"If you are not in the arena, also getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback." Brene Brown
Vulnerability.
We crave it. We fear it. We need it. We armor ourselves against it. Yet it really is the key to everything. In vulnerability there is creation, there is truth, there is innovation.
Every morning, I wake up--maybe after two alarms--and my fella delivers hot lemon water to me <3. I sip it and look at my phone (don't even), and then I find the Yoga with Adriene video that I want to do. I do my yoga, pull a few tarot cards, then jump in the shower. While in the shower and getting ready, I listen to some kind of interesting or inspiring message on Youtube. Lately, the topic of vulnerability seems to be on my feed. Those algorithms are scary sometimes.
It's been an interesting couple of weeks as this topic filters down through my consciousness. This month is one of the alternating months were I share The Serpent's Way: Embodying Feminine Mystique Through Bellydance, so I'm feeling more tuned in than usual to vulnerability and the very real challenge of receiving. I work with the women in our group to explore postures, hand movements, voice activations, and more to try to pry open our armor to get to those feelings. I encourage them to allow the rising of emotion, I encourage them to embrace pleasurable practices, I encourage them to feel into their bodies, move them around, and see what is present. We want to open the flood gates of their sensuality and touch in with their real emotions. Basically, I pose the question, "What if you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable?"
Most of the time, what stops us from allowing vulnerability is that we've been hurt, or worse, shamed, for what we are feeling, wanting, exploring, etc. In my case, I was a very sensitive young girl, and anything as simple as a, "No." would send me into tears. When I lived with my step-mother and dad, I was shamed by her for being too sensitive, for, "crying like a baby," for being so selfish. I can remember very clearly still the energetic force of disgust and hatred that would emanate from her core. She had been deeply emotionally and physically abused as a girl, and came into my life fully armored and ready for battle. Through her, and my mother's own tribulations in love, and her many disappointments with men (and later I learned of her similar wounds as a young girl), I tried my best to armor up.
Once I was old enough to notice boys, and being a bit of an ugly duckling in Junior High and High School (or so I believed) I discovered the REAL NEED for armoring. And not necessarily from the boys. The girls were brutal. So fucking brutal. But that armor never really helped did it? There were still deep longings to be noticed, cared about, treated kindly, be loved. The armor didn't defend me against anything really. It just kept me in a frame of mind that focused on what I needed to be protected from, and stopped me from seeing the potential that could come my way if I let it. It made me believe that I was not worthy of love and acceptance, because if I was worthy, I wouldn't need the armor.
I get the feedback all of the time that I'm super strong, I must have no trouble with boundaries. These presumptions are not really true. Sometimes I'm strong. Sometimes I can say clearly what I want, and don't want. But other times, I'm just not sure. I'm learning to check in with my feelings more and more, and two words really help cut to the chase: resonance and alignment. Sometimes an idea sounds good, and my brain wants to try it, but it doesn't really resonate on a heart/gut level. Sometimes I love a person or an idea, but a situation is not in alignment with my values or my desires or my directives. These are easier to spot when something new happens.
But what happens when we were resonant, we were in alignment, with a person or idea and then subtly something shifts? Maybe we don't notice at first, then we are down the line some and things are going wonky. This is where I'm doing my work at the moment. In today's video with Brene Brown about critics was so good to hear. She talks about throwing your heart in the arena, like a gladiator, doing your creative, vulnerable work in the world. You can't avoid a few "audience members" that become your critics, like shame, scarcity, and comparison. Brene instead invites you to have reserved seats for them. They are gonna be there anyway. These reserved seats have a caveat: I know you are here. I see you, I welcome you to be here. And, I am in no way interested in your feedback.
Mama's got a brand new bag. Let's get in that arena, share our best and most naked selves. Get creative and vulnerable. Let acceptance and clear boundaries be the rule. I can accept you and love you, and not want what you are offering. I can allow your truth to be juxtaposed to mine, and be truly good with it.
And fuck those cheap seat comments (aka spectators-rabid or otherwise). We're creating worlds over here. Ain't nobody got time for that.
My openness to you, Ginger {aka Rachel Lazarus} February 16, 2018, Cult of Gemini Newsletter