"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
(I write a weekly “Pawsitivity Post” for Higher Running on social media and while I’ve written about being limitless before, https://adogandhergirl.com/2024/07/23/limitless-2/, I thought this was a good reminder… and I don’t know about you, but sometimes I need SEVERAL reminders before something actually sinks in.)
“You ARE limitless.” -Coach Pacer
Pawsitivity Tip Friday!
Coach Pacer is fast, but she’s probably not the fastest dog out there, nor the most talented (she knows other ways to get treats). It doesn’t matter to her, because she knows those things don’t define her. She’s not weighed down by stories of low self-worth because of what she can and cannot do. She knows that her mom, Coach Ray, could not love her anymore than she already, infinitely does. Truly, her energy is boundless, going beyond physical limitations and mental beliefs. And that is what makes Coach Pacer limitless!
As energetic beings inhabiting physical bodies, there are physical limits. Many of us will not run a sub 4 min mile or be the second person to run a sub 2hr marathon, no matter how hard we try (pushing and forcing is usually fear-based). Those aren’t actually limits. First, we could imagine ourselves running those times, and our imaginations are great sources of play. Second, and more importantly, the only thing that actually weighs us down and holds us back from our true potential are the stories we tell ourselves about our worth based on our physical and mental abilities. Once we can unravel ourselves from those stories (which does take work) and we can accept and love the bodies we’ve been given, we become free. We realize we ARE limitless.
When we break it down, when we look at it, the darkness… It’s light too.
It’s hard. It feels scary. But when we take the time to look at the darkness (what I’ll define here as fear, forgetfulness, the things we prefer not to look at, the parts of ourselves we don’t like but may call out in others, and the emotions we try to suppress), we find that it’s just light reversed.
Carl Jung, the great Swiss psychotherapist said ““Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.”
Parts work, shadow work, inner child work… These are all modalities to help us recognize and unravel ourselves from our own darkness. Truly, the darkness is the cage that holds our inner children, children that are screaming at us for attention and love, buried beneath the protections we’ve developed to try to suppress their pain.
Take this for an example:
The other day I was journaling from the part of my own “Internal Punisher”. I know some of you reading this have this part, too. The part of you that will verbally beat you down to a pulp and leave you on the floor for dead… if only you didn’t have a dog and a (very) tiny voice in your head saying “Get up. Go to bed.” At the core, that very shadowy part of me doesn’t want me to feel the unbearable pain of feeling confused, lost, scared, and unlovable which honestly, WAS unbearable for me to feel alone as a child. The difference is that I’m now a safe adult able to be with myself through challenging emotions, and I can sit with these very young emotions that my parents just couldn’t handle when I was small (because my parents were just kids with their own suppressed emotions too). And as I worked with this protecter-firefighter part (to use IFS terminology), the last thing it said to me was, “I’m not bad, I’m not a villain, I’m just trying to keep you safe (from aforementioned emotions).”
This doesn’t make me like or approve of a lot of what is happening in the U.S. But it does keep me from hating the people making some of the decisions, which saves me from feeling the emotion in my body. Actually, it creates some empathy. They’re a bunch of scared kids, unfortunately running the show, yes. But what I know about kids is that punishment doesn’t work. Telling them they’re wrong or bad can make them more defensive/protective (this is true for my shadows too). Understanding helps. Boundaries* help too (my Internal Punisher can still have a say but is not allowed to berate me.). This isn’t the answer, I know. But remember…
Darkness is really just light that’s turned on itself. Fear is Love that’s forgotten its truth. Pain exists only in the places we haven’t allowed the sun to shine. In the end, it’s really all just light.
*Dr. Becky Kennedy recently posted about this. Obviously, its a little different for adult kids, but not that different. “No.” , is still a complete sentence.
This season is about the return of the light after a period of darkness. As of Saturday, the days have once again begun to get lighter. Now, the darkness isn’t bad. It represents a shedding, a death, and temporary returning to the void, the unknown, a place of infinite potential. A time to rest. It’s a return to the sacred womb, from which we were all born and have the opportunity to return to so we can be reborn. It’s a necessary phase that can support us in returning to our true selves, to the unfiltered, pure Light that we are. It is from the darkness the light is birthed.
