Recently I wore a pair of designer shoes, plum and orchid colored mules, from a high shelf in my closet. I remember when I purchased them. It was back in the spring of 1998. I bought them to go with my dress for a wedding. They were and still are gorgeous. Eventually, they were no longer in style. Rather than throw them, I insisted on keeping them. Looking at them and wearing them makes me happy. And of course since things of the 90’s are all the rage, the shoes are very of the moment again.
They were not easy for me to purchase. The price was more than I normally spent on shoes. My mother was with me that day we were shopping. As I resisted the temptation to purchase them, she was insisting on buying them. I think she could see how much I admired them and how perfect they were with my dress. Eventually, my energy spent to prevent myself from buying the shoes gave way to her insistence that they were really perfect. I think she actually helped me pay for them and that was the end of that. She was happy for me and I was thrilled to have them.
Today in my spiritual closet, these shoes have me thinking about resistance and insistence. In particular how we choose to make choices for ourselves and for our loved ones. Until recently, I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable about the movement to “resist.” I couldn’t articulate what was driving the feelings around not be willing to jump into the fight. As I meditated on my feelings, it became clear to me that the nature of resistance is not part of my belief system. I am a lover not a fighter. I don’t like to make waves; I like to fix things and smooth things out. At the same time, I am not comfortable sitting on the sidelines. I’m an advocate for kindness and solutions that are inclusive and mutually beneficial for all.
So the question for me was how do I show up in the world where there is a lot of “resistance” energy swarming around me. This was the same issue when it came to my diagnosis for cancer. I don’t believe in the “fight against cancer”. This doesn’t mean that I want cancer to destroy our lives and that we need to just sit quietly and ignore the situation, pretending that it will just go away. Being positive is important but there will be times when we are called to do more. To quote Peter Marshall a Scottish clergyman and author: “If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything.” That’s when it hit me. If I stand for something: I am going to insist on what is right and true. In doing so, I don’t have to resist anything.
One may wonder what the difference may be. Although subtle, I’m going to point out that this is a very important nuance to consider. Resistance is to stand AGAINST. When we resist, we are about fighting, opposing, refusing to accept. Insistence is to stand FOR. The two words and resulting actions have two very different kinds of energy. “Resistance” is inclined to get one energetically stuck; “insistence” is energetically generative.
The energy of resistance has no room for acceptance. Pushing against, holding off, struggling, we expend our energy for one thing: the fight. Trying to impose one’s beliefs on someone else’s perspective is futile because ultimately, we can only control our own feelings. When we resist the way others see the world and think that we must fight them or convince them otherwise, we miss out on connection and the ability to understand their perspectives. Resistance is a tactic of fear. Fear as a motivator will often cause us to choose actions that limit us. Fear can make us sick because it causes stress. Stress leads to inflammation. Inflammation leads to our bodies’ inability to maintain a healthy state of thriving and healing.
The energy of insistence is positive and nurturing. It comes from a sense of worthiness about what is right for one self. Insistence in pursuing the things that make me feel good: exercise, music, walking with my dogs, family time, or cute shoes feed my soul and help me to maintain wellness. If I feel like I need to fight cancer, I believe that the fear and stress that we invest into fighting cancer actually makes it worse. In my case, cancer was a messenger, that there was deeper underlying conflict raging that needed to be resolved: I was subconsciously carrying angry energy in my body. I hated myself. I feared the imperfection of being me. This illness made me realize that I needed to start loving myself. Rather than fear, we must begin to love ourselves, stand for ourselves, in order to set a strong foundation for healing.
When fear is the key driver in resistance, it’s often about perceived disparity. This disparity often times is a result of one’s own lack of self-acceptance. The lack of self-acceptance is in my mind one of the biggest epidemics in our world. The self-acceptance epidemic, the lack of worthiness, is about the fear and hatred that we have for ourselves being less than perfect. When we embrace who we are, this self-acceptance empowers us to be better for those who need our support. Resistance is futile when we don’t even stand for the these very things, for which we fight, for our own selves.
Advocating for others is most potent when we are advocating for ourselves. Insistence is an inside job. Wearing “insistence” takes a little work. It requires that we are clear about what we stand for in our hearts. It requires that we have the courage to speak up for ourselves and establish clear boundaries around what works for our lives. It starts with insisting on keeping what works for you and letting go of what isn’t serving you.
