Exit Wound

I was thinking about what I wrote the other day about leaving my business to focus on writing. I was thinking about how extreme that is. I was thinking there must be a way to do both, commit to writing and keep seeing clients and teaching students. I was thinking that I think too much. Tao is about flow. Living in the moment. Not over-thinking and over-planning.

But this morning I was reminded of why I think too much, why I spend so much time in my head, trying to plan out everything. Some part of me believes that's the safest place to be, and that planning and making the "right" choices will keep me safe. Understandable considering that some choices in the past led me to a nearly fatal car accident 14 years ago. And I've recently uncovered some feelings of guilt and shame around that. No wonder in the first chapter of "The Tao of Inner Peace" when I did the self-assessment, I was least at peace with myself. There have been all these feelings of guilt and shame holding me back, and I wasn't even fully aware of them until now. But that could be a whole other blog entry, and perhaps it will be. Now back to this morning's exit wound:

This morning I noticed a tender spot on the upper right side of my head. I was in the middle of a Continuum dive, lying on the floor, allowing my neck and head to move all around against the mat. And as I noticed this tender spot, my mind immediately concluded it was an exit wound; when I leave my body, that's the spot through which I exit.

I started crying as I thought back to the first time I left, at least the first noticeable time, in that speeding car, knowing we were going to crash; I wanted out before it happened. And so I left. And then came back in. And then left again when it did happen.

Through CranioSacral sessions and Continuum Movement I've discovered that I never fully came back, and I'm still working on being more fully in my body. After going through something so frightening, violent, and damaging, it makes sense that my body didn't seem like a safe place to reside. But it is safe. And no amount of over-thinking and over-planning is going to do me any good.

What I feel today is that if I'm going to focus on, commit to, dive into anything, it's gotta be movement and embodiment. When I do these things to get me more into my body and into the flow, such as Continuum, qigong, or receiving CranioSacral, or dancing, that's when I'm inspired to write. That's when I follow through and actually do write. That's when I either have clarity or at least peace of mind rather than constant questioning and pressure to make the best decision. That's when I'm most in line with the principles of Tao and Te.

The Tao of Yoda

Rereading Chapter 2 of "The Tao of Inner Peace." It says Te is about not trying but doing. This reminds me of Yoda saying, "Do, or do not. There is no 'try.'"

A couple of years ago it occurred to me that if I said I was "trying" something, it was like setting myself up for failure, not doing or liking the thing, lack of follow-through, half-assed attempt, etc. It was like an acknowledgment but then also rebellion against that inner knowing that whatever it was that I was "merely trying" wasn't right for me. Or perhaps just fear to fully dive in to something that was/is right for me....So I became very aware of word choice. Sometimes another word, such as "exploring," really fit better than "trying." ---- Ha! It's occurring to me now that by focusing more on semantics I missed the whole point, which was to listen to that inner knowing! Funny how I trick myself into and out of things when deep down I really know better....

Dreher writes that "tao people have no time for half-hearted attempts." And why bother doing anything half-heartedly, I wonder. It's not good for me or for anyone else involved. I'm feeling the need to pay more attention to this in my life.

There's an exercise in this chapter that asks you to look at any areas in your life where you've been holding back, trying instead of doing (p.19). This is really relevant in my life right now, as I think about living life to the fullest, in integrity, and as I contemplate leaving Anacortes, moving back to Seattle, and focusing on finishing my book and starting another one before I even think about putting any energy into building up my business in Seattle. To just leap, knowing that the net will appear. For years I've been saying I want to write a book. Never used the word "try," but it's definitely an area in my life in which I've been holding back.

Dreher poses the questions:
What would happen if you really committed yourself?
Have you been afraid of failure or success?
What would happen if you failed?
What changes would success bring to your life?
"Ask yourself if you really WANT to follow through with this activity. If so, stop trying. Do it."

I feel I'm being spoken to here, and it's time to listen. What would happen if I really committed myself to writing? Well, there's only one way to find out. So that's what I'm going to do. Time to give notice to my clients and students in Anacortes. Time to replace my seemingly broken printer. Time to commit to writing. I've also been talking about "trying" out living in Seattle again, before deciding to make the full move. But I don't need to try. I need to do. I don't have time to try. Just time to do. Life is short, and I've just been reminded of this, as my grandfather was just admitted to hospice yesterday, and as I visited a friend at the hospital this morning, and as I've often wondered what I'd do if I only had a year to live. Writing a book is the main thing that comes to mind. Since I did face death 14 years ago, I've lived my life pretty darn well. But now it's time to crank it up a notch. So, here I go. Taking the leap. Diving in.

Back to the Beginning, again....

Today I picked up "The Tao of Inner Peace" after a week of not touching it. I've been processing my Continuum Retreat experiences and the personal life events that preceded it, forgetting that the messages in this book, the messages of Taoism, would actually serve as a life raft during this week of processing and integration. Oh, how easily I forget! Silly me. So once again, I return. To the Tao. To the beginning. Again. And again. And again. I'll return.

And today I returned to Chapter 1 instead of picking up where I'd left off in Chapter 2. Reading Chapter 1 today felt as if I were reading it for the first time. In reality, it was my fourth time, and the first three times were less than a month ago. How strange....But what stood out today was:
"...we wrestle with the contradiction of what we are and what we 'should' be. We live in the richest nation in the world, and yet we are chronically insecure and defensive." (p.4) This jumps out at me because it hits close to home. Recently I've been looking at my history of "shoulds," looking at how "shoulds" bog me down and get in my way, even when I think I've done away with them! Turns out there are some hidden shoulds programmed deep down inside of me. And the lack of security I feel despite this "rich" life of mine-- it's almost embarrassing. It doesn't make sense. Logically, no sense at all. But it's felt and manifests in self-limiting choices. Luckily, one part of being a Tao person that I've got down pretty good is the ability to laugh. And so I do. I might cry a little too. But then I laugh. I always return to laughter. And begin again on this path of acceptance and flow.