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.

Love at First Read

My first encounter with Taoism was at the age of 17, following a nearly fatal, highly traumatic, car accident. It had taken a year for depression to hit, as I was so focused on healing physically, and catching up in school, that I pretty much had to be in denial and over-focused on the positive.  And when depression hit, I didn't want to take medication. So my accupuncturist recommended a book called "Healing with Whole Foods" by Paul Pitchford. I loved learning about nutrition from a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Five Element Theory perspective. I loved the concepts of Yin and Yang. I loved the thought of letting nature be my guide. I wanted to learn more, and so I turned to a book called "The Tao of Health, Sex, and Longevity" by Daniel P. Reid. And I was hooked. Totally in love with Taoism. I yearned to be a Taoist hermit and in my college Chinese Philosophy course, I wrote about the challenges of practicing taoism while still in college. I actually came to the conclusion that I needed to get more doing, doing doing out of my system; I hadn't yet grasped the concepts of balance, harmony, and middle path. And so to some extent I abandoned Taoism, though still resonated with it and thought of it frequently. Somehow I had convinced myself that deeply immersing myself in the study and practice of taoism was not appropriate at that time in my life, at least not if I wanted to enjoy and participate in all the things that college had to offer. And yet, I still didn't enjoy or participate in many things. It was as if I couldn't fully embrace one way or the other way of being. Caught somewhere in the middle, but not on the middle path. On and off one path and then the other. Alternating. Going from one extreme to another.....

Thirteen years have passed since I was first introduced to Taoism. Last week I picked up this book that had been sitting on my shelf: "The Tao of Inner Peace." I had a feeling I should take it with me on this trip I was about to take. And as I started reading it on the plane, as I started contemplating the quotes and affirmations, and the self-assessments that the author, Diane Dreher, provides, I felt I'd been reunited with a first love, and I felt that the time was right, now, to continue on this path, to rededicate myself to an exploration of the tao and te of me. And to document it, and so I am, here in this blog.

My intention is to read the book slowly, really take my time with it, and share my reflections here. And so I will. For as long as it feels right, as long as it's in alignment. Excited and curious to see how this all unfolds! For all I know, this and the other one I'm about to post, will be my only entries!