Anyone who really knows me, knows that I'm not really the kind of person to be out there in front of people. And yet, lately, I am - non-stop. I spend my day being in front of people and interacting with them, sometimes without even leaving my house or opening my mouth. I write this blog, I have a Facebook page, and a Fan page, I have a website, I write an e-newsletter, I answer emails, and then I stand in front of people and "teach yoga". Or, more appropriately, I lead an experience. All of these things open the opportunity for me to be judged.
I have consciously made these decisions, to put my life out there, and I've asked you all to comment. In many ways, I am honored and grateful that you have chosen to interact with me. And, at the same time, I get really sick of it! I get tired of looking at my own face plastered all over the web, of hearing my own voice, of hearing people's feedback and comments, and of all the head games that I play with myself.
I can be easily pushed off center by people's comments, regardless of whether they are positive or negative. The comments can inflate or deflate my ego. I feel myself swaying from side to side, bouncing back and forth between feelings. At times, I feel gratitude and excitement that someone has noticed me and chosen to comment. At other times, I find myself thinking, "Who the @*#$ asked you for your opinion!?" It can be a challenge to stay balanced, grounded, and rooted in my own authenticity while taking in so much from other people.
I've been saying, "I feel like I'm walking on a tightrope" for several days now, without really thinking much about it. Today, I googled "tightrope." According to Wikipedia, tightrope "acrobats maintain their balance by positioning their center of mass directly over their base of support." They align themselves with their center to maintain their balance. Yep, sounds appropriate!
So, you might ask why the heck I am doing this - putting my life out there for other people's review and comment. A wise woman once told me, "When you give yourself permission to be happy, it allows others the permission to do the same." I think that holds true for anything - replace happy with any other adjective, and see if you still agree. I believe that when we're authentic, it is easier for us to find happiness. So, I'm putting this out there, in hopes that you will all feel permission to be authentic and to find your happiness.
Since this blog is about the connection of the physical and the emotional bodies, I have to ask myself, "how does this, the feeling of walking on a tightrope, show up in my body?" Well, I'm not a very skillful tightrope walker, so its felt like grasping; like an attempt to control...sort of a pulling in, straightening up, tightening of my breath. And so, I'm practicing with expanding my breath, sinking down, and staying connected with my own center.
(Know that, as I prepare to hit the "publish post" button, I am half cringing.) Here goes nothing...
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Mandy you continually put your authentic self out there and by doing so, you become an inspiration to me! I thank you for your courage and your commitment to yourself!
ReplyDeleteGretchen Pritts, Out of the Box Coaching
www.outoftheboxlifecoaching.com
I read a book by John Muir years ago but always remembered this incident. He went walking on a glacier with his dog but couldn't find his way back to base camp as the day was running out, so he had to walk across a very thin ice bridge over an unimaginably deep chasm. He made it, but the dog refused to follow. Muir finally coaxed and persuaded the dog to cross. The dog made it also, very carefully and slowly, and then, when he got ot the other side, broke into such a dance of joy than Muir said it was the purest expression of joy he had ever witnessed. On the other end of the tightrope, Mandy, there's pure joy.
ReplyDeleteI love this post, and Lloyd's story about the dog.
ReplyDeleteWalking a tightrope always seems like such a public display. Like, the acrobats do it in front of the circus crowd. There's a net underneath but, nonetheless, when you fall, everybody sees it. But it's not the falling part that matters. It's the walking you do before you fall that amazes everyone.