The Voice Over

Sometimes I feel like a cartoon character in one of the new Pixar movies. Other times, I feel like I am trying to be the voice over for the character. Either way, my authenticity seems to run away and hide in the drama of the cartoon. Somewhere in the mix, I find myself lost to what is real and true for me. I thought a lot about this over the weekend, and I realized that we as humans work very hard to “fix” the world when all the while we leave ourselves on the sidelines … along with our common sense and our good hearted intentions. I find that in seeking, I have assumed answers that were not always valid but tried to offer them to others as true. At other times, I adopted another person's point of view, hiding from what I understood to be true for me. I am not referring to “right” or “wrong;” I am simply recognizing the importance for me (and for all of us) to have our own voice. I have also learned the value and mental health necessity of acknowledging what is in front of me. I was not taught to believe that answers could be found in the cocoon of a question. Mine to you and yours to me. Now I am quite certain that is the only place answers and solutions can be found.

I am asking myself some pretty hard questions as I step into my new career. I remember my mentor, Reverend Stevens, warning us that it is easy to be a philosopher but far harder to live the philosophy. He also assured us, if we were able to cross that border from perception into actualization, then life would find its balance. As I learn to recognize when a “voice over” is happening to me, I am learning to step out of the cartoon, to feel my own real life skin. I am beginning to trust myself as I face the reality of what is before me. I am beginning to tell the difference between what is true or untrue. I am beginning to understand and have compassion for all my fellow travelers. I am willing to accept that for the most part, we are all in search of our own voice. We have lost trust in our own self-reliance. We have stopped asking the right questions. Maybe it's because we are afraid of the answers. Maybe it's because, in the end, the pointer is always pointing at us and not the source of the voice over. 

  

So as I step into the final chapter of 2011, if I can be rooted in the simple Truth of what is good, what is fair, but also have the courage to admit to the “pink elephant in the room” then I can make decisions based not on my philosophy, my history, or what society or the media tells me I should be; but rather, I can find my voice based on the creed that “I wish to become the change I seek.” Avoiding what is fact, even if it is temporary (and all fact is temporary), only puts me at greater risk of the “voice over.” So, I choose to dwell not on my fears. I choose the courage to dwell long enough in the moment to allow “the mud to settle” so I can hear my heart, so I can have my own voice. So I can meet you there, where all children play and create anew.

The Voice of Courage

I think it takes great courage to live our best life today. I don’t think it matters if you are Bill Gates or you are homeless. I know that is a stretch for many to wrap their minds around, but living our best life has nothing to do with what we have or do not have. It has everything to do with who we are. It means taking risks and sometimes looking like an idiot. It means getting on the freeway and trusting that everyone will stay in their lane. It means letting go when letting go is all there is to do, even when you want to wave a magic wand and make everything okay. The wars on our planet have taken on a different face and each of us struggles every day between wanting to strike back and in the same breath wanting peace for ourselves, our children, our families, and the world. At least I do.

On a recent call I was reminded not to be dis-couraged. To keep my vision clear, myself planted and rooted in that vision. I was reminded to do this so when storms tried to come in and blur up my landscape I would hold true to what I knew was True. The analogy that came to mind was being on a road in the fog, but knowing the city I was driving to was as assuredly up ahead as the fog was blurring my vision. Courage. It takes courage to live our best life, to have our voice spoken authentically. Because, even when I think no one is listening there is always someone is listening. I am listening. And the only white stallion I know to carry me forward is me. If I do not hear what I say, how can anyone else understand?

So I was guided not to be discouraged about anything. Not my challenges, not my past, not whatever I think is preventing me from doing what is mine to do. I was asked to remember the hazards of the fog so I could be present. After all, it is not the fog that is dangerous; it is how we drive in the fog. It can feel frightening because our safety also depends upon how others drive in their fog. So I was reminded to drive mindfully knowing that my inner headlights would show enough of the road to me so I could stay on the blacktop and not veer off the edge of the cliff. I am counting on my inner “light bulb” to show me the way so I don’t get “dis” couraged. I am hoping I do not “dis” my courage. I want to remember that whatever my destination, fog is just part of the landscape. I want to be aware of my hands on the wheel and my ethereal foot controlling the speed.  I choose to remember that my best life experience is right now even though “right now” might be foggy. I close with a quote from Pema Chödrön: “Usually we think that brave people have no fear. The truth is that they are intimate with fear.”

The Voice of Compassion

I recently gifted myself a 45 minute retreat, listening to a cd shared with me by a dear friend. I lay still and let my innate human fears melt away as I listened to David Whyte recite The Poetry of Self-Compassion. I came to understand that healing and peace can come through me only as I allow myself the freedom compassion brings. In that space I somehow understood to own what is mine to own and to let go of my illusion of control. I can hold others accountable for their choices but I can still hold them compassionately in my heart… and hopefully therein together we will find wholeness and peace.

My example growing up was to take on the personal pain of others and the heavy responsibility that came with that. Cocooned in that concept, I learned to do what was not mine to do, an action based upon fear of loss or harm. Now, as I watch people of the world struggling to find their way through very troubling times I am learning to reconsider how to hold compassion in my heart. I am learning that compassion is not about feeling sorry for someone but instead is the volume button on my fear that reminds me: “there but by the grace of God go I.” When true compassion is activated, it is a tuning fork that can steady my blurry vision and  fearful legs so I go forward to do what is mine to do and leave to others their own responsibilities. 

I believe everyone struggles with the concept of compassion when face to face with personal fears and disappointments. At those times, it is understandably hard to muster up compassion. I remember years ago when our oldest son was missing. When he turned up safe I was so overcome with feelings of relief I had no compassion for his absent mindedness and showed anger…even though there was a Niagara Falls of love pouring from me in gratitude and relief. I believe my reaction was “normal” and so compassionately human.  

When all is said and done, I understand that compassion is best delivered to my own heart as I waffle between frustration, fear, and sometimes anger for the human condition. I tell myself it is only natural and understandable to have those feelings so I am reminded to nourish my own humanness with compassion, knowing the resolution and peace I long for lies somewhere outside the craziness of fear.

To hear a selection from David Whyte’s poetry please visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yG9DmvtZzNs