The Cosmic Slap (Part Two)
I'd just read the Big Leap by Gay Hendricks for the very first time.
For the last 24 hours, it had changed the way I approached the daily niggles that undermine my happiness. The day before had flowed so well precisely because I saw every Upper-Limit problem as just that: an Upper-Limit problem. Not a problem to engage with. Not a drama to participate in. Not a story to be listened to. Just a sign I was having such a good time that some part of me was now manufacturing a reason to be miserable again.
And I nipped those niggles in the bud ASAP.
But my newfound insight into how much good I can handle before I shut it down was no match for the old pattern that threw me from my centre the very next morning.
I was firmly in the flow of my work, and my daughter wanted to breastfeed. I tensed up a little, and took her on my lap, continuing the flow of my typing. No harm done.
Half an hour later, she was back. I tensed up some more, and through gritted teeth, took her on my lap again. I was running out of time. We were leaving to go camping in a couple of hours.
Half an hour later, she was back. I was really getting peeved by now. My partner said she didn't want any breakfast - just me. I said I can't wait till we're in our beach house, and I can lock my office door! And swallow the key.
I got back to work and had lost my flow, but most of the content was done. From this point on, time was on my mind, I was trying and trying and trying, reminding myself to stay with the energy of flow but struggling against the clock and the feeling of not-enoughness.
Half an hour later, my daughter was back. More milk.
My switch flipped and I sunk deeply into my resentment and resistance. My old story about not having enough time, not having enough support, not being enough, had worn through my heart-centred resolve. About how the important things I need to do are never given the time, space and respect they're due. Dammit! Doesn't life know who I am?
In that moment I was telling myself exactly who and what I am: Not Enough.
I'm not enough.
I explained to my daughter how busy mummy was.
Like a two year old cares. All she wanted, I realised later, was to be in that expanded space with me. To soak up that free-flow of heart energy coming from me when I was in the zone. She wanted some of that.
But by the time I realised that, it was too late. I'd shrunk, and slumped, and tightened. My body had burned through its Magnesium stores. My muscles ached and my heart was closed. My head was back in control. And it knew it was right to be so pissed off. It had every reason to be.
I closed my laptop and picked a fight with my partner.
Spent half an hour on the phone indignantly sorting out something that didn't need to be so hard.
Left home without double-checking the camping supplies.
Created a sickening headache, the likes of which I hadn't felt for months.
Had lunch at the wrong restaurant, and it sucked, even though my inner voice told me to go somewhere else instead.
I'd ignored my inner voice big time that day. When the interruptions started to rattle me, it told me to call in my awareness, my expanded self to help. I shooed it away. I wasn't going to do that! I was going to get mad instead. I had every damned right to.
Uh oh. I just smacked my head on a new upper-limit. And I didn't even see it coming.
We ended up spending way more than we needed to on extra supplies, once I realised what had been forgotten at home.
We got to the holiday park and went for a swim in the most delightful lake filled with ducks and lotus flowers. But it was so hard to enjoy with the pounding in my head. And the sinking feeling in my chest. And the ick of the nasty squabble I'd just had with my partner in the car still on me.
I took a walk in the forest to tap my headache out. Two crazy-ass goats followed us, determined to beat up my dog. They raced towards us, head butting my dog, and eventually had us surrounded. I managed to chase them off.
I found a spot under the trees and began to lean into my pain. Whenever I felt a release on the horizon, my dog yapped at my heels to go back and find the others, or to go forth and chase a bush turkey. Or to go get revenge on those damned goats.
I gave up. It was too hard. There was too much in the way.
We all went back to camp for lunch. Glad we'd gotten such nice food to eat, I took small comfort in the things that had gone right today.
Except the rocket pesto. That really wasn't a good choice.
I'd decided not to buy knives in the store earlier on, telling my partner we'd only need spoons for the yoghurt. Because, you know, those knives would be an extra $1.70. On top of our $80-something bill.
Ok, well, you know best, mind....
It turns out we did need those knives.
After trying miserably to open the vaccuum-sealed smoked chicken with the car keys, I stormed to the car, determined to find a plastic knife hidden somewhere inside.
I didn't check for the scissors in the first aid kit, because I told myself it was still at home. And ignored the fact my partner ALWAYS takes the first aid kit. Everywhere we go. Right then, I knew best.
As I reached behind the car seat, where I'd stashed a bunch of paper plates and napkins from a picnic a while ago, you know what I found?
A packet of spoons.
So we had two packets of spoons, and no knives.
All I could do was laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
Maybe it was the mega-dose of Magnesium I'd just had. Maybe it was my Sun square Jupiter coming to the rescue. But I finally saw the funny side of it all.
When I could finally manage words, all I could verbalise to my partner was "Spoons! More spoons!"
He thought I'd lost my shit for sure.
I collapsed under a tree, my headache firmly set in by then, while my family went off to have fun. The sun went down and I crept into the tent. I lay deathly still, feeling like I was about to throw everything I'd just eaten up,
Oh God, I wailed. What have I done? Why am I back here again? Why have I been taken prisoner by my inner drama queen?
What do I need to know about all this?????
When I woke the next day I knew why things had gotten so bad so quickly.
I was about to make a super-duper big leap, and part of me didn't think it was safe. I was about to make a leap into a whole new world of offerings, a whole new way of working with people. I had to make a big decision about the direction of my business that morning.
And one of those choices was way beyond my comfort zone. Some part of me knew, and wanted to stop me making that choice because it wouldn't be safe.
So what was safe? A freaking huge headache and a shitty time with my family. That was soooo safe. I've done that plenty of times. Know that baby like the back of my little old hand.
So now I was confronted with a choice: stay in a cosy world of self-created pain, or take the big scary leap into a joyful unknown.
I sat by the lake, my neurotic dog yapping every few minutes at my heels as my partner and daughter floated blissfully out of view on a rubber tyre.
I wished I could just dive into the cool, inviting water, and enjoy the peace and serenity of our time away. I wanted to look at turtles basking on the logs and dragonflies buzzing in the lilypads too. I wanted to go play with the dozens of cute little bunnies near reception.
But my stupid dog was totally out of control. And I had work to do.
I knew I had to clear this thing. If it was the last thing I did.
If I didn't, it just well might be the end of me.
So I sat. And tapped. Not caring who saw me, or what sort of crazy lady I reminded them of, I leaned into my knots and tapped them all out.
Hoping the crazy goats who'd tried to attack my dog yesterday didn't suddenly return.
My dog yapped incessantly the whole damned time. I felt like throwing her in the lake again and again and again. But this time I listened to that quiet inner voice. Just notice the barking, it said. Notice the need to react to the barking. And just stay in that space of awareness.
My inner voice does a nice Eckhart Tolle impression when it needs to.
And it worked. I stayed still. In my centre.
I finally got to the truth behind the fear.
I'm going beyond where I've been because I need to lead the way. I need to shine my brightest light in the world. I need to take a risk, and gamble everything I have on the true power within me.
No one around me has ever gone so far. But unless I do, they might never see how it's possible for them.
I'm leaping this year. Into a life I've never known.
And next time, I'll remember to check for Upper-Limits.
Every step of the way.