Tag Archives: negative thinking

Rejection Therapy

Posted on April 5, 2015 | 2 comments

It’s only Day 3 of my Rejection Therapy and already I’ve learned so much. On Day 1, I asked Danny from The Script out on a date. I haven’t heard back from him but he’s currently in the middle of a world tour so I can forgive him for being a bit busy to respond to a Tweet from a crazy stranger.

As I ponder my courage at asking out an international superstar, I wonder if it’d be harder to ask out someone in “real life”. Someone who’s actually met me. A real live man (Sorry Danny, you’re a real live man too but ya know what I mean).

If a real live man rejected me, I couldn’t brush off the rejection by saying things like: Ah sure he’s probably busy dodging the paparazzi, selling out arenas and shagging Tulisa. Sorry Danny. I’m definitely not going to bag a date with him at this rate.

I’ve also had the awareness that I’d find it way more challenging to have Danny agree to go on a date with me. Therefore, it’s not always rejection or failure that I’m afraid of.

I’m terrified of success because then I’ll be tested and judged on it and I’ll have to prove my worth to the world. And that sounds like way too much pressure! No wonder I prefer not to put myself out there at all.

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Yesterday, on a beautiful hike, one of my friends decided to join the Rejection Therapy game. As part of it, we said hello to most oncoming hikers.

It’s amazing how something as simple as greeting a stranger can bring up a strange fear of rejection. What if they ignore me? However, we were met with such friendliness that we smiled and laughed our way up the mountain.

One man didn’t respond to my friend. She reacted with celebration. “Yay, I got rejected,” she exclaimed as she pumped her fist in the air. It’s extraordinary how different things feel when you change your perspective.

I said hello to a man who coughed at me. Is that rejection? After going so big on Day 1, being coughed at seemed like a bit of an anti-climax. So I took another action and posted the following on Facebook:

“Does anyone want to do something fun/funny/adventurous/inspiring with me tomorrow? I haven’t made any plans and would love to see what you lovely people suggest…”

One friend, who knows about the challenge I’ve set myself, told me: “NO WAY SHARON!!” But I didn’t feel rejected by that. It just made me laugh.

My cousin jokingly invited me to supervise her kids during their 6.30am breakfast. I’ve been known to be a bit gullible so I wasn’t entirely sure if she was being serious.

I really didn’t want to get up at the crack (excuse the pun) of dawn on Easter Sunday. Oh no, I thought. Is part of this Rejection Therapy having to do the rejecting?

Turns out I try to avoid being the rejector (is that a thing?) because A) I don’t want to hurt/offend anyone and B) I want to be liked. So if I reject someone and they don’t like me for it then I’m being rejected. Phew, see how sneaky this rejection stuff is?

In that moment, I realised that just because I say no to someone doesn’t mean that I’m rejecting them. It just means that I have other plans or I don’t want to participate in that particular activity.

If that’s the case for me, then the reverse is also true. When people say no to me, they’re not rejecting me either.

Let’s return to the Real Live Man for a moment. If he “rejects” me, it may well be that he doesn’t like my personality or appearance (and even that’s okay because, thankfully, we all have different tastes). But it could just as easily be that he’s unavailable/not looking for a relationship/having a bad hair day.

I’m reminded of Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements. Two such Agreements are: Don’t Take Anything Personally and Don’t Make Assumptions. If I don’t make assumptions or take things personally, then nothing can hurt. I can’t be rejected because nothing is personal.

And if I can’t be rejected, then do I really need to continue this challenge for the rest of the month?

But as I write this, I have another insight. I don’t have to actually get rejected by anyone because I can feel rejected whenever I choose.

Sometimes, I feel rejected when someone goes quiet, can’t meet, cancels plans or doesn’t reply to a text/Facebook message. Sometimes, I feel rejected when a person’s in bad form/doesn’t laugh at my jokes/looks at me funny.

