Norah and the Watchers

"It is here in the unwatched space that peace begins." --Mark Nepo

Have you ever experienced the paranoia of “the watchers” – the fear that everyone is watching you or worse still that no one is? I spent years shedding the notion that people were observing me and expecting me to fail or not live up to their standards. I learned that often people really don't care what you're up to as long as you don't get in their way. However, being raised under a highly critical eye helped me become finely attuned to those times when the watchers do show up. It’s a blessing and a curse.

I can’t always name it, but I know when something's amiss. I begin to feel it in my gut. Sometimes it starts elsewhere – a prickle of the skin – a twinge of the heart. I know something is going on, but I can’t exactly put it in words. I want to shrug it off – to deny the watchers are there - to hope for the goodness of others and deny the potential overreaction of myself.

For Buffy fans, you know that Giles is her watcher. He is there for Buffy’s safety, mentoring and training. In many traditions, God is known as watcher and protector. It is comforting to know others are watching on our behalf. But what about the other watchers – those who watch through fear-clouded orbs instead of eyes of the heart? At times, I am guilty of this clouded vision. If an issue is someone else’s fault, then I am absolved. It is much easier to blame our problems on others than to take personal responsibility. It seems that those watching for evil in others will find what they are looking for. My hope is that by opening our eyes to goodness it will also be found.

From time to time, my fine attunement tells me the watchers are present. Will they seek goodness or evil? Responsibility or absolution? My hope is that each of us will seek and find the unwatched space where peace begins - beginning with ourselves and then sharing it with others.

serendipity? synchronicity? spirituality?

So, this is kind of how my life goes. Following yesterday's post, this showed up in my inbox this morning. Hmmmm.

Today's thought from Hazelden is:

Saying No

For many of us, the most difficult word to say is one of the shortest and easiest in the vocabulary: No. Go ahead, say it aloud: No.

No - simple to pronounce, hard to say. We’re afraid people won’t like us, or we feel guilty. We may believe that a “good” employee, child, parent, spouse, or Christian never says no.

The problem is, if we don’t learn to say no, we stop liking ourselves and the people we always try to please. We may even punish others out of resentment.

When do we say no? When no is what we really mean.

When we learn to say no, we stop lying. People can trust us, and we can trust ourselves. All sorts of good things happen when we start saying what we mean.

If we’re scared to say no, we can buy some time. We can take a break, rehearse the word, and go back and say no. We don’t have to offer long explanations for our decisions.

When we can say no, we can say yes to the good. Our no’s and our yes’s begin to be taken seriously. We gain control of ourselves. And we learn a secret: “No” isn’t really that hard to say.

Today, I will say no if that is what I mean.

You are reading from the book:

The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie

Listening to the Two-year-old

Have you ever witnessed the power of a two-year-old, or do you remember being that age yourself? Can you recall having the audacity to say NO or MINE without apology? Are you able to call on that energy today (perhaps in a slightly more adult fashion)?

Recently the voice of a two-year-old introduced itself into my journaling. I was considering how and why in some situations it takes me a very long time to say, “No. I don’t wanna.” Saying no has been a very odd thing for me to consider since I really don’t view myself as a “yes-girl” especially in terms of always doing what others want without regard to my personal well-being or preference. Still, I have recently discovered through reading Transitions that there are certain places where I naturally revert to my childhood patterns of hanging on. (Patterns that most likely developed sometime AFTER the age of two).

A few days ago I was writing in my journal and this two-year-old showed up and said "NO" and "MINE" with great authority. I wasn’t totally clear on what she meant, but I decided to try and give her a little more voice through collage. She seemed to be pointing me in a direction of letting go of others' expectations and firmly taking hold of priorities that seem better suited to me at this point in my journey.

As I have explained before in regard to collage, it is usually helpful to place boundaries on this process in the way of time, space or number of images selected, magazines used, etc. This time I chose about an inch high stack of gathered images and sorted through it – holding in mind the image of a two-year-old girl.

This is the point where process shows it is often much more important than product. (I could learn as much from the images selected and not used in the collage as I can from the collage itself.) In my stack, there were no images of girls (or few anyway). Most of the photos that captured the essence of what I was feeling were boys. Yes, boys! I found it a bit irritating since my heart was set on this little girl, but I kept after it until I had about a dozen photos in front of me. Pondering them, the words 'Sacred No' entered my thoughts. The ‘Sacred No’ is most often associated with masculine energy and boundary setting. Was it any wonder then that the images popping into my hand were male as I pondered NO and personal boundaries? There was little question in my mind that in my current discernment I need to take the hand of the 'Sacred No' and welcome it in. It is not a bad thing to say no. In fact, it may be a great gift. Hmmmm.

I apparently transition slowly when it comes to letting go of things I hold dear and consider an integral part of my growth and development. Right now however, it feels like it’s time for me to do something that is MINE and approach it with the tenacity of a two-year-old. So, what do you think? Is there an inner two-year-old inside you begging to come out and scream No! or No more! Or Not yet! Or any other version of that? Where do you need to be empowered to follow your dreams - to say MINE? I seem to be finding my power through the voice of a little person who lives inside me. How about you?

"And Jesus said, Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

collage by lucy 8.08.09

still transitioning?

As I continue to sit in a very transitional place in my life - I wonder are we always in transition? William Bridges in his book, Transitions, says: "Every transition begins with an ending. We have to let go of the old thing before we can pick up the new one - not just outwardly, but inwardly." It feels like I am always letting go of something. Something ending. Something beginning. Some times it is joyful. Other times heartbreaking. Letting go of even the hard stuff is not easy. Welcoming in the good can be terrifying.

Mark Nepo offers a quote that has stayed with me for several days. I am offering it here so my transitional brain might hold onto these thoughts.

I have been broken and have failed so many times that my sense of identity has sprouted and peeled like an onion. But because of this, I have lived more than my share of lives and feel both young and old at once, with a sudden heart that cries just to meet the air. Now, on the other side of all I've suffered so far, everything, from the quick song of birds to the peace trapped inside a fresh brook's gurgle, is rare and uncertain. Now I want to stand naked before every wind; and though I'm still frightened I will break, I somehow know it's all a part - even the fright - of the rhythm of being alive.

Fire needs air to breathe.

Any thoughts from you on transition? Sprouting & peeling? Breath? Shadow & light?

the photo is a treasure from a dear friend in honor of my recent post on shadow & light. thank you!

the place in between

During this week leading up to Palm Sunday, I find myself surrounded by “the place in between.” Not dead, but not resurrected. Knowing, but encircled by mystery. Springtime – no longer winter, but the warmth of summer has not arrived. Hints of blossoming yet death still lies in my flowerbeds. Mourning a leaving and excited for new possibilities. Ending time with students – done, but not done. Living with a teenager – no longer a child and the adult has not yet emerged. Mid-life. Need I say more?

“I try to take on one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me all at once.” Jennifer Unlimited – Hazelden

and my daily dose of Merton:

“O tongue of flame
Under the heart
Speak softly:
For love is black
Says the season.

Midnight!
Kissed with flame!
See! See!
My love is darkness!”

Would love to hear your thoughts on the place in between!