What do you see when you see me? Do you truly see ME, or your perception of me? Who do you hear when you hear me? Do you truly hear ME, or the chatter of those who came before you? Who speaks when you open your mouth? Is it you? Or do you speak the words of others that have subtly, silently, settled deep within you without your recognition? Is it truly your voice, or the voice of history repeating itself?
Who are you? Are you the unique being you were created to be? Or are you a product of your humanness and life experiences? Are you the gifts and talents and love that you came into existence with or has all of that been long forgotten? Do you live your life from your core? Your heart and soul? Or do you live it from your head, your fears, and your insecurities? Is your belief system your own, or the accumulation of the beliefs you've been taught? WHO ARE YOU?
When you're no longer in this space and time, what do you wish to be left behind? What is the point of your being here? Does the reason suit you? Does it suit JUST you, or does it also suit the greater good? If you are fortunate enough to leave behind your DNA, when that DNA is flowing through someone else's veins what pieces of you will be sustaining life? What are the pieces of you that you want flowing through the hearts of your children, and their children, and so on. And what are you willing to do to ensure that happens? To ensure your struggle has been worth it?
OR maybe, just maybe, you've already done it. Maybe you can leave the struggle behind once and for all, knowing that your work is done and now is the time for peace. You know because when you see, you can see the beauty and not the judgment. When you hear, you can hear the positive much louder than the negative. And when you speak you are confident in your ability to speak your own truth and no one else's. When you ask yourself who you are, you're able to breathe easy and know you are the most genuine version of yourself possible.
Now you can let the questions, the second-guessing and the self-doubt subside. Let the opinions, the fear and the insecurities cease. Let the weight of the world rest on the universe's shoulders because you have given and wondered enough. NOW is the time for peace.
Peace, and celebration!
XO,
Carrie
Sunday, November 24, 2019
Sunday, September 15, 2019
The Fence
I see his face looking over the fence that separates our back yards, the elderly man that lives next door. Balding head, glasses, smiling. I'm not certain how old I am, maybe seven. Maybe ten. He's calling my name and motioning for me to come over. I feel curious, and a little bit excited. What does he want? Does he have something for me? A new toy or some other kind of surprise? I don't question whether or not I should go. I've seen he and my mother carry on many a conversation over this fence. He's a friend and I have no reason to hesitate.
I walk, maybe even skip, down the brick walkway next to my garage that leads to the front yards, feeling more excited as I go. I cut through the grass on the side of his house, onto the sidewalk and see him waiting for me in his driveway. He's smiling and motioning with his hand to come to him. I don't see his wife anywhere, but this isn't unusual. I never really see her outside, it's always him. I do wonder sometimes where she is and why I never see her.
He leads me into his garage and I'm looking around, trying not to make it too obvious that I'm looking for the surprise. Could it be a bike? I continue to scan but I'm not seeing anything. I'm still feeling curious but also now a little uncomfortable. We walk to the back of the garage where there is shelving on the wall. He reaches up and grabs a cloth from a box on the shelf that says "Handi-Wipes". My excitement is turning to anxiousness. He unzips his tan pants and pulls out his penis. He places the Handi-Wipe in my hand, wraps it around his penis and holds my hand tightly with his hand. He begins to pleasure himself. I feel confused and trapped. I don't try to get away, he's holding my hand with a firm grip and I'm scared. I don't understand what's happening, but all of my senses are telling me it's bad. I wonder where his wife is. I wonder if my mom is looking for me. He tips his head back, his eyes closed, I think. He makes a strange noise and has a very weird look on his face. I feel confused, and disgusted. Whatever just happened was gross. He's gross and I want to go home.