The story of light retuning after a period of darkness is told in various cultures, traditions, and religions. There’s ofcourse the birth of Jesus, a being who preached love and non-judgment while he walked the earth. In western society, it’s also told by the story of Santa, bringing toys, or joy, to (all) the children (not just the “good” children, for all children are good) after a period of recession. In Pagan tradition, the light is returned by the Deer Mother, flying through the night on the darkest day of year, carrying and returning the sun on her antlers.
The light, as I define it, is consciousness, or loving awareness. It’s our nature of innocence and divine love. For us here in this room, it’s a remembering.
If we pause and look around the room, we can be quite certain that many of hold different political and religious beliefs. We have different opinions on women’s rights, animal rights, and climate change. There are different beliefs on the best foods to eat and different definitions of success and what it means to live a meaningful life.
But tonight, none of that matters. Underneath the roof of this Midwest house in America, we have transcended our fear and forgetfulness, what I call type 2 darkness, by leaving our judgments and criticisms behind us, and returning to a unified state of Love.
The question is, will we once again forget? Will we forget the light of loving awareness and return to the realm shadows, illusions, differences, and separateness?
Perhaps more importantly, for what is within us will always be projected out, will we return to judging ourselves for all the mistakes we’ve made and criticizing ourselves for all the ways we believe we’re not enough and could be, or should have been, better?
I think it’s important to remind everyone here that “sin” or”mistake” simply means to “miss the mark.” Mistakes show us where we are out of alignment with our true selves. We only ever make mistakes or hurt others when we are in fear and are not feeling good. And (the human/ego brain is a funny thing) the we think that by punishing ourselves, we’ll do better, but we actually just make ourselves feel worse which makes it harder to act in alignment because our natural alignment is Love!
And I have never, ever, seen anyone, including myself, grow or heal through self-judgement or criticism. I have only ever seen people heal through self-acceptance and self-compassion, for that is when we invite the Light back into our lives. There’s paradox here too…it is only through our imprefections that we can know perfect love. And, if we truly believe that we were created in the image of our creator, or Love, that even in our imperfection, we are all absolutely perfect.
So the invitation here is, not just for the rest of the day, but to the best of your ability, everyday, to look at yourself as you would an innocent child. To look at others like you are meeting Jesus, as Benedictine rule states “Let all guests who arrive be received as Christ.” To look at others as you would a child that holds all the potential in the world if only the are nurtured through love, and treat them with such honor and respect. Because we all hold the potential to be the light.
It’s powerful to remember, to accept, that my soul came here for this exact moment in history.
Yes, but only partially, to be a light in the dark. Mainly, to help everyone else remember, we ARE the fucking light. We are love and light enshrouded in stardust.* We’re not here to banish the dark, but to say “I am stronger than you, and I will rise above.” And then we thank the dark, because without it, we wouldn’t know who we truly are.
If you’re reading this, I know your soul came to be here for this moment, too. Thank you. It feels so good that we are unified together, by what we are made of. Not the false, ridiculous , fear-based love that some church’s tried to drug us up on…but real love. True feminine love that has no place for hate, cruelty, misogyny… not even to those who deal out the devil’s (fear’s) cards. Feminine love embraces all, holding the potential to transmute any fear back into light.
This isn’t a battle to be fought with guns and armor made of fear, but with love and swords made of grace. And it’s fucking fierce.
And it feels good…like shattered glass, no doors, and wind that blows freely through. Only blue sky and sunshine to roam, birds flying by our side. It feels Free. .
*If you’re confused by the stardust theory, I highly recommend Michael A. Singer’s book, Living Untethered.
I am the most brave when standing still. When I am writing reflections through tears under the fire of a lamp, or feeling the feels and weeping into my dog’s fur. I am the most brave when I ask for connection. When I share my feelings with a lover, knowing at any moment he could walk away. I am the most brave when I walk into my therapists office, making sure no secret is left hidden, no emotion left unfelt. I am the most brave when I shine my light within. When I witness my wounds and kneel before my heart.
