Allow me, will you?
First, you’re not discontented and unhappy because of life circumstances, because of how your parents raised you, because of how much money you have, or (solely) because of your biochemistry.
Those are factors, and nothing more.
Here’s my theory, in all its frank glory: You’re discontented because you’re actually really fucking great, but you’re terrified of your greatness. In response to that greatness, all that crazy-amazing potential, fear makes you shut down.
In short? You’re not choosing your greatness. You’re not acknowledging it. You’re not cultivating more of it.
What’s more? You know you’re doing this, to yourself, and knowing this feels terrible.
So that’s why people feel so wretched, and that’s why they numb out, and that’s why they beat themselves up, and that’s why they do the crazy nonsense that they do–start drama, or let their health go, or numb out, or…
What to do about it?
I don’t need to tell you; you already know what it is–for you.
For some people, it’s “get my ass to yoga class, already.”
For others, it’s “time to quit procrastinating on that meditation practice.”
For others, it’s going to be “I’m no longer blaming other people for my crap.”
For others it’s going to show up as “That book I always wanted to write? I’m logging off of the computer right now, and starting, and I don’t give a shit how terrible it is. I’m writing.”
For others, it’s going to be: “Let me lay down on the bed and breathe, and quit doing-doing-doing all of the time.”
You already know your truth. There are a gazillion different personal growth products and people and offerings out there that can certainly help you, but I suggest: start by trusting your own True North.
Prepare to amaze yourself.
(This guest post is from Bridget Pilloud).
Whatever molecules I am now were once, recently, something else. I don’t know what. Some of our cells regenerate every 10 years. Those cells just don’t pop in from nowhere (yes, they are formed by division, I get that, but they are made out of something.)
Perhaps they are regenerated out of old cellular stuff, or maybe part of a cell was once an apple from New Zealand or a kernel of corn from Iowa.
We are always part of something that’s been here, that wasn’t us before. And parts of us are already away from us, set loose in the world.
Some parts of us are flowing into the ocean right now, or stuck to the side of a pipe somewhere, or bouncing along the air like a balloon in the fist of a four-year-old.
When I touch my arm to your arm, some of your molecules hop onto me. And some of mine hop onto you, strange tiny passengers. Perhaps this is why dogs and owners start looking alike after a while. They’ve shared so much of one another.
We are never completely ourselves. We are never completely alone.
If the nucleus of an atom was blown up to the size of a tomato seed, the electric field around it would be the size of a football field.
If our spirits follow the same physics (which I am about 80% sure they do), then our spirits are 27 miles in diameter. And my energy is currently mingling with over a million people.
It is in my interest to ensure my neighbors are at peace, for their energy is in such contact with mine. It is in my interest to find and love kindred spirits in my neighborhood, in order to make the best use of my energy.
Between you and me, millions of people overlap, like scales of a dragon, so that you and I touch too. And if you’re on the internet, our spirits reach out through words and pictures, loving one another as we go.
So, yes, we are never completely ourselves. We are never completely alone.
And yet…we never know if anyone is experiencing the world in the same way we are. We are alone in our experience. We’re stuck with our set of glasses.
The relationship I have with my lover is different than the relationship he has with me. The memories we have from the last 10 years are different. When we have sex, the most intimate connecting act, we are still two people having two different experiences.
When my children fed from my breasts, we were two different people having two different experiences.
As soon as my children experienced consciousness and sentience in my womb, they were having a separate experience from me. Even though we shared the same oxygen, the same body temperature, the same everything. (This first moment of consciousness is the separateness of personhood. Perhaps someday we can consistently measure it, and know it. This will change the nature of the abortion debate.)
My twin and I came into the world just 8 minutes apart from one another. We grew up in the same house. We have the same parents. Vastly different memories and experiences.
We are alone in our experience.
It’s true for all of us.
That is the cause of our supreme, inescapeable sense of loneliness.
So, this is my love letter to the world.
You breathe out you. I breathe out me.
You breathe in me. I breathe in you.
And all over the world nearly 7 billion humans are doing the same, and countless mammals and birds and plants.
Breathing and sharing, blurring the lines between who we are.
Even if you feel lonely, and misunderstood, and separate, you’re not. Your experience may feel that way, but you are not alone. You can’t be. Even high on a hill in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from anyone, you are sharing yourself. Even if I never meet you, the air I breathe, you’ve breathed, and vice versa. We are connected.
Our experiences may be uniquely singular, but our essences are never separate. In this space, we can love one another, for we are also loving ourselves.
We can experience the love of each other, even if I can’t completely accurately translate the love you give me, and vice versa. Even if I don’t completely understand it. It’s okay. It’s lovely to love you. To know you. It’s lovely to know you as much as I do.
Viktor Frankl, who once breathed the air I now breathe said
“Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in its spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.”
― Viktor E. Frankl
What he said, I feel for you. Whether I am still alive, or you are reading this 200 years from now, you can feel the deepest meaning of my love in your spiritual being. Just stop and take a breath. I am here with you.
Bridget Pilloud is a professional intuitive and a practicing human. She teaches, heals, guides and speaks about the human condition, spirituality and the nature of our energetic bodies. Working with clients worldwide, she’s here to help people feel hopeful, motivated, present and aware. And Loved.
Find her at http://www.intuitivebridge.com .
Here’s how bad-ass Brene Brown is:
she takes a topic like shame, one that no one really wants to talk about even though they know, deep down, that it’s very prevalent in their lives, and she makes it okay to talk about, examine deeply, and work through.
It takes a special kind of bad-assery to make that happen, and her latest book, Daring Greatly, is no exception to that. It’s an honest look at the default responses that we have to shame, how we bury looking at those responses, and how we can stop.
It’s devoid of self-help 1-2-3 step plans for never again having an imperfect moment. It’s a book about releasing the impulse to strive, strive, strive, and instead look at how to truly be exactly who you are, where you are, owning all parts of that.
This is the piece that is SO important: owning all parts.
OWNING all parts.
Owning ALL parts.
Brene Brown gets it–she gets that it’s the very culture of the self-help industry, always prodding us to be “ever better” that feeds directly into the shame cycles of “not enough.”
It’s in alignment with what I try to express about courage–that practicing courage does not mean disowning fear. It does not mean rejecting inner critics and telling them to shut up and go away.
This is a book about having richer and riskier conversations in the name of forging true connections. This is a book about using connection with yourself in order to forge connections with others.
Then head here to get your copy of Daring Greatly.