wholehearted self-leadership Archives

From Halfhearted to Wholehearted Living – My Journey

March 29, 2019

This guest post from Emily Lewis looks at the journey of moving from half-hearted to wholehearted living.

This is the 17th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

Quiet Writing celebrates self-leadership in wholehearted living and writing, career and creativity. This community of voices, each of us telling our own story of what wholehearted living means, is a valuable and central part of this space. In this way, we can all feel connected on our various journeys and not feel so alone. Whilst there will always be unique differences, there are commonalities that we can all learn from and share to support each other.

I’m thrilled to have Emily Lewis as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Emily and I met via Instagram and other creative connections. In this story, Emily shares how she is embracing uncertainty and imperfection and questioning the “shoulds” in her life. In doing this, she is moving from half-hearted to wholehearted living. Emily also shares her brilliant photographs. Read on!

I’ll admit that when I first agreed to write a post here I didn’t have any idea what I would say. What is wholehearted living anyway? In the Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown says:

It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, no matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It’s going to bed at night thinking, Yes I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.

I’ve read Gifts, and other definitions, but somehow the guideposts never really stuck with me. I’m not terribly compassionate or patient, I have no idea what it means to play instead of work, and I’m terrible at cultivating consistent gratitude. I’m not sure if I have any faith in a higher power. I tend more to be grumpy, bitchy or bitter, frequently irritated or anxious and feeling guilty on top of it since overall my life is not at all bad. I am certain all of those things are what wholehearted is not.

I think, perhaps, I’ve been living half-heartedly, living according to a series of “shoulds” and being more concerned with what the world thinks of me when I actually do follow what is in my heart and gut. Many of the people who voiced their generally well-intentioned opinions throughout my life were not wrong in their assertions, but that did not mean they were right for me.

Impacts of living halfheartedly

I never wanted to move to Maryland. I never really wanted to be a landscape architect either. But during his time in academia, my father had seen too many students struggle to make ends meet after graduation and thought it would be a good direction to pursue. It was clear during design school many of my professors didn’t think I had what it took to make it in the profession. And in a way, they may have been right. The skills that most of the top students had – graphics, site design – were not where I excelled. I preferred a combination of natural resources and liberal arts but was determined that since I started the program, I should finish it. Then I’d figure out what to do.

Before I moved to Annapolis, I had been to the state all of twice. I thought I’d stay a couple of years then join the Peace Corps or go to grad school somewhere far away. I tried to leave after a few months, but the recession hit and nothing materialized. When I transferred offices to work on a major project, I vowed I’d finish out my role, no matter what. Much like I vowed to stick with my major in the first place. Because good students and good employees finish what they start.

That project finished and I should have felt free. But by then I was marrying my husband, who was new to the area and didn’t want to move again. So instead of applying to the University of Oregon or Pennsylvania for a Master’s degree, I looked into local programs where I could continue to work full time. We bought a house and the day the bank approved our offer I cried because now I was stuck. Once we realized we really did want to move, we decided to be responsible and try to pay off all our student loans before doing so. Twelve years later, I’m still half-heartedly living in a place I wanted to leave after six months, struggling which what I “should” do instead of following my heart.

Being done with “shoulds”

Somewhere along the way, I paused and realized how deeply unhappy I was. In December 2014 I was at a bookstore looking for a Christmas present for my dad when I saw a book called Paris Letters. The author, Janice MacLeod, asks the question “How much money does it take to quit your job?” and then moves to Paris.

It started a process of slow consideration over the next few months of asking myself a series of questions. What am I doing here? Why am I staying in this job that hasn’t helped me grow in four years, just left me with empty promises and fits of crying every morning before I get out of the car? Because I “should” take advantage of the money they are giving me for grad school, at a program I enrolled in because I “should” work full time while I go to school, because I always felt obligated to follow a particular career direction? What if I changed? Who might I become?

I remember the exact moment when I first decided I was done with the shoulds. I was in the bathroom of an airplane somewhere over the Rocky Mountains looking not just at myself in the mirror, but down at my whole life, laid out 10,000 feet below me, and I asked myself “What the hell are you waiting for?” I was reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed on that plane ride, a story about picking yourself the fuck up and DOING something with your life, and something started to crack slowly inside of me.

Small cracks to big cracks

Have you ever noticed that a small crack inevitably leads to bigger cracks? It’s why we design sidewalks and buildings with control joints, to tell the crack where it will and will not go, but we can’t design our own life that way.

I didn’t know on that plane ride, or in that book store, that this tiny crack would split wide open in ways I could never imagine over the next four years. That it would include two job changes, three transAtlantic trips, depression, infidelity, a friend’s suicide, and that I would eventually stop trying to patch myself up, like a slipshod repair job, but rather go all the way to the deepest part of the wound and learn to heal from the inside out. I didn’t know that this was the process of becoming whole, that it’s an ongoing process and I would keep finding new places that needed to be healed. Sometimes these things fester until something happens to bring them to the surface.

I had a moment in the early fall of 2015, while out in the woods measuring trees for a stream restoration project when suddenly I knew I wanted no part of the path I had been following. Not the job, not grad school, not Maryland. I had been trying so hard to plan every bit of my life and you can’t live wholeheartedly if you are willing your life to stick to a plan. In that moment I broke down and spiralled into a depression that lasted for months, where not a day went by that I didn’t weep out of hopelessness and despair and consider ending it all. There was no more plan.

Forgoing the shoulds

Slowly and tentatively I began to talk to select people about how I was struggling. A friend sent me the book Let Your Life Speak by Parker J Palmer who eloquently described what I could barely grasp at:

Sometimes the “shoulds” do not work because the life one is living runs crosswise to the grain of one’s soul. At that time in my life, I had no feeling for the grain in my soul and no sense of which way was crosswise….Had I not followed my despair…I might have continued to pursue a work that was not mine to do, causing further harm to myself, to the people and projects with which I worked, and to a profession that is well-worth doing – by those who are called to do it.

I decided to forego the “shoulds”. Maybe I should have stayed in that job longer, but I knew I was done and I didn’t want to look to the past or the future but rather stay in the present and what I needed in my soul at the time. Maybe I should have quit the volunteer Board of Directors position, but those people have become the closest friends and family I’ve known and can rely on. Maybe I should quit traveling so much and stay put a little more often; I’ve gotten used to people questioning how much I travel, but it what makes me feel alive.

When others question me, it is their own fears they vocalize and too often I let that hold me back or put up my defences, determined to show them that I am right. Everything from what I majored in to where I lived to what I did in my spare time was a “should do” for far too long.

What do I know

With so many unknowns, what do I know? I know that while there have been parts of my life that have been wonderful, there are also parts of it that have been toxic to me. I often wonder, if I stayed at home more, physically more, would it be better? Would I be happier? But WOULD I ever actually stay here more, even if I were less busy, less committed to friends and family and adventures around the country?

Perhaps part of me will always feel the need to be on the go and doing something. Do I leave because I don’t want to be here or do I not want to be here because I always leave? Am I still trying to be someone I am not, that I feel I should be? I posed this question to my husband, Todd. He responded, kindly, “I think you will always want to be on the move. If you tried to stay in one place you wouldn’t be you. You were born to wander.”

So where am I now, emotionally and physically? That’s a complicated question, but I think I am getting closer to the answer, part of which is “I don’t know.” But I do. And I don’t. This chapter of my life is closing, and like all good chapters, it’s emotional, like the end of Deathly Hallows before the Epilogue when you know there’s more to the story but you’re not ready for this part of it to end.

What I want

I want to fully love and live and mourn this chapter so I can wholly move into the next one. I don’t want to allude to things anymore. I want to be real. I have been halfheartedly living in the Chesapeake, trying to be something I have never felt connected to on a soul level. I’ve tried for 17 years to convince myself I could do this particular work and live in this particular place and I can’t. I want to feel alive and I feel alive when I am around art, around animals, in nature, in the mountains. Less people, less frenetic pace of life.

