Lurking under the surface is my subconscious flashing yellow caution lights.  Maybe not to stop but to be on guard.   What if I actually were to feel good?  What would I do? Would I be me?  Would it be too much effort, too much pressure?  I may not feel well currently, and have not for a very long time, but I am familiar with me, familiar with my level of participating in life.   The idea of changing that is scary on this level.  It is difficult to imagine life not-as-I-know-it.

A few things are helping.  I first of all give myself permission to change my life only as much as I would like at any one point.   I could feel very well and not change a thing.  Actually, a lot would not change anyway.   My life stressors won’t immediately resolve (although I know that in the long run feeling good can lead to changing my circumstances).  I won’t get younger, nor will my mother.  My part of the country won’t get any cheaper–that is for sure– and the house we are trying to sell will not go up in value (for sure as well).  So, if all feeling good did was to make the same-old, same-old easier, that would be a lot.

If I want to begin to expand my life, I can try one thing at a time. If that seems like a good fit, I can continue. If not, I could drop or postpone that change. Remembering that I am in control of much of my life and that it ultimately only matters if my life fits me is also reassuring.  If I feel fantastic and do nothing but go to work, take care of “home-and-hearth”, and lounge around reading and watching TV, it is my choice.  It still would be a vast improvement over my current state.

So, here is permission to myself to feel as good as possible, to have energy, less or no pain, no depression or anxiety.  What I do with that wellness does not have to be decided except as I wish, and I can take as long as I wish to become acclimated to feeling good.  Knowing I have control, and choices, will go a long way to diminish the fear  and increase my ability to venture forward.

What ended up happening is that the blog seemed artificial and too much like my work.  I began to avoid writing at all.  So, my return is with a different end in mind, that of just exploring my own feelings and discoveries.  I am not trying to teach or develop material, just take my own journey.  Of course, that I am writing a blog at all, instead of just keeping my journal (which I always continue), means I am open to communicating and sharing.  I certainly learn from others and am happy if others learn from me. Presently, I do want that to be more serendipity than purpose.

This focusing-on-me approach stirs some interesting reactions.   “Who the hell would be interested in my personal crap?”    “This is extremely selfish of me.  I should be about helping others.”    “What is the point of doing a blog anyway if it just about me?”

The highly self-critical, dismissive voice within me is so completely evident here.  The “Tyranny of the Shoulds”   screams through the words.  This is in fact one of the central issues for me these days.  I am working on challenging that bully, that dictator, who so often has been in charge of my view of my self and even of how I live my life.  In part, I am trying to ignore the brutality and thereby disempower it.  “Whatever, whatever,”, I retort. I put my metaphoric hands over my ears and say,  “I’m not hearing you…”

It does seem to help.  The bully still is making an effort, but the impact is diminishing. I am challenging and overriding those self-limiting beliefs more and more.  At the very least, I am aware that there is nothing helpful to be gained by attending to them.

What also helps, and this brings me back in a way to blogging, is allowing myself the breathing space to emerge.  On these pages, and in life in general, I am trying to trust a more loving, less rigid inner guide.  Not so much a kind parent, but a mindful and wise being who shows me how to follow the path as it unfolds and to trust that I will be ok as I am. Where this guide leads will remain to be seen, so to be continued……

To some degree it is about what others might think of me.  This is certainly true if someone else will see/hear/read what I am doing.  And perhaps this underlies my anxiety more than I realize.  Maybe I am half-hoping, half-dreading an “audience”.

There is, however, a more complicated aspect to this.  Often it is my “internalized other” that looks for inadequacy to be exposed, especially if preceded by hubris.  I am my worst critic, my harshest judge.  There is something about even the possibility of thinking I am pretty good at something and then discovering I am not that terrifies me. It is along the lines of “pride goes before a fall”.  This does not even require anyone else’s presence or knowledge.

Added to the mix is feeling guilty if I am good at something and someone else, maybe not so much. I do remember feeling very guilty if I did well in school and my next-in-line sibling struggled.  Somehow my success seemed to diminish him and it was my fault for doing well.   I didn’t stop working hard in school, just felt very guilty at times.

Also, being the first child of very accomplished parents triggered those “Mini-me” feelings of which I have written previously.  In my mind, anything I did could be revealed as “less than” and therefore humiliating.  Compared to the standards I set for myself, I never could do/be the real thing.

At present, I am attempting to challenge these beliefs and emotions.  Although I know they are not rational, they still exert a strong power over me and interfere with a very significant portion of my life and well-being.