My fear of rejection is so all-encompassing that I’d probably feel rejected if the wind stopped blowing in my direction. What have I done to make the wind dislike me?

So yes, I really do need to continue my Rejection Therapy. I’m open to any suggestions, people. But I might reject them. Just sayin’.

My friend and I hiking/getting rejected

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Posted in Personal development, Positive Thinking, Random

Tagged acceptance, adventure, assumptions, attraction, awareness, beauty, beliefs, blog, blogger, blogging, bravery, celebrity, challenge, children, courage, danny o'donoghue, dating, delusion, desire, difficulty, don miguel ruiz, don't make assumptions, don't take anything personally, easter, emotions, empowerment, excitement, facebook, fame, fear, feelings, freedom, friendship, hiking, humour, hurt, illusion, insight, inspiration, jokes, judgement, laughter, letting go, life, living, looks, love, men, music, nature, negative thinking, negativity, offence, openness, paparazzi, perception, personality, popstar, positive thinking, positivity, pressure, presumptions, questioning, reality, rejection, rejection therapy, relationships, self-worth, sex, social media, the four agreements, the script, thinking, tulisa, tweet, twitter, women, writing

Oh Danny Boy!

Posted on April 3, 2015 | 4 comments

Following on from last night’s promise to get rejected once a day by another human being, I’ve decided to ask Danny O’Donoghue out on a date. Yes, the Danny O’Donoghue from international superstar band The Script, who was a judge on The Voice UK, and who has been romantically linked with famous, drop-dead gorgeous singers and models. I don’t do things in halves.

Yesterday, I heard on the radio that Danny had signed up for dating app Tinder and couldn’t get a single date because nobody believed it was him. Or at least that’s his excuse.

This morning, with my thoughts about Rejection Therapy and Danny O’Donoghue’s woeful love life bumping around in that crazy head of mine, I came up with the genius idea of asking one of Ireland’s most famous musical frontmen out on a date.

Not that I’ve ever fantasised about Danny or put his posters on my wall or even attended one of his gigs. Sorry Danny. But I could grow to love you if you just give me a chance. But because the rule is to get rejected once a day. Not to try to get rejected but to actually get rejected.

And the likelihood that Danny O’Donoghue, who’s probably in London right now getting ready for his performance on The Voice UK live final, will say yes to a date with a non-famous, random stranger who has the balls to cold-call/social-media-stalk him are slim to none. I know, I know, think positive. But I’m positively chuffed with myself for even dreaming up this craziness.

Initially, I considered joining Tinder just so I could find him. But then I’d have to sign up, scroll through endless pages of men (#firstworldproblems), hopefully match with him and then pluck up the courage to ask him out. He might not be in the country (which means he won’t appear in my search). And he’s probably already deleted his account after being rejected by every woman in Tinderland.

I decided to direct message him on Twitter but could find no option to do so. Probably so he isn’t inundated with mails from crazy ladies like myself.

Then, I actually toyed with the idea of tweeting him. Publicly. So I could suffer my rejection in front of all of his 1.12 million followers. But I’d only have 123 characters to sell myself and that just isn’t enough. No matter how awesome I think I am.

Instead, I’m writing this post and I’m going to tweet a link of it to him. Here goes…

Dear Danny,

My name is Sharon Vogiatzi and I would like to ask you out on a date. I heard on the radio yesterday that you couldn’t get a single date on Tinder and because I’m a kind and compassionate (and beautiful and not at all crazy) person, I’ve decided to ask you out.

I’m also asking you out because I’ve just challenged myself to get rejected once a day by another human being (there is method to this madness, I promise). And the likelihood of you actually saying yes to a random self-helping stranger is probably slim to none.

Now, if you really would like to take me out on a date (or I can take you out, I’m easy-going like that), but you worry that you’ll mess up my challenge, that’s okay. My answer is yes. I will go out with you. I’ll just get rejected by somebody else. No biggie.