I’m not a “hustle” mentality. I want to equally work hard and play hard and rest hard and love hard and I don’t have room for that when I’m full of irritation and stress and anxiety in this place. I’ve never really felt healthy or whole here and it’s devastating to say that out loud, especially when I don’t yet have the answers to what’s next. I’ve always wanted to completely plan out my life and I don’t think that’s in the cards. I’m scared as hell and want to weep and leap for joy at the same time.

What is next

I’ve always wanted to pack up and just go and see what adventure is waiting around the next turn. I’ve secretly always wanted to stop being so damn responsible and just take a risk. Fear and obligation and what I “should” do stopped me every time.

The Green Mountains have been calling my name since I crossed the state line into Vermont in late May nine years ago. I remember a coworker saying they weren’t sure I was going to come back from that trip and part of me never did. There are pieces of my soul scattered around this world and it’s time I went and reconnected with one of them. I’ll be okay, I’ll be fine, not knowing what the future holds. No matter what happens, I tried. I got up in the morning and went to bed at night knowing that I was still brave and worthy of love and belonging. I will be enough because instead of listening to the “shoulds” I did what I wanted to do. Should I move? Should I find a new career? I don’t know. But do I want to? Yes. And that is enough.

Key book + podcast companions along the way

Radical Acceptance – Tara Brach

The Gifts of Imperfection – Brené Brown

Let Your Life Speak – Parker J Palmer

Big Magic – Elizabeth Gilbert

Paris Letters – Janice MacLeod

Harry Potter – J.K. Rowling

Wild – Cheryl Strayed

This I Know: Notes on Unraveling the Heart – Susannah Conway

Finding Ultra – Rich Roll

The Runner’s Guide to the Meaning of Life – Amby Burfoot

The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron

Tranquility du Jour Podcast – Kimberly Wilson

Another White Dash (song) – Butterfly Boucher

About Emily Lewis

Emily Lewis is a lover of travel, books, and trees who feels equally at home deep in the city or out in the country. She is passionate about environmental issues, art, and writing. Her photography explores both people and landscape, capturing the juxtaposition of nature and man-made, wild and urban, light and color, to show the often-overlooked details of life. She is a professional landscape architect with a Masters in environmental science and moonlights as a financial director and photographer. You can see her work and connect with her on her website www.emilylewiscreative.com or via Instagram.

Feature image by Diana White Photography

Other photographs taken and provided by Emily Lewis, used with permission and thanks.

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The courageous magic of a life unlived – a wholehearted story

February 28, 2019

This guest post from Bek Ireland looks at the courage and magic of exploring a life unlived.

This is the 16th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I’m excited to have Bek Ireland as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Bek and I met via coaching and I had the pleasure of guiding Bek through a coaching series. We worked through deep wholehearted story work and Bek focused on getting back to the essentials of what was important. In this story, Bek shares how she has moved courageously into living that life unlived she imagined. It takes brave and sometimes unorthodox steps, but that’s wholehearted work. Read Bek’s journey of working through embracing her natural personality and living her life unlived!

Come in, come in, I’ll show you around. There’s a table, which also serves as a desk of course (excuse my laptop, notebook, 2019 diary on it!) and a gorgeous little kitchen, with coffee and tea and breakfast stuff.

In here’s the bathroom, with ‘Who Gives A Crap’ toilet rolls (love it). Here we have the bed (built high so you can store your suitcases or bags under there). The comfy couch is opposite the television, although we both know that’s not going to get turned on while I’m here, don’t we?

That’s one of the very reasons I’m here!

This is the third time I’ve stayed at an Airbnb in the last few years. It’s interesting that trips are stored in the app – my first time was June 2017, then June 2018, and now January 2019.

I rent them for two nights usually, but I don’t stay overnight. All three have been within a 5-minute drive of my own house. I come for the afternoon on the first ‘night’ and then the full day of the second ‘night’.

The first time was one night, because my daughter, who was nine at the time, had gone to a friend’s house and was possibly going to stay the night, depending on how she felt. I would’ve stayed the night if she’d stayed at her friend’s, but she didn’t. So I was only there for a few hours in the afternoon and evening.

Reclaiming sovereignty

The bliss of it though! The no-TV, no-power tools, nobody talking to me. Not even offering me a coffee – so, still interrupting, still intruding on what I was beginning to understand was an innate need for uninterrupted time to myself.

When you’re a people-pleasing INFJ like me, going against the grain of 40 years and trying to establish some boundaries with scant practice is hard work. Being interrupted with the offer of coffee is excruciating. Because yes, they’re interrupting when you’ve asked politely that they not talk to you, but for an ostensibly nice reason.

It’s all too much and you give up and give in and swallow yourself and go watch TV with them.

But not if you’re in a space of your own.

The second time I told my daughter and her dad that I was going on a two-day writing retreat, which was true. But it wasn’t until it was over that I explained I’d been the only one at the retreat.

I went for walks, I wrote, I read.

I didn’t talk.

I listened to cars driving past, blokes playing sport on the oval up the road. The sounds of birds, the wind, insects. I thanked the thoughts of guilt when they came, then let them dissolve.

Agency and guilt are two of the balls I juggle as I stretch my wings to test their strength. Please excuse the clumsy metaphors. Done is better than perfect, as they say.

Wings to fly

So those two were a year apart. That’s interesting. Come the Junes had I had enough? Did I need some counterbalance mid-year? And what was happening at those times?

I quite like the wings metaphor, let’s think Angelina-Jolie-in-Malevolence type wings. So, in June 2017 you might say I was feeling the nice itch and burn of them under the skin on my back. Perhaps they were starting to protrude a little.

I’d been six months in an assistant manager position at a company for whom I’d worked, on and off, for over 20 years. A company, by the way, that in Year 12 I had sworn I would never work for. Careful what you feel strongly about is my advice to you!

If you ask me where I would have planned to work at that age, I couldn’t have told you – and I guess the universe just fills in the blanks for you sometimes, doesn’t it? Which can be good, or not so good.

Strength and the validation it brings

Anyway, I digress.

By June 2018 my wings had sprouted. Not long after my first brief, blissful sojourn, I had completed a semester of a combined English and Creative Writing/Secondary Education degree.

I deferred the following semester while I held the fort for my boss, who had been promoted to a new role. I absolutely did not want her job – leading a team of 17 across three states – but I was happy enough to fill in till they advertised her job and found someone new.

And to be honest I had gained confidence, having met a kindred spirit in Terri and benefiting from a series of coaching sessions with her; with doing well at my studies; and by being considered competent enough to be the acting manager.

And here we are, six months later, in this glorious tiny space. I would love to sleep the night, but again, juggling with agency and guilt, I find it difficult to justify staying away from home when I’m in the same town. I travel a bit for work, to Adelaide and Sydney, and of course, I stay away from my daughter then. But I have no choice – because I’m so far away.

Here, I am only five minutes down the road. And having the whole afternoon and then the whole next day to myself is good enough, for now.

But as soon as I got settled in this one, I was already planning my next stay. And I won’t even wait six months this time, let alone a year. The first time this is available again is two months from now. The only reason I haven’t already booked it is that I don’t want to seem too weird.

Remembering who you really are

Creating time and space for solitude is symbolic of my journey along the path of wholeheartedness. Believing I deserve to create this time and space for myself. Acknowledging its importance.

e e cummings said,

To be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

Or condensed for modern times by Danielle LaPorte:

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

Getting away, stepping outside the realms of my normal life, into the magic of a life unlived, if only for brief periods of time, helps me remember who I really am. It is there I find myself. I have been there all along, but sometimes I am hard to find under the accumulated detritus of the world which does its best to make me (and all of us) everybody else.

In the majesty of silence, I can recalibrate, recharge, rejuvenate, rejoice. Quietly.

I remember thinking of Virginia Woolf and her room of one’s own. It’s a recurring fantasy of mine to rent a house of my own and semi-reside there. What riches could emerge? How might the fabric of the universe stretch and shimmer in those circumstances?

