So, I’m on a plane (which, have I mentioned: not my favorite thing) and we’ve hit a truly rough patch of turbulence while working our way down to land.
My first instinct is of course to panic. Because, who wouldn’t? I absolutely hate taking off. And landing. And turbulence. Or really anything that reminds me that I’m in the air and not on a train or bus on the nice solid ground. So, you can imagine that turbulence + landing = unreasonable me.
What I used to do in this situation was panic. Hyperventilate. And try not to cry. But for the last year or so, my solution has been to simply energy clear. So I popped my pendulum out of my bra (what, where do you keep your pendulum?) and started clearing. I’m clearing for me (cause I’m panicking), and the plane (cause I want it to work top notch), and the pilots (cause they are the magicians getting me back on the ground).
Clearing works kind of like meditating. It calms me. Slows me down. It brings me into the moment, and removes me from the stimulus a little too. So while I’m clearing, I’m just letting myself be there. Letting myself feel the plane turn, and rise, and fall, and rise, and turn. Some back-of-the-head part of me is observing that this is taking a surprisingly long time to land – but you know traffic. It sucks for planes too.
And while I’m here, but not plugged in, and coasting I start seeing an image in my head. Like watching TV. It’s a flight crew. And they are a teensy bit worried, a little white knuckled themselves. And in my head a little show plays out. Something about the flight crew being concerned about something, about something not being right and then they manage to get the plane landed. And the crew (in my head) are all quietly congratulating each other and wiping their foreheads relieved. And one pilot looks at the other and says: “Yes! We did it. And they don’t even know anything was wrong.”
This, I thought to myself while watching my inner movie, is exactly why they don’t make drama or reality shows about planes. Cause if they did no one would ever fly again.
I share this insight with my hubby, who rolls his eyes at me. (Apparently he feels I’m prone to melodrama and reading things into things that aren’t there.)
As we are taxi’ing in the pilot comes on and tells us the time and the weather and announces that some people are leaving and others are staying on this flight to it’s next stop. (That’s us!) He tells us (cause we’re staying) to stay in our seats till everyone else is off and the flight attendants can count us. We’ll be taking off again in about 30 mins he says.
I think that I may hate the time between landing and getting off the plane more than the landing itself. I am SO not the Queen of Patience. While fidgeting around, Jeff suggests we change seats – we officially have the pick of the plane. Genius! We bundle our stuff up, and I turn to the nearest flight attendant to announce our intention to move up and she says, no.
Actually, we won’t be staying on this plane. We need to switch flights. It seems that all that turning, and the movie in my head were actually connected. Our landing gear hadn’t wanted to come down, and after much quiet panic on their part the plane finally complied and we landed safely, but that plane won’t be going anywhere else without some maintenance.
They hadn’t announced the change, because why frighten anyone? Only the six of us who were meant to stay on the plane ever knew. (And there was much I told you so-ing for my eye rolling husband!)
And THAT is (one of) the reasons I love Energy Clearing so much!
And hey, I know you’ve been interested; you’ve been reading all about BE: Balance Embodied and pondering if it’s for you or not. Well, I happen to think it’s for everyone (but I’m not exactly objective about this) – so I took this opportunity to answer a few basic Questions to help you make up your mind. In video format – naturally!
WHAT is this Energy Clearing stuff?
I’m Christian, is this class for me?
Can I clear myself?
Do we have to be there to clear someone?
There’s 5 Days Left to snag Early Bird Pricing
And the class is half full, but there’s definitely a spot for you. (And, why yes, I am accepting payment plans – hit me up and we’ll work something out for you.)
July 19, 2012 7 Comments
I wasn’t exactly popular in school. I had a bit of a reputation – it wasn’t my fault really, you know how kids can be. But, I was known as the girl who threw a chair at a teacher (it’s not as bad as it sounds), who stood up to and then swore at the principle (it’s a long story, there’s a banana involved), and who could be easily provoked into losing her cool (you do not want to piss me off – that much at least is true – One day… never mind that story would just make this blog post unnecessarily unwieldy).
In grade seven, the kids from a nearby all French Elementary school were assimilated into our French/English Jr High. The sudden influx of new people took some time to get used to, there were a few bumps and scrapes along the way.
One of those was that Lincoln* (*all names have been kept the same because I don’t friggin’ care and I don’t feel like thinking up ridiculous new ones), THE best looking, most popular guy, from the French School crowd decided that he liked me.
I’m talking, the cool quarter back (if Canadian Jr. Highs were to have things like football teams, which we don’t), swaggering, every-girl-wants-him, Never Been Kissed story line, guy.
(Actually, more like *Giddy* I’m not really a “swooner” per say.)
This fabulous, amazing, fantastic state of affairs lasted for, maybe, three days.
We sat beside each other on the bus. Held hands. Talked on the phone into the night. And then Saturday afternoon, only a few hours before I was due to arrive to our first Junior High Party (held, at Lincoln’s house ‘natch) I got a call.