In case you’d like to know more about me before you agree, I’m 34 (So are you. I googled you. It must be fate). I’m an acupuncturist, a Life Coach and a blogger.

And if this Twitter account isn’t managed by Danny, please show Danny this cringetastic letter. For the craic. He’s Irish and loves the craic.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours (too soon?)

Sharon Vogiatzi.

I feel so much anxiety in my chest right now that I might actually swoon (Hopefully Danny will too. Swoon that is, not feel anxiety, although he probably should.)

Right, I’m off to tweet Danny O’Donoghue (eek!) and try to fill my lungs with oxygen. Wish me luck!

I’m trying!

Image: keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

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Posted in Love, Modern Society, Personal development, Positive Thinking, Random

Tagged acupuncture, acupuncturist, anxiety, blog, blogging, bravery, breathing, celebrities, challenge, courage, craic, crazinesss, crush, danny o'donoghue, dating, empowerment, fear, first world problems, google, help me blog, insanity, ireland, irish, jason comely, life coach, love, luck, marianne power, negative thinking, negativity, positive thinking, positivity, rejection, rejection therapy, relationships, romance, social media, stalking, the script, the voice uk, twitter

Crushed

Posted on March 31, 2015 | Leave a comment

I have a crush. In order to protect (some of) my pride, I won’t describe the lucky man.

What I will divulge is that he’s refreshingly different from my usual type. I feel pleased that men like him exist. I feel hopeful.

I’ve spent the past few days thinking about my crush, imagining the fascinating conversations we’d have, and visualising the things we could do, share and enjoy together.

Every so often, I’d remember to be present. Minutes later, my mind would flick to a feel-good collage of images of the two of us attending gigs, climbing mountains and curling up together in front of a movie.

Yet again, I’d jerk myself back to the present moment. And so the cycle continued.

This evening, I learned that my oblivious crush has a girlfriend. I tried to hide my disappointment as I nodded and smiled/grimaced at the friend who relayed this devastating news.

I felt embarrassed for harbouring such ridiculous romantic notions. Then, I decided to open up to my friend.

As the words poured out, I found myself saying: “Sure I hardly know him. I just like the idea of him.”

I realised that my disappointment wasn’t so much about this man’s relationship status as it was about my hopes being annihilated. The discovery that my crush was unavailable confirmed, according to my negative thought process, that there’s no hope for me to ever experience a healthy, fulfilling relationship with a great guy.

I acknowledged my feelings then continued to have a wonderful evening while actually managing to stay present.

As I drive home tonight, through the silent beauty of the dark Curragh plains, I have another awareness around my disappointment. I’m trying to control what I think might be good for me. I’m attempting to make someone I’ve met only a handful of times fit into the perfect boyfriend shape.

I realise that I really don’t know what’s best for me. But when I let go and allow what’s meant for me to unfold, something even better than I could ever imagine will manifest.

Romance is winging its way to me. I can feel it…

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Posted in Love, Personal development

Tagged allowing, attachment, awareness, beliefs, confidence, control, crush, daydreaming, depression, disappointment, embarrassment, emotions, expectations, fantasy, feelings, friendship, future, honesty, hope, hopelessness, imagination, letting go, life, limiting beliefs, living, love, mindfulness, negative thinking, negativity, openness, positive thinking, presence, present moment, pride, projections, relationships, romance, sadness, self-esteem, self-worth, surrender, thinking, thoughts, universe, visualisation

The Naked Eye

Posted on February 9, 2015 | Leave a comment

I enter my friend’s bedroom in search of a particular book. I know what the book looks like and it isn’t here. My friend comes in and finds it instantly.

It has been lying, face down, on her bedside locker. I had been looking for the green front cover that was so familiar to me so I hadn’t recognised its white back cover.

We muse over this. When I’m searching for something, I presume to know how it should look. So I’m not open to seeing it when it appears in a different form.