Trusting yourself and honouring your instincts

I also often long for a beloved, wise mentor. Someone who knows me, who sees me, who could guide me on the path. What’s the next right thing? Tara Mohr has an exquisite guided meditation, (you can find it here) where you journey to meet your future-self. I highly recommend it.

The last time I did it, my future-self lived alone (probably with a cat too) in a humble, funky, uncluttered small abode not far from the sea. She had wavy grey hair, and she was fit and strong. Her days consisted of long walks, reading, writing, and conversing with a community of like-minded folk from all over the planet via the world wide web.

I can see now she would live a waste-free life. She would cultivate vegetables and walk or ride to the local farmer’s market each Sunday to buy fruit and catch up with local friends face to face.

Besides solitude, reading is like breathing to me. I also love learning about astrology, and like many INFJ’s, have a wide smattering of interests.

Waking up

I have however recently acquired a new focus: climate change. I can’t believe I got to 43 knowing basically nothing about it.

In October 2018 I attended a local TEDx event. All the speakers were inspirational, but a talk by Darren Lomman of GreenBatch really stood out. He’s working to create the first plastic recycling facility in Perth, Western Australia because at the current rate, it’s predicted that there will be more plastic than fish in our oceans by 2050.

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) had just released their latest report on the state of the planet and Sarah Wilson (of I Quit Sugar and First We Make the Beast Beautiful fame) had posted a summary of it on her blog. I love Sarah’s no-nonsense take on things, and read her views with interest.

Since then, I have been learning about carbon dioxide emissions, what ppm means (parts per million), who the planet’s largest emitters are and how we can avert the potentially catastrophic consequences of our mindless pursuit of economic growth.

I have bought cloth pads and a menstrual cup. I am trying to reduce, reuse, or refuse single-use plastics. I have a large bowl in the sink to save the water that would normally go down the drain when I wash my hands and rinse dishes. I have a bucket in the shower to capture a portion of the water that washes over me.

It makes me think about others that I share this incredibly beneficent earth with, others who do not have toilets or disposable pads or tampons. Others who walk miles to get water. Others who have as much right as I do to feel the itch and burn of newly growing wings under their skin.

Courage to grow

And I am delving deeper into the science and political history of the climate emergency we face, because I want to do more than aspire to waste-free living; I want to help drive policy change.

I need to educate myself, because as much as I’m growing, there’s a saying I still tend to live by: better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

I find myself noticing moments of quiet with more frequency now, and recognising that creating quiet – and solitude – for myself is a necessity, not a luxury. Quiet and solitude allow me to work out what it is that I think, how to apply the ideas I generate, and how to be confident that when I do speak, it’s from a space of considered knowledge. Reading Greg McKeown’s Essentialism guided me to figure out what was essential for me, and to live that.

I believe though that most of us are trying to raise our awareness, and knowing that I am part of a community of brave souls, finding the courage to test our wings and raise our voices, gives me hope.

With such hope, it’s delicious to imagine how the fabric of the universe might stretch and shimmer.

Key book companions along the way

Here are some books I love that have supported me:

Presence – Amy Cuddy

Essentialism – Greg McKeown

The War of Art – Steven Pressfield

The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion

Writing Down the Bones – Natalie Goldberg

Bird by Bird – Anne Lamott

The Hate Race – Maxine Beneba Clarke

Autobiography of a Yogi – Paramahansa Yogananda

Anything We Love Can Be Saved – Alice Walker

Quiet – Susan Cain (my first realisation that I was introverted, and not only was that a thing, and okay, but it brought incredible gifts)

The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood

Salt – Gabrielle Lord

This Changes Everything – Naomi Klein

Eaarth – Bill McKibben

Requiem for a Species – Clive Hamilton

About Bek Ireland

Bek Ireland leads a team of specialists helping communities build their financial capability. Bek loves reading and learning, and is passionately interested in the connections between things. She has studied, amongst many other things, astrology, English Literature, crystal healing and education. She is an INFJ and is interested in psychology and esoteric teachings. Bek has recently joined 350.org and is learning how she can contribute to raising awareness of global warming, and a sustainable future. You can find Bek on Instagram and Twitter.

Photographs 1, 4, 6 & 7 provided by Bek Ireland and used with permission and thanks.

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Dancing all the way – or listening to our little voice as a guide for wholehearted living

February 11, 2019

This guest post from Olivia Sprinkel is a letter in response to Heidi Washburn’s wholehearted story: When the inner voice calls, and calls again.

I am so excited by Olivia’s response and the dance between ideas and readers she invites!

I welcome any other letter style responses to wholehearted stories here on Quiet Writing any time. You can find out more about wholehearted stories guest-posting here. The links for all the stories are at the end of this post. How wonderful that we can share our stories of wholehearted living and what it means. And respond to the experiences of others as we shape our own journey. It truly warms my heart!

Enjoy this beautiful dance of ideas and how Olivia responds to Heidi’s wholehearted story!

Dear Heidi,

I read your article ‘When the inner voice calls, and calls again – my journey to wholehearted living’. I immediately wanted to respond and say ‘thank you for writing’ – and also to share my own reflections in response. I am now that woman in my mid-forties in New York that you were 30 years ago, listening to the call of my inner voice to give up my corporate job and to live life with my whole heart. It was so reassuring to read your story, and know that you had the courage to listen to that voice and to create a wholehearted life for yourself. It provided confirmation that a different way of living than the conventional one that is presented to us is possible, if we choose to follow that path.

The best piece of advice my father gave me

Writing this now, I remember that my father always used to say “Listen to your little voice”. It was probably the best piece of advice he gave me. He used to tell the story of how he had enrolled in Berkeley, as that is where his father and mother had both gone. But when he got there, his little voice told him, ‘You want to go to Stanford’. And he went and knocked on the door of the Stanford admissions officer, and ended up graduating from Stanford.

You write of how your little voice spoke to you so clearly and powerfully. It can only speak clearly if we are tuned into the hearing of it – you were ready to hear it. I’ve had a couple of other occasions when my little voice has spoken to me and my ears and body have been open for the hearing of it. There have been other occasions when undoubtedly it has spoken to me, but I have blocked it out because I didn’t want to hear – and things haven’t turned out too well.

Taking responsibility for listening to the little voice

I didn’t feel as if I had any choice but to listen to the little voice that spoke to me to send me on this particular journey. When this voice spoke it was giving me the gift of a creative idea or a creative mission. It spoke to me and said ‘Write a book “A history of the future of the world in 12 trees”. Or 10.’ (It was giving me a little bit of wiggle room.) And why did I choose to act on this, to give up my job, my New York apartment, to pursue this journey? I think it was a combination of the clarity of the idea, and the clarity of my listening. I felt that I had been gifted this idea and it was my responsibility to act on it. Not to do so would be irresponsible – both to the idea and to myself. And I am in the position to do so, with no responsibilities of family to take care of.

And writing this now, I wonder, ‘who is behind that little voice?’ As writers, we often speak about ‘finding our authentic voice’. Is our little voice that authentic piece of us that we can hear when we are tuned to the right channel, when we have done that preparatory work, that opening? I’ve had my little voice speak to me – and I’ve listened – in yoga and when I am out in nature. That morning when the idea for my tree journey appeared, I was sitting at my desk, but I had spent the weekend immersed in the beautiful woods of the Catskills at Menla.

Elizabeth Gilbert has written of how ideas are gifted to us, and if we don’t declare an interest in them, they will move on to someone else. She writes in ‘Big Magic’ of how an idea she didn’t pursue then moved on to Ann Patchett, who did act on it, and wrote a book based on the idea. This suggests that there is something larger than us that is seeking to communicate with us – and which knows us well enough to make only appropriate suggestions. I am sure whole philosophy books have been written on the subject, and someone more well informed than me can answer that question. But perhaps that is the authenticity of wholehearted living – that we are open to receiving information from the ‘whole’, rather than from a limited subset of ourselves.