Standing FOR something means that means that we need to be willing to make choices to let go of beliefs or ideas that were handed down to us by our families or society when they no longer serve us. We know they no longer serve us when the ideas cause internal conflict because they don’t align with the true nature of our hearts. When we choose to ignore these conflicts or fight against them, we make ourselves sick. Sadly, it is sometimes easier to avoid facing these truths than it is to resolve them. We would rather die to ourselves. To thrive, we must face and speak up about our truth.
When we allow ourselves to live in integrity with our inner light, our connection with God, it allows us the opportunity to accept others without feeling threatened. When we accept that others have a different perspective, we are now more in the flow of life. Insistence relies on love. When we embrace what we love and take action from love, rather than fear, the momentum to move towards thriving is natural.
If “resisting” feels too much like you are expending your energy fighting against others, you don’t have to sit on the sidelines helplessly. Consider “insisting” on living your life in integrity and supporting those around you to do the same. Living your life according to what you stand for is the best remedy for yourself and those around you. When you are able to align what you desire in your heart with what you believe, you will be able to open the gates on a life that is abundantly joyful. Are you going through life resisting or insisting? If you want to have a thriving life of wellness, try backing away from the “resist” and try on your “insist. Advocating for what is right for you and others is the best gift you can give yourself and the world around you.
We were all dressed in white. On a recent morning, I sat next to two other mothers during our children’s chapel service during which my daughter and her other peers were reading a Psalm. For a moment, I let myself be amused by the outdated notion that one shouldn’t wear white, especially white shoes, after Labor day or before Easter or Memorial day even. I recalled feeling horribly conspicuous and embarrassed in middle school because my white flats were the only dress shoes I owned. Then I tuned back in to the chaplain discussing how, based on the Episcopalian liturgical calendar (as well as other Christian denominations), the color of the Easter season is typically white. She asked the children what the color white might represent. Some children mentioned clouds, lambs, cleanliness, purity, and weddings, even a clean slate.
As a child raised in a few Christian faiths, I don’t ever remember discussing white or the symbolic nature. But I have always heard about the story of death of Jesus and his resurrection, his return to life at this time of the year. Whether you are a believer or not, dying and returning to life is a remarkable story and a theme that occurs in other deity stories as well. No matter when, this story always offers something new to me each time I hear it told.
Once a past assistant rector, Kelly, reminded me of this story when my husband and I went to pray with him over my pending mastectomy surgery in the middle of a hot July. As I struggled with my fear about the surgery and cancer, he counseled me on how one might view life as a series of “mini” resurrections. This dying and returning back to life is a process that we all go through in one way or another. We know it as change. From the moment we are born until our physical death, there are many opportunities for change. Birth, growing up, marriage, job opportunities, divorce, death… As we grow, we encounter situations where we will need to die to old ways in order to move into new possibilities. Moving through changes can restore us, bringing new life back into a dying or dead situation.
At first, I felt perplexed by this comparison. As a child, the story of crucifixion wrenched my stomach. I hated the idea of suffering and didn’t want to suffer as Jesus did. Because of the dogma that was preached to me with little adult guidance, I internalized that I was meant for a life of suffering. Eventually, I thought, “screw that idea.” After all, who likes to think about change or even worse, dying? Ultimately, I came back around to searching for an understanding of Jesus’ suffering and how that might relate to human suffering.
Just like Easter brings and spring bring about a fresh perspective, there is something new in the lesson for me to discover this season. I am pondering the idea that Jesus was willing to suffer but did not choose to live a life of suffering. He knew his path might include persecution. And yet he was willing to move forward knowing that it might include suffering. In his humanity, he likely experienced all the emotions that one might feel when facing the possibility of death. Courageously, he didn’t run or hide. He continued to live his life in the moment doing what he loved most, teaching unconditional love and healing those who needed this love the most.
Rather than avoid circumstances and the suffering, he was willing to suffer. He offered up loud crying and tears in his prayers to God (Hebrew 5:7). I am moved by the power of his courage. He knew that on his path to ascension, there would be death, and yet he was willing to suffer at the hands of others and move through that. Rather than give in to the fear of the uncertainty and doubt – the uncomfortable feelings and thoughts about what might or might not happen, he knew it was just a transitional moment in an ultimate transformation, which showcased God’s greatest miracle. This is the ultimate story of love, faith and conviction.
