did I ever tell you about this time that Phoenix brought me a bunny. It was a gift. Not the most attractive gift because it was dead and bloody on my closet floor. But a gift just the same.
We had gone away overnight and Phoenix got locked in a closet by mistake. When we got home I heard him meowing and let him out. And not ten minutes later, he brought me a bunny. He placed it on the floor of my closet—my safe and most sacred place as we all know—he placed it there as a gift to me for letting him out. This is how kind and thoughtful he is. First he was Fenix. F-E-N-I-X. This is how this went down. My son had a friend and they played StarCraft together. All the time. And this friend had a cat. And this cat had kittens. And this kitten, this was this friend’s favorite kitten of the litter. And he named him Fenix—after a character from StarCraft. But he couldn’t keep him. And gifted this now named Fenix kitten to my son. Fenix, the Protoss zealot and praetor (a Protoss rank of the highest standard and prestige) of the Protoss Defense Forces who personally led his fellow warriors into battle against those who called themselves the enemies of the Protoss Empire. Fenix, revered by his warrior-brethren. Fenix, dubbed the Steward of the Templar and one of the most celebrated heroes in Protoss history. Fenix, legendary for his deeds on the battlefield. This is so him. There was this one time he came into the house with this cut on his head. He was an outdoor/indoor cat. He loved being outside. He used the dog door and went out and in when he wanted. And he once came in with this cut on his head. It was deep. I can imagine what the coyote bobcat bear lion looked like! This cat, he hunted wild boar. I know it. Did I ever tell you about how he would lie in the middle of the hallway floor while tons of kids would run through our house. He would lie on the cool onyx floor, not a care nor a worry that anyone would step on him. Or that he was in the way. He was never in the way. When he lost his hearing he still heard us. I know this because my son and daughter in law and grandkids came to visit and my son, he sat on our lawn, and asked where Phoenix was. He asked about his cat. And Phoenix, the now non-hearing cat, came running from upstairs and to his boy, who he heard with his heart. While his name was Fenix, I heard Phoenix because I didn’t play StarCraft so didn’t know the other spelling/that that other spelling existed/that that other spelling was his name until it was too late and he was Phoenix to me even though he is still Fenix to my son. Fenix is so a Phoenix. The Phoenix is a symbol of endurance. The immortal Phoenix never truly dies. He continually rises from the ashes. Reborn again and again, each time with a deeper and a more profound spiritual awareness. He almost died a ton of times. He has thousands of lives. I know this. He could likely have more. He has grit. Rose grit, my youngest daughter calls it. We all have it. Phoenix is a Rose. He has this grit, too. But his paws are sore. And his teeth are gone. His hips are weak and he walks tenderly. He is tired. He told me this the other morning. He, of the still clear eyes and the ability to jump up on the dining table despite his failing body—God his grit is impressive—told me. I walked into his bedroom—the guest room is his bedroom. It smells like kitty litter and shit. I walked in, and he looked up at me from the drinking fountain that I bought him because he prefers running water, he looked up at me and “I’m tired” dropped into my brain. I have been waiting for this. For him to tell me he is ready. It’s hard because he is fearless. He says he has mountain lion energy. Sometimes. And this morning a few mornings ago, he said, “I’m tired.” Thank you for letting me know, Phoenix. On Friday, we held ceremony. We burnt Sage and Palo Santo. And shared stories that filled us with smiles and remembering. And we passed him thru the portal with love and intention. He traveled fast. He was tired. His face, old and weathered, became young again and his eyes shone vibrant and clear for just a few moments until opaque and cloudy as he left his body yet lingered still in the room around us. This is the end of an era. We all feel this. This is twenty years of life together. Thank you for loving us so much and staying with us for so long. You are a light in the life of our family. Rest in Peace, Phoenix Pussycat. We love you so much. Headshots--
When I had my headshot done recently, she took a bunch of pics. Like a ton. You need to take a ton to get a few. These are the few. I like the laughing one. A film of Joy-- I found this quote a bit ago. “You’re not healing to be able to handles trauma, pain, anxiety, depression. You’re used to those. You’re healing to be able to handle joy.” I found this quote and I was like…. ohhhhhhh…. um. Yeah. Oh yeah. This. Because this is interesting. I wrote a piece way back a long while back, about being a shadow dweller. And being addictive to grief. I wrote—my grief is a marker. And also my lover. And it’s hard to step away. I am working with this, lately. With this addiction to the moistness, and darkness, the inviting-ness, of these shadows of grief and despair. I like it in here. I liked it in here. And I am addicted to it. And so I am working with this lately, with this addiction to this. Because, like other addictions, it pulls me in as familiar and safe even when it’s not. It pulls me and it feels good. Until it doesn’t. And it doesn’t serve me anymore. But it is a habit. I wrote, a while back, about emotional coupling. I wrote about the tractor and the cart. And wherever the tractor goes, the cart is attached and it goes, too. And the tractor is Joy. And the cart, it is grief. And so Joy and then Grief. Joy. Grief. This is part of this habit. The habit of keeping the cart attached. So I am working with this. (With this. Not on this. With). I am working with this. With feeling the Joy and when I feel the pull to pull the cart and to fall into my addiction of not Joy, I pause. Joy. It feels like grief because it became grief quickly but now… Now I sit in the Joy and when I feel the pull to pull the cart, I pause. And stay in Joy. It’s lighter. And sweet. Who knew. So, I filmed a film this weekend. A film about a woman in her sobriety seeing the world through new eyes. Eyes of Joy. Not clouded by addiction. Eyes that laugh. That twirl. That see color and don’t then see despair. And this sobriety. It is mine, too. To see the world without the addiction of despair that is a habit. That is my cart pulled behind me for a long, long time. And so this film. I did this film. It was a beautiful day. A bunch of quotes and bits of thought-- You must replace shame with curiosity as quickly as possible. Move away from the spiral and begin to explore what your behavior is trying to protect you from. Mastering detachment while craving connection is genuinely one of the hardest things to do. Where your fear is, there your task is. Too many people think the grass is greener somewhere else but the grass is green where you water it. The detour I sent you was actually an upgrade. ~The Universe I think it’s important to realize you can miss something, but not want it back. If it breaks your heart but opens your eyes, take that as a win. The portal to every next level is through the parts of yourself that you avoid. The Universe will never give you peace in something you were never meant to settle in. You will be free when you understand that the cage where you live is made of thoughts. The thing that didn’t work out will turn out to be the thing that did. You will know that you are completely done with something when you give it up and you feel freedom instead of loss. You will be ok. Or you won’t. One of those. Thank you for reading my writing today. |
Elizabeth RoseMother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover. Archives
October 2024
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