He takes the cloth from me and puts it in the garbage. He zips his pants and whispers that I need to go home. He says I can't tell anyone our secret. He says if I tell my mom it will upset her and make her mad at me. It will be my fault and I'll get into trouble. I go home, having no idea that I will never be the same little girl that walked across this grass a few minutes ago. I can no longer trust the adults in my world and I no longer feel safe. I know I won't tell. I know I have to keep this secret from my mom or she'll be upset and possibly blame me. I have to keep the secret from my dad because he will get mad and maybe hurt the old man and it will be my fault. I don't understand what just happened but I feel ashamed when I think about it.
Conversations continue to take place between he and my mom over the fence. It's apparent that she doesn't know, and I feel relieved. I'm doing a good job of protecting myself, of protecting her. Everything is going to be okay, if I just don't tell.
He continues to call for me over the fence, and I continue to go. I don't feel like I have a choice. He's an adult and kids do what adults tell them to do. He's a friend of my mom and dads and I need to respect that. I don't know how many times it happens and I don't remember how it stops. Maybe he stops calling for me. Maybe I avoid him now when I see his face over the fence. Maybe he's moved on to a new victim.
I keep that secret until many years later. I am a grown woman with two kids of my own. I'm sitting at the breakfast bar at my brother's house. There's a party going on, I'm drinking wine and I'm surrounded by a few of my siblings. My mom is there as well. Somehow it comes out - the old man next door, your friend, good old Mr. G, was a sexual predator, and he abused me. I see my mother's face, it's turning pale. She looks confused and in shock - "Wait...WHAT?!" I say it again and my mother yells, "That dirty old bastard. If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him! I hope he's rotting in hell.", then she begins to cry. I immediately regret that I said it out loud. She is upset, and it's my fault. The betrayal she must feel. The disbelief and the ANGER. I feel happy he's dead so I don't need to fear what will come next.
I now live in the house I grew up in and that fence remains in our back yard. I've never really understood until now why, when I sit outside, I always prefer to sit in the front yard. Somehow it's always felt safer to me to be where there are cars, and sidewalks, and people.
For many years these memories were not in the forefront. I didn't think about it and if I did, I pushed it aside or downplayed it. It was a long time ago, it wasn't really abuse because he never touched me, it only happened a hand full of times. Blah, blah, blah. It's not until recently, when I started doing some therapeutic work around these events that I began to understand the power they hold. Our view of the world and our general sense of safety is formed when we're young. Traumatic events stay with us in some form until they are dealt with. I'm happy that this beast has shown itself and I'm finally taking control. I feel confident that the day will come, sooner rather than later, that Mr. G, the sick old man that lived next door, will no longer have any influence over how I live my life, and his face will no longer appear when I look at the fence in my backyard.
XO,
Carrie - #metoo
I walk, maybe even skip, down the brick walkway next to my garage that leads to the front yards, feeling more excited as I go. I cut through the grass on the side of his house, onto the sidewalk and see him waiting for me in his driveway. He's smiling and motioning with his hand to come to him. I don't see his wife anywhere, but this isn't unusual. I never really see her outside, it's always him. I do wonder sometimes where she is and why I never see her.
He leads me into his garage and I'm looking around, trying not to make it too obvious that I'm looking for the surprise. Could it be a bike? I continue to scan but I'm not seeing anything. I'm still feeling curious but also now a little uncomfortable. We walk to the back of the garage where there is shelving on the wall. He reaches up and grabs a cloth from a box on the shelf that says "Handi-Wipes". My excitement is turning to anxiousness. He unzips his tan pants and pulls out his penis. He places the Handi-Wipe in my hand, wraps it around his penis and holds my hand tightly with his hand. He begins to pleasure himself. I feel confused and trapped. I don't try to get away, he's holding my hand with a firm grip and I'm scared. I don't understand what's happening, but all of my senses are telling me it's bad. I wonder where his wife is. I wonder if my mom is looking for me. He tips his head back, his eyes closed, I think. He makes a strange noise and has a very weird look on his face. I feel confused, and disgusted. Whatever just happened was gross. He's gross and I want to go home.
