Fear or Desire?

Received this quote today in tweet form:

Fear is the emotion that comes forth when you are choosing a thought that is not up to speed with the desire that you hold.

(Abraham Hicks)

Isn't that fantastic? And...daunting at the same time. Because think about it: we feel fear - in lots of forms, in lots of contexts, a lot of the time. Fear about the future, fear about getting hurt, fear about money, fear about being alone, fear about parenting, fear about flying, fear about health, fear about work, fear about telling the truth. The list goes on. So what if all those fears are about what Hicks is saying...that they are thoughts not up to speed with the desires we hold? Yep...that's daunting.

Ask the converse question or back into it in another way: Where are my thoughts or emotions not up to speed with my desires? What thoughts and emotions am I living with/in/through that aren't consistent with my truest heart and hopes?

The result, at least according to Hicks? Fear.

Tension then between desire and fear. I can feel it. But I SO want to live in desire...and not fear. Even that strikes a chord of panic in me, but I'm increasingly confident I can overcome it. Desire is SO much better - on every level.

I'll let Hicks speak: When you have a fresh desire, when you want something and you don’t doubt it, that frisky feeling, that feeling of exhilaration, that’s what you came for. That’s what your quest is. That’s the feeling you want. It’s not the actual getting there that we’re after. It’s the moving toward there that we wish to experience. It’s the exhilaration of that movement itself. As the saying goes, life is about the journey, not the destination.

Taking the journey in the context of desire vs. fear sounds like a far better trip, don't you agree?

Related Posts:

Staying Alive vs. Coming Alive

Hope Again

The Tightrope of Ambivalence

Painting Information: Gary Benfield, Desire

Inevitable Dreams

I have spent the last days and weeks with people who have recently been laid off. This week has been filled primarily with first meetings, stepping into the messy emotions that emerge and take up residence when facing this unexpected and seemingly-cruel twist in their story. In the midst, I've been reminded of my own career story, my own unexpected lay-off, and the messy emotions that have accompanied me on that journey these past three-four months. And, today, I've been grateful.

It wasn't that long ago that I sat where they are sitting. It wasn't that long ago that I felt the same confusion, anger, frustration, anxiety, and fear. And I couldn't have anticipated that I'd be sitting on the other side of the table; that I'd regain perspective, feel hopeful, and actually be dreaming on my own behalf. And I certainly couldn't have anticipated that those very dreams (tentative at first, and now far more bold) are what have compelled reality. But it's definitely the story I told them today.

It is hard to dream on our own behalf. I'm not sure if that comes from our religion, our family of origin, our culture, or some combination of all these and more. What I do know is that we have somehow convinced ourselves that we shouldn't hope too much for ourselves, that we shouldn't really believe that we could do, accomplish, or experience what our hearts (too-secretly) desire. Sometimes doing so makes us feel guilty, self-centered, or arrogant. But I think more times we just know that disappointment is too prevalent, too easy to come by, too expected. So instead we choose to think (and live) small. It's definitely what I've done time and again - in jobs, in relationships, in nearly every aspect of life to some degree. It's risky to dream.

But these past months have taught me that I should know better. As I have risked dreaming, I have seen far less disappointment and far more reality. My therapist has been trying to teach me this for quite some time, actually. He has told me repeatedly that my capacity to bear disappointment and pain is quite high; that there's no question of my ability to handle that reality. What is harder, however, is accepting things that are good - dreaming on my own behalf. It's risky...but I'm getting better at it.

Today I sat with those who are teetering dangerously on that edge; who find dreaming to be far too risky. Safety and security are the priorities. I get it. And...I get to stand on the edge with them, knowing what it feels like to teeter, feel like you're about to fall, and then dive into the abyss - only to discover that it's not as dark and scary as we'd imagined; rather, that our very dreams are what might just create the loft to get us to the other side, to some new place we couldn't (or wouldn't) have imagined.