Change can be hard and can suck. Growing in life does means change, dying again and again to our old selves so that we may continue to grow, to ascend. This means that suffering is an inevitable experience in our human lives. Most of us, like myself, would rather avoid the suffering. We fight the suffering, we deny the suffering, and we numb the suffering. Maybe we choose to avoid intimate relationships, forego applying for an exciting job, or choose not to fly to Paris because we are too terrified of what might happen. Maybe we drink too much wine or spend all our time on FaceBook to we don’t have to feel our pain. Regardless, there are two ways in which we predominantly exercise avoidance: we will either live in the past or live in the future.
By living in the past, one chooses to suffering as a way of life. Someone might view it as inevitable because s/he cannot believe s/he is worthy of any other existence. Seeing suffering as the only way to exist. It’s the idea of “what’s the point, it’s never going to get better”; a cop out on life – there can be no surprises or disappointments when we hold on to a constant state angry or sad. Hello depression.
By living in the future, one wants to take avoid situations or get overly controlling in order to avoid the worst possible outcome, even though we can never truly know what it might be. Imagining bad things or that we can’t fathom facing the losses that we will suffer creates anxiety. Both of these methods are fueled by fear. Both of these methods are blocks that will get in the way of us living our life in the place that truly exists in its most powerful capacity, the present moment. It’s important to note being angry, sad or anxious are a very integral part of our humanity. Where we go awry is when we deny ourselves the opportunity to express and feel these emotions and move through them in constructive ways.
One of the most profound things that I learned as I was studying to become a life coach is this observation by Martha Beck. She was sharing her observations about her study of Steven Hayes’ “acceptance and commitment” therapy. I became aware that humans are the only species (as far as we know) that can create a story that causes us to want to kill ourselves to avoid future suffering about a possible situation. We allow ourselves (whether fueled by our own personal or other’s of ourselves) to create an abstract story about a non-existent future that is so painful that tragically it (the pain of suffering it can cause) can even be greater than the fear of taking one’s life.
When facing unpleasant feelings about a potential situation, the most optimal thing to do seems paradoxical. Rather than avoid the feeling, we must be willing to accept the feelings. Acceptance empowers us to navigate through situations that we might choose to avoid because of fear perceived negative feelings and/or outcomes. Willingness to suffer allows our fear to rise up and to dissolve. The past and the future that exists in our minds can fall away and allow us to be in the present moment. Bottling up our emotions will cause one to become sick, harming one self or become harmful and hurting others around us.
In that way, it’s like a mini-resurrection. We cannot know that each thought that arises can be absolutely true (and often we imagine the worse). Yet if left to to sit in the darkness, it will grow in unbearable ways – depression, anxiety, stress – the kind of stress that can kindle an illness or disease. When the thought to arises from darkness into light, the light prevails and can dissolve fear making room for the light of truth.
Living in the light is like a continuous resurrection. Meaning we must go deep into the darkness of inner self and free our negative thoughts into the light to dissolve. Jesus knew this. Jesus was willing to face death and persecution for spreading the word of God’s justice and unconditional love. Because he knew that living from a place of fear (in the dark) would trap him. He knew with total conviction that living in his light was a far greater place to be than any possibly negative outcome, including his death at the hands of those would forsake him.
This Easter season, contemplate how will you resurrect your life. What small or big leap do you need to take? What type of suffering do you fear it will bring? Time to bring those fears into the light. Time to accept them. Time to let them go. Time to breath in new life. Time for a clean slate. Time to wear your white.
Butterfly Dream (Dedicated to Elizabeth October 09, 1969 – March 27, 2014)
My daughter and I
Her hand in mine
She led me through a buoyant crowd
Passing the popcorn stand, red stripes
Loudly beckoning to anyone to
Savor this moment
At the bouquet of balloons
I saw you
Mesmerized, I watched as
You flitted up to me
To see you
You smiled and nodded
So glad to
See you healed
You smiled and nodded
Then, I felt the warmth of
My tears streaming down my cheeks
And I awoke
Once upon a time there lived a very unhappy Queen. She was the Queen of WAOPF…
I’m interrupting this fairytale to give you some background. For Lent, I commited myself to write a little each day. I intended this small act as an impetus to get back to work on my book which I have been working on for some time now (we won’t discuss for how long). As part of this exercise, I decided to use an inspiration card deck to guide my topic. My fingers nimbly touched over the edges of the cards in my Danielle LaPorte #Truthbomb deck. And boom! There it was again. For the second time in a row this week, I pulled the card that states “the only thing that you really have control over is your feelings”.