****
Like Pacer, you can be brave and still be scared of thunderstorms. You can hide under the covers and paw your Mom for comfort.
Why?
Because bravery has little to do with external actions and everything to do with one’s ability to go within. To shine a light on the fear that drives them.
I could ski down a double black and still be a coward for giving into to my need to impress for the fear of not being enough.
Or, I could be brave and ride my mountain bike slowly down a green, even though I know my riding partner thinks I’m slow and scared.
Maybe I will give a speech to a room full of strangers, because my heart wants a microphone even though my conditioning tells me its safer to stay quiet.
Brave is the step I take- or don’t take- when following my heart.
Fear can be considered physical survival, but many psychotherapists now call that instinct.
What most of us think of as overcoming our fears is actually an ego-survival mechanism. If I do this, I am great. If I achieve this, I am successful. If I don’t do this, I am keeping my small-self identity in place.*
*This is very much a “know thyself” topic. Type A’s and Type C’s tend to be does and could find value in stillness. Type B’s can obviously find great value from going within, but may also need to take an actionable step.
Plus, as Dr. Ellen Langer writes in her book The Mindful Body we don’t often account for risk assessment when we label someone as brave. My bike riding friend, to me, appears to be fearless. And maybe he does care less about crashing then I do. But really, he’s a much more skilled rider, and what I often see as huge risk is a small obstacle to him.
As I’ve studied bravery over the past year, I think I’ve finally started to understand what it means to be safe, to be fearless. In a human body, there is always risk. Risk of being physically wounded, and the perhaps worse risk of being emotionally hurt. But it is the parts of ourselves that have learned to protect our human vulnerability that carries the fear.
We will all die.
But Love will always be there.
And if we can do, or not do, and know that we will and are still love, we will always find safety within the shelters of our mortality.
My confirmation name is “Joan”, after Joan of Arc. At 13, I picked this saint because I saw her as tough, and Sebastian (the Parton Saint of Sports), was either not allowed or I didn’t like the name enough (I don’t remember). But 20+ years later, I believe her. Joan wasn’t being tough when she stated “I am not afraid. I was born to do this.” She was being brave. She knew who she wasn’t and who she was. She was brave in the face of both physical and ego death.
Brave is the step you take when following your heart, The only truly brave act is being completely oneself in a word of people who have forgotten who they truly are.
I woke up from a dream, or perhaps nightmare is the more accurate word, slightly after 12 am on May 4th.
I was in a war zone. The building we were in was no longer a building, the grey bricks only a few feet high. Sparks, debris, and shrapnel flew freely in.
My mother tried to protect me. She laid her body over mine, a small and slender child. I knew we weren’t safe. That her body, hugging mine, would simply get hit first. It was likely that we would both die. Now or later, I wasn’t sure. At the same time, I felt her love inside the shelter of her body over mine. I felt her desperation, trying to protect her daughter, me. I could tell she knew it was probably hopeless too, but she held onto that sliver of hope. And somehow in that, in her love, I felt safe.
Soldiers walked in over the bricks and through the smoke. And, while I know this is simply how my brain put this together and most likely not how it actually works, they shot at cannons to make them fire off into the distance. They didn’t look at us. Their faces remained ambivalent and frozen. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to protect us, kill us, or just didn’t care. I didn’t know whose side they were on. But that’s kind of how protecter parts work…
*While I’ll use Internal Family Systems language, archetype, identities, etc. can often be interchanged.
It’s kind of hard to see what they’re protecting. Another protector, another defense mechanism, the cynic protecting the anger, the ego, or the exile, the inner child within? I think some, at least the soldiers in my head, just forget. They forget what side they’re on and they just do the job they’ve been programmed to do.