A while later, I want to read up on something else. My friend informs me that the book I need should be in the bookcase in the hall. I methodically scan the books on the shelves. My internal dialogue revs up.

The book is probably right here but you can’t even see it. You’re so unobservant. In your line of work, you should be more astute. And you’re a writer. Come on, Sharon. Find the book!

I give up. My friend suggests that the book could be on her bedside locker. I open the door, turn to the left and bend towards the locker. I am so focused on my task that I don’t notice what’s right in front of me. An entire human being!

My friend’s 18-year-old son stands facing me, with a small towel wrapped around his waist. I straighten immediately, tell him how sorry I am, and flee the room. My friend and I collapse with laughter when I describe what’s just happened.

I have been berating myself for not seeing what’s right in front of me. So it takes something big (a scantily clad human being) to show me the humour in it all. I can enjoy the moment and laugh at myself.

Last week, I started a course. On the first night, I was surprised at how quickly everybody opened up to one another. My fellow classmates were great speakers and excellent storytellers. I remained silent and listened with interest.

We broke for tea. Everyone continued chatting. I still hadn’t spoken. I noticed people looking at me curiously.

And I was okay with that. I didn’t care what anyone else thought of me. I understood that sometimes it takes me a little longer to feel comfortable around strangers.

Towards the end of the evening, I spoke up. I hadn’t rushed myself. This was the right time for me.

It may have taken me thirty-four years but I now accept myself for all of my strengths, struggles and idiosyncrasies. I accept my introverted tendencies. I accept the ditzy part of myself. I accept my inner critic.

And I accept that sometimes I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice what’s right in front of me. Even if it is a half-naked man.

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Tagged acceptance, appearances, awareness, blindness, books, development, form, friendship, giving up, growth, gullible, humour, idiosyncrasies, illusion, inner critic, introvert, laughter, naive, negative thinking, openness, perception, presence, reading, searching, seeing, self-acceptance, self-analysis, self-awareness, self-love, strengths, struggle, teasing, thinking, thoughts, vision, work, writer

Fairy Story

Posted on January 13, 2015 | Leave a comment

Last night, as I flicked through an old copy book in search of an empty page, I stumbled upon a Fairy Story that I’d been asked to write as part of an Inner Child workshop I’d taken part in a while back. Here it is…

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, perfect little princess called Sharabella. There was something about this girl that shone brilliantly from within. You could see it in the sparkle of her eyes and her fun-loving laugh.

People loved to be around Sharabella. She didn’t even have to do anything. People just felt better after having been in her presence.

This was Princess Sharabella’s magic gift. She simply had to be herself and others were healed. All was well in this magical kingdom.

However, there came a time when Princess Sharabella was needed in a very different kingdom. A kingdom that was full of pain, sadness and suffering. The Powers That Be decided that Princess Sharabella could help transform this kingdom’s pain into love and beauty.

Sharabella landed on this kingdom filled with peace and optimism. What Princess Sharabella hadn’t counted on was how much skepticism and resistance she’d face.

Slowly over time, poor Sharabella began to doubt her magic powers. She started to wonder if she really was as perfect and beautiful as she’d once believed.

It was such a struggle trying to change these people’s way of looking at things so Sharabella began to shut up and shut down.

Her beautiful light dimmed more and more over the years until one day, when The Powers That Be paid this dark, gloomy kingdom a visit, they no longer recognised beautiful Princess Sharabella.

Sharabella was tired, grey and depressed. When The Powers That Be finally realised who she was, they asked her what had happened.

At first, Princess Sharabella didn’t know what they were talking about. “This is who I am now,” she stated gruffly. “I’m ugly and useless and this kingdom would be better off without me.”

“But once upon a time, you were Princess Sharabella – the most beautiful, luminous, perfect creature, with the gift of healing others with your mere presence,” The Powers That Be exclaimed.

