Trusting Ourselves

Dear friends, 

I hope you are well, enjoying the beauiful days of early summer. 

For me, and, I know, for some of you, even amidst the beauty and celebrations of May, the last couple of weeks have been pretty intense. Along with the many things going on in the world, a report was released about a week and a half ago detailing the extensive abuse of a very well-connected person here in Louisville, a former Presbyterian pastor who, more recently, was very involved in, and often leading, interfaith initiatives. I have known him for about a decade. The report details his abuse when he was pastor before I knew him.

I am connected to many, many people who either experienced his abuse, both while he was a pastor and in the decade since, or who are reeling from the news of it. I know that keeping more people safe from him means sharing his name, and I have and will in other contexts. Here I am choosing not to. I don't want to speak/write/see his name*. 

Since the report came out, I've been part of many conversations with people about the report, their experiences, and the resulting shame, embarrassment, self-doubt, confusion, anger, grief, and more. I have also experienced this range of emotions. I could write volumes about each emotion, but today self-doubt gets the spotlight.

When I work with people, I often say, "I do not want you to trust me to the detriment of trusting yourself." 

There are so many ways we are taught to ignore, deny, dismiss, or numb our inner knowing. We are taught that there are authorities- religious, political, secular, familial- who know better than we do. We are encouraged to trust and follow them, even when our bodies are giving us warning signals that something is off. If trauma is a part of our story, understanding and trusting our bodies' signals is even more complicated.

Self-doubt serves a charismatic, abusive leader well. The patterns of manipulation only become clear in retrospect or from a distance. Once we see the patterns, we question, "Why didn't I see it?" "Why did I laugh that off?" "Why didn't I speak up?" 

Even outside of the context of abuse, self-doubt is a normal part of being human. Wanting to see the best in someone and offering grace are also so very human and really quite wonderful. That we would experience these doesn't mean there's something wrong with us or that we have reason to be ashamed. We're just human- messy, complicated, beautiful humans. 

Knowing this, the question then becomes: If self-doubt is so pervasive, how do we move toward self-trust? 

I belive it's through practice. I believe it's through tuning to the body and being in dialogue with it. Dominant culture doesn't encourage us to love or honor our body wisdom. Compassionate Communication has helped me tune in more skillfully and identify more easily what my body is telling me- that I want safety, ease, acceptance, understanding, something else. 

When I'm struggling, thankfully I have a few friends I can turn to to help me see and move through what is murky, unclear, difficult. I have come to trust them because when I've been most vulnerable, they have been ever so gentle with me. They affirm my worth, even when I'm feeling low. These are the ones who, even when challenging me, do so in a care-filled way. Even when they present a perspective very different from my own, they give space for me to be choiceful about what I do with that perspective. These are the ones who, in action and word, help me to trust myself more, not less.

This is how I hope to be with others. Sometimes I do so well. Other times, less well. I will keep trying. 

And I wonder about you: 

How or when do you experience self-doubt? 

What or who has helped you to trust yourself more? 

I'd love to know. 

If you want to explore self-trust with me, the next Savoring Time mini-retreat is coming up on June 9. Each one of these in-person experiences is an experiment with our individual and collective wisdom. June's theme is Light!

For a more sustained and a deeper dive into self-trust, I'll be facilitating The Artist's Way starting August 17th. I am offering this on a sliding scale and have payment plans available. Through June 15th, there is an Early Early Bird rate of $50 off for the Standard registration level. 

I am also excited to be a part of my first gallery art show. The opening reception is coming up this Thursday, June 6th, so if you want to see my collages and the works of Joan Zehnder and Kathy Christian, I hope you'll come to the show or visit the gallery during the 6 weeks it's up!
     
To learn more about these and other events, visit this page. If they speak to you, I hope you'll join me.  If you know of others who'd love this work, please share with them!

With love, 
Cory

*I originally wrote this for an email and did not link the report. Here, though I am still not using his name in the post, I am choosing to link the executive summary and the full report about the abuse. Both were originally posted here. If you decide to read them, please give yourself time, space, and whatever other support you might need to process. They are not easy to read and, as noted above, can bring up a lot of strong emotions. If you are a survivor of abuse, please be particularly care-filled as you decide if and how to engage.

If I Asked You To Name All the Things You Love...

Cory looks up, to the camera, hand on heart. The words “If I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” are in the top right of the image. Photo credit: Natosha Via

Happy Valentine's Day!

