
It is always amazing to me how much work there is to be done. Part of me loves this and part of me can't stand it. For instance, I'm looking forward to ski season so I can focus all my energy on understanding how to bend my ski high in the turn rather than focusing so much on how I work in the world, why I am here, and how I'm meant to interact with the rest of the humans around me.
But really, they are both so totally interwoven, I can't ever get away from becoming, because its, I believe, the point of it all. To get as far as I can get in this lifetime toward a peaceful, happy, joyful existence. That's part of why I love to ski, its like touching that kind of joy, its like sampling what life can be in all its facets once I've figured it out more. The funny thing, is that the life seems to be the journey, there really is no "figuring it out". Well, for a few there are, those rare enlightened beings who have let go of ego and suffering and simply exist, helping others to do the same.
Anyhow, I'm waxing a bit rhapsodic here as I'm puzzling through something that happened to me over the weekend.

I pride (and there's the first mistake) myself on being a great communicator. I like to think that with all the years of study that I've done in Psychology and communication, in coaching, in teaching, that I'm really, really good at being clear when I speak.

The problem is, and perhaps you can read it in that above statement, that in learning to protect and care for myself, I have become a bit of a warrior, sometimes when its unnecessary. This may be because I had NO boundaries before, and so in order to feel them in effect, I must be very vigilant of them now.
And this weekend, I had to learn a very painful lesson that its time to trust that the boundaries are in place, and to put some compassion back in there for the person who is trying to talk to me, even if its in a less than ideal tone of voice. In caring for myself, I had lost my grace.

For the last three days, I've been looking at trust again. Trusting myself. Trusting that I will care for myself, for my children, that I can feel that boundary, that I will step in if its dire, that I can feel the difference between semantics and battles worth fighting.
The scary thing is that it took a near train-wreck to bring me to my senses. I was so carefully guarding my boundaries, that I forgot someone else's heart, plight, feelings and fears. And that lack of care for them was like a beacon to their own boundaries.

I spent the next ten hours weeping about my carelessness, and living in fear that I'd learn this lesson the hardest way, (and yes, I've had to learn this lesson the hard way before, as we peel down the layers, the same lesson, closer and closer to the core of the matter is exposed. I've said good bye to several friends I've loved by not realizing I'd wronged them by simply not having a compassionate heart for their hurt while they were wounding mine.) And I spent the next five learning to breathe again.
I am fortunate that I have a strong, compassionate team around me who is willing to gently shine a light on the path when I get lost. Amy, Tamara, and Mike were my guides through this unexpected surgery, and, as with any abrupt becoming, it was wicked painful, but the end result was a well weeded, well tended beautiful becoming. I'm just grateful I came through it without loosing anyone in the process.

And rather than feeling that deep pain pulled forward from the past, and assuming the worst, perhaps, I can put down not only my sword, but my assumption, my ego, my pride, my pain, and listen with an open and giving hear to the person who is trying so hard to communicate with me. This is the big challenge. To be there for the other person, without looking through the filter of your past. To trust that your boundary will be there if you are truly threatened, but to see through that boundary, not like curtains, or gauze, but like an open window.
I'm grateful for these lessons, because I know they move me forward. I know they will make me better at loving the people I love, better at listening to my kids, to my students, to my teachers, just better.
1 comment:
Kate, you are an amazing example of what a human can do, be, and feel. Thank you for sharing. Also, can I cut and paste this entry into my blog? I am doing similar things right now. Maybe it's the weather. Be well.
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