Nobody realised that an outsider had overheard their conversation. A crippled old lady had witnessed the whole exchange. She was moved to tears by Sharabella’s despondence. If a Princess despised herself so much, what hope did the rest of them have?

The old lady couldn’t help but speak out. “Excuse me,” she interrupted as she leaned on her walking cane. “I’m confused. I have to ask: What is a Princess doing in this horrible kingdom? This place is filled with hate and destruction. Us citizens know no different. We’re used to this life. But you? I urge you to get out. Save yourself, while you still can!”

The lady trembled with urgency while The Powers That Be stood there, uncertain as to how to proceed.

Slowly, Sharabella looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She started to sob – loud, uncontrollable gulps of emotion.

As she cried, her cloudy, grey eyes turned to bright blue. Her ashen complexion became rosy pink. A brilliant light flickered, then started to beam out with such magnificence that everybody dropped to their knees in awe.

In this moment, Sharabella realised that she was not the ugly, depressed woman she had grown to believe she was. She remembered that she was the beautiful, perfect Princess that was her birthright. It had simply become unclear and difficult to express in a kingdom that had never accepted such perfection.

If she could heal people in her old kingdom, she knew she could do it here too. But not if she continued believing that she was ugly and worthless.

Suddenly the old lady, inspired by what she had just witnessed, ran away, excited to tell her friends and family what had just happened.

“She forgot her walking cane,” Sharabella said. And Princess Sharabella and The Powers That Be laughed and laughed.

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Tagged beauty, being, beliefs, change, clarity, depression, destruction, doubt, elsa, emotion, expression, fairy story, fairy tale, frozen, gifts, hatred, healing, hope, inner child, light, love, magic, negative thinking, pain, perfection, perspective, positive thinking, power, presence, sadness, self-acceptance, self-esteem, self-hatred, self-love, self-worth, society, struggle, suffering, transformation, ugliness

Holiday

Posted on September 22, 2014 | Leave a comment

I’m just back from what I can genuinely say was my best holiday so far. Practising presence has really paid off.

Being present enabled me to treasure each moment for what it was, without labelling it, predicting its expiry date or viewing it through a haze of longing or attempted prolonging.

Everything unfolded perfectly. Whatever happened was the way it was meant to be. I even enjoyed the day-long trek to Athens via Stansted. I chatted to friends, read, slept and conversed with fellow travellers.

When I arrived in Greece, I soaked up the heat, the smell, the ancient language and the ardent stares of the hot-blooded males. My friends and I lapped up the attention and the compliments. We flirted and joked and laughed so hard that tears came.

I sat in silence on a ferry as dawn set the sky on fire. I sipped frappes in the blaze of the morning. And I shared cocktails with family as we watched the journey of the ball of glowing sun until the last of its embers trickled into the horizon.

When the boat was over an hour late, I delighted in the extra time in Paros where I people-watched from the port café and availed of the free WiFi.

I relished every mouthful of tzatziki-filled gyros and olive oil-drenched salads. I savoured the evenings as my friends and I swallowed beer, applied makeup, put on fashion shows, danced and sang.

I felt gratitude for the time I spent with my father as we lunched beneath the Acropolis.

I snorkelled with the fish and mermaided underneath the water. I was truly present as I floated in the sea, my body pressed towards the sky.

And when the impatient bus driver took us the long way around the island, I appreciated the view of places I hadn’t yet seen. I giggled as the driver shouted at passengers, beeped and gestured furiously, and belted around precariously narrow bends. He caught my eye in the mirror, winked and turned the music up loud.

Occasionally, my mind put up a road-block but I simply noted it and veered around it. I was aware of the impact of my thoughts and I reminded myself to stay present.

A few times, a “bad” feeling descended. Whereupon, I allowed myself to really feel it. I uncovered the thought process behind it. Once I recognised its source, I was able to let it go.

On my last day in Athens, I visited my grandmother. We said all that we could say in our limited Greek and English, then sat back and watched each other as we sucked on ice creams. Then, she started to cry. I too became emotional.