I've been thinking about the words in the image above for a few days now:

If I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself? *

If you're like me, the answer is... I don't know how long it would take...depends on the day, hour, minute. I am practicing the art of self-love and self-compassion. It is, like so many things I write, talk, and teach about, a creative practice, an ongoing experiment.

A week ago I was in the third Zoom session of a class to learn a sequence of yoga moves. Before the class, I had had another Zoom meeting, then rushed out to run an errand, and rushed back home for the class. I was wearing jeans that were a little too tight, not ideal for a yoga class, but didn't have time to change if I wanted to arrive on time.

As we started the class with meditation, my mind was still rushing. I noticed my too tight pants. I was a little hungry. I hoped that my cats would come near me for a pet as I saw a few other people's cats do on the screen. I felt the cold air around me in my old and breezy house, as well as the heat of my nearby space heater that I couldn't get positioned quite right. You can probably guess that this was not my most focused meditation.

We finished the meditation and were invited to ask questions about the practice. This was when my bad student tape kicked in. I hadn't watched the previous week's recording and though I had practiced the sequence, I hadn't done so daily as we were encouraged to do. There was no way in hell I was going to admit these grave transgressions. If I didn't ask questions, no one would know just how bad of a student I was.

After a few people asked questions, there was new content teaching and then it was time to practice. I had made it through the first part without anyone finding me out!

Except that this week before doing the sequence we were going to start with the optional prostrations.

Oh, s**t. I had never done the prostrations. I could only guess that they'd been taught in the second class, so since I hadn't watched the recording yet, I hadn't learned them. Maybe I could figure them out by trying to watch while we were moving through them.

Other people's cameras were not positioned in a way that I could see the whole flow of the prostration. I was caught, fully visible on camera, being recorded in my fumbling! I tried to fake my way through and was relieved when we finished and were moving to the safe territory of the familiar sequence.

Then twice as we were going through each part of the sequence, someone helping the primary teacher offered a couple of posture corrections. The person made general statements, not directed at any one person, but I was certain she was talking to me. Caught again!

We finished the sequence and went into a closing meditation. Finally, in those last minutes of class I calmed down, sank into my body, and felt relieved that I had made it through my epic failure.

I write this story now with a smile on my face. On Wednesday I talked to my friend who teaches the class. She said that though she was trying to keep an eye on everyone (I think there are 12 of us), she hadn't noticed that I was struggling. I laughed as I told her that that meant I had done my fake-out well, because I hadn't wanted anyone to see I didn't know what I was doing!

Though that class experience wasn't my favorite, I am incredibly grateful to have had that hour of discomfort. It reminded me of the vulnerability of being a student, of learning something new, and opened my heart wider to the people I work with and how they (some of you) might feel sometimes because an old tape starts playing about the kind of student or person they (you?) are. It reminded me that the best place to start, the only place we can start, is right where we are. It reminded me that the best way to learn is not by pretending that we know something we don't, but by asking questions.

My friend's care when we spoke a couple of days after the class reminded me that I don't have to be the perfect student (whatever that even means) for someone to love me. I don't have to be the perfect anything for someone to love me or for me to love myself. I also know that I want to keep learning, keeping one foot on the ground of humility and placing the other in the sea of self-compassion.

With these things in mind I choose today to name myself, to put myself high on the list of what I love, who I love. My wish for you on this Valentine's Day is that you, too, name yourself as a beloved, placing yourself high on your love list.

