Lean into uncertainty: the liberation of self-expression

“Rachel, what’s going on?”

“….”

“…Rachel, clearly something is on your mind….just say it.”

 

I am silent: my oceanic feelings are contained behind the steel-trap of my teeth. I feel, I feel, I feel, and I have no words for my feelings, because I’m desperately afraid that if I say them, the person in front of me won’t love me anymore.

Daring to say how I feel is terrifying.  When I was growing up, certain emotions were acceptable (joy, curiosity, humor, even sadness), while others were met with disapproval (anger, hurt, vulnerability).  I learned to edit my self-expression in order to feel safe.

As an adult, I was adept at easily (and unconsciously) avoiding emotional conflict. Rather than communicate my hurts or concerns, I ferreted away my feelings as burdens to be privately dissected and endured. I held imaginary conversations with my partner in my head, rather than aloud. The open space of real conversation was so scary that I ended relationships rather than talk through its problems.

And oh the irony: because I was smart and didn’t yell or storm out of the room, I thought I was an excellent communicator.

Self-expression – real, vulnerable self-expression (not the reactive, unaccountable kind) – requires bravery because we never know how someone else is going to react.  And we certainly can’t control it.  When opportunities arise for us to really be seen and heard, it’s often more comfortable to retreat rather than be exposed.

For me, I falter in the emotional landscape. For some of us though, the vulnerability of self-expression emerges when we’re asked to share our intellectual opinion or reveal ourselves creatively:

  • “I don’t sing,” we declare. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear it.  It’s like a cat dying.”
  • “I hate public speaking! get so nervous. No,” we demur, “I’d rather listen.”
  •  “Dancing? In public??  Maybe after about five drinks.”

Whatever the venue, these peremptory, self-imposed shackles limit us. Scared of being rejected or judged, we allow our fear to box in our full range of expressive possibilities.  We become smaller, quieter, more muted.

Rather than running away, can we lean into the discomfort? The more we lean in, the more we learn to trust that the feeling is temporary, illusory, and ultimately benign. Beyond that temporary feeling of discomfort lies freedom: the self-expression that is purely and gloriously yours.

Wouldn’t all of our lives be richer, more colorful, and more empowered if we dared to reveal more of ourselves?

Let’s put our voices into the world.

Lean in.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” – Marianne Williamson

Autumnal lessons: stripping to the bone

https://www.flickr.com/photos/47089990@N02/8385123454/
Finding your essence by cutting back

Imagine a gorgeous rosebush in the fullness of her bloom: overflowing with fragrant flowers, dripping with honeyed scent, full of wild, buzzing bees.

During the summer, we are like this rosebush: lush, busy, sensual, full of distraction and sensual delight.  We romp late in the perpetual daylight, drink pink wine on patios, dance attendance at outdoor barbeques, and romp enthusiastically into nature. Our lives are full of social engagements: weddings, friends, and (in Vancouver, at least) eating an inordinate amount of salmon.

Summer is an invitation to expand, open our petals, and – like the bee – follow our nose hither and thither for a taste of everything.  Our lives are rich in feeling, sensation, sunshine, and good company.

And then the weather changes.

We look up into a darker sky, feeling the first raindrop or chill in the breeze.  The bbq invitations dry up, the paddleboards and kayaks go back into storage.  Patios begin to offer blankets and heating lamps. Our own petals begin to brown and drop away, revealing the skeletal branch system beneath.

Autumn.

The emerging beauty of the fall is stark, skeletal, clear. The sudden clarity of the air and bite of the cold is an invitation to slough off excess, prune back the extraneous, and reconnect to the core of who we are. By pausing and pulling in, we can consciously define who we are and what we want. Rather than explode rampantly into a million summertime distractions, we hone in, narrow down, and clarify what is most essential.

In our yoga practice, a summertime practice embodies flow, feeling, and lush sensuality.  Like the roses, this practice is a rich and nourishing affirmation of our vitality and expression.  However, sometimes this freedom – unchecked by structure and form – can become a method to avoiding the heart, the kernel, the sticky points.  When we freely move according to what always “feels good,” we can skirt challenges, avoid – if you will – eye to eye contact, and miss opening our dense and gnarled center.

An autumnal practice invites straight lines, clean energy, and direct movement. Rather than flow around the muscular obstacles that arise (stiffness, weakness), we narrow our focus and  direct ourselves into the heart of the challenge.  Head on, unflinching, we reclaim the length and strength that comes from structure and form.  As we hold ourselves to the standard, our essence is revealed.  When do we want to turn away?  When do we want to flit off rather than move through?

Embrace the autumnal invitation. Strip away distraction – both in your practice and in your life. Clear away the non-essential in order to expose the power and heart of your own essence. Concentrate your energy into the very bones of who you are and what you want.

Life practice:
  • If you only had one goal for the next three months, what would it be?
  • Can you narrow your focus down to what is most important to you?
  • Clean the house, clear out the basement, de-clutter your closets. Pare down your schedule.
  • Question:
    • What no longer reflects who you are?
    • What have you been holding onto that is more distracting than revealing?
    • What holds you back from letting it go? What do you gain if you do?
Yoga practice:
  • Rather than flow around obstacles, move through the heart of the weakness, the stiffness, the restriction.  Mindfully channel your energy to stay.
  • Give yourself time at the end of each practice to move your attention inwards, to refocus on you and your breath.
  • As you leave your practice, take this quality of introspection into your interactions.

 “At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.” 
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cezanne