June 2019 Archives

June 24, 2019

Projections on an old colleague in my new town

The story playing in my head is that you’ve got quite a bit going on, and those things are going pretty well.

Most of those things are new things; things you’ve worked hard to realize or that have come about in their own way—but all in the years since we last saw each other.

The story playing for me shows you unsure that you want to bother reconciling a casual acquaintance from yesterday with the realities of your now. But you’re not a jerk so it feels wrong to not respond when a random leftsider appears.

I totally connect with that story—I made it up after all—so most of me wants to let you be, not be a pest. But a slice of me says new Austin [redacted] might be an awesome and inspiring presence to two randos kicking off their own new Austin thing.

June 20, 2019

The usual frustrations

I know I can be better at things than I am currently. I know that I’m not being true to myself. Yet it’s difficult to do otherwise, conditioned to look for acceptance in the eyes of others.

I know each brick must be formed in order to build a wall. I know that real things require persistence. Step by step; eating the elephant one forkful at a time. This in a world of impatience and impermanence, interruptibility and disposability. I want it all now and it shouldn’t be difficult.

In light of these things, I need to be patient with myself. Accept who I am and bring what I can more fully into each moment. In time, I’ll look back and recognize change.

June 15, 2019

Somatica second session

With another Somatica session under the belt, I have truly drunk the kool-aid. So much personal insight gained and program intention realized; I find myself either thinking or talking about it everyday.

For me, halfway through the training program, Somatica presents two profound challenges: accepting yourself and being vulnerable as often as possible.

Accepting yourself is deceptively complex. Listening to your body; recognizing that the critical voice in your head is a learned practice. Reviewing the experiences that shape your thinking and doing; resisting the urge to shame past actions and instead recognizing your capacity to thrive in adverse conditions without the benefit of hindsight. Seeing how your past makes you and not trying to correct anything; instead, recognizing both the good and the bad as who you are, loving who you are, and stepping forward into life with new strength and context.

That is the type of arduous work that a) is lifelong and b) you won’t want to keep hidden. So you practice that self-acceptance in your daily life, and in doing so develop empathy with others who are in varying stages of their own self-acceptance. First with your closest circle, then with your acquaintances, and then with the world at large—you present your authentic self: exposing your true feelings, stating your needs, establishing boundaries. Sharing all this with others so that they have an opportunity to learn how to love and work with the real you. Accepting not everyone will want to learn, and some may even dislike and oppose you; persisting in self-love and external empathy rather than shielding yourself from rejection—because that shield also restricts connection, emotion, growth and creativity.

During the second module, I shed tears over hurt I’ve harbored for years. Then, the next day, I shed tears of joy marveling at the brilliance of my lovely niece during a post-session visit. The following day I shed tears twice for the struggles of others in the training who shared vulnerably with me. And suddenly I was filled with emotion: love, acceptance, happiness even through pain, hope, peace, acceptance.

Imagine the struggle to regulate all these feelings returning back to the office! I nearly cried explaining to my newest hire the hope I had for her and our team and the desire I had to help her be great at her job. But like all things, in time we settle back into our routines…I’m not emotionless yet but I’m feeling the feels at a much more stable level. I hope I can hold on to it and not let it fully recede.