Caring for Ourselves As Well As We Care for Others
A time of waiting — preparing a space
for gentle unfolding of new steps forward.
Not so easily shared in words – this new way ahead -
yet somewhere on awareness’ edge
an emerging knowing awakens to my presence.
Quietly hoping you’ll serve as witness
joining together with me
to meet and greet whatever comes alive.
© 2010 Mary Elaine Kiener
There’s work to be done that’s part of the whole grand scheme of oneness that’s here with me.
What’s most important is how I am in the doing of my life.
I’m not alone – and it’s not all up to me.
And yet, it does somehow start here with me – however humble the beginning.
No need to save the whole world.
If I can brighten the space within and around me, a light will spread through those whose lives I touch.
As I create a space inside for listening to you,
I begin to listen to myself in a different way.
As I relax into becoming your companion listener,
I learn to trust my own unfolding journey.
As I witness and honor your gentle unfolding,
I gain compassion for my own wounded parts.
As I better understand the uniquities of your anxious, fearful “not-wantings”,
I discover how to be with those that dwell deep within me.
Alone together,
We glimpse the unity of our mutual wantings,
Together alone.
It had been one of those weeks. I simply couldn’t muster up the energy to greet the work I had wanted and planned to do – let alone face the small mountain of tasks that sat persistently awaiting my attention.
On the one hand, I had LOTS of logical reasons for my lingering ennui. And loads of sympathetic friends who urged me to “give yourself a break, ‘Mar’—you’ve been through a lot this past month.” Yet, as good as all the logic and sympathy sounded, I still felt stuck [and certainly not likin’ much the feel and sounds of THAT place!] and unable to move forward.
A welcome Focusing partnership time offered me an opportunity to “be with” this experience in a different way. That is, instead of thinking or affirming my way out, I chose to pause and attend to that place that Gene Gendlin describes as the “there where” I usually feel things. I could then invite a sense of “what all of this stuckness” felt like. And then, allow myself to be present with the as-yet-unclear sense of all of that. All the while trusting that I would be in that place deep within me from where new steps forward could eventually come.
What follows below is the story of my Focusing process that day.
My first sense is of struggling to move forward (can’t even describe it as walking) through what appears to be knee-deep, dark, thick muck. With both legs stuck in the muck, my upper body feels especially out-of-balance. Ah, yes – that resonates somewhat with how I’ve been feeling this week. And yet, I know there’s probably something more – and I’m curious about what it might be.
With a great tugging effort, I manage to pull one leg upward out of the muck, that brings a distinctive “sucking-up” sound that somewhat resembles an upward-pitched “ch…l…uhrrrrr…p…s”.
With one leg free of the muck, it’s even harder to keep my balance. Then, as I move my free leg forward a few inches to re-enter the muck, the “sucking-down” sensation and sound is present, yet harder to describe. As I start to describe it as something like the opposite of the previous sound “sh…..p…..rrrr…..” I’m suddenly interrupted by a shift in my perceived experiencing.
Oh, it’s not ALL muck after all. The muck appears only ankle deep now, with cool, water that’s becoming clearer as the muck settles and feels refreshing against my lower legs.
Ah, and a memory comes of a shallow river in which I love to relax and be with friends. And since, in this scenario, there is “no chair” on which to sit, I choose to sit straight down in the muck.
It feels ok to be here with it. It’s cool and refreshing. Perhaps it will let me understand it better.
Suddenly, I feel-hear a soundless voice that catches my attention, as if with an urgent message – and find myself responding, “Oh, yes, excuse me – you’re telling me you’re MUD, not muck!”
And then a gleeful something inside that offers a playful-serious reminder: “You know, some folks pay good money at health spas for mud-baths!”
And somehow, right now, it feels really good to just sit here, resting, curiously and playfully in the mud and the water.
Oh! – this playfulness is interrupted with a “suddenly-serious-knowing” alert – “I OWN this mud and I’m the one who makes it into the something-serious-about-it-muck-that keeps-me-stuck-and-off-balance. The mud itself is playful, cool and comfortable…..and also rich and fertile.”
