The Full Body Experience
Yesterday's Work was another revelatory experience. When I decide to go do The Work with the help of the facilitator, I never have the pre-determined issue at hand. When I get there nothing seems to bother me. But I'm here, I remind myself. Get quiet. Listen. Hear.
I sat down on the couch with my two friends and one girl who I only see at this Byron Katie facilitator's house. I didn't have anything to write on the Judge-Your-Neighbor worksheet. I could've written about a dozen things, but none of them seemed to trigger anything. I decided to take Julia Cameron's, the author of The Artist's Way, advice: "Writing is about getting something down, not thinking something up." It proved to be very appropriate to the situation, not to mention helpful.
I wrote down the first thing that came to my mind that did not bother me. After listening to my friend's work, I began to hear what was true for me, what I still reacted to. I crossed off the first thing I wrote and replaced it with the genuine belief I still held on to. When it was my turn to do the work, the belief that I held on to turned out to be the belief that did not trigger stress. The belief happened to be a spiritual one: "I'm not able to let go because I'm not having a full body experience."
Is that true? - the facilitator asks me
Yes. I should be having a full body experience. Intellectually, I understand that I should let go, but I can't feel it in my body.
Do you know for absolute certainty that you should be having a full body experience? - He presses on.
No. I can't know that with absolute certainty. - I answer
How do you react when you have the belief, 'I should be having a full body experience'?
Like I should be practicing more, like I'm not doing it right.
(I have to be honest, I don't remember some of the questions he asked me after that point because out of the blue, I was having a full body experience. The moment I realized that it was a belief not the truth, the truth that the belief pointed to led me to have the full body experience. I felt it in my belly. It was a warm feeling - literally. Then, my entire body got warm and tingly. For a moment, I couldn't tell who the people in the room were. I don't mean that I didn't know their names or faces. I mean I wasn't sure what I was looking at. He asked me what my experience is like. And I said, "Undefinable." Spontaneous tears and giggling accompanied the full body experience.)
I had no idea that wanting to have a full body experience was another belief until the facilitator phrased it that way. Would I have realized that on my own? Maybe. Did he do something to trigger it? Who knows. All I know is that it happened when it did because it did.
More from the Lucid Dreamer
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Unstifling
My boyfriend can't stifle me. My parents can't stifle me. Only I can do that.
Like a hamster in a cage, I was spinning the wheel. I didn't know what to do with myself. The same old wretched feeling of restlessness dressed itself in white and pretended to be married to me. I decided that the only way to save the marriage to restlessness was to cover it up with things that make me feel better like watching movies together or going out and blasting it away with live music. Unfortunately, the bait didn't bite. There was an intruder. The intruder happened to be my boyfriend who wasn't going along with me and restlessness. Me and restlessness got upset and told him that he was not being fair and how could he be thinking only of himself.
It was decided that restlessness and I had to go do a little self-inquiry at Starbucks, which is where I am. The moment I sat down and opened my journal, restlessness and any feelings of upset disappeared. Who was restless? Who was upset? What was I restless and upset about? I couldn't even think of anything. I wrote down some beliefs that I used to hold on to like "My boyfriend is only thinking about himself." Then a question arose in me like a signpost, "Am I not only thinking about myself?" I wanted him to take care of my restlessness. I didn't tell him that of course. I told him that I'm the only one being open and he keeps shutting me out. I was open, I was open long enough to hear him tell me the truth that he needed space. Then, I thought about it a little and became upset. "That's great. Who's gonna take care of my restlessness now? If I can't count on my love to do that, who can I count on?"
As I sit here and write these words, I'm well aware that I needed space as much as he needed space. I needed space to see restlessness for what it really is. A passing breeze. But I clung to the idea that we had to take care of it together when in fact the breeze was already passing. "It's not the same breeze," it whispered in my ear. "There's another breeze, no less refreshing than the one before it."
My boyfriend can't help me nor can he stifle me. Only I can do that. I can also open my heart and continue opening it until there are no boundaries. And I knew from the moment he looked at me that it was one of those times. And I opened my heart and my heart heard him. Then, my head interpreted the words for which my heart needed no interpretations. And I didn't like it. How could I? It was a lie. The truth doesn't give interpretations. Yet, without them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now, having this realization.
Bless it all!
More from the Lucid Dreamer
Like a hamster in a cage, I was spinning the wheel. I didn't know what to do with myself. The same old wretched feeling of restlessness dressed itself in white and pretended to be married to me. I decided that the only way to save the marriage to restlessness was to cover it up with things that make me feel better like watching movies together or going out and blasting it away with live music. Unfortunately, the bait didn't bite. There was an intruder. The intruder happened to be my boyfriend who wasn't going along with me and restlessness. Me and restlessness got upset and told him that he was not being fair and how could he be thinking only of himself.
It was decided that restlessness and I had to go do a little self-inquiry at Starbucks, which is where I am. The moment I sat down and opened my journal, restlessness and any feelings of upset disappeared. Who was restless? Who was upset? What was I restless and upset about? I couldn't even think of anything. I wrote down some beliefs that I used to hold on to like "My boyfriend is only thinking about himself." Then a question arose in me like a signpost, "Am I not only thinking about myself?" I wanted him to take care of my restlessness. I didn't tell him that of course. I told him that I'm the only one being open and he keeps shutting me out. I was open, I was open long enough to hear him tell me the truth that he needed space. Then, I thought about it a little and became upset. "That's great. Who's gonna take care of my restlessness now? If I can't count on my love to do that, who can I count on?"
As I sit here and write these words, I'm well aware that I needed space as much as he needed space. I needed space to see restlessness for what it really is. A passing breeze. But I clung to the idea that we had to take care of it together when in fact the breeze was already passing. "It's not the same breeze," it whispered in my ear. "There's another breeze, no less refreshing than the one before it."