In the bathroom, as I collected myself, I realised that the reason I was feeling so upset was because I had had the thought: This could be the last time I see my grandmother.

I brought myself back to the present, returned to my grandmother, touched her ninety-year-old skin and told her that she’s beautiful and I love her.

And now, as the bus carts me back to Newbridge, I try to shake the sinking feeling that most holiday-makers catch at the end of their vacation. This time however, I see it for what it is: habit.

I’ve had an amazing holiday. And now I’m hurtling back to “reality”. I’m being dragged away from the aquamarine waters of Antiparos and Mykonos and plunged into a swamp of thought-induced depression.

But that’s all in my mind. I look out the window. The fields are green and the sun is shining.

I’m not in Greece. But I’m also not in Ireland. Not really. I am me. I am now. And it is what it is.

Images: Author’s Own

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Tagged antiparos, athens, beauty, depression, family, friends, future, greece, holiday, hope, mind, mykonos, negative thinking, now, past, positive thinking, presence, present, romance, stansted, thinking, thoughts, travel, vacations

Practising Presence

Posted on September 9, 2014 | Leave a comment

I’m over a week into my challenge to be present. I could tell you that I’m completely zen, that I’ve attained enlightenment, and that I’m connected with and full of love for the entire universe. But I won’t do that.

I’ll be honest. I’m not there just yet. I’m definitely not present all the time. I’m probably not even present half the time. However, the knock-on effect from simply setting this challenge is that it’s making me much more aware. And once you’re aware, you begin to wake up.

I’m looking at my thoughts and feelings with interest. Rather than scolding myself for not being perfect, I’m observing my reactions with curiosity and humour. And when I notice my mind fleeing from the present, I’m now able to catch the tail of my projections and coax myself back to centre.

I recognise that I always have a choice as to how I feel in any given moment. I can decide which thoughts to believe. I can question my assumptions. And I can release stagnant patterns so that life flows with ease, joy and abundance.

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For most of my life, the extravaganza of my ego hypnotised me. But now that I’m sampling pure pockets of peace, this mindfulness jazz tastes like more.

Today, I sit in the September sun. For fear of doing nothing, I walk outside armed with phone, book, journal and iPod. But I get a sense that I’m doing this out of habit. I ignore the paraphernalia, put my feet up, tilt my face skyward, and appreciate the wine-stained autumn leaves and the heat on my toes. The crumpled clouds remind me of a morning strand, slick from a recent tide.

This evening though, I huff and puff over the stories my mind barrages me with. Again, it dawns on me that I’m doing this out of habit. I take a breath, drop into my core, and let it go.

In bed tonight, my mind visits many foreign and oft-explored destinations. At first, I indulge these memories, fantasies and nightmares. Then, I shift out of the nonsense and into the present. Only in presence do I realise that my body is clenched and I’m not lying in a comfortable position. I give myself permission to relax.

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If you want to become more present, remember that practice makes “perfect”. It may be helpful to figure out which places and techniques assist you with the process. Being in nature usually grounds me. So does concentrating on my breath.

And yes, it is easier to be present when faced with a special moment or a spectacular view. Being present comes effortlessly when you gaze at the enormous moon in a glittering sky. Or when you watch the holiday sun melt into the horizon. Or when you turn your attention to your other senses – sinking into a yoga pose after a long day; the sensation of a lover’s touch; the strangely comforting sound of the roaring rain and wailing wind at your window.

But what about all the other moments? How can you be present during the difficult, sad and angry episodes? Can you maintain your presence of mind, body and spirit throughout the mundane and the chaotic? When you’re stuck in traffic or shuffling at the back of a massive queue? When you’re exhausted after a trialling time or choked up with dread over an imminent event?

