Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Just Call Me Scarlett

People who know me even half decently have probably seen that look more times than they can count coming from my face, but that's not why you can call me Scarlett.

Let's back up...

A student of mine who is quite wise (and who coaches) talks to people about their "upper limits." It's that point that we all get to time and again, in cycles, where we have been doing pretty well and maybe starting to feel a bit cocky, like we've dealt with all the damn demons and we Got This.

Then, BAM!

The next lesson comes around and it feels...too hard, like too much, like, WHY ME!? ((insert super whiney ass voice here))

As if we are special and we can actually Complete Ourselves and never experience difficulty again.

Aren't we done GROWING, for God's sake?  And the answer, of course, is no.

This upper limit is the point where we really feel the hit of our head on a ceiling and we aren't sure we have it in us to go through this again or maybe we just do not FEEL LIKE IT. ((whiney voice again))

We have two choices, of course: We can stop and say NO! and then regress (and I witness this choice every so often -- meaning, All. The. Time.), or we can pull on our Big Girl Pants and get to WORK.

I am at a ceiling of sorts and it's covered in slime and gunk and it is giving off some funky-ass smell so my ceiling is definitely WORSE THAN YOURS. ((dramatic diva whiney voice))

Seriously, this stuff is bad. It's core level sorts of stuff about self-worth and shame and all of that. The BEST STUFF EVER. ((sarcasm sign))

I have come to realize that I do not/cannot relax into the beauty and love and light of my life because I always think there is MORE that I should/could be doing.

I worry that I will not meet my potential.  ((Insert rest of the typical over-achieving, perfectionist crap here))

I realized this: I could be teaching a dozen giant ass workshops all over the world every year. I coud be, like, famous even, and it would not. be. enough.

Because you know...a dozen giant ass workshops!? HA! What about TWO DOZEN giant ass times ten workshops?!

Where is that book you should have written, my demon yells!  Followed by: Where is that NEXT BOOK you should have written!?

Where are your TV APPEARANCES!?

You get the idea.

I'm pretty darn clear on where all of this comes from.  I could draw a map of the path I walked from the time I was born to right this spot.

I GET IT, okay?

But that doesn't mean I still don't have this struggle or that that damn ceiling dripping its stinky shitty gunk is not hanging over my head.


I went to teach my elders and it was a small, intimate class, and when this happens, there tends to be pre-class discussion more than when the classes are their usual sizes.

I know that I have a great resource in my elders, so I talked to them about this, which led to them sharing their current gunky ceiling crap.

We were all just witnessing each other and also sharing our two cents and one of them shared the thing that she fears she is and I blurted out, laughing (of course), in a Southern Belle accent, "Just call me Scarlett O'Hara! Lazy, ol' Scarlett who puts off for tomorrow..."and in my regular voice, I explained how I was called that from the time I was little.

I did not even hear myself, people.

Shirley, a wise and kind elder, said to me, "So that's it. You think you're lazy."

Why yes I do, thank you very much.

And no amount of Not Lazy will ever wash that off my damn ceiling.

At least, it feels that way. I am betting, though, that there are some industrial strength cleaners out there and I am on the hunt.

Oh...and when I was finally old enough to watch and understand Gone with the Wind, I LOVED Scarlett. LOVED HER.

When she says her tomorrow quote, I don't hear lazy; I hear HOPE.  Freaking HOPE. So there.