I’m forgettable

It’s a core wound I’ve carried with me since very early in my life, and I only just discovered it.

Sometimes big trauma comes in small packages.

I was in Grade 5, 10 years old. Excitement filled the air. I was proudly wearing my Brownies dress in the gymnasium at school with all the other Brownies who were old enough to get their wings and ‘fly up’ to become Girl Guides. We sat huddled on the floor in the middle of the gym, while our parents sat in rows of chairs near the back wall, just in front of the wall panels of wooden rungs and the retracted basket ball net. Sweet anticipation, celebratory rite of passage as we grow just a little taller and a little closer to womanhood.

One by one our supervisor called us up, shook our hand, gifted us our wings. One by one, each girl smiled big, walked up to the supervisor, received the wings, the accolades and the moment of glory, shook hands, then sat down again, a new young lady in her place.

So eager to grow up, I could barely contain myself, waiting patiently for my turn. Rita, Nicole, Jenny, Jennifer, Shannon, Kelly…name after name, smile after smile, applause after applause. And then it happened.

“Well thank you so Brownie Wingsmuch everyone for coming to this event, we’re going to wrap up now” beamed the supervisor. A small part of me died inside in that moment. My name was never called. I walked up to the supervisor as she continued to address the parents. I tugged on her sleeve. “You forgot me” I quietly choked on the words.

“My goodness, of course! I’m so sorry” she exclaimed. Unintentional and innocent, I know she felt terrible about the slip, I know she meant no harm. Yet the damage was done. They gave me my wings and shook my hand and the parents applauded. And it felt unceremonious, disingenuous, and unimportant.

Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I write this. This was about the time that I shifted from being someone who delights in the details, taking her time, appreciating every moment. This was the time I started pursuing straight A grades, achieving, perfecting, rushing. I started creating my avator, the ‘outgoing, smart, good-at-everything, caring, worthy’ girl.

My whole adult life I thought that the core wound I was chasing was “not good enough”. I felt like I had to stand out and excel in order to be ‘good enough’. What I realized last week was that it was never about being good enough. It was about my very existence. I just want people to know I exist. That I take up space in the world, and that I am here. Come the tears again. I just want to be included, seen, recognized, known. Remembered.

I have a core belief, “I’m forgettable”. This belief has created who I am today and how I perceive the world. It is suddenly so clear. Hello, core belief.

 

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Turn off the projector, laughs the jester

-The_Court_Jester-_(2)Majestic jester in jackal jokes
The guru guffaws, the giraffe chokes
On morsels of memories that block the flow
Now anger softens to bittersweet woe

Reign in the story, release the metaphory
Tap tap tap out the allegory
Up come core wounds, protect my soul
My dragon awakens, fire…takes a toll

An unmet need, a tragic belief
My innocence, jaded, seeks relief
Inside my storm I see the eye
My inner sense gives wings to fly

Turn off the projector, laughs the jester
Know the dark but do not let her
Shadow cast upon your path
Make you forget “This too shall pass”

ZEGG Forum: a glimpse of the future

Charles Eisenstein refers to it as ‘the story of separation’. heart-208223_960_720It’s an old story we all know and have lived. It began with a patriarchy that emerged several millennia ago, and beliefs around ownership and control that lead to a scarcity mentality that persists today in everything we do. This belief in limited resources fuels the mentality of jealousy, of toxic shame, disconnection, competition. If there is more for you, it means there is less for me.

But if you are lucky, there will come a moment in your life where you will see a flicker of hope and light. A sparkle in the eyes of a stranger perhaps, the words of Rumi, the bliss of silent meditation, or some other chance exposure to the infinite realms of love and intimacy. And suddenly you feel it: possibility. Eisenstein says that ‘once you have that experience, it lives inside of you, and it makes the old normal no longer even tolerable’.

And now you find yourself on a new path. One lined with compassion, abundance, connection, celebration. But that’s not all. You soon begin to find courage in your vulnerability, you start showing up in ever deeper layers of authenticity. And then you start to see them. Your shadows. The darkness is beginning to emerge, and it’s tumultuous, ugly, scary, and shameful, and what if the others find out? Will I still have a place to call home in this family, this community, in society at large?

I just spent three days with over thirty people, most of whom I had never met before. We came together with the intention to learn a technology called ZEGG forum. This method was developed in the 1970s with a goal of building community, creating cohesion and trust, and freeing ourselves from violence.

Over the course of just three days, our circle dove deep into the realms of our darkest fears, our deepest prayers, our most insurmountable blocks. We grieved together, cried together, laughed together, sang together. We comforted each other, we saw each other. Facilitator Kelly Bryson told us we weren’t there to heal, we were there to bring our shadows into the light. We gathered and shared in order to collectively tap into the universal, archetypal emotions and experiences of our lives. Our hearts collectively opened.

The retreat may have ended, but our story continues. Our story of separation is only a narrative. We will continue to join together, here and around the world, gathering momentum, with a common goal of re-writing our story. Reconnecting with each other, with nature, with love. The Forum is happening in our neighbourhoods, in our communities, and in healing biotopes like Tamera, around the world. A force field of love and abundance that is going to change everything.

We leave our retreat feeling stronger, reassured, and reconnected. This brief glimpse into the future renews both our faith and our resolve to keep doing the work.