He takes the cloth from me and puts it in the garbage. He zips his pants and whispers that I need to go home. He says I can't tell anyone our secret. He says if I tell my mom it will upset her and make her mad at me. It will be my fault and I'll get into trouble. I go home, having no idea that I will never be the same little girl that walked across this grass a few minutes ago. I can no longer trust the adults in my world and I no longer feel safe. I know I won't tell. I know I have to keep this secret from my mom or she'll be upset and possibly blame me. I have to keep the secret from my dad because he will get mad and maybe hurt the old man and it will be my fault. I don't understand what just happened but I feel ashamed when I think about it.
Conversations continue to take place between he and my mom over the fence. It's apparent that she doesn't know, and I feel relieved. I'm doing a good job of protecting myself, of protecting her. Everything is going to be okay, if I just don't tell.
He continues to call for me over the fence, and I continue to go. I don't feel like I have a choice. He's an adult and kids do what adults tell them to do. He's a friend of my mom and dads and I need to respect that. I don't know how many times it happens and I don't remember how it stops. Maybe he stops calling for me. Maybe I avoid him now when I see his face over the fence. Maybe he's moved on to a new victim.
I keep that secret until many years later. I am a grown woman with two kids of my own. I'm sitting at the breakfast bar at my brother's house. There's a party going on, I'm drinking wine and I'm surrounded by a few of my siblings. My mom is there as well. Somehow it comes out - the old man next door, your friend, good old Mr. G, was a sexual predator, and he abused me. I see my mother's face, it's turning pale. She looks confused and in shock - "Wait...WHAT?!" I say it again and my mother yells, "That dirty old bastard. If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him! I hope he's rotting in hell.", then she begins to cry. I immediately regret that I said it out loud. She is upset, and it's my fault. The betrayal she must feel. The disbelief and the ANGER. I feel happy he's dead so I don't need to fear what will come next.
I now live in the house I grew up in and that fence remains in our back yard. I've never really understood until now why, when I sit outside, I always prefer to sit in the front yard. Somehow it's always felt safer to me to be where there are cars, and sidewalks, and people.
For many years these memories were not in the forefront. I didn't think about it and if I did, I pushed it aside or downplayed it. It was a long time ago, it wasn't really abuse because he never touched me, it only happened a hand full of times. Blah, blah, blah. It's not until recently, when I started doing some therapeutic work around these events that I began to understand the power they hold. Our view of the world and our general sense of safety is formed when we're young. Traumatic events stay with us in some form until they are dealt with. I'm happy that this beast has shown itself and I'm finally taking control. I feel confident that the day will come, sooner rather than later, that Mr. G, the sick old man that lived next door, will no longer have any influence over how I live my life, and his face will no longer appear when I look at the fence in my backyard.
XO,
Carrie - #metoo
Saturday, April 13, 2019
The Storm Before the Calm
It's a rainy, cool morning. Open window, slight breeze blowing the long, creamy white curtains hanging in my bedroom. There's an unidentifiable bird incessantly singing it's morning song. The house is all mine, making the only noise I hear the occasional passing car. The sound it's bringing lets me know that it's wet outside. A much needed Spring rain has fallen overnight, leaving that lovely, completely identifiable smell in the air.
This is my favorite time of day. Early morning, before the vibration of the day gets dialed up to frenzy speed. The speed that sadly, we live our lives in with such regularity that we forget there's another speed available. That time before I glance at my cell phone or turn on a computer. Before I hear a radio or a television and knowingly welcome the assault they're sure to bring. This is the time when I find I'm most accessible to myself and can remember who I truly am. If I'm lucky, I can even feel a trace of my divinity.