Stepping into the dance

It also reminds me of a dance. That when we open ourselves to the dance of life, then we can dance in step with the universe and be open to being led by her, and be twirled and occasionally flipped head over heels and still land gracefully. I’m reminded of the dancing metaphor as I used to have a blog in the form of letters that a friend and I would write back and forth to one another, pondering life’s questions. The title of the blog was ‘Dancing All the Way’, which we decided on as we doing a multi-day walk and we wanted to dance all the way of the walk. And then Terri’s theme for the year is ‘Dance’ – so perhaps this is just a small example of how the universe wants to dance with us.

Seeing your life story as a Hero’s Journey

It’s not an easy thing to follow your little voice, as you know. You write movingly with the example of your accountant of how we are not always ready to do that. I believe that the call to a wholehearted life really is a Hero’s Journey, as Joseph Campbell has described, and which is the foundation of great myths as well as our ordinary extraordinary lives. There is the call to action, and we can choose to act on it or not. And if we do choose to accept, there will be setbacks, there will be temptations to distract us along the way, we will need to overcome challenges. But if we persevere, we will come back with a gift to offer our community. Thinking about my own story in this way helps to give me perspective. It is also reassuring for me to know that this journey will be repeated many times on different timescales, as well as providing an overarching arc for our lives, if we are fortunate enough to live into an old age and be able to look back over the distance that we have travelled.

I am at the beginning of this next stage of my journey, heading out into the unknown. All I have is an idea, and a rough itinerary. And, hopefully, my little voice to continue to guide me and ears and heart to listen.

I wish you well as your journey continues.

With love

Olivia

About Olivia Sprinkel

Olivia Sprinkel is a sustainability strategy and communications consultant, writer and photographer. She has advised some of the world’s largest companies on sustainability strategy, and been based in both London and New York. She is also a writer of poetry and creative non-fiction, and a keen photographer. She is now embarking on writing a book which brings together her sustainability expertise and creative skills to tell stories of a changing climate and nature connection. You can connect with Oliva via Instagram and her website.

Photographs by Olivia Sprinkel and used with permission and thanks.

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Tackling trauma and ‘not enough’ with empathy and vision – a wholehearted story

January 30, 2019

This guest post from Maura McCarley Torkildson explores tackling trauma and feelings of “not enough” with tools of empathy and vision in her unfolding wholehearted story.

This is the 15th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I am honoured to have Maura McCarley Torkildson as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. You might have seen my review of Maura’s book, The Inner Tree, all about intuition here on Quiet Writing. Maura and I have connected via our mutual interest and explorations into intuitive ways of working and being. In this story, Maura shares how a vision helps makes sense of intuitive, evolving life-long learning around tackling and calming trauma. Read Maura’s journey of working through trauma and feelings of “not enough’ with various tools that you can draw on too!

I met Mama Anaconda in a vision recently. What she showed me ultimately calmed my trauma. But I get ahead of myself…

The trauma of not enough

About a year ago, I realized that I had been steeping myself in “not enough.” I liberally doused myself with this tea in just about all areas of my life. I couldn’t see it. In my mind, this tea was the truth of my life – not enough money, not enough clients, not enough discipline, not enough experience, not enough recognition, and the list is endless.

Bullying and rejection from my peers in childhood formed painful memories and impacted my self-worth. Born whole, I became not enough. In many ways, I was a fortunate child, and yet rejection is one of the most hurtful experiences a human can face, belonging is so important to our well-being. A sensitive child, I was an easy target. Being teased and rejected hurt, a lot. Fast forward that into adulthood and my brain constantly looked for confirmation of rejection.

I am resilient, however, and determined. My focus on self-awareness and growth over the years meant that I worked these issues, sometimes inside and out. I sought therapy. I cultivated people who really cared about me. I worked with a mystic. I sat with trees. I cultivated presence awareness. I attended workshops and hired coaches. Sometimes I spent thousands of dollars. So how could I still be so stuck in the trauma, lack of self-worth and endless thoughts of not enough?

I wanted to be fixed. The underlying assumption was that I was never good enough, that belief an ingrained pattern in my brain. I overcame in one area of my life – only to find new areas to heal. One area healed…next, then next, then next? Truly it is wearying to feel the path to wholeness is never-ending.

Trauma and clairsentience – a fraught combination

I hadn’t realized how much I steeped myself in thoughts of not enough. Sometimes I wasn’t even aware of my pain – my gut twisted into knots, the intense forces constricting my heart, the pressure of tears behind my eyes at the slightest provocation. I am good at pushing through and denying. That method of coping perfected and served me quite well in earlier years. No, I wasn’t always in this state, but often enough to be worn down by it. Denial takes its toll. Secretly, I often wondered what was uniquely wrong with me.

I learned a thing or two over the years about what was “wrong” with me. One, I am an empath. Two, I have trauma.

As an empath (otherwise known as clairsentience) I am an extremely sensitive being. I feel deeply, and I have noticed the depth of my feeling often scares others. People shy away from my intensity. Furthermore, my body picks up on the feelings of others. It is a magnet for emotions.

I didn’t know about clairsentience until much later in life. I often felt confused about why I was feeling what I was feeling. Accused of wearing my feelings on my shoulders and judged for not being able to just move on, I hurt. I tried to hide my hurt unsuccessfully. I have the opposite a poker face. What was wrong with ME, I wondered. Our culture’s war on feelings left unquestioned as I learned I wasn’t supposed to be feeling so much. Feeling wasn’t rational. One had to buck up to be successful in life, showing and sharing feelings risked belonging.

The path to embracing my unique gifts and challenges

I finally figured out the clairsentience. Whew! What a relief to know it wasn’t all me. Being an empath is a gift and it is a challenge. The state of the world has high impact on this sensitive being. I grieve a lot and that grief can quickly transform into rage if I am not careful. I limit my access to news and stay vigilant about the direction of my thoughts. Thankfully I have learned many tools to manage both my emotions and sensitivity. I need protection.

I learned to embrace grief. Grief is the core feeling under all the challenging emotions, as they all have to do with loss. Embracing grief led to wisdom around what it means to be human. To be fully present to my emotions became grounding for me. I examine the physical manifestation of emotion and the emotion becomes guidance for my life. If things get unbearable, I tap (Emotional Freedom Tapping) and feel the energy release through the top of my head and shoulders.

Understanding trauma

I have trauma. We all have trauma. Understanding trauma is necessary for wholehearted living. I am not alone, nor is my trauma extreme. Trauma is not just the result of an injury or abuse on our body. Trauma is a reconfiguration of our nervous system. It is a pattern of hypervigilance and/or complete shutdown. It is avoidance of feelings that are overpowering and can be paralyzing.

My childhood experiences of rejection, repeated shifts in employment, toxic workplaces and financial insecurity are the root of my trauma. My brain actively looks for all the ways “not enough” shows up in my life. I became hypervigilant for “not enough,” especially after losing my job in 2012, struggling to find work in an atmosphere of ageism and trying to forge my path as a solopreneur. It all took its toll.

Trauma is our fear system gone wild. I learned that trauma gets stuck – or rather our nervous system gets stuck in these patterns and we can’t just think our way out of them. Contrary to popular sentiment – changing one’s mindset will not work unless trauma is addressed. Healing trauma can be accomplished most effectively through somatic techniques and therapies.

Becoming vigilant and shifting my consciousness

I remember the day I realized my brain was stuck, a day I almost charged another $2000 of debt, placing my hope in an external person to fix me. Fortunately, I asked for time to think about it. Setting down my phone after, I went to my oak tree in our backyard and prayed. An answer came – the realization I was steeping myself in not enough. At that moment, I finally understood no one could fix me. I needed to change from within.

I became vigilant about shifting my not enough habit. Every time not enough came up, I consciously stepped into gratitude. This practice helped me notice the good things – the abundance in my life – the beauty of my garden, the depth of my friendships, the way I somehow had just enough money to stay solvent. I built awareness of the nuances of feeling enough in my heart. Gratitude relieves the pressure of those forces which restrict my heart. It becomes feather-light and expansive.