My boyfriend can't help me nor can he stifle me. Only I can do that. I can also open my heart and continue opening it until there are no boundaries. And I knew from the moment he looked at me that it was one of those times. And I opened my heart and my heart heard him. Then, my head interpreted the words for which my heart needed no interpretations. And I didn't like it. How could I? It was a lie. The truth doesn't give interpretations. Yet, without them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now, having this realization.
Bless it all!
More from the Lucid Dreamer
Monday, January 3, 2011
Releasing Old Voices
I started the first Monday of the New Year with a two hour self-inquiry. I didn't realize that I was doing inquiry until things started coming up within me. I began with a half-hour meditation, light breakfast, and then onto journaling. I haven't felt the need to put my thoughts down on paper for three pages in a long time. Once on paper, I could see what beliefs I'm still carrying around. One belief after another, they kept flowing out of me. I could hear the voices of different people who initially put those thoughts into my head, but it was I who ultimately kept them.
I heard my parents' voice that went something like this: "You're not moving fast enough. You're not getting any younger. What are you doing with your life? It's too late to make that happen." And another voice said, "You need to be writing more. You need to do more research. What are you sitting around for? Self-inquiry is not going to buy you that loft you always wanted."
My heart clenched in a fist, I didn't move. I continued listening.
Then, I heard my own judgments. I could tell the difference between my judgments and other people's. I heard my own voice say, "I should let go of this writing non-sense and go back to school, get a real degree, and secure my future."
Then, a voice unbeknownst to me said, "What future?"
The clenching fist in my heart wouldn't release. I kept some of my attention on the sensation of it. The voices in my head kept suggesting that I stop sitting there and exercise instead. Fortunately, there was a deeper knowing that it wasn't time yet, that I should continue sitting. So, I sat. Then, I heard Byron Katie facilitator ask me, "What terrible thing are you afraid would happen if you stopped believing these voices?"
The clenching fist released my heart and dropped down to my solar plexus. I heard myself answer, "If I didn't have these voices pushing me forth, I wouldn't write."
Of course, realizing that that statement was another belief, I asked myself if I thought that it was true. I did, but not absolutely. My physiological reaction to that belief was subtle nausea. Immediately following the nausea, I escaped into the past briefly, engulfing myself with memories of the movie I watched the day before and how good it made me feel, then I proceeded to project myself into the better future when I would no longer have these voices in my head because I would have everything figured out by then. Knowing that the future depends on what I do in the present, the projections pushed me into the desire to take action. As soon as the body caught up with the head, sensations of anxiety returned followed by the story that I'm not being as productive as I should be. "Get up!" My thoughts insisted.
I stayed put. Then, I heard my higher self ask, "What would happen if I didn't project myself into some future moment?"
The reaction to that question moved the clenching fist from my solar plexus back to my heart, which if it had a voice would say, "I'm not doing what I should." And it came with a story. "When I was little I was punished for making the wrong choice. It's better to choose the middle way, the safest path."
In that moment, I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. "YOU'RE WASTING TIME!"
"Who's sitting here?" I heard my higher self ask.
I didn't attempt to answer that question. I just sat and felt the one who was sitting there. The one that was sitting there was not the one wasting time or making the wrong choice or making any choice at all.
I got up, changed clothes, and did my exercise routine.
I heard my parents' voice that went something like this: "You're not moving fast enough. You're not getting any younger. What are you doing with your life? It's too late to make that happen." And another voice said, "You need to be writing more. You need to do more research. What are you sitting around for? Self-inquiry is not going to buy you that loft you always wanted."
My heart clenched in a fist, I didn't move. I continued listening.
Then, I heard my own judgments. I could tell the difference between my judgments and other people's. I heard my own voice say, "I should let go of this writing non-sense and go back to school, get a real degree, and secure my future."
Then, a voice unbeknownst to me said, "What future?"
The clenching fist in my heart wouldn't release. I kept some of my attention on the sensation of it. The voices in my head kept suggesting that I stop sitting there and exercise instead. Fortunately, there was a deeper knowing that it wasn't time yet, that I should continue sitting. So, I sat. Then, I heard Byron Katie facilitator ask me, "What terrible thing are you afraid would happen if you stopped believing these voices?"
The clenching fist released my heart and dropped down to my solar plexus. I heard myself answer, "If I didn't have these voices pushing me forth, I wouldn't write."
Of course, realizing that that statement was another belief, I asked myself if I thought that it was true. I did, but not absolutely. My physiological reaction to that belief was subtle nausea. Immediately following the nausea, I escaped into the past briefly, engulfing myself with memories of the movie I watched the day before and how good it made me feel, then I proceeded to project myself into the better future when I would no longer have these voices in my head because I would have everything figured out by then. Knowing that the future depends on what I do in the present, the projections pushed me into the desire to take action. As soon as the body caught up with the head, sensations of anxiety returned followed by the story that I'm not being as productive as I should be. "Get up!" My thoughts insisted.
I stayed put. Then, I heard my higher self ask, "What would happen if I didn't project myself into some future moment?"
The reaction to that question moved the clenching fist from my solar plexus back to my heart, which if it had a voice would say, "I'm not doing what I should." And it came with a story. "When I was little I was punished for making the wrong choice. It's better to choose the middle way, the safest path."
In that moment, I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. "YOU'RE WASTING TIME!"
"Who's sitting here?" I heard my higher self ask.
I didn't attempt to answer that question. I just sat and felt the one who was sitting there. The one that was sitting there was not the one wasting time or making the wrong choice or making any choice at all.
I got up, changed clothes, and did my exercise routine.
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