So starting with creativity and considering my life as a whole, I see these themes appear and reappear.  The challenge is to continue to explore the deepest levels and work through to emerge to greater creative and emotional freedom.

Some of this may be due to anxiety.   I feel so out of my element exploring artistic endeavors that I think I begin to panic.   Maybe I don’t feel entitled to see myself as someone who can make art or music or whatever.  Maybe I am scared of the exhilaration of the process.  It is almost too intense to be tolerated. It certainly challenges some of my beliefs about myself and that is always disorienting and frightening.

One of these beliefs is that it is not polite to kvell about oneself.  Even if no one else knows, to openly acknowledge even to myself that I have a talent, a gift, is unseemly and self-aggrandizing.  Along the lines of “pride goes before a fall”, there is the underlying fear of being exposed as being awful at something in which you took pride.  The potential humiliation is unbearable for me.

I do come back however.  Maybe not right away, but my urge to engage in the creative process overcomes my anxiety, allows me to challenge those limiting beliefs. I am trying to talk myself through the fears and carry on instead of retreating as I have done in the past.  Each time I do return, my joy also returns  and I realize that I no longer can ignore those aspects of myself clamoring to be heard.

So maybe I will try again.  This time I will attempt to be more myself, less “wise” (that won’t be hard), and less BC (Blog-Correct).  Or, maybe not.  In any case, here I am.

As I was walking home from doing errands in my adorable “real-town” town, I felt that a lot of my life is in place and I like that.  Maybe that does reflect the theme of evolving.  Much of my life’s path has resulted in some good choices and some active control of my life.  At the same time, I often experience my life as a sweater I am knitting that is unravelling  almost apace.  Once-in-a-while, I knit more than is undone, but not for long.   Speeding up the knitting doesn’t seem to help, so I need to find a different approach.

I think the areas over which I have less control contribute to this.  Dealing with a chronic health condition is definitely one of those.  It’s not life-threatening, but there is no cure and no clearcut treatment.  Feeling like crap most of the time does not contribute to my feeling in charge of my life. I will give myself credit for working very hard on managing.   Keeping my weight relatively ok, mostly eating healthy food, exercising some, all are ways I do attempt to influence the course of my condition.  I don’t crawl under the covers, although it is often tempting.   I also keep trying new approaches, although nothing helps much.  In this case, that I am even still knitting is major.

My work is another unraveller.  At this point (61) and with the above-mentioned health issues, I would so like to work part-time.  Living in one of the most expensive areas of the country and having made some not-so-great financial choices along the way (I am very un-evolved in that arena) precludes that choice at present.  Perhaps the way I  can take more charge is to keep working on achieving the goal of reduced work.  It can’t happen right now, but maybe have a vision of the future and of how I want to live my life will help.

Extending the sweater metaphor, if I visualize my ideal sweater, maybe I can keep knitting even if I have to reknit the parts that come undone.   My life as sweater…not exactly lofty, but it kind of fits where I am right now.  I even have a sweater in mind.  It is a cardigan with a shawl collar, not too bulky a knit,  and the colors are deep plum, black, some purple, some burgundy, some grape.   It is rich, deep, somewhat formal but not fussy, has a lot of visual layers, is somewhat reserved, is feminine but not girly.  It is sensual and comfortable. It is a perfect fit and goes with a lot of what is already in my closet. As important as how it looks and feels is the knowledge that I have designed and made the sweater myself.  Further, the sweater reflects my style in all the nuances .  Someone could make a sweater pretty close to mine, and that would be fine, but it would not be an exact duplicate.  That is how it should be.

I often am inspired to do this and start the process only to find I get stuck mid-transformation.  I feel like a Transformer robot who is stuck half-way between being a truck and a humanoid. Parts of me stays “truck”, parts emerge as human, but the whole doesn’t work.  I then either remain some-of-one-some-of-the-other or retreat back to my early self.

As I was writing the above, I suddenly looked at my blog’s name–”stillevolving”–and thought, “Maybe that is the issue in part”.  Evolving is not sudden transformation but a slow, sometimes unclear process.  I guess I am impatient for the goal and the outcome.  I want to know the form I/my life will take, and I want it to happen soon.  At 60, I am nervous about waiting too long for this to happen, but pushing doesn’t seem to help.

What I hope to learn is to balance evolving with transforming.  The patience for allowing the evolution, but the focus and energy of transformation are perhaps a good combination. Perhaps some sort of synergy between the two will get me unstuck and allow me to emerge, to go to the next level.