As I reflect that back to the mud in which I sit, the mud affirms: “Ah yes. Thanks for hearing that!”
So, I sit playfully in the mud, noticing how much I’m enjoying how the thick wet substance that oozes through my wriggling toes.
And, oh – what’s this? I notice something solid and with substance there between my toes. Not sure what it is yet, but there’s a “knowing” that it might be some kind of buried toy or treasure that my toes have unearthed from beneath the surface of the mud.
Oops—it’s time to go for now. I leave this space with gratitude – for both my body’s wisdom and its process, as well as for my Focusing Companion and her sweet listening and reflections. I know I can (and want) to come back again to this place inside – for whatever new something is there for me to discover and be with. And, for now, I’ll also carry the image of a playful mudbath in my heart and mind as I go through the rest of my day and week.
You might be wondering whether anything changed as a result of this Focusing session. So, here’s a little Focusing-oriented addendum/postscript to the story above:
The morning after this Focusing session occurred, I noticed that I was still carrying some residual ennui-stuckness from earlier in the week.
I paused for a moment to invite a fresh sense of the playful mudbath image. To my surprise, I was greeted by something inside of me that calmly, quietly and resolutely informed me that “I just don’t feel like having to get cleaned up again today, so please give me a break and don’t expect me to get all muddy again today.”
Yet, I’ve also become aware of a respectful sort of rhythmic dance between a gentle forward motion and serendipitous arrivals of new opportunities—that somehow seem designed as invitations for me to play in the mud.
I’ve chosen to share this story with you to help give you a flavor of the kinds of wondrous gifts that can emerge from within a process of Focusing. However, it’s important to remember that no Focusing session is ever the same, and that each Focuser’s own process and stories reflect their individual uniqueness.
And yet, each process (whether my own or a partner’s) always feels a bit “magical” – even though Focusing is actually a skill that each of us already possesses (to one degree or another). Far too often, it’s a skill that we’ve forgotten we have, let alone remember how to best utilize it to help us carry our lives forward.
Would you like to experience a Focusing journey of your own? I’ve provided a couple of options for you at the ASK ME House website:
Who knows what you’ll experience and insights you’ll gain?
One of the things I love about Michael Licenblat is his emphasis on becoming more “resilient to pressure and expanding your capacity, instead of trying to reduce your stress.”
In his blog post, Faster than the Speed of Sound, he reminds us that–just as lightning “travels” faster than thunder in a storm–within stressful situations, our emotions often travel faster than our logic. He goes on to offer three wonderful suggestions that can help us to build our resilience (“bounceback”) capacity.
Over the past few years, I have also come to appreciate the ability of Inner Relationship Focusing to further enhance my own resilience capacity. Learning to Focus has helped me to pause, notice and listen to my body-mind spirit in a whole, new way, thereby freeing the life-forward energy that often gets gridlocked by stress.
And, as I continue to nurture a Focusing-oriented approach to my own life and work, I find myself continually amazed at how this simple-yet-elegant process manages to enhance and deepen every other process within my own wellbeing toolkit.
Would you like to give it a try?
I’ve created several Guided Focusing Exercises that will let you get a taste of the Focusing process.
I’d love to hear about your experiences.
Early one morning in the fall of 2006, I found a computer-printed envelope addressed to ASK ME House just inside my front door. Inside was one printed page, which included the following:
An ASK ME poem for the ASK ME House. I came across this poem in a book and thought you might like to see it since your house shares its title. I hope you enjoy it and/or find it meaningful.
Ask Me by William Stafford
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.To: ASK ME House (1027 Seymour)
Fr: Anonymous (at least for now)
On this 27th of October, 2006
Several years later, I still have not learned the identity of the person who left me this precious gift–the first in a series of annual “love notes” to the house that have been arriving every October 27. [It took me a couple of years to actually note the connection between October 27 and the house's street address of "1027". And, it wasn't until 2009 that there was any personal reference to me by name--where previously the sender had also noted that s/he "didn't even know who lived in the house."]