I'm still afraid to dream. I don't want to be disappointed - in work, in love, in life. But I also don't want to settle for less than all that I desire. Somehow, the privilege of seeing others' fear of dreaming has shown me that I can do even more...on my own behalf, and gratefully, on theirs.

So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable. (Unknown)

In-between places

It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear...It's like being between trapezes. It's Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There's nothing to hold on to. (Marilyn Ferguson)

I've been thinking today about in-between places: between jobs, between relationships, between known and unknown, between security and risk, between want and need, between desire and desperation, between paychecks, between hungry and full, between busy and manic...

I can identify with lots of these. And, though my first response is to wonder what is wrong with me, my second and longer reflection moves me to thinking that being in between may not be so strange, bizarre, or anomaly-like.

I wonder if we aren't always in between, to some degree.

The problem is we don't like it - these in-between places. So, we create the binary. We live in black and white. We choose to move to one side or the other vs. holding on to ourselves with balance and calm in the middle. And when we force the choice we ultimately compromise; we let go of the tension and pick, potentially forfeiting what might matter most, what might be more true, more real, more meaningful...

If only we could stay in the in-between. I only I could stay in the in-between. Actually, I think I might be.

I am in-between jobs. The truth is, I don't want to go back to what I had and I'm as yet unsure about what is ahead. Truly, I want to stay in-between on this one: waiting and wondering and holding on to myself while I envision a future that is undefined by my past.

I am in-between relationships. Divorced for nearly two years now and pursuing/desiring relationship. Though I don't want to stay here indefinitely, I do want to maintain balance and allow the in-between to somehow offer me both rest and freedom, expression and experience, healing and wholeness. I am aware of what I left behind and I hope much for my future.

I am in-between security and risk. I know what it feels like to have the security of both job and relationship and there is something invigorating and enticing (most of the time) about the unknown: the possibility that risk in both realms will merit me more than I could have asked or imagined.

I am in-between want and need. I usually veer toward want, but I'm thinking more and more intentionally (for myself and my daughters) about making decisions in regard to need. I' m definitely in-between, feeling the tension, but knowing it's OK, that it's teaching me much, that I have much to learn.

In-between places. At least tonight, right now, in this moment, they feel OK. I can stay. I am not afraid.

As I re-read Marilyn Ferguson's statement above, I realize that there's something about being between the trapezes that releases me, that frees me, that opens me up to adventure and faith and trust. There's something about the idea of Linus' blanket being in the dryer that creates the uncomfortable, but necessary space to grow up, to let go, to become strong. I don't need something to hold on to. I'm intact. I'm OK. And I'm not afraid.

In-between places. What if they're good? Mmmm.

Imaginary Insecurities

I stepped into a business context today that I'd been a bit hesitant about; not sure that I'd have what was required. I was wrong. I am competent. I am capable. I am up for the job. But it got me to wondering why I thought anything different on the front end. It got me to wondering about imaginary insecurities.

I have a lot of them, I fear: things I worry about, projects or concepts at which I think I will fail, places/relationships where I'm afraid to get hurt, dreams I am hesitant to express or live because disappointment is so much easier to anticipate. This is me, today, now, at 48 years old! I'm a relatively confident, strong, self-assured, assertive, and comfortable-in-my-own-skin woman.

Old habits die hard. If I were to describe myself at 12, 16, 20, or even 30, I would not use the same words. Instead, I would have said that the insecurities were hardly imaginary: they were my day-to-day reality!

But now I wonder...What would it have been like if I'd understood them, way back when, as figments of my imagination; tricks of my mind to keep me feeling insecure, small, silent, less-than, and "safe?" As I look at Emma, age 12, and Abby, age 10, I wonder...What will I do to help them understand themselves as confident, strong, self-assured, assertive, and comfortable-in-their-own skin? It's a daunting job. But, as just as I discovered in my other "job" today, I'm apparently up for it!