Don’t worry if your desire to be present doesn’t manifest immediately or if it vanishes at the first sign of struggle. Simply be aware of how you are. The key is to treat yourself with compassion. Whenever I have trouble with mindfulness, I recall a friend’s suggestion:

“You must be gentle with yourself. Each time you attach to thought and abandon the present moment, bring yourself back with the lightest nudge. Like with the soft top of a paintbrush.”

With practice, presence will start to become automatic. Because it’s our natural state. We just got a little lost along the way. We got caught up in the adventure, we drank in too much drama, and our vision grew blurry.

But now that I’m sobering up, I can focus on the path home, and I finally understand that I don’t have to travel very far. I don’t have to go anywhere at all. I just have to be.

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Tagged abundance, adventure, anger, anxiety, assumptions, attachment, awareness, breath, breathing, centre, challenge goal, chaos, choice, concentration, core, curiosity, daydreaming, difficulty, drama, effort, ego, emotions, exhaustion, fantasy, fear, feelings, flow, focus, freedom, future, grounding, habit, humour, interest, joy, letting go, life, living, love, lover, meditation, memories, mind, mindfulness, moments, mundane, nature, negative thinking, nightmare, now, pain, past, patterns, peace, practice, presence, present, questions, reactions, relationships, relaxation, release, sadness, self-acceptance, self-compassion, self-love, senses, september, sight, sound, stress, suffering, sunshine, thinking, thoughts, touch

What Happens to This Moment?

Posted on September 8, 2014 | Leave a comment

It is a beautiful day. My companion and I stroll through the woods, picking shamrocks and blackberries. We touch the thick trunks of towering trees, admire the hawthorn, and sniff purple lupine and yellow furze.

We stand for several minutes, gazing out at a stunning view of the Mourne mountains, the sun on the water, and the unexpected sight of a large round moon in the cornflower sky.

I break the silence and ask, “How present are you?”

He pauses then says: “There are a few ways I can be right now. I could be all about the other person – you. I could be totally present within myself. Or I could be present to myself and to another human being simultaneously. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

Later, we discuss the topic further. My friend recalls a Byron Katie quote:

“The end of suffering is to not project a future even one nanosecond away from now, whether you’re experiencing a terrorist attack or just doing the dishes.”

He adds: “We’re always thinking: ‘What’s next? What’s next?’ And when we’re doing that, what happens to this moment?”

“We’re not there for it,” I respond.

I realise that, even while speaking about presence, I’m catapulting myself out of the present by planning and daydreaming, hoping and worrying, fantasising and catastrophising. I’m stepping ten minutes into the future, leaping into next week and somersaulting over decades.

When I’m doing that, what happens to this moment?

I take a breath deep into my centre, look into his eyes and smile.

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Tagged byron katie, catastrophising, doubt, fantasy, fear, future, hopes, hurt, nature, negative thinking, now, past, present moment, projecting, relationships, thinking, thoughts, walking, worry

Thoughtclouds

Posted on September 5, 2014 | Leave a comment

It’s been a roller coaster of a week. I hurtled into shock, grief, disappointment and confusion. And I soared with laughter, love, joy and beauty.

For the month of September, I’ve decided to be present. And for the first few days, my commitment to this challenge has really been tested.

Instead of beating myself up over being less than perfectly present, I’m glad that I’m aware when I swing high above and far below the present moment.

When I experience a rush of happiness, I look at it with curiosity. I can see that this feeling was born by a thought. A fleeting image of an interesting man I’ve been chatting with. I detach from the reverie and come back to the present.

When I tell myself I’m in a bad mood, I question it. Am I this feeling? Does it belong to me? I examine it. I realise that I feel this way because I just read a message from a friend who’s depressed.

If she’s feeling unwell, should I feel lousy too? Is it my responsibility to make her better? I need to cut the cord that I have loving placed around both our necks before we strangle one another completely. I unravel the attachment and step back into the present.

When I believe a thought, I adhere importance to it. A feeling arises from this connection. This can occur so quickly that it’s difficult to spot the sequence. Now that I understand what’s happening, I ask myself: What am I choosing to believe? And is that true?