Each annual packet of goodies has included some reference to “ASK ME” – and yet I remain most intrigued by how accurate a glimpse the poem offers into the overall philosophy and foundations of what “ASK ME House” is truly all about……
I am filled daily with peace through this gentle reminder of the process by which I choose to live, with gratitude for having discovered the work of William Stafford, and with awe for the enigma of how the introduction took place.
Now–if I could just solve the mystery of who “Anonymous” is….!
How often have you found yourself saying: “I need to change”? It doesn’t matter whether the change involves eating right, exercising more, earning more money, etc.
Our hearts tell us that we really want our lives to work better. We start out—time after time, resolved to “do better” this time around.
At first, all goes well. At least until our head joins in, apparently determined to keep us from changing. The repertoire of critical voices inside our head often includes “My life isn’t right,” “I know I’m the problem” and/or “I’m always standing in my own way.”
Then, the tug of war begins in earnest. The longing of the heart battles the worried, critical voices of the head–each side bound and determined to get its own way.
Our response at this point, tends to include one (or even both) of the following:
My mentor, Ann Weiser Cornell likes to say, “What we don’t realize is that the very way we are speaking about the problem is standing in the way of solving it…..That saying ‘how can I get myself to change?’ is sort of like trying to move a rug while standing on it!”
What might happen if, for a moment, we started with the source of the unease we’re feeling–the part that doesn’t want to change? A great start would be to shift that initial statement to something like this: “I want to change, but I don’t.” [Or “I want (or need) to eat better, exercise more, earn more money, etc.”] This at least recognizes that there are two sides to the issue.
Notice, for a moment, how it feels to express it this way : “I want to ____, but I don’t.” Better, perhaps, yet it still sounds a bit judgmental doesn’t it? It’s so easy for us to dip back up into our head, with its critical perspective.
Now, let’s see what might happen if we add just one little word: “something.” As in, “Something in me wants to change and something doesn’t.” Ah, so there are two parts–a part that wants to and a part that doesn’t want to. Now there’s even more space around that stuck place inside. It’s not “just” me – it’s not who I am.
Taking that even one step further, we might say: “I’m sensing something in me that’s feeling frustrated and yearning for change. It sees another part of me as the problem, and is trying to get it to change.”
Can you feel how that adds even more space? And maybe even room for a little curiosity to bubble through–especially about that second part that doesn’t want to change.
Now we’re acknowledging that the not-wanting part might be as valid as the part that does want to change. After all, it probably has its own very good reason for being the way that it is. We don’t have to become best buddies with it. However, we can at least respectfully allow it to speak, be heard and understood.
And then–instead of seeing the not-wanting as an enemy to be eliminated–perhaps we could see it instead as a gift of life-forward energy just waiting for us to quietly and curiously unwrap it? Could there really be a fragile space of wanting hidden beneath the critical judging thoughts and worried, anxious feelings?
In this way, we’re no longer trying to get ourselves to change. Instead, we’re standing in a relationship of compassionate curiosity toward each of these parts.
Here’s an exercise you can try out for yourself.
First, complete the following sentence by filling in the blank with something in your own life you wish to change:
Something in me wants to ________________, AND, something in me doesn’t.
Take a moment to notice how that feels inside.
Then, if you’d like to experience the next step in the process, I’ve recorded a brief (12 minutes long) guided exercise that’s available for you to download [or a pdf version to read through].
Once you’ve listened to the recording, notice how it feels inside. Is it different than when you started the exercise? [I welcome your feedback - either in the comments below or via email]
And, if you’re still feeling a bit “stuck,” you might want to schedule a “live” Guided Focusing Session that’s designed especially for you (and your unique journey).
————-
You may freely share and/or reprint this article in other electronic or print publications, provided you include the following attribution:
ASK ME House article © 2010 Mary Elaine Kiener, RN, PhD, all rights reserved. Reprinted with permission. As Creative Energy Officer at ASK ME House LLC, Mary Elaine assists caregivers to care for themselves as well as they care for others. For more information, visit: www.askmehouse.com and/or www.stresswell.com.
Please also send me a courtesy note with a copy of the publication.
The heart wants
what it wants.
The mind knows
what it knows.
The spirit suffers
what it suffers.
Until I
–in Presence–
gently sit–
As compassionate witness
inviting
felt thoughts,
held longings,
and struggles to be heard.