In therapy, we say there are no bad parts. They’ve all learned how to do their job to protect an innocent part when there was no caregiver to protect them or help them feel and experience their emotions, to help the child feel loved even though they were sad, angry, or simply in pain. Even the addictions, even the suicidal thoughts… they’re just trying to protect us from more pain, trying to. make us feel better when we don’t know any other way. Every shadow side has a light side. The inner critic, a cheerleader. The judge, a compassionate leader. On the spiritual side, some teachers and texts simply teach to notice but not attach to the (unhealthy) ego and all its voices of fear. We might not be able to stop the thoughts, but we don’t have to give them our energy (power). When we practice this long enough, the voices of shame, guilt, unworthiness, and hate get quieter, giving us a chance to notice the subtle but ever-present voice of Love.
And so, to further our dream interpretation, I’ll provide a framework. I was taught dream interpretation as a graduate student at Naropa University by Katie Asmus, one of the leaders in the field of wilderness therapy and owner of the Somatic Nature Therapy Institute. She taught me and my cohort that in dreams, a part of us is represented in each person, animal, or even object that stands out. In this view, dreams are symbolic, offering us views into parts of ourselves that are often subconscious in everyday life. I also believe that in dreams, especially nightmares, our psyches are actually helping us play out and process fears so we don’t have to in waking hours. I will add that, even though it’s often hard for me to see, I’ve heard from multiple people that I am often guarded and protective. I rarely see how my fears play out (the voice of it can sound very rational) until after everything (ie, a relationship) has been destroyed.
During the dream, I felt most of my presence in the little girl. My innocence, my unbridled love and joy for the world and other people, was being threatened. And yet…
Stepping into the role of mother, I feel (moving into first person here) a deep, fierce love for the child curled under me. Yet I am also human, so I try to regulate my nervous system, hoping my child doesn’t feel my fear. I know she is a sensitive child, so even if she feels my fear, let her know that she is loved… A sacrificial love, willing to do anything to keep the innocent child alive. But even if we both die, she must know that she is loved. And that will be all that matters.
The soldiers I have, in part, already examined. Yet stepping into their shoes, I feel lifeless. I’m just doing what I’m told, having forgotten what I’m fighting for. I gently sense the presence of the mother and little girl, but I try not to see them. It might make me crack. So I fire bombs. Bombs at other men, who are most likely just like me. I am hopeless. I don’t care if I get hit anymore or die in this war. I’m tired. I just want the war to end.
The cannons and bombs, perhaps, represent my anger. The anger that I actually rarely feel, besides the shame and self-loathing I feel for myself. Maybe I should let it out a little more. Maybe I should defend the little girl. She doesn’t deserve to live in a gray world full of shadows. Blowing things up might not be the answer, but fighting for Love? I’m not sure exactly what that means. How do you fight for Love with Love? Without killing and without dying? But maybe, maybe there is a way…
Ah, I won’t let the darkness of the mind kill the light within.I will protect her from the voices of fear and attack thoughts in her head.This is the Mother’s role.
The almost non-existent building… God, I hope this is my mind. My ego. The structure I’ve created around myself is crumbling. It’s never really protected me anyway. It’s never kept the fear or sadness out. It’s really only made me hate myself and be scared of the world I walk in, the world I’ve made. The walls were always a false sense of protection anyway.
Now that I look back…
The mother and daughter…the fierce loving protector and the innocent child. They are covered in dust and ash. Yet they are otherwise left untouched. But maybe it doesn’t matter, because that little girl knew she was loved. And love is the ultimate protection. She rises.
My dad worked as an electrical engineer at the same place for nearly 50 years. Actually, at 71, he still works part time at that company. The job definitely plays well to his analytical brain, but I would never call being an engineer his purpose.
His family titles probably give more insight into his purpose. He’s known as the “toy guy” and the “car guy.” He’s always got toys for the little ones in the family…and toys for himself. He probably has well over 1,000 Matchbox cars in his collection, plus minions and disney characters throughout his house. He’s also the guy everyone calls…whether it me, my cousins, or his brother and sisters and in-laws…for car help. It might be advice on what needs to be fixed, how to get it fixed cheaper, him fixing it, or he’ll lend you a car for as long as you need it. Actually, multiple family members have driven a car first owned by my dad. My dad is the guy who wanted to go to Harry Potter world for his 62nd birthday, and we’re already planning on Disney World/Galaxy’s Edge trip after he turns 72. He’s the dad who still reminds me and Sandi to remember our “happy thoughts” and sends us “unbirthday cards.” My dad has been through a lot of loss in his life, and the joy he still finds is my inspiration as I try to rise above my own darkness.