There's nothing wrong with imagination. It's the insecurities that become the problem. I don't want to imagine anything that makes me feel insecure, small, silent, less-than, or safe. Instead, I want to live each day knowing, believing, and even shouting that I am secure, larger-than-life, and maybe even extremely dangerous (doesn't that sound great?!?). Further, I want two daughters who know and live the same.

Imagination is a good thing - a vehicle that enables us to create what does not yet exist. "...[to] carry us to worlds that never were" (Carl Sagan). It's hugely important to our dreams, hopes, desires, passions. Steven Covey said, "Live out of your imagination, not your history." I'm there. My history has crafted an imagination that has been far too small, far too harmful, and far too filled with my own crazy-making. My present and my future (as well as those of my girls) can be imagined - and lived - in far different, far more beautiful, far more secure and strong ways. How great is that?

Some stories are true that never happened. (Elie Wiesel)

There is a boundary to men's passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination. (Edmund Burke)

To imagine is everything, to know is nothing at all. (Anatole France)

Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures. (Jessamyn West)

I believe in the imagination. What I cannot see is infinitely more important than what I can see. (Duane Michals)

Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning. (Gloria Steinem)

lost and found

Yesterday I felt restless. Today, that emotion is not lost on me, but a stronger one resides: gratitude - for a Sunday. Not a day that's rest - less; rather, that's about rest.

I have nothing planned, nowhere I need to go (other than the grocery store), no one I'm scheduled to be with. I think the three of us might head toward water, a beach, the sea.

maggie and millie and molly and may

maggie and millie and molly and may

went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

millie befriended a stranded star

who's rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing

which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it's always ourselves we find in the sea.

E.E. Cummings

I definitely lose (parts of) myself from time to time...and feel restless, disconnected, undone, sad, angry, and/or many other emotions. But I can find myself, as well, over and over again - in books, in writing, in relationship, in conversation, in time, in rest, in Sundays, in the sea. I'm grateful.

Restless

I'm restless today. No specific or defined plans - and yet space and time before me. Who am I and how do I handle these emotions? I can feel them - just sitting in the queue. I've tried to set them aside, to calmly walk through my day, but I can feel them pressing. I'm restless.

Thomas Edison said, "Restlessness and discontent are the first necessities of progress." If he's right then great things lie ahead!

But right now, I'm not feeling like progress is on the horizon...at least not today. I'm acutely aware of anxious, jittery, surely-there-must-be-something-I-can-do feelings. And I'm trying to hang on, to breathe deep, to move forward.

I'm trying to not feel restless. I'm not succeeding.

Ahhh...

I was in a queer mood, thinking myself very old; but now I am a woman again - as I always am when I write. (Virginia Woolf)

I love this quote. All kinds of places I could go with it - and do - in my own mind. But in this moment I want to point out and highlight the beauty Virginia Woolf names about herself: being a woman when she writes.

We can get so disjointed as women - wearing multiple hats, playing a myriad of roles, adapting to our surroundings. It's not surprising that we loose our footing and often find ourselves in a "queer mood." But when we write, or at least when I write? Ahhhh...I find myself. I reconnect. I enjoin my heart and mind to my body and soul. I am a woman again: whole, complete, powerful, tender, amazing, strong, vulnerable, grounded, spontaneous, beautiful, smart, funny...me.

I've been musing some today on the impact of writing - and particularly blogging. There's something about both the experience and the discipline that calls forth needed, valuable emotion, thought, and perspective - for ourselves and frankly, for others as well. I'm planning to start offering Blog Coaching to those who are interested in pursuing the art of it...the therapy of it...the healing of it...the fun of it...and yes, even the business of it. (Stay tuned for more details or email me right now!!!) Writing matters - not just the words and their expression, but the practice, the experience, the immersion. Writing invites us to reconnect with ourselves. We become women (and men) again. Virginia Woolf understood this. I understand her.

Even now, 7 or 8 minutes after starting this post; 7 or 8 minutes of writing, I feel more like me. Ahhh...I am a woman again.