This evening, I flake out on the armchair and watch the thoughts that dance for my attention. What can I say to help her? Will I go to badminton tonight? Would it be better to drive to the airport next week or get the bus? Maybe she doesn’t like me any more. Will I grow old gracefully? I wonder if we’ll fancy one another… I need to make an appointment for a bikini wax. What’ll I wear tomorrow night? Where am I going to live? Is everything okay?

The thoughts shimmy before me and I am exhausted. I decide that I’m too tired to think. I just couldn’t be bothered.

I could simply be present. Isn’t that where I want to be anyway? Isn’t that where I am? Spiritual teacher Mooji said:

“You’re like the infinite sky. Can any clouds come and stay? Everything is passing, everything is passing. Will you fall in love with a cloud? How long will your relationship last?”

Thoughts come. Thoughts go. Feelings surface. Feelings change. Nothing is permanent. Nothing stays the same. Everything passes, like clouds.

Why then should I fear what won’t last? And why should I hold tight to things that cannot remain? I’d rather not waste time and energy when there really is no point in doing so.

So I sit here, close my eyes and breathe. And the thoughts pass. Like clouds.

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Posted in Personal development, Spirituality

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The Dancer

Posted on April 30, 2014 | Leave a comment

As part of the Life Coaching course I’m doing, I have to attend a professional Life Coach. In my most recent session, I was telling the coach about how I sometimes think unkind thoughts about myself.

He asked me to describe how I feel when I do this. I told him it was overwhelming. I moved my hands frantically in an attempt to explain. It was difficult to put into words.

He asked me where I feel it and if it has a shape. I told him that it’s in my chest, it has sharp edges and it wants to get out. He asked if it has a voice. “Yes,” I replied. “It’s saying, Let me out!”

I realised in that powerful moment that the feeling I believed to be negative is actually a part of me trying to give myself a message. It is an energy, so big and fizzing that just wants to be expressed. For as long as I can remember, I have been trying to suppress it, to abolish it. It feels so constrictive when all I want is to be free.

I sat there, full of excitement. I wanted to scream and roar and rage and beat my fists against something. I had had enough. I was like a child having been admonished by a strict parent. And this child just wanted to say Fuck off and go outside and play and sprint and front crawl through the ocean.

A recent experience came to mind. A few weekends ago, I took part in a dance workshop. As part of the day, we had to form triads. One of us took on the role of the dancer, one was the witness, while the other was the writer.

I was elected to be the dancer. The music began to play as I self-consciously walked into the centre of the room. I stood and faced my group. Then I started to move slowly. When I closed my eyes, I was able to get into the music. I could hear violins and African beats. I twirled and swayed and stamped my feet. Strong emotions moved through me and, for the first time, I understood what it was to express myself through dance.

Every so often, I’d remember that I was being watched but I was determined not to spoil my experience. I took a deep breath and gave myself the space to own this moment. I deserved it. I haven’t enjoyed something so much for a very long time.

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As I relayed this story to my coach, I likened it to the times when I’ve had a few drinks. When my inhibitions relax, and I feel that lively, fun-loving spark. And right now, I was feeling a similar urgency to let go, to be free, and to embark on a wonderful new adventure.

This “bad” feeling I’ve been trying to get rid of is actually presenting me with an opportunity to transform into who I really am. It is showing me what I’m no longer willing to put up with. The feeling that once seemed anxious and overwhelming is, in fact, a taste of the magnificent burst of energy that I have been reining in with my self-criticism. This energy is full of creativity and strength and passion. And it’s there for me whenever I choose to access it.

As we finished the session, the coach suggested that the next time I think a mean thought about myself, I should tell it to “fuck off” just like the child in the image I had mentioned. I laughed and thanked him for what he had done. He told me that I had done the work, he had just been the witness. I sang the whole way home.