I was no longer dating Lincoln. He was going to the party with Teniel (I’m spelling that phonetically, but that doesn’t look right, maybe one of you Te-Neil’s could tell me how it is spelt? Look it was over 20 years ago, you expect me to remember how to spell her name??).
I was dumped.
Teneil had gone to school with Lincoln for years, if I recall correctly the scuttlebutt was that they had actually dated before. It hadn’t gone well. It didn’t really go well this time either, I think they might have lasted a whole week.
(Of course, the even deeper message of this whole fiasco, the one I didn’t get until I was almost 30, was that I had actually been beautiful and desirable. Both Lincoln’s initial interest and Teneil’s inexplicable behavior were a result of my beauty. Sadly, at the time, the only thing I saw was a reinforcement of my worthlessness. I’m thinking I’m not alone in that.)
Lincoln and Teneil didn’t last long, but by the time they broke up my old classmates had filled Lincoln in on his near miss with the Dis-reputable Me and all that was over with.
What the Hell Was Her Problem Anyway
For the next two years Teneil made my school life miserable. She mocked me for not having a boyfriend. And when I did get one, she somehow managed to make it seem that he was so undesirable I was made even less by being with him than I had been being alone. She seemed to be obsessed with whether or not a boy wanted to be with me.
Jesse was a nice guy. He was cute and sweet and good friends with Lincoln, but also managed to be friends with the nerds (I wasn’t lucky enough to be a nerd, I was just a plain old outcast) and nobody minded. It seemed like he had a carte blanche “Nice Guy” pass.
On rainy days, when we were kept inside I’d sit at the desk in front of his and he’d do card tricks and then teach me how to do them. He helped me perfect one or two that I kept in my repertoire for years. When we went outside he’d let me “watch” his coat while the boys played touch football.Then one day, he let me wear it.
It was dark denim and smelt like boy. Which, at 13, was a dreamy kind of smell. He let me wear it at recess the next day, and even another after that. After a little while I started to think that maybe, just maybe something was happening between us. Maybe he actually liked me. God knows I liked him.
And then one lovely Monday morning, he was suddenly going out with Teneil.
What the Fuck?
I never clued in. I was almost out of high school (and moved to a different city) before I ever realized that this had been an intentional and strategic move on her part. I guess I was right, something had been happening between us, and I wasn’t the only one to notice. I was completely oblivious, to her message: “I can take anything you want away from you.”
Grade Eight was a horrible year for me.
In Grade Eight my mother decided to move – AGAIN – and I begged and pleaded and cried to be able to finish out Jr. High where I was, to not be forced to change schools until the natural transition at gr. nine. And when it was decided I could stay, in all the hoopla of moving away I ended up forgotten. My mom moved out, without me knowing, and the guardian who was supposed to take me in either forget or hadn’t been informed. I went home one day and discovered… no one was there, I had no where to go and no idea how to contact anyone.
Then, just a few months later, that same guardian summarily evicted me from her home (it really is a long story with some blame on my shoulders, but really I was 13 and she was an adult, and let’s not get into that here); I went to school knowing I had nowhere to go that night. A teacher took me home after I broke down crying and shared the whole sordid story.
I’d been rejected and abandoned and homeless twice, in a matter of months, and through all of this Teneil picked, and poked, and stripped, and eroded me. Because in her mind who she was would never be strong, or good, or beautiful enough as long as I stood next to her. It was her Junior High mission to tear me down.
She isn’t the only girl/woman I’ve known who’s behaved this way.
Why do girls treat each other badly?
There’s Enough for All of Us.
There’s enough for all of us to beautiful. There’s enough for all of us to be bold. There’s enough for all of us to be loved. There’s enough for all of us to be fulfilled, to be happy, to be successful. There’s no scarcity of awesomeness in our world (no matter that some people act like there is).
Your amazingness does not diminish mine. (Just the opposite in fact. Your amazingness draws out, calls on, polish, and gives hope to my own.)
All these horrible things happened because of Teneil, but strangely enough, my most touching Jr. High memory also involved Teneil.
We were at a school dance. Boys lined up against one wall. Girls against the other. And I, the outcast, took a deep breath, walked across the gaping dance floor and asked my crush (a completely unworthy ass-hat) to dance. He looked me right in the face and laughed.
I rushed back to my own side of the room to huddle and cry. All the girls, of course gathered around to find out what was wrong. When I told them Teneil rose up in righteous indignation and marched back across that gym. She grabbed my crush by his ear (probably not, but I like to imagine it that way) and tore a strip off him – down one side and up the other. She gave him what for, guilted, and bullied and next thing I knew I was in the dance floor listening to Lady in Red, dancing with my crush.
He really was an ass-hat, but the moment, and the memory were delicious. And for one evening only, my tormentor became my champion.
Imagine what we women could do, in business and in life, if we saw every competitor as a possible compatriot and champion? Imagine what you could do if you absolutely knew that the world had enough for you!
p.s. I still love the song Lady in Red… despite the ass-hat
May 25, 2012 14 Comments
I believe in life and in fun and laughter. I believe in Big Things and changing worlds and touching hearts. I believe in women and in the Divine Feminine. I believe in you. I believe in me. I believe I matter.