In time,
we rise as one,
unfolding the journey forward.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I invite you to learn more about Inner Relationship Focusing and how it can help you find a compassionate way forward.
No crimes to report
Thursday, November 6, 2008. The email message was rather brief: “No crimes to report for Wednesday 11-5.” Each weekday, my local police department sends out a Daily Crime Report via email, detailing such things as “aggravated assault,” “property damage,” “larceny,” “B&E”, and so forth.
“How interesting,” I thought, and found myself pondering whether there was any meaning to be found in the apparent non-occurrence of violence. Was it mere coincidence that no crime occurred the day following Obama’s election?
Would you like a story with that happening?
As the days unfold, life continues to happen-around us and to us. Much of the time, we do not even pay attention. Every once in awhile, something begins to reach for our awareness and grab our attention, pressing our inner “pause” buttons. For example, one day we might stop to notice something beautiful in nature. We might take a deep breath of acknowledgement and gratitude and then simply continue with our day (albeit with an extra smile in our heart).
At other times, we hold on to that something, so that we can carry it with us. Most often, we do this by giving it a story. So now, we have something to play repeatedly in our head.
What happens when we become stuck in our own stories – in the drama of our lives? As we continue to collect and hold on to our stories, the load gets heavier and it becomes harder for us to move forward.
Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with a good story. Rather, it is helpful for us to consider the net effect of each story we create. Does our story help us take a step forward into living, or does it hold us back within a quagmire of emotional stuckness?
Which way forward?
There are varieties of creative methods to help us change negative stories into more helpful, positive stories. I invite you to follow along as I share a few examples:
Re-script the scene
Many years ago, my late husband, Alex flat-out disagreed with a choice that I had made. His response to my announcement was an emphatic “I cannot support this.” The more I replayed that scene in my head, I found myself feeling more frustrated and angry with both Alex and myself, as well as unable to move forward in the direction I had chosen.
However, I took the opportunity to re-script the scene to include some additional verbiage from Alex. To his terse statement of “I cannot support this”, I added the following dialogue: “…..right now, based on my current understanding of the situation. I love you and am afraid that you will get hurt. Maybe, over time, I can feel more confident and be able to give you more support.”
This new script helped free me from my own negative emotional response, as it allowed me to move forward slowly in the direction I knew I needed to go. This process also provided a compassionate space of understanding between Alex and me, which then offered him an opportunity to observe and grow more comfortable with the situation.
Call it what it is
I had been finding myself increasingly uncomfortable whenever I heard someone use the phrase, “You need to get out of your comfort zone.” Somehow, adding a layer of guilt for my supposed laziness did not seem to encourage me to spring into action-especially if it entailed the certainty of more discomfort.
Yet, when I examined my image of “comfort zone,” I discovered that within this context, it more closely resembles a “fear zone” in which I become imprisoned. Allowing myself to simply acknowledge and name the current fear-along with my stated goal-is often enough to help me step outside the zone of fear.
Reframe the story
Recently, a friend reported that she was experiencing a “fear of success” that threatened to keep her from doing what she needed to help grow her business. She made a decision to acknowledge and befriend her sense of fear within a spirit of caring, compassionate curiosity.
The next morning, she excitingly shared that what she had previously defined as fear, had begun to shift. Instead, she had awoken with a sense of a growing “readiness to learn” the next new thing that awaited her.
Deciding how much to believe of our stories
In 1824, in “Tales of a Traveler,” Washington Irving confessed, “I am always at a loss to know how much to believe of my own stories.” Sometimes, as in the case of the curious non-crime report, the veracity of any specific cause-effect story would be hard to prove, so it obviously would not be the type of story to proclaim as absolute truth.
On the other hand, if any of my own personal stories helps to propel me forward into positive action (especially if I do not require anyone else to accept or approve it), then I am willing to welcome the creative opportunity into my life.
Image Credits (unless otherwise noted, all on Flickr (cc) Some Rights Reserved) :
1. Oh Happy Day by Mary Elaine Kiener (cc) Some Rights Reserved
2. Rewritten Sign by The Loopweaver
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