I think to myself, “Uh, not this lesson again!” Looking around to see if anyone was watching, I contemplated stuffing the card back in the deck. But here I am writing about the idea that “the only thing that you really have control over is your feelings”. I ponder about what I possibly can say on this topic that no one else has ever written or considered. “NOTHING.” My inner gremlin smugly confirms. I imagine me petting this smug lizard-like gremlin on the head, handing her a water bottle and gently telling her to go take a hike. Okay, the coast is clear so here we go.
Once upon a time there lived a very unhappy Queen. She was the Queen of WAOPF. Actually, I was that Queen: Queen of Worrying About Other People’s Feelings. It still says so in my iPhone ‘nickname’. Actually, it just says Queen. It’s a momento from having clever children who hack into my phone and tweak with my life. I liked the sound of it so it has stayed as such. Nothing is more delightful than hearing Siri respond, “Hello there, Queen” with an English accent. But back to the story.
Being Queen of WAOPF has it upsides. People were always telling me how nice and considerate I was. Rarely, did I experience a ruffled feather. My kingdom on the outside can be described as incredibly peaceful. Day in and day out as Queen of WAOPF, I might strive out of my way in order to appease all those around me. Making other people happy was my calling! It was my way to feel like I was valued. And, I was a very good Queen of WAOPF.
My days would be filled with me commanding things like this: Where ever you want to go for lunch is fine with me. What color do you think it should be? Yeah, you don’t think this looks good on me too? I’m okay with whatever you want to do dear. Yes, I think that she was certainly rude. I know, she is so annoying! I could be seen scurrying about taking on other people’s problems from the minute I awoke, working long into the night completely exhausted.
This worked for quite a while before I became aware that being Queen of WAOPF has a very, very dangerous side. I learned this the hard way. Being Queen of WAOPF made me very, very ill. Doctors and scientist diagnosed it as breast cancer. I prefer to call it something else: it’s a symptom of being the Queen of WAOPF. (Yes, I know that genetic cell mutations are common culprits of cancer because I studied pre-med biology in college. These days we are discovering more and more how poor emotional states in addition to environmental factors can also help trigger genetic tendencies but I digress.)
It was futile. The Queen of WAOPF could not make everyone happy. The impossibility isn’t because congeniality doesn’t work. Kindness is a virtue. Concern for others and endeavoring to help others are qualities that make this world a better place. Queen of WAOPF just didn’t think that applied to her. This is the curse of being the Queen of WAOPF. She forgoes kindness for herself, fails to tend to her own needs and ultimately suffers. She gets angry, she feels tired, she feels resentful and she feels unsupported. Ultimately, she feels she is never enough and is un-lovable. When she suffers, her kingdom suffers. This causes her to use her husband as a punching bag, yell at her children and resent that the people around her who don’t seem to care about her needs. It was a very sad kingdom in which to dwell.
The curse is not an easy one to discern. More often than not, the curse is a covert belief system that has been portrayed by parents or other trusted family members or friends. Seeing extreme self-sacrifice being modeled, rewarded or praised, we might be compelled to give it a try. Having been a Queen of WAOPF, I can easily see the signs when a woman picks up this crown. Perhaps she is miffed because she feels ignored by other moms at her children’s school. Or she complains over and over about how her husband never helps out. Maybe she even disparages a good friend for being crazy for going for her dreams. These are all signs that the sparkle as Queen of WAOPF has blinded you and taken over your life.
One sunny day as she lay sick on her bed, a little bird chirped to the Queen of WAOPF: “The only thing that you really have control over is your feelings.” “Wait, what-what?” She murmured. This messenger of God helped her to realize that she needed to be kind to herself. She needed to explore how she was not living her own dream. She needed to speak up for her desires! She realized that she had been ignoring and stuffing down her own long enough. It was time to quit worrying about everyone else and to start examining her own and managing her own feelings.
When Queen of WAOPF realized this, she started paying attention to her feelings and navigating her actions accordingly. Then something magical happened. Her kingdom, err, my kingdom became a joyful place to live. Rather than striving, I began to thrive. I’m still kind. I’m just no longer a doormat for everyone else. I find that the more I take care of myself and my feelings, I am better for everyone else around me.
Centering myself around my needs first makes me happier and more powerful than I have ever been. I recognize that my feelings are meant to be an inner guidance system. Through this act of paying attention to my feelings, I am setting a healthy example for those around me, like my children. Rather than exhaustively catering only to my family’s or others needs and stuffing down my feelings of frustration, I show them the importance of self-care as a parent and an individual in this world. Acknowledging one’s feelings and practicing self-care are expressions of gratitude and love for who you are. These are acts of praise for God’s creation.
