Losing Things

In November I took a workshop. During the course of the two days, I lost things.

I lose and misplace things from time to time, but this was an extravaganza.

On Saturday night, I was back home, getting things out of the car, and I couldn’t find my water bottle. I told myself not to make this a big deal, went into the house, and made it a big deal. By the time I decided to look in the car again, the bottle had turned into a sacred chalice.

I left the house, and my cat, Pangur, ran outside for the first time since she joined me six months ago. This was probably a “I’ll show you you’re not the only one who can leave,” commando action, but I was beginning to feel that the universe was conspiring against me.

It was dark outside, she’s a black cat, and she cleverly dove into the bushes and became invisible. This was definitely a big deal. I’d never find her; she’d get hit by a car; and I’d suffer for the rest of my life. I recovered long enough to go back inside for a bag of treats, which I took outside and rattled. She forgot that she was punishing me and ran back into the house.

The next morning in the workshop room, I found the water bottle on the table where I’d left it. After lunch, though, I couldn’t find my purse. I fled the workshop and went downstairs to the hotel front desk, where no purse had been turned in. This was a BIG deal. Not only was my life over, but I wouldn’t even be able to drive home.

I went back upstairs, looked on the floor, and then for no particular reason, looked up at the coat rack. The purse was sitting on top. Apparently, someone put it there.

Why? I asked myself when the workshop was over. Was I losing my mind?

Yes. During the course of the workshop’s intensive exercises, I’d lost beliefs that were old friends, maybe not the best friends to have, but they’d provided the illusion of security. I was there for the purpose of losing them, so I thought I couldn’t mourn about that. Instead, I transferred my panic to a water bottle, cat, and purse.

I learned an important lesson from this: that the casting away of core beliefs, habits, and other structures I’ve built to keep myself supposedly safe IS A BIG DEAL. If I don’t acknowledge that it can be frightening, I’m going to frighten myself in other ways because the emotions, whether they be fear, grief, or massive insecurity, need to be expressed.

Mindfulness means attentiveness to my emotional state. When I’m tuning into myself, I can take the necessary precautions against the results of inner chaos. I can deliberately notice where the water bottle, the purse, and the cat are. More important, I put myself in training to be aware of my outer world, too. In such a state, each moment matters.

I don’t know if I’ve completely learned the lesson, but I’m sure I’m getting closer.

The workshop, by the way, was called Matrix Reimprinting, and it was pretty great. If you ever take it, though, hang on to your stuff—your physical stuff. Let the rest go, but be sure to wave good-bye.

Another Creativity Killer: Don’t Check the Expiration Date on What You Believe

When I was a child, my mother ordered me to never cross the street by myself. This led me to believe that it was unsafe to do so unless she was with me. It didn’t take long, though, for this belief to pass its sell by date.

We discard the most obvious expired beliefs, but some of them are sneaky. Many people learned when they were young that you need to work hard in order to get by or that the doctor knows best when it comes to your health. These beliefs sound so reasonable that we may accept them as facts.

We all learned many beliefs masquerading as facts from childhood authorities: parents, teachers, and others. We absorbed them at a time when our ability to question what they told us was untried. A lot of what I picked up along the trail of growing u p still inhabits my being, rent-free. They block the path of original thinking and creativity.

My squatters tell me all kinds of lies that I believe to be true, like “You don’t like to cook,” “Housework is hell,” and “You’re not very good at technical or mechanical things.”

Like most of the unexamined beliefs I hold in my head, I acquired these from a number of sources.

“You don’t like to cook” comes from a period when my mother worked at night when I was in junior high and high school and had to cook dinner several nights at week.” I hated cooking then, and now, though my circumstances are entirely different, my adolescent attitude carries over.

“Housework is hell” comes directly from my mother. She had four children, including two boys with the destructive capacity of puppies. Again, I have carried this attitude into adulthood.

“You’re not very good at technical or mechanical things” has several roots. It stems in part from my believing I was no good at math. I clung to that belief, ignoring much evidence that I was good on computers and designed and constructed several web sites.”

The mechanical part of this has more general roots. The other day I was wishing that, instead of taking home ec and learning how to make aprons and biscuits, I’d gotten a course in unblocking drains, simple carpentry, and elementary car repair. When I was growing up, girls were going to have husbands who would do all of that, and somewhere in my crowded mind lounges the belief that females aren’t supposed to do such things.

The belief family most destructive to creativity usually begins, “You can’t do that (whatever that is). You can’t draw a straight line, carry a tune, express what you feel, ask for favors, or risk your security. You have a black thumb; you can’t read a map; you can’t eat strange food. Solution

1. Notice what beliefs are blocking your way. Sometimes they take this form: “I’d like to . . . but . . .”

2. Ask yourself, “Why is that true?”

3. Ask yourself, “How long has this been true?”

4. Ask yourself, “Who told me it’s true?”

5. Decide it’s not true. Replace that belief with one that serves your creative purposes.

Still Recovering but Up and Running

Shortly after my optimistic recovery message another hurricane provided deluges and power outages. On the plus side, I have had to clear out a lot of wet things. Throwing stuff away is always a good idea, whether it’s useless physical items or waterlogged beliefs.

Since rainbows often follow rain, I’m posting this link for your enjoyment. Regular postings are due to resume soon.

Rainbows