Roar Gently

Roar Gently

Do you ever feel like you’ve been silenced? In one way and another, incidents have been piling up for me and in a flash of insight, I realized that I’ve been staying quiet when perhaps I should’ve been speaking up.

To right this, I put Katy Perry’s Roar on repeat and cranked the volume up while I was driving. Just letting the words wash over me, “You hear my voice, you hear that sound, like thunder gonna shake your ground” tightened my resolve to let the world (or at the very least, a few select people) hear me roar.

As women, this can be a tough sell in our culture. We often feel the pressure to be nice, to get along, to not rock the boat, to avoid being labelled as difficult or bitchy. Facing conflict head-on can cause many of us to panic and retreat.

roar gentlyI struggle to find a balance between speaking up when something affects me or my kids and choosing to stay quiet when it’s none of my business (even if I may have strong feelings on the subject). I long to be as kind as possible, like most women do, but to also demonstrate courage by going boldly into tense situations without backing down. This is not an easy line to walk.

After feeling pumped up by Katy Perry’s beautiful and strong anthem, I wanted to simply say whatever came to mind to several people. But this didn’t seem right either, as we need to practice discretion so we aren’t abusive or cruel in our self-expression.

I’m trying now to think in terms of Roaring Gently. I have every right to use my voice, as every person does, but in order to stay true to my values and integrity, I also desire to choose gentleness in my delivery. Both of these words together give me a better framework for this important process.

Practicing new skills is hard. We should expect setbacks. We’ll bite our tongue and wish later we had spoken up. Or the opposite will happen: we’ll be stirred up and pissed off, so we’ll push our filters aside and let the person have every one of our nasty, unvarnished thoughts. This might require some apologies in order to keep our relationships healthy, but we can offer ourselves grace and love as we work through these normal bumps in the path.

Feeling voiceless gives us a sense that we are not in control of our lives. We can slide into victimhood, lashing out in a passive aggressive manner instead of bravely asking for what we need. This is not a healthy long-term strategy. But neither is saying hurtful things in the heat of the moment that can never be unsaid. Roaring is critical to our health, but a gentle roar is preferable to an angry one.

Let’s roar gently together – women who aren’t afraid to step up and be heard, but who value kindness as much as we do honesty.

How the Soul Speaks

How the Soul Speaks

Do you ever have one of those times when your reaction is nuts compared to the situation? I’m learning to pay attention to these over-reactions, for my soul is trying to tell me something that I might otherwise ignore or drown out.

Last week I was doing laundry and my dusting cloth fell in the small gap between the washer and the wall. I felt unreasonably frustrated by this tiny mishap. It was as if my psychic house of cards started to wobble and something deep inside of me recognized that I was in serious danger of losing control. I grabbed my daughter’s onesie pajamas and tried several times to cram them in the space and slowly pull them forward to drag the dusting cloth to where I could reach it before the washer drum finished filling.

Nothing. The damn cloth didn’t budge. I leaned awkwardly across the washer, refusing to quit on this rag, but when I sat up sharply I hit my head on the plastic container that holds grocery bags. All hell broke loose. It hurt like a mother and an overwhelming rage bubbled up and spilled out of me. My poor cats fled in the onslaught of such blue language. There I was, hopping around in my laundry room, rubbing my sore head and cussing the world and everyone in it.

How The Soul SpeaksI yelled. I swore. I bawled. I finally allowed my anger to have its way; to blow through me like a violent storm.

It had everything and nothing to do with the dusting cloth. This grief was a volcano, simmering safely until the internal temperature is finally too high and now the only option left is to explode. When we run from our feelings they find a way to get our attention. They bring us to our knees.

The pressure builds in us and then demands a release. I felt intense relief at the end of my tantrum (mixed in with gratitude that I was alone in the house except for my two surprised cats). I desperately needed to admit that I was not fine. I was hurting, engaging with my own despised human frailty; afraid, alone, angry as hell. It took a hard bump on the head to bring it all up and out so I could finally let go of it.

We can only control so much. Sometimes we reach the end of our desperate agenda. A “T” forms in our path and we must either hang on or let go. Getting honest about this is the first step, even if this looks like swearing and screeching in your basement. Especially then. It’s never easy to admit that it’s not all about you. As Rob Bell says, “There is something else going on here.”

I’m grateful for that dropped cloth and the subsequent bump on the head. When I calmed down I could sense that I was different in some hard-to-define but nonetheless true way. With a flash of insight, I saw that the broom handle would be the solution for my cloth. In two seconds, it was retrieved and placed in the washer, just in the nick of time.

Most of life is like this, provided we don’t catastrophize into the future. Staying in the present helps us find our solution and remain connected to our true selves so we can figure out what it is we actually need.

That Rey Moment

That Rey Moment

We bought Star Wars: The Force Awakens and watched it again as a family this weekend. It lost none of the magic from when we first saw it in IMAX on opening day in December, but this time, one particular moment deepened in meaning for me.

When Rey faces Kylo Ren in the forest and her fingers close around Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber, she crosses over in that instant to her new identity – the person she was born to be but lacked the courage to become before this defining moment. I recognized a profound identification as I watched this dramatic scene unfold, for every one of us has either had that Rey moment ourselves or will at some point.

We all know, deep down, who we really are. But then we must access the strength to step into it, to cross over, to accept that invitation we receive to live as our truest selves. For Rey, in that second she grips the handle of the lightsaber, it’s written all over her face. This will change everything and she knows it.

star-wars-the-force-awakens-wallpaperThese key moments are exhilarating and terrifying, at exactly the same time. It’s thrilling to stop running from our calling at last, but embracing our real identity means walking away from the old one. This involves loss and pain. It’s a bridge we cross, from one inner destination to another, and we can never return in the same way.

The Hero’s Journey requires forward motion. If we stay stuck in the same place, we are not on a journey. We are in a loop. When we finally embrace our own Rey moment, we step from the old, familiar pattern and move on to who we are meant to be.

Now we are moving forward with new things to learn and experience. It’s like Dorothy opening the door to Oz and experiencing every single thing in bright, vivid colour, leaving the black-and-white version of herself behind. There are fresh adventures ahead, provided we are brave enough to go for them. It helps to form a new tribe of other like-minded travellers, who are on their own Hero’s Journey, and can provide support and encouragement in the loneliest spots.

Another helpful practice is stillness. Rey summons the power of quiet later in her fight with Kylo Ren, closing her eyes and taking the time to focus her energy and her mind. This is a requirement for those of us fighting our way through this life in the boldness of our true identities.

Don’t give up. Keep on going. Know that we are all making our way together. We have grasped our unique lightsabers and found out who we really are. Now we must continue to walk this path, even when it’s impossibly hard. Especially then, for we will find what we are looking for if we don’t give up.

The joy and the inspiration is found in the power of who we are meant to be. If you haven’t had that Rey moment of identification, start watching for it. And if you have, keep walking your Hero’s Journey. You are not alone. There are many of us, finding our true legacies and callings, believing that our power and our future lies along this path of who we are and were always meant to be.

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

Being in a long-term committed marriage is hard. If you are both open to change and growth (which is a prerequisite if you want to have a healthy, mutually-satisfying relationship), you will have periods of calm interspersed with turbulent weeks and months of upheaval and uncertainty.

Jason and I are in one of those uneasy stretches of our path right now and we have been for a couple of months now. Over the course of our almost 18 years of marriage, we’ve made our way through many of these rocky patches so I know if we persevere, we are likely to make it through to a place of strength and encouragement. That helps in a vague, otherworldly sense, but day to day it’s not much damn good.

I really hate the rawness of these relationship struggles. Where my brokenness meets his brokenness, it all feels broken. And yet day to day we make it through. We laugh over silly little things, we cook meals, we make plans, we parent as a team.

marriageTrying to be real with each other has its rewards when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When the storm clouds roll in, that same level of honesty and authenticity can be terrifying. It leaves you feeling alone, naked, vulnerable and small. It’s agonizing, but this is always where the growing happens. I want the growth. I just don’t like the pain that precedes it.

I’m glad we fell in love and chose each other all those years ago. Thank God the tough times are mixed in with the happy ones or no marriage would succeed. I think it’s important to get honest about the real struggles and hardships that every couple goes through, especially now when we live in such a shiny Instagram world. The pretty pictures don’t tell the whole story. There is more going on than we can see in photos and glib status updates on social media.

The point of commitment it to be committed. To walk as partners through the darkest sections of your lives. To confront the fear head-on, with as much bravery as you can muster. To own your own words and actions and allow your partner to own theirs. To do your best to collaborate with kindness, riding out the scariest times and trying to remember why you love each other and decided to hitch your wagons together all those years ago.

The easy days don’t teach us much. They are there to enjoy as memories to keep us warm and safe, but hardship is where the greatest lessons reside. One day we’ll look back on this season and it will make more sense to us. For now, we will keep moving forward, together as a team, doing our very best to ask for what we need and learn what we can when the dice doesn’t roll our way.

As a favourite pastor told us many years ago when we were newlyweds, “The first 20 years of marriage are the hardest.” Now that we are close to that milestone, I think I finally know what he meant. But the only way out is always through – so we continue to walk together, whistling in the dark to bolster our courage, reaching out for the other person’s hand in the blackest sections to remind yourself that you are not alone.