I believe in swing sets and tree cathedrals and my comfy bed.
I believe in power and possibility. I believe in helping others to fly. I believe in magic. I believe in right now. I believe in red velvet cupcakes and cream cheese icing.
I believe in opening.
I believe in cold, fresh water. I believe in multiplication. I believe in expansion. I believe in world domination. I believe in energy, and destiny.
I believe in choice.
I believe in creating my own life. I believe in the sacred. I believe in the everyday. I believe you should be well rooted, but always reaching for the sky.
I believe in powerful women.
I believe you matter. I believe you are beautiful and powerful and have things to do.
I believe in touching souls and reading hearts. I believe in flow. I believe in patterns. I believe you can. I believe we will.
I believe you are perfect just the way you are.
This post is my rough, unadulterated response to part of the first writing assignment in Kelly Diels’ Write Me, I’m Yours course. It inspired me, so I shared it. I believe in being inspired.
March 14, 2012 1 Comment
My husband loves to run. He’s highly active, taking and teaching marital arts, dabbling with archery, newly converted to Wild Movement philosophy, and he runs – all the time, any weather, barefoot.
He doesn’t just like to run he loves it; he’s passionate about it. So, it makes sense that he’s built himself up a following. He runs twice a week at work and he has a growing band of guys whom he’s evangelized, converted, and brought into his lunchtime running fold.
This summer he determined to hit one of his targets, he ran 50km in one day (and then did it again – 51k – a month or so later). His running posse were so impressed – 8+ hours of non-stop running – they started bragging about him at work.
Enter Fit Runner. Fit Runner had heard about the group, but he was more a solo runner so he never joined in. Until inspired by my husband’s awesomeness, he decided to give it a try. But where my husband (and therefore his band of Merry Runners) ran for the love of it: the joy, the thrill, the Life of it, Fit Runner ran for the time, speed, and prowess. The group vibe was foreign to him.
So, one day my Lover Man is talking to his Buddy – Buddy is a rock hard body builder just learning to run – Buddy is highly Fit, but he also has asthma and My Man is teaching him stride and breathing tips to enable him to keep running despite it.
He says, as they lace up their shoes, “Run with me today.”
Fit Runner interjects, looks my Lover over (finds him wanting) and asks Buddy, “Why would you listen to him? You should run with me.”
There is a collective intake of breath that Fit Runner is oblivious to and he sets out. (He just never gets this group thing, maybe he sees them as something to prove himself against rather than prove himself with.)
My Love tells his peeps he’s sorry, but he feels he needs to run at his own pace today. They nod, concurr, agree they will encourage each other just fine.
And he’s off.
My runner man who runs for joy and prayer and laughs with bliss fast or slow, who competes only with himself easily passes Fit Runner reveling in the run itself. Freedom is his catchphrase and running feels like that to him, I think.
Then he lies on the grass to wait, breathing easy.
Fit Runner is shocked, and out of breath, to find My Man casually pondering the sky. He’s forced to nod in recognition; my runner man outpaced him without even trying.
His mistake was, that looking at my husband he assumed he was Fat.
What Does Fat Mean Anyway?I weigh 235 lbs and I do not consider myself Fat.
I am not Fat when I wake up in the morning. And I don’t see Fat when I do my hair in the morning (but there is this one suprememly annoying cowlick).
And I have no Fat moments when I write and when I paint. And Fat never comes into the picture when I laugh and when I hug.
And I don’t think of myself as Fat when I stand up to teach and I never even consider Fat when a client lights up in front of me.
And no Fat goes with me when I clip my dog to the leash for a walk in the woods or on the beach.
And I definitely don’t feel Fat when my husband’s eyes magnetically follow my naked body.
I Do Not Think of Myself as Fat
(because I’m not.)
So, why should anyone else have the power to judge me as such or try to make me feel that way?
Because there are only two times when I ever even consider that I might be Fat:
1) When other people tell me so with their eyes, and sneers and words.
2) When buying clothing.
And you know what? Neither of those has anything to do with me, and everything to do with others.
Did you Know that “Lose Weight” is the Most Common Goal on my Client Intake Form?
And there’s really no rhyme or reason to who will tell me this. Underweight, Overweight, On Weight, Fit or Not – Boy and Girl.
Which is why I know that Fat has no basis in reality. None.
So I don’t want to hear it; I don’t want to talk about: Dieting, Waistline, Thin, 10lbs, Watching, Should Eat, Shouldn’t Eat, When I…
That’s not my life, consumed by pounds and food and self-flagellation. I choose to live as me – not as Fat. What are you choosing?
This post has been percolated with help and inspiration from two supplementary sources:
1. The Article: Plus Size Bodies, What Is Wrong With Them Anyway?
2. The Video:
January 9, 2012 30 Comments