Whenever I-or most people– begin to make major changes in life and/or sense of self, these beliefs get challenged.  This triggers an “all alert” signal that then begins to send out warnings.  These warnings are sometimes very subtle and indirect at first and may be ignored.  However, they get louder and louder and may eventually sabotage the change being considered.

The trick is to be very aware of this process and of the likelihood that attempting change will trigger a  reaction.  Then the task is to bring these beliefs to the light so they can begin to be challenged. Often, once exposed and processed, these ideas become weakened and may no longer be an obstacle. Of course, this may be an ongoing process because such a strong belief system will not relinquish easily.  It usually requires revisiting the issues over and over  before their power is diminished.

Often I discover that when the obstacle of unconscious, limiting belief is cleared, I sail forth, at least until the next change challenges the next set of beliefs and I start the process over again.  And so it goes…

Having said that, I do think that awareness of my choices and consequences have become increasingly important, as is true in every other area of my life.  These metaphors and comparisons are endless so it would seem.

If I just keep bringing in more and more stuff, eventually I will feel cluttered, stuffed, distracted, even overwhelmed.  There is something calming about uncluttered space and in being  easily able to access what I do have. This is a direction towards which I find myself  continuing to move.   Too sparse seems cold and impersonal, but there is definitely a tipping point.   Comfortable, personal, and abundant while neither suffocating nor confusing is my guide for my home and for my lifestyle.

This does mean choosing what and how much I bring into my environment.  Although difficult as this is at times, it is also freeing.  It helps me fully appreciate what I have as well.  Whatever comes in should matter, although a little room for junk is important for me as well.

I also need to bear in mind that whatever I bring into my domain will require my attention, in the present and in the future.  Clothes need cleaning and fixing, books need dusting every so often, CD’s need to get put in their little boxes, electronics are going to break….There is a cost associated with every acquisition.  This is often monetary, but may also be in time spent, space taken up, attention needing to be paid.  Not a problem if recognized and freely chosen, but in the past, I have not adequately predicted the ongoing costs and I have felt a slave to my things.

As with most aspects of my life, this is a work in progress.  I am trying to live more mindfully in general, and this extends to the material plane of existence.  I am not about depriving myself, nor do I think I get “cosmic points” for living without. Rather, I want to experience and enjoy my life to the fullest.  Bringing into my life that which matters most to me and  that which I am also willing to maintain, seems one of the ways to work towards the goal of evolved living.

Let’s say I want to make a nourishing, satisfying, interesting, and filling dish.  I find a recipe that seems like it might help me achieve this.  The recipe lists the ingredients and the steps needed to be followed with the reasonable expectation that results will approach the desired outcome.

I may recognize immediately that certain ingredients and/or steps won’t work for my needs and I might consider substitutes.  I hope these variations won’t wreck the dish I am preparing, but feel the risk is worth it in order to make the recipe fit me.

Next I seek the best ingredients I can find.  Even if this means an extensive search, that is ok.  I do not want to settle.  Of course, reality might limit me to some extent and I might choose a bit of  junk here or there, but  by choice, not default.  I also check for any tools I might need to implement the cooking.  Sometimes I can improvise.

Once all is gathered, I start the prep and cooking.  As I go, I might find I need to make further adjustments.  Add something here,  reduce something there as I refine to meet my tastes.  I look forward to the results but know I can never quite control the outcome. Maybe that is part of the eager anticipation, the mystery.

Success?  Not so much? Disaster?  Whatever the results, I can be content.  At the very least I have learned something and, at best, I may have discovered a truly wonderful source of satisfaction and nourishment. Best of all, there is no limit to the new recipes I can discover and adapt as long as I am in the kitchen.

This year has been kind of rough and the darkness seems to be getting to me more, so I decided to try it again.  Since the light is supposed to be used in the morning, and that is when I also do my pages (called “Morning Pages” for a reason, after all), I decided to combine them.

It’s only been a few days, as I mentionned, but I already feel a difference.  I am less depressed, more energetic, more open to the creative energy released by the writing.  There seems to be a synergy between the light and writing.

One minor problem is seeing spots for a while after–maybe I’m looking  too directly into the light–but I’ll work that out.

Light boxes are expensive, but I am realizing that it does make a difference to the quality of life and that makes it worth it.   A one time expense for an hundredfold benefit!  Finding that the witing and the light support and augment each other is one of those  serendipitous discoveries that can open unexpected possibilities.