It’s the magic spell that will break the curse: “the only thing that you really have control over is your feelings.” Want to rule the world or even just have equal footing? Forget about what others might think for a moment. What is one small thing you can do today that is kind for you? Do you need to say no? Do you need to stop the negative self-talk? The kinder you are to yourself, the kinder your world will become. Go on, give yourself permission. Be Queen of WAYOF, worrying about your own feelings.
“Granny, your tired, let me drive to see Gran’pa.” This is how I turned my excitement of my newly acquired hardship license and need for adventure into a weekly long driving event. I became my Granny’s chauffeur. I adored and dreaded this drive. The drive from Groesbeck to Marlin via the TX-14 N and TX-7 E was about a half-hour commute. It was a pastoral drive that helped me to whittle down the hours of oppressive boredom as a teenager in a town holding just north of 3,000 people. Mostly old, I thought.
Crossing over Big Creek was a signal to start steeling myself for the part of the journey I dreaded: on the way in, seeing Gran’pa; on the way out, heading back home to nothing. I did not know it at the time but Marlin historically had been a popular destination for “taking the waters.” Had I been aware, I might have pulled over my Granny’s light blue Chrysler and jumped in to the creek with the hope that the sparkling brook might wash away my youthful angst.
When we moved in with Granny, Gran’pa Vince was already hospitalized. My father’s stepfather, I recalled him to be a tall, kind, quiet man from my childhood Christmases spent with Granny. He seemed to always be found clad in a neatly buttoned, ochre-colored cardigan napping in the avocado-green vinyl recliner. That was before his severe stroke which landed him at the now shuttered Marlin VA Hospital.
In the hospital, we would walk down the long hallway, greeted by cheerful nurses, “Good morning Mrs. Hunter!” At the end of the hallway, we would find ourselves almost blinded by the well-lit, highly sanitized room. There on a raised hospital bed, upon which rested the wisp of Gran’pa Vince. He lay rigid and curled, like a fallen leaf outliving its autumn glory. Our greetings were always gentle and hushed as if we might blow him away with much more.
Granny would busy herself with making sure he was comfortable, straightening a sheet, moving an tube, and adjusting the blinds. Trying hard to be polite and accommodating, I would hear the tick of the wall clock tormenting me as I allowed her to be the good wife sitting bedside for a generous hour.
She was once a tall woman herself. Her stature seemed wearied by years of hardship. Even so, she was meticulous in her appearance. As a local taylor, she turned out her own beautiful suits with long vests and midi-style skirts. This served to slim her rounded silhouette and show off her narrow ankles. Her hair was a tight mass of silvery curls. I had helped her with those curls. Curious about home-perming, I willingly volunteered to help roll those tight curls and douse her tender scalp with the chemicals that magically rendered a robust, shiny gray ,wavy head of hair out of the that which had been thinned by age.
When we first moved in with Granny, our circumstances were questionable. My parents had been divorced. My mother had remarried and her new husband, in the army, was given a military assignment in Germany. Suddenly, we found ourselves in my father’s custody.
It was for our own good that we stay in the United States while she went with my new stepfather, Bob. Or so she failed to convince me. My father, now sober for many years, was still struggling then to find his sobriety. And just as abruptly as my mom seemed to have left, we found ourselves uprooted and living with Granny. Initially, shock and curiosity saved me from the the wreckage of abandonment that had not quite sunk in yet.
I yielded to my inquisitive nature and explored Granny’s house. Peering in cabinets and drawers, I discovered endless treasures and oddities, like a small capsule of liquid containing my Granny’s gall stones removed by a previous surgery.
My most favorite objet trouvé: Gran’pa Vince’s faded Levi’s 501s. With a belt and cuffs formed by a couple of rolls, I was able to make them fit. I was in style heaven. Hungry for novelty and comfort, I adored these jeans. Eventually, I allowed the need to fit in and make friends over-ride my personal panache. I discarded the jeans.
And like those jeans, many of my memories from this difficult time were tossed out of my life. Or, so I thought. These days, I am delighted to be able to treasure these gems from my past recollections which I so desperately wanted to forget. I take solace as I linger on this impression etched in my mind, the sight of the healing waters on that long drive and how I felt in my Gran’pa Vince’s 501s.