Being conscious of gratitude is not enough to clear trauma, but it helps. Trauma gets entrenched. I needed to be vigilant. Some days were good, some not so much. Any disappointment threatened to knock me out of gratitude back into old habits. This is how trauma operates.

I used my tools – Presence Awareness, a practice which serves me by simply stopping any train of thought and rekindling my connection to Eternity and Love. When I get triggered, I reach out to friends. I found a tapping group and learned how to use tapping effectively. I discovered that tapping brought my trauma to the surface where I could see and acknowledge it, then release pent up feelings.

Vigilance is work. Tools require remembering to use them. I wished for flow. I wanted more.

Maura McCarley Torkildson

Recognizing the courage to be here

Bottom line, being human can be very challenging. We need stability and belonging. We need all those things Maslow identified on his triangle for reaching peak state. Those things are not guaranteed in this world. Loss hurts, it can be excruciating. We can easily become inured in a pattern of traumatized response to events in our life, sapping our natural joy.

And yet, I have experienced salvation so many times and so many ways. Salvation is the reminder that I am always whole, always nested in the Divine, no matter what happens here in 3D world.

The human in me struggles, will likely always struggle. I have great compassion for her. Discomfort IS the path to growth, our soul’s mission here. It’s not easy. I envision us as excited spirits descending into the womb for this experience of 3D life. Coming out of the womb a shock, as the realization of where we’ve landed hits. I imagine us screaming at God, the cries of the newborn, No…I want to go back home, but please don’t make me die to get there!

It takes great courage to be here. I think we all long for our home. The level of trauma on this planet has led us astray into perceived disconnection. I am not sure where it all began, but I am convinced it was born of trauma. Yet bliss is always right there beside us too, if only we remember to be present to it.

Enter Mama Anaconda

Mama Anaconda slithered into my visionary state. I dreamt of her a year before – an unforgettable dream that stuck with me. In that dream, she undulated her way into my bed, slid along one side of my body, around my head and down the other. I never felt frightened. I felt embraced. She made her home in my room. I knew she had chosen me for a reason. I knew I was hers.

Fast forward to my vision. Mama Anaconda arrived in technicolor vibrations matching the Digeridoo playing in the background. Surrounded by a vibrating rainbow of color, she slithered up a magnificent tree much like she had slithered along my body in my dream. Here in my vision, the reality of her more powerfully present.

Earlier in this same visionary state, I saw the structure of our lives crumbling, dissolving quickly around us. We are in the midst of collapse. I have known this for a while. This awareness is also a source of my trauma. My love for the beauty of this world and its creatures runs deep. I grieve each loss on our planetary scale extinction.

Messages from Mama Anaconda

To my grief, Anaconda said, “It is only the changing of skin,” then showed me the black viscous fluid of life force. Impossible to fully capture with words, this fluid always moves and is at the same time always completely still. A black void creating vibrating form along its edges, it makes crusts of light and color which grow and dissolve, expand and crumble as it vibrates outwards. It constantly creates a skin of light and then constantly breaks through it. I watch with awe and calm.

Next, she showed me insects and lizards shedding their skins. She showed me planets and galaxies forming and disintegrating. She said, “This is the way. Change, destruction is just a shedding of skin, nothing to be concerned about.”

I felt Her Love, I soak in it. Her love calms my trauma, soothes the grieving child in me. Creation is forever creating, and creation destroys as it creates. She exists always within everything. She is within us and we are within her. Form is ephemeral. She is eternal. I am eternal too if eternally changing.

My inner knowing is my faith. I forget to remember my faith from time to time. Salvation has come to me repeatedly in my life. Each time in different form, but always the same. I am steeped in Love, as are you.

Key book companions along the way

These are some resources that have supported me:

Daring Greatly – Brene Brown

Rising Strong – Brene Brown

The Spell of the Sensuous – David Abrams

The Body Keeps Score – Bessel Van Der Kolk

Bridging Heaven & Earth: A Return to The One – Leonard Jacobsen

Women in Praise of the Sacred – Jane Hirshfield (Editor)

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek – Annie Dillard

The Fall – Steve Taylor

Return of the Divine Sophia – Tricia McCannon

The Presence of the Past – Rupert Sheldrake

The Lens of Perceptions – Hal Zina Bennett

The Once & Future Goddess – Elinor Gadon

About Maura McCarley Torkildson

Maura McCarley Torkildson is an author, speaker, artist, intuitive and coach. She is the founder of Maura Torkildson Coaching and she supports clients to fully embody their intuition, embrace emotions as guidance for living and to overcome barriers to self-trust. From a place of self-trust, clients can create with abandon. Maura mentors clients through expressing their unique talents through writing, art or workbooks. She is a Certified Professional Co-Active Coach and has an M.A. in Women’s Spirituality from New College of California. Her artwork has been exhibited in both the U.S. and Malta. Find her at www.mauratorkildsoncoaching.com or on Facebook.

Photograph attribution as follows and used with permission and thanks.

Images 5, 8 – Maura McCarley Torkildson
Images 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7 – Fotolia.com

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

Quiet Writing is on Facebook and Instagram – keep in touch and interact with the growing Quiet Writing community. Look forward to connecting with you and inspiring your wholehearted story!

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When the inner voice calls, and calls again – my journey to wholehearted living

December 18, 2018

This guest post from Heidi Washburn explores the call to respond to the inner voice over time as a path to the deepest of wholehearted journeys.

This is the 14th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I am honoured to have my friend Heidi Washburn as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Heidi and I met in Hoi An, Vietnam at Kerstin Pilz’s writing and yoga retreat in September, 2018 and enjoyed a time of deep connection during that week. I invited Heidi to tell her wholehearted story here. Heidi reflects on a moment of career shift in her life when everything changed. She shares how the inner voice often calls again and again and listening to it is a practice that evolves through our lives. Read Heidi’s reflections on her journey of responding to calls from her inner voice in deeper ways, a journey that continues!

Sometimes life changes suddenly: discovering a secret, a hurricane, a birth or a death. Sometimes the change is more subtle, more gradual and instigated by internal signals. Those signals may manifest differently for each of us. The question is when and how do we listen? How do we respond? What challenges do we face once we admit a change is coming? What happens if we ignore the call?

Many times in my life I have pushed past my inner knowing, trying to fit into the accepted norm, frustrated that the norm didn’t feel right or I couldn’t seem to do it right. As hard as I tried I could not happily push past my instincts and join the crowd. It is only when I listen and respond that the whole of me is present and engaged. It is it something that I cannot always do on my own. This ride in wholehearted living requires a lot of support, a lot of losing and regaining momentum.

My life is an evolving ever-changing journey. This is about my major career shift in my mid-forties followed by recent reflections on a lifetime of learning to listen, respond and deepen.

Setting the scene

Let’s get some perspective. In the 80’s there was minimal internet. There were no smartphones, no blogs, no easily available GPS, no online support groups and we were just out of an era when corporations took care of their employees, often for life. Leaving a successful, lucrative career was an unusual move generating a lot of opinions and, dare I say, envy.

Let’s set the scene for the moment everything changed. One rainy fall night, I was driving home to Saugerties, New York from a late meeting in New Jersey, a good two and a half hours’ drive. Visibility was sparse and I had to strain to find my way out of the corporate complex in the dark, while squinting at the map on my lap. My eyes were heavy, it was a long day and I just wanted to get home.

I was ten years into my market research consulting business, I had back-up staff and my work was in demand. Hard work, constant traveling and late nights had paid off. Yet something was not right. I was losing touch with my family and friends because I was always out of town. The only love life I could fit in was an on-demand friend with benefits. I was having dizzy spells and anxiety attacks. My teenage daughter was home alone too many nights and I wasn’t on top of her struggles in life. My friends were making noises about an intervention for my “workaholic” problem.

What problem? I loved doing in-depth interviews, consolidating them into a meaningful story for my clients and giving advice in the boardroom. I found a way to be listened to in my profession if not in my personal life. My introverted self found a way to be out front as long as I had a role to play. The operative word here is ‘role’. More and more, it felt like a role that was not me. I was trying to stay in a shell that no longer fit or serviced me. At the same time, something deeper was emerging, but I was flying too high to notice.