*I only noticed my typo (D missing in “would”) after publishing this. I decided to leave it, a choice to love myself even when I misspell a word.)
~~~

If you are a woman, one way you might put yourself high on your love list is by joining Reimagining ME:Mindful Explorations, which starts a week from tomorrow- Tuesday 2/22/22! At its core the program encourages us to practice connecting with ourselves, both with humility and the deepest of self-compassion, to re-member who we are - unique, beautiful, irreplaceable beings in a web of Interbeing with one another. This program brings together practices of Compassionate Communication, creativity, and body awareness. I was going to close the registration today, but am keeping it open. If you're not quite sure and want to try a session before committing, you can register for the first session a la carte.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, Autumn Equinox Musings

This morning all of a sudden it felt like fall, cool temperatures, a crispness to the air absent just one day before. Convenient, since today is the Autumn Equinox, the first day of fall.

A dear friend and I seem to find each other on these days of transition- the new year, a birthday, solstice, equinox. Tonight she will come to my house and together we will usher in the autumn season of release and harvest. Our time together is always sacred. I expect tonight will bring delight, opening, depth, and the relief of being seeing and loved in the fullness and complexities, the strengths and limitations, of who we are.

As I write, a song that just found me, Amos Lee’s Worry No More is playing on repeat. I heard it the first time just a few days ago as I prepared to create a heart sketch for a friend whose practice is to receive a heart sketch each season. When I heard the song that day, I knew it was for her. I didn’t know why, but trusted it to be true.

The chorus is “Worry no more, oooh, worry no more, there’s an open door for you.”

Today I know the song is for me. Before sitting down to write, I started listening to it, singing and jumping around, arms hanging loosely, flailing as loose-hanging things being tossed about do. I felt the rhythm in my whole body. When the song ended, I started it again. Listening, singing, jumping, arms flailing. I laughed from the joy of releasing long-held energy stuffed in my body to the point of pain. Stress, tension, grief, anger, frustration, some of which I’ve accumulated and held in my body for days, weeks, months, maybe longer, I let go with much less effort than it’s taken to hold it all in. I feel lighter.

As I write, my body now still, I continue to play the song over and over. I feel an openness in my heart space.

The last few months have not been easy. Family members have had significant health issues. I have experienced loss and disappointment. I’ve had difficult and delicate conversations and held space for others while together we experience the expansion and constriction of hope as COVID has adapted and made its way through more bodies, more hospitals, more communities, more countries- more sickness, more death. The expansion and constriction of hope as all the -isms have adapted and made their way through more bodies, more communities, more countries- more harm, more death. So many people are suffering as systems fail, as needed resources are available only to some and inaccessible to too many others. So many people, whether materially resourced or not, are finding themselves exhausted, holding stress, tension, grief, anger, and frustration because we are still in the middle of global crisis. Space, time, and safety to move through it all seems, and for some actually is, out of reach.

I see the world changing around me, through me, within me. I feel the changes inside my being. I get glimpses of clarity. I spend a lot of time in Unknowing. We are in a time of Unknowing.

I am grateful because I have access to people and resources who help me stay grounded in ungrounding times. I’ve been trying to use what I have to do the inner work of growth and self-care and contribute the outer work of tending and caring for others. Sometimes I meet my lofty aspirations toward love and care. Many times I fall short.

What feels beautiful is that I am learning to take the falling short less personally. I am letting go of the judgments that tell me my worth is based on if that class happens or is cancelled, if I say the right thing at the right time or not, if that man wants to date me or just thinks I’m a “great lady” he wants to be friends with (side note: I do not like being called a “lady” by men; there is a sense of diminishment or weakness to the word; the word “woman” feels much stronger and more embodied). I am rooting and growing into the reality, true of me and you, that our worth and enough-ness is bound only to the fact that we exist. This felt reality is beginning to bare fruit within and through me. It feels both exciting and steadying through the Unknowing.

Autumn is a time of release and a time of harvest. A time of ch-ch-ch-ch-changes within the ongoing cycles of change (I’m also linking here to Mercedes Sosa’s song Todo Cambia, which means “everything changes”; it’s beautiful in melody and lyrics).

Letting go is not always easy or comfortable. If you’d seen me yesterday, you’d have witnessed me holding tight to ideas ready to be released. I wasn’t quite ready to let go. Today I dance and shake them off.

Waiting for the ripening of what’s been growing may bring both impatience and excitement. Yesterday I wanted to rush through the pain of growth and expansion. Today I open myself to the slow ripening. I feel the anticipation of knowing more fully what is growing inside me. I wonder what will ultimately come from me that will nourish not just me, but also be fruit to share with others. I trust that it’s already happening. I can feel it. Do you?

In honor of this day signifying the turn toward release and harvest, I invite you, too, to notice what is happening in and around you:

• How do you experience autumn?

• What are you shedding or do you want to shed?

• Are there things you are scared, hesitant, or not ready to release?

• What is ripening within you?

• What is bearing fruit in or around you?

In an hour or so my friend will arrive. I will offer an open heart-door for her and she for me. In our hours together we will release worry, even if only momentarily. We will honor the changes: mourn what is to be mourned and celebrate what is to be celebrated. I wish you an equally blessed transition to autumn.