I found an old journal of mine in a drawer next to my bed and decided to flip through the pages. I've gotten rid of many old journals, knowing instinctively that I was done with them, but not this one. Not surprisingly, almost every line has a message that's still relatable to me. I can hear sadness in my words but I also hear strength and undying perseverance. I see unhealthy patterns giving way to really great ideas/options for being well. I hear confusion, yet razor sharp focus. I can feel the hopelessness being driven out time and time again by faith in a bigger picture. I see an undeniable struggle and then 100% conviction that I am not alone in that feeling. The struggle is real for all of us my friends, but this morning I'm reminded that if you can allow yourself these moments to gain accessibility into who you truly are, you will see that the peace is just as real as the struggle.
I'm sure you've heard the line, "The calm before the storm."? Being able to get a glimpse into my past through the messages on these pages has validated that there is also, most definitely, "The storm before the calm." Something to hold onto when you feel your ship is sinking.
XO,
Carrie
This is my favorite time of day. Early morning, before the vibration of the day gets dialed up to frenzy speed. The speed that sadly, we live our lives in with such regularity that we forget there's another speed available. That time before I glance at my cell phone or turn on a computer. Before I hear a radio or a television and knowingly welcome the assault they're sure to bring. This is the time when I find I'm most accessible to myself and can remember who I truly am. If I'm lucky, I can even feel a trace of my divinity.
I found an old journal of mine in a drawer next to my bed and decided to flip through the pages. I've gotten rid of many old journals, knowing instinctively that I was done with them, but not this one. Not surprisingly, almost every line has a message that's still relatable to me. I can hear sadness in my words but I also hear strength and undying perseverance. I see unhealthy patterns giving way to really great ideas/options for being well. I hear confusion, yet razor sharp focus. I can feel the hopelessness being driven out time and time again by faith in a bigger picture. I see an undeniable struggle and then 100% conviction that I am not alone in that feeling. The struggle is real for all of us my friends, but this morning I'm reminded that if you can allow yourself these moments to gain accessibility into who you truly are, you will see that the peace is just as real as the struggle.
I'm sure you've heard the line, "The calm before the storm."? Being able to get a glimpse into my past through the messages on these pages has validated that there is also, most definitely, "The storm before the calm." Something to hold onto when you feel your ship is sinking.
XO,
Carrie
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Empty Nest
In a previous post entitled No Joke I made mention of all the goodbyes that we face during this phase of life. I suppose not all goodbyes are difficult, but even the ones that are consciously chosen or the ones you believe you're prepared for can surprise you with feelings of sadness and doubt. Goodbyes mandate transition, sometimes you're ready for it, and often times you're not. When my youngest of three sons decided to move out I was definitely not prepared for the whirlwind of emotion that followed. Honestly, I'm still attempting to find my footing in this "Empty Nest" world I'm living in. Still trying to figure out how we got here so fast! The John Lennon line, "Life is something that happens while we're busy making other plans", comes to mind.
We are surrounded by teachings of mindfulness and the importance of living in the present moment so those moments don't pass us by. When I was a child, yoga was just this weird, new age practice that only "hippies" did. Now, it's actually prescribed by doctors as a way of achieving and maintaining good health. Reminders to breathe and be aware are right at our fingertips. For instance, as I write this I'm listening to beautiful, calming, piano music on my phone which is one of the 15,000 meditations you can choose on this great app I downloaded to my phone at the advice of a friend. Literally 15,000 opportunities to be brought back to the here and now if needed!
My point is this, there is a LOT of help available to not allow life to be something that happens while we're busy making other plans, yet I still find that's the direction my mind naturally heads in. As I write and listen to this piano music, I'm hearing my husband's annoying whistling to the 70's rock station he has blasting from his phone. I'm also hearing my stomach trying to tell me it needs food, NOW! I'm hearing the humming of the portable heater at my feet and thoughts of indecision on how I'd like to see the rest of this day play out, all the while trying to decide the direction I want this post to go in. Our days are full of distractions. Life really is one big distraction after the next, isn't it? And that, my friend, is how you go from this...