The voice and the moment everything changed

Back to the rainy fall night. As I said, I just wanted to get home to my bed. As I pulled onto the familiar Garden State Parkway, the rain let up and I relaxed. Before I could turn on the radio for entertainment a voice in my head came on instead. A quiet, gentle but firm voice, not just a thought.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

What?

“I said! I don’t want to do this anymore.”

What do you mean? You have to. You just got the business where you want it. You have staff, an office and now you can do the more creative work. Isn’t that what you wanted?

That was the end of the conversation. Or so I thought.

After that night, after that very moment, everything changed but so quietly and slowly I hardly noticed. Of course, I was the one making the decisions. However, I didn’t know where I was going or what the path was. Deep change doesn’t come with a check-list or a schedule. And there is no guarantee that things will work out for the best.

Shifting to deeper awareness and action

First, I became aware that I pushed through the day without eating even though I constantly yearned for food. Why wasn’t I feeding myself? I went to a nutritionist weekly for three months to get better eating habits and basically learn to nurture myself.

I began bringing more and more things from my New York City apartment and office to my ‘weekend’ house in Saugerties. By the time I set up an office in the Saugerties basement, my NYC assistant asked: “Are you ever coming back?” And she got another job. She knew what was coming before I did.

I submerged myself in therapy and enrolled in singing lessons to open up my voice.

I wanted a more meaningful life and figured I should be able to find it in a couple of months. I was used to getting things under control.

Getting to know that inner voice

I had skills I enjoyed and that contributed to my success: creating a safe space for people to express themselves, drawing people out, deep listening, analyzing overall trends, presenting my ideas and writing. Maybe I would be a psychotherapist? I applied to two graduate schools in California, but before I heard from them my inner knowing led me another way. I started training in wholistic counseling, yoga and healthy lifestyle. I spent months at Kripalu, a yoga and meditation center. In between I still took on consulting projects to sustain my searching.

The inner voice grew stronger the more space and time I gave it. After chanting three days straight during a Kripalu one-month retreat, I sent out a prayer from a song by Linda Wooster: “Take these hands and turn them into light beams.” I still didn’t realize quite where I was going and how meaningful that prayer would be.

Finding my path as a somatic practitioner

I am a kinesthetic person. Formal psychology is too mental and structured for me. So, I went to massage school. Out of massage school I searched for a mind-body approach that worked for me. I was still taking occasional consulting jobs.

The months of transition turned into two years, reading, searching, training, experimenting, meditating, getting help from therapists, poking the fire for hours.

One day a massage therapist touched my head and moved my neck ever so slightly just for a couple of minutes. My whole body deeply let go. I felt safe, heard and known through her touch.

“What was that?!” I murmured through my bliss.

She told me it was Craniosacral Therapy. I wanted to do that work. I just knew it.

From there I began training in Craniosacral Therapy, a way to work with mind-body-emotions-spirit. I found my home but not yet a career. It took a couple of years before I had the confidence to practice. And to totally leave my business.

Meanwhile, I needed to live a simpler life and reduce expenses. I was happier, but much less affluent.

Clearing the way to live fully

On a sunny day in August, my beautiful Saugerties house was sold and I was moving one town over to a small two-bedroom rental in Woodstock, taking my cat and my new life with me. My old house was ready for its new owners, except for the bright red landline kitchen phone. Just as I was about to walk out the open front door for the last time, final items under my arm, the phone’s shrill ring echoed throughout the empty house. Even the answering service was disconnected, so I rushed back to answer it. An advertising company was calling me to see if I was available for a market research consulting job.

This will be a short call! Standing straight and with a clear voice I gave the answer for the first and last time.

“I don’t do that anymore.” That was it. I felt exhilarated.

I have been asked if I have ever regret leaving my consulting career. It was a good run and mostly I loved it. But I was learning that my sensitive system needed a gentler, more spacious environment. So, did I regret it? Not for a nanosecond. I have been asked, did I ever worry about making a living? Things get tight now and then and I do worry about a future when I can no longer work. The lifestyle I have chosen is short on long-term security. My practice goes up and down. I would like to create some kind of community living as I age, but as an introvert am not too skilled at groups. So, the future is uncertain. Yet, I would never change my decision. I chose to live fully instead of setting myself up for a less-than-wholehearted fate.

Reflections and new perspectives

I don’t really know what brings up that mysterious inner voice sending me one direction or another. Some people might call it guidance. All I know is that it is powerful when I listen. A year ago, I just knew I had to go to Vietnam, thinking it was about the war that impacted my generation and my life when my young husband went to fight. One step led to another and on a hot September day I arrived in Hoi An for Kerstin Pilz’s Write Your Journey Writing Retreat. At 75, I have reclaimed myself as a writer and reclaimed the story I need to tell. And another adventure begins.

My first draft of this piece included mention of my accountant for my consulting business. Stan would show up at my office and stare out the window as if he wanted to vaporize and pass though it.

“Oh,” he murmured, “how I would like to be a painter, but I have to work.”

Then, less than two years into our business relationship and in his mid-thirties, he had a heart attack and died. In my draft, I used this story to show how dangerous it is not to follow your heart, your dreams. But, I was being lofty, arrogant, and disrespectful to my accountant. It implied that we have control over our destiny if we just listen.

Meeting the unexpected with deeper insights

I put aside the first draft, let it sit for a while to see if it was really what I wanted to say. I thought a lot about listening to that inner voice. Asked friends how they knew when something is “right.” One looks for a sense of deepening and clarity, another a feeling in her gut and still another uses a pendulum. I learned that each person has their own unique way of listening. I thought I had the answer to controlling destiny. Tune into what is right for you and all will be revealed.

Then, I had a heart attack. It was mild as heart attacks go. It has a name: Takotsubo, also called Broken Heart Syndrome. Given my low blood pressure, lack of any artery blockage, perfect cholesterol, and lean body, the only explanation is stress. I meditate, eat a healthy diet, process emotions and enjoy my career as a craniosacral therapist. This shouldn’t happen to me. But it did.

My point is, who knows why my accountant had his heart attack. Or, maybe I didn’t have mine until I was 75 instead of 45 because at 45 I followed the calling to change my life. I am inspired to once again look deeply. How do I want to spend the remaining years? The inquiry is the path to aliveness. These days I am more and more excited about each day as I heal my broken heart.

What I have learned

I have learned:

that we can affect our quality of life in a big way, but not control it.
to embrace the precious qualities of being an empath and an introvert with creative talents and deep wisdom to share.
to step up my self-care, boundary setting and need for spaciousness to be present for the wonders and tragedies life throws my way.
to rest before I am exhausted.
to trust and be grateful for the amazing support system that comes to my aid when I am in trouble.
that I love to share through teaching and writing.
the sound of my inner voice when it calls.

And I am still learning.

Resources that have supported me

These are some resources that have supported me:

Hakomi: a Buddhist-centred wholistic counselling method

Psychosynthesis: a wholistic counselling method

Mindfulness/Insight meditation: Dharma.org has talks available for free

Upledger Institute: listings of craniosacral therapy practitioners around the world

Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy

Write Your Journey, Kerstin Pilz: upcoming meditation, yoga, writing retreat in Hoi An, Vietnam September 2019

Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health

The Empath’s Survival Guide, Judith Orloff

About Heidi Washburn

Heidi Washburn is a craniosacral and massage therapist, writer, practitioner of gentle yoga and insight meditation, friend, sister, aunt, great aunt, mother and cat lover. She specializes in working with other empaths and INFPs who do best in
a spacious, safe, gentle and mindful environment. Heidi has been practicing
bodywork for over 25 years with advanced clinical training and certification in Hakomi, Psychosynthesis, Upledger Craniosacral Therapy and Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy. More recently, Heidi has joyously immersed herself in the sacred art of writing. She is working on a memoir about secrets and how the truth liberates the unexpected. You can connect with Heidi via her website or email at washburn.heidi@gmail.com

Photograph attribution as follows and used with permission and thanks:

Images 1, 2, 3, 9 – Terri Connellan
Images 4, 5, 7 – Heidi Washburn
Image 6 – Pexels.com
Image 8 – Nigel Rowles
Bio portrait: Amber Roniger Photography

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

Quiet Writing is on Facebook and Instagram – keep in touch and interact with the growing Quiet Writing community. Look forward to connecting with you and inspiring your wholehearted story!

