I was inspired recently by blog post by one of my newish-to-me favorite bloggers, Jennifer Louden. Like usual, her insights helped me see some things going on in my life right now more clearly.
In her recent post about the necessity of retreats, she talks about one of the daily practices she and her retreat-mates do. They check-in to see what is stirring in them — what feels bright and wonderful, and what feels uncomfortable. This is something I also do in practice with a nontraditional writer’s group that’s based on the design of PRH.
Her beautiful image of the “the grit” and “the pearl” in reference to assessing our inner sensations was new for me. And striking. The grit is the friction scratchiness that ends up as the luminous gift of the pearl. It is part of the process of emerging.
When alone, I’d prefer to brush off the grit. As someone who’s lived with general anxiety for her whole life, I know the uncomfortable feelings are nasty to dive into.
In the writer’s group, I’m braver. In the safety of people I trust, I’ve found that the uncomfortable feeling forces attention to what it is that doesn’t feel right.
Well that just sounds like Captain Obvious, right? But when I feel like crap, I feel like crap, and the anxiety flips the switch on an emotional tornado just wreaking havoc over my house.
Often I have no idea what’s really bothing me, because the anxiety itself has me completely twisted. But if I actually sit with that discomfort and journal about what it’s saying, usually, I’ll get some clarity.
But it sucks at the first jump in – just like the first 2 minutes on the elliptical alone sucks.
Can’t give JUST the grit all the time and attention though. It’s important to sit with and journal about the “pearl” sensations too. I’ve found that allowing the positive places to take up lots of space inside allows the gritty parts to feel not so gritty. I’m not always in a crappy state of mind either, so that doesn’t mean I need to return there to actually feel like I’m doing some soul-searching healing work.
I like being with others who I love and trust to do this, though. It’s hard to hold it all alone at first. Many hearts cracked open wide fill an empty space easier than one alone.
“Retreat as a birth right” is true for me. Whether it’s a retreat-retreat or an hour in a writer’s group or a workshop, I need that time to connect to other people on that level. It’s not for everyone — which is too bad because I might feel less alone in my daily life if other people did yearn for the authentic connection like I do.
Maybe we all do, but we don’t talk about it?