Goodnight Moon
In the great green room
There was a telephone
And a red balloon
And a picture of -
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens
And a pair of mittens
And a little toy house
And a young mouse
And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight room - Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light - And the red balloon
Goodnight bears - Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens - And goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks - And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house - And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb - And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody - Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars - Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere
To this...
Goodnight Room
In this child's old room
There was a telephone
And computer full of tunes
And a picture of -
He and friends at graduation that June
There were three little bears and other stories we'd share
I'd read books about kittens
And he'd cuddle up and listen
And a family's loving house
And a bed on which he'd bounce
And a comb and brush and dirty laundry untouched
And a tired old mother yelling to "hush"
Goodnight empty room - Goodnight moon
Goodnight childhood - And years gone too soon
Goodnight laughter - And tunes in this room
Goodnight bears - And special moments we shared
Goodnight mittens - And stories of kittens
Goodnight clocks - And late night door knocks
Goodnight loving house - And bed on which he'd bounce
Goodnight comb - And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody - And clean laundry untouched
And goodnight to the tired old mother longing to yell "hush"
Goodnight stars - Goodnight tears
Goodnight silence everywhere
...in the blink of an eye.
Namaste.
XO,
Carrie
We are surrounded by teachings of mindfulness and the importance of living in the present moment so those moments don't pass us by. When I was a child, yoga was just this weird, new age practice that only "hippies" did. Now, it's actually prescribed by doctors as a way of achieving and maintaining good health. Reminders to breathe and be aware are right at our fingertips. For instance, as I write this I'm listening to beautiful, calming, piano music on my phone which is one of the 15,000 meditations you can choose on this great app I downloaded to my phone at the advice of a friend. Literally 15,000 opportunities to be brought back to the here and now if needed!
My point is this, there is a LOT of help available to not allow life to be something that happens while we're busy making other plans, yet I still find that's the direction my mind naturally heads in. As I write and listen to this piano music, I'm hearing my husband's annoying whistling to the 70's rock station he has blasting from his phone. I'm also hearing my stomach trying to tell me it needs food, NOW! I'm hearing the humming of the portable heater at my feet and thoughts of indecision on how I'd like to see the rest of this day play out, all the while trying to decide the direction I want this post to go in. Our days are full of distractions. Life really is one big distraction after the next, isn't it? And that, my friend, is how you go from this...
Goodnight Moon
In the great green room
There was a telephone
And a red balloon
And a picture of -
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens
And a pair of mittens
And a little toy house
And a young mouse
And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight room - Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light - And the red balloon
Goodnight bears - Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens - And goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks - And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house - And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb - And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody - Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars - Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere
To this...
Goodnight Room
In this child's old room
There was a telephone
And computer full of tunes
And a picture of -
He and friends at graduation that June
There were three little bears and other stories we'd share
I'd read books about kittens
And he'd cuddle up and listen
And a family's loving house
And a bed on which he'd bounce
And a comb and brush and dirty laundry untouched
And a tired old mother yelling to "hush"
Goodnight empty room - Goodnight moon
Goodnight childhood - And years gone too soon
Goodnight laughter - And tunes in this room
Goodnight bears - And special moments we shared
Goodnight mittens - And stories of kittens
Goodnight clocks - And late night door knocks
Goodnight loving house - And bed on which he'd bounce
Goodnight comb - And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody - And clean laundry untouched
And goodnight to the tired old mother longing to yell "hush"
Goodnight stars - Goodnight tears
Goodnight silence everywhere
...in the blink of an eye.
Namaste.
XO,
Carrie
Monday, February 18, 2019
Silence
I am an observer. I am a peace keeper. I’m a Libra, always needing to keep things balanced and feeling it deeply when they’re not. When Donald Trump was voted into office our country (and the world) experienced a frenzy that we’ve yet to recover from. For someone who desires to live her life from a place of fairness, balance, and love, the energy that I found myself surrounded by was more than I could handle. It was coming at me from everywhere! The media, my friends, my co-workers, my family. I was being made to