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Maps to Self: my Wholehearted Story

November 7, 2018

This guest post from Sylvia Barnowski explores how our maps to self can create the deepest of wholehearted journeys.

Sylvia Barnowski

This is the 13th guest post in our Wholehearted Stories series on Quiet Writing! I invited readers to consider submitting a guest post on their wholehearted story. You can read more here – and I’m still keen for more contributors!

I am honoured to have my friend Sylvia Barnowski as a ‘Wholehearted Stories’ contributor. Sylvia shares how experiences and influences in her life have led her to the concept of ‘maps to self’ as a valuable guide. This is a practice she cultivates and shares with others through her creative work and spiritual practices. Sylvia also weaves creative work that has been part of her self-discovery process through this piece. Read Sylvia’s reflections on her journey of discovering her maps to self to guide your story!

Sylvia is hosting a giveaway on the New Moon (7 November Northern Hemisphere time) on Instagram. The lucky winner will receive a 2019 Moon Mandala wall calendar. More details below at the bottom of the post.

The longer I live the more my story changes. Maybe because the story has so many layers, or maybe because everything looks different in hindsight. There was a time in my life that I thought I had found the answers to the deepest questions only to realise that even the best answers can change over time. So, the questions remained: who am I? what is life all about? why I am here? what is my purpose? how to live my life?

These questions never really leave me and as I move throughout the chapters of my life, they stay under my skin, settling comfortably in the chambers of my heart as they wait for the right moment to burst out onto the surface. As I move forward, all I am getting are the hints for the next step, my inner knowing is my compass and I realize that this is the way it always was, even when I thought I was stuck or lost. The answers and the maps were always within.

Secret destinations

Martin Buber wrote:

Every journey has a secret destination of which the traveler is unaware.

And with passing years his words resonate with me more and more. I don’t know my destination, and finally I see this as a part of the adventure not a curse. There was a time in my life that I was angry about this. I was jealous about other people’s straight paths, how they knew which direction to go, how they had their one thing that they were good at and were able to pour their energy and passion into it. They were able to create something, become someone, while I was always searching.

For years, I didn’t know who I was becoming. Even though I don’t like labels, I wished there was a way to describe me and what I will do “once I grow up”. I had too many interests and wasn’t willing to let go of most of them to choose only one. Unable to choose one way of living, I often felt fragmented and wanted to find a way to integrate the separated selves into a one neatly designed life. It was not until recently that I started to make peace with the way my life is turning out. Deep down, I still believe that one day things will make more sense, but I don’t fight with myself anymore, I’m learning to embrace who I am right now and trust the unfolding process. I’m learning to embrace my secret destination.

Expansion and change

I finished Fine Art school in Poland and worked as an artist and graphic designer at one of Krakow’s Cultural Centres. Even though I loved my work and the daily creative process, my soul wanted more. It was not enough for me to create; there was a part of me that needed to dive deeper. I applied to a Religious Studies program with the hope that learning about what each religion has to say about God will give me the answers not only to the question about the meaning of life but about God himself.

For the next five years I worked as an artist during the week and attended classes on weekends. I didn’t get the answers I was looking for, instead my mind opened to new concepts and I learned to see things in a new way. I learned about philosophy, psychology, sociology, mythology, cultural anthropology, and about all the religions of the world, starting with the primitive cultures and ending with the contemporary sects. I discovered the work of William James, Carl Gustav Jung, Joseph Campbell, Stanislav Grof, Mircea Eliade to name a few that made a huge impact on my understanding of myself and the world around me. I became fascinated with the mind, the unconscious, spiritual practices and experiences, I fell in love with the mystics, shamans and a few outcasts. I felt the expansion.

As Emerson pointed out

[t]he mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions

and that was exactly what happened to me during the time spent at the university. My mind stretched beyond what I thought was possible and I became deeply changed by this experience.

The next step to a new path

I never had a chance to find out what I would do when I finished my Master’s degree because as I was writing my Master’s thesis (about one of the outcasts), I met my husband. He was visiting Poland but he lived in Canada and I knew that the next step on my path was to move to the other side of the ocean with him. I packed two suitcases and took the three chapters of my master’s thesis with me and left Krakow to start the next chapter of my life in Calgary. I never finished my thesis realizing that the energy I would have to spend on writing it and going back to Poland would be better invested in my new life.

Even though it did seem like the fairy tale about the prince who arrived on a white horse and took me with him (and in many ways it still is), it did not mean that immigrating to a new country and starting my life over again at the age of thirty was a piece of cake. There are many lessons I learned over the last 15 years as an immigrant and then citizen of Canada; but two realizations stand out the most. I discovered my own resilience and I finally (just recently) recognized and acknowledged how lost I felt throughout all these years.

Looking for yourself in what you do

I often return to this poignant quote by Eckhart Tolle, because I see so much of myself in it. Tolle says:

[t]here’s nothing wrong with doing new things, pursuing activities, exploring new countries, meeting new people, acquiring knowledge and expertise, developing your physical or mental abilities, and creating whatever you’re called upon to create in this world. It is beautiful to create in this world, and there is always more that you can do. Now the question is, are you looking for yourself in what you do? Are you attempting to add more to who you think you are? Are you compulsively striving toward the next moment and the next and the next, hoping to find some sense of completion and fulfillment?

If I am honest with myself my answer is yes, I was looking for myself in pursuing all the achievements since my immigration. At the same time I felt I was following my inner compass every time I said “yes” to the opportunity for growth. Before I could figure out which direction I wanted to go in this new place, I had to learn English. As soon as I was able to write an academic essay in English, I applied to a Social Work program to kick off my Canadian education. At that time, I had already given birth to both of my children and when I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work my son was seven, my daughter five and I was almost 40 years old.

Learning and further expansion

Once I started the learning I couldn’t stop. Things and opportunities were lining up. As soon as I completed one thing, the next was waiting around the corner. I certified as an Embodied Awareness facilitator, became a Reiki Master-practitioner, trained in Expressive Arts Therapy, completed a Master’s Degree in Clinical Social Work, became a spiritual, life and energetic coach and shamanic practitioner. I’ve worked as a counselor, first at a shelter for abused women, then at a distress centre where I mostly worked with suicidal clients and people in crisis. I created a program for caregivers, and worked in hospitals with people with chronic and terminal illnesses in various outpatient clinics and in the emergency department where I still work today.

Finding time to create and trusting the path

Throughout all these years while concentrating on raising my children and achieving yet another goal, I still tried to find time to create. It was more like “stealing” time for something that was nourishing and making me feel alive. I often felt like I was living two parallel lives and even though they were feeding and complementing each other, one was always more visible than the other. I feel like I have arrived at the point, where I don’t want that separation anymore. The need for integration was always present but it is the first time in my life that the circumstances are allowing that integration to finally happen. It is a conscious striving to bring all the parts of who I am together.

I still don’t necessarily know where I am going. I still don’t see a clear path ahead of me but I learned to trust that the path will show up as I move forward. It always does. On the days that I forget, get frustrated or doubt I remind myself Joseph Campbell’s words:

If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.

I might not know exactly where the path will lead me but I found a few things that help me to stay on the right (for me) path. They became the practices that bring me back to myself: creative process, self-inquiry, and co-creating with life.

Creative process

Creative process is an integral part of my life. We are all creative beings even if we are unable to see and believe in it. Creating makes me feel alive, maybe because when I create “I” disappear. I do not create art; my work is about self-expression. My practice is intuitive. I am interested in the process of discovery, of finding out what will happen next on the paper or canvas. This is a process that requires trust, and it is so similar to the way I live my life now. In my work I often use self-portraits; it is not a sign of vanity but an intrinsic need to tell my own story and to witness who I am becoming.