Part of his purpose comes through his own wounds. While he loves re-telling stories of gathering a group of friends for a baseball game, my dad had a paper route before he was double-digits and quickly became a caretaker for his younger siblings when his own dad had a stroke and later passed away.
His childlike wonder reignites the flame of those who have forgotten theirs. He is a protector that keeps his family safe. He is a Wizard among those who have forgotten their magic. That is his purpose.
Thinking of my dad’s purpose has helped me discover my own.
I might still say that “I help people remember who they are”, or ” I help people become free”, but more simply, I help people feel safe to express their emotions, be who they are, and feel loved. Sure, I did pick a career where I can do that for a living (and it certainly blossomed from my own wounds) but what I have chosen to do really doesn’t matter because I am the embodiment of my own purpose.
Does anyone else get confused when someone asks, “How do you do?”, or “How are you?”, “How was your day?”
To an on looker, it would appear that I freeze for a moment, a moment too long. It’s why most would say I’m quiet, while I pause, debating if I should say what’s on my mind or how I’ve been trained to respond, with an “I’m good” or “fine.”
What I really want to say…
No, maybe it’s too much…
But maybe not…
In my head I’m wondering…
Do I tell them about all the ideas running through my mind and about all the stories I want to write? Or maybe I should tell them about the white horse I watched running through the field from my window. And the cat! Oh, how I laughed, because it was not our field cat that I saw sneak out of the shed, not the one who’s food was inside. Maybe I say that? Or what about all the things I felt? The deep love I felt while watching Pacer nap. My delight in once again ending up at Brenda’s register at Natural Grocers and how, even though she can have a tough exterior, that I find so much joy in giving her the space to smile. Maybe how I felt it in my body when the sun moved behind the clouds? Or do I reveal the tears I cried watching Good Grief? …WhichI mainly viewed because I like Daniel Levy, and thinking that maybe because I knew the plot from the preview, I wouldn’t cry. Do I say how I teared up watching Alice in Wonderland too, because it made me understand myself and my purpose a little more? And the cows! How, as I rode my bike past, I wished my soulful friends a good day, pedaling away before they could sense the fear and sadness I felt about their futures. Is that too much? Ah! Maybe I talk about the snowflakes. How, in the reflection of the morning sun, I became mesmerized as I traversed up slopes of sparkles that took me Somewhere Else. Or the love… the love I felt, the love I released, and maybe the love I found. That reminds me of…can I say it? The guy I once dated, just a few precious times but felt our energies intertwine. How he told me I spoke too elusively, like I was keeping a secret, not understanding that ethereal is my native tongue? And maybe if he tried to, we wouldn’t have grown so far apart?
Or, maybe I talk about the fear I felt before I could catch the thought that caused it. Then I can describe, to help shift their energy as well as mine, how all my fears became forgotten, how they just melted away, like Frosty on a sunny day returning Home, while watching another sunset. How I once again got lost in the beauty of it all, and in the lostness was my expanse. Or do I talk about the deer, who greeted me and Pacer soon after the sun said goodnight? How I know they are my spirit animals, always protecting me and turning me towards my own spiritual self. Maybe, maybe, I just say “It was a magical day.”
But by then, just a few seconds after processing this all, all I see is a shoulder and the back of head. My time has passed. The stranger is still a stranger. I say a quick “I’m good”, as we both continue down our different paths.
Yet now, now at 35 and years of inner work, I still feel okay rather than overlooked. I’m grateful for my courage to diverge from the normal way. I know there are others like me, who crave depth and run from superficiality. At heart, I actually think that’s what we all want, the neurodivergent and those who are not. We aren’t meant to all be strangers. We are meant to connect. To see ourselves in one another, a soul behind a face. And no, it doesn’t mean I have to leave my solo nature and animal time behind. I can still be an introvert and wish for depth that can be shared, harmonizing the two.
I’m still a little awkward at it, being me. But I am freer than I ever was.
I never thought I would be “smart enough” to understand the matrix, cyclical time, or quantum physics…yet here I am:
We can’t change the past. The past was a moment in time of material creation that our soul called in for us to experience, either to heal or for joy. Since then, the material, or matter, has changed. Plus, if we physically changed the past, we wouldn’t be existing in the same way we are now, nor do we understand how intricately our lives our connected with others. Personally, I like that I get to write to you right now and express my thoughts in this way… I’m grateful to each person who led me to this moment. So no, as much as we wish we had a time machine to go change what our ego minds would like to call “mistakes”, we can’t (and really, mistakes are just redirections). Where the past does exist is in our minds and it is in our minds that we have the choice and the power to shift how see (perspective) and feel about the past…this may seem miniscule, but this is huge!
Personally, I like to throw love at any pain. It’s easy to do with friends who are in pain, so my suggestion is to step out of the past memory and see it from an outside angle (or lens of spirit). If you were scared, angry, or in pain, can you now see yourself with love? Or, you can imagine inserting your higher self (or inner parent) in the memory, holding yourself through the challenging time?
Now here’s the really cool part…when we insert love into a painful memory, not only do we see it differently…but we see it clearly. (Fear often presents as a veil of illusion that obscures clarity). You might see why the event had to occur as it did, or you might see the lesson you can now apply in the present…and, if the memory was about a decision you felt torn about and feared you made the wrong one, you might actually see how you made the right one!
In summary, by using our presence in the present moment, we can send loving energy back into the past and heal old wounds, thereby affecting the outcome of the future.
Love, my friends and followers, is an extremely powerful force.
(Sometimes I wonder where I’d be now or what level of awareness I would have expanded to if someone like me- an empath with heightened sensitivity for energy, big emotions, and deep thinking- would have been if I would have been given instruction on how to fine tune my gifts rather that expected to fit the assembly line of “memorize this, just believe the book” mold. Within that, I can appreciate and understand how each experience in my life has led me to where I am now, exactly where I’m meant to be.)
The death of a loved on has the power to shift our perspectives on life.
To realize what truly matters. To realize what is actually worth stressing about… little to nothing.
Getting a flat tire. Waiting in a long line at the grocery store. Needing to go to the bank.
I’m sure for some, this could further add to the overwhelm, but for me in August of 2020 my only thought was “My sister is dying, and you’re going to worry about that?”
If challenged, I would have been tempted to play the dead sister card throughout that fall. Most people would have understood.
(Side note: From my understanding, people used to wear black in the year after a loved one’s death not simply to mourn, but so that others could recognize them in their sorrow and offer love and support. It was a way for love to be let in in the face of loss. Beautiful, right? Why do we try to hide our pain now?)
Why do we continue to stress about things that don’t really matter?
As my older sister would say to me and her friends in her final years “Life is too short to be anything but happy.”
Some of us want to brush that quote off as cliche, too simple, too aspirational.
As a mental health therapist, I don’t strive to be happy 100% of the time, but I do strive to live a happy life. My compass is always pointed towards joy in the face of hard choices and difficult decisions.
That relationship. That job. If I’m not happy or passionate about it at least 75% of the time, I’m out. I don’t have the time for that.
This means living by my values, dreaming big, going on adventures, and not giving energy to the negative voices- mine or others- who question my choices.
It is in choosing my own path that I honor my sister and her reminder “Life is too short to be anything but happy.”
…and sometimes, I just have to create the way for others by being the example.
Picture 1: Me and Pacer on top of San Luis Peak during our Colorado Trail thru-hike.
Picture 2: A plaque from my older sister.
Picture 3: Easter 2018 featuring my older sister, me, and our cousin.
A Dog and Her Girl 