Self-inquiry

Neale Donald Walsch wrote:

The deepest secret is that life is not a process of discovery, but a process of creation. You are not discovering yourself but creating yourself anew. Seek, therefore, not to find out who you are, seek to determine what you want to be.

As much as I like this particular quote, I believe that in life there is a need for both: the discovery and the creation. I want to understand myself and my motives, and I want to face my fears. This is why self-inquiry and working with the unconscious is so important for me. Sometimes the understanding happens on an intuitive level and there are no words needed to explain the shift but I found writing to be a powerful outlet for this inner work practice. I am a fan of Jung who said:

who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Looking inside might not always be easy but I found it is always a rewarding experience.

Co-creating with life

In our society, we establish goals and make plans to achieve them. We often push ourselves to complete the task without paying attention to our true needs. For many years this is how I operated, like everyone I have been conditioned to act that way. It seemed that “pushing” had its benefits, it helped me to achieve a lot. But ultimately pushing too hard for too long manifested as an autoimmune disease in my body and that way of being in the world was no longer a viable option for me.

For the past few years, I intentionally paid attention to life seasons and cycles and learned the way of ebbs and flows. I started following the moon and watched as my life became a dance of co-creation. There are many ways to create and the ultimate way I found is to co-create with life. I am still working on balancing these two approaches as both – the masculine and feminine ways of being in the world – are needed.

There are definitely more things that I learned over the past 45 years of my life but these three practices became a way of bringing me back on the right track. As an empath, social worker and humanitarian, I am much attuned to other people’s needs, but I am finally learning to listen to my own needs as well. Lately, Howard Thurman’s words serve as my guide:

Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

I’m working on it!

Giveaway!

Sylvia is hosting a giveaway on the New Moon (7 November Northern Hemisphere time) on Instagram. The lucky winner will receive a 2019 Moon Mandala wall calendar. This beautiful calendar was created by April Miller McMurtry from The Moon Is My Calendar and one of Sylvia’s mandalas is featured there. To participate, look for this picture on Sylvia’s Instagram fed and follow the instructions. Good Luck!

Important and inspiring books:

Creative Process

Art as Medicine – Shaun McNiff
Art is a Spiritual Path – Pat B. Allen
Art is a Way of Knowing – Pat B. Allen
Big Magic. Creative Living Beyond Fear – Elizabeth Gilbert
Maps to Ecstasy. A Healing Journey for the Untamed Spirit – Gabrielle Roth
The Art of Dreaming. Tools for Creative Dream Work – Jill Mellick
The Artist’s Way. A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity – Julia Cameron
The Courage to Create – Rollo May
The Creative Connection. Expressive Arts as Healing – Natalie Rogers
The Crossroads of Should and Must – Elle Luna
The Mandala Workbook. A Creative Guide for Self-Exploration, Balance, and Well-Being – Susanne F. Fincher
Trust the Process – Shaun McNiff
Wild Creative. Igniting Your Passion and Potential in Work, Home, and Life – Tami Lynn Kent

Writing

At a Journal Workshop. Writing Access the Power of the Unconscious and Evoke Creative Ability – Ira Progoff
Bird by Bird. Some Instructions on Writing and Life – Anne Lamott
Heal Yourself with Writing – Catherine Ann Jones
Life’s Companion. Journal Writing as a Spiritual Practice – Christina Baldwin
Pain and Possibility. Writing Your Way Through Personal Crisis – Gabriele Rico
Poem Medicine. The Healing Art of Poem-Making – John Fox
Freeing Your Life with Words – Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge
Saved by a Poem. The Transformative Power of Words – Kim Rosen
The New Diary. How to Use a Journal for Self-Guidance and Expanded Creativity – Tristine Rainer
The War of Art. Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles – Steven Pressfield
Writing as a Path to Awakening. A Year to Becoming an Excellent Writer and Living an Awakened Life – Albert Flynn DeSilver
Writing from the Body. For Writers, Artists, and Dreamers Who Long to Free Their Voice – John Lee
Writing the Natural Way – Gabriele Rico
Writing to Awaken. A Journey of Truth, Transformation and Self-Discovery – Mark Matousek
Your Life as Story. Discovering the “New Autobiography” and Writing Memoir as Literature – Tristine Rainer

Self-Inquiry & Beyond

A New Earth. Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose – Eckhart Tolle
Anam Cara. A Book of Celtic Wisdom – John O’Donohue
Betrayal, Trust, and Forgiveness. A Guide to Emotional Healing and Self-Renewal – Beth Hedva
Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself. How to Lose Your Mind and Create a New One – Joe Dispenza
Change Your Story, Change Your Life. Using Shamanic and Jungian Tools to Achieve Personal Transformation – Carl Greer
Embracing Our Selves. The Voice Dialogue Manual – Hal and Sidra Stone
Healing Our Deepest Wounds: The Holotropic Paradigm Shift – Stanislav Grof
How to Befriend Your Shadow. Welcoming Your Unloved Side – John Monbourquette
In Touch. How to Tune In to the Inner Guidance of Your Body and Trust Yourself – John J. Prendergast
Inner Work. Using Dreams and Active Imagination for Personal Growth – Robert A. Johnson
It Didn’t Start with You. How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and how to End the Cycle – Mark Wolynn
Jung and Shamanism in Dialogue – C. Michael Smith
Jung on Active Imagination – ed. Joan Chodorow
Jung’s Maps of the Soul – Murray Stein
Knowing Your Shadow. Becoming Intimate with All That You Are – Robert Augustus Masters (CD)
Living Your Unlived Life. Coping with Unrealized Dreams and Fulfilling Your Purpose in the Second Half of Life – Robert A. Johnson, Jerry M. Ruhl
Meeting the Shadow. The Hidden Power of the Dark Side of Human Nature – ed. Connie Zweig & Jeremiah Abrams
The New Science of Personal Transformation – Daniel J. Siegel
Mirrors of the Self. Archetypal Images That Shape Your Life – ed. Christine Downing
Radical Acceptance. Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha – Tara Brach
Shadow Dance. Liberating the Power and Creativity of Your Dark Side – David Richo
Spiritual Bypassing. When Spirituality Disconnects Us from What Really Matters – Robert Augustus Masters
The Highly Sensitive Person. How to Thrive when the World Overwhelms You – Elaine N. Aron
The Places that Scare You. A guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times – Pema Chodron
The Power of Focusing. A Practical Guide to Emotional Self-Healing – Ann Weiser Cornell
The Power of Now. A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment – Eckhart Tolle
The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion – Mircea Eliade
The Tao of Psychology. Synchronicity and the Self – Jen Shinoda Bolen
The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature – William James
Women Who Run with the Wolves. Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype – Clarissa Pinkola Estes

About Sylvia Barnowski

Sylvia Barnowski MSW, RSW is a mixed-media artist, a social worker trained in Expressive Arts Therapy, an embodied awareness facilitator, a life coach, and a shamanic practitioner. Sylvia currently works part time as a social worker in a busy hospital Emergency Department where she provides counselling, support and resources to patients and their families going through difficult times in their lives. When not at work Sylvia spends her time on creating, reading, and developing creative and personal growth classes and workshops. She lives in Cochrane, Alberta with her husband, two wonderful children and a cat named Silver. You can connect with Sylvia on Instagram or by visiting her website, Maps to Self.

Photographs and artwork by Sylvia Barnowski and used with permission and thanks.

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

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The best piece of advice my father gave me

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The voice and the moment everything changed

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What I have learned

Resources that have supported me

About Heidi Washburn

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Secret destinations

Expansion and change

The next step to a new path

Looking for yourself in what you do

Learning and further expansion

Finding time to create and trusting the path

Creative process

Self-inquiry

Co-creating with life

Giveaway!

Important and inspiring books:

About Sylvia Barnowski

Read more Wholehearted Stories

Keep in touch + free ebook ’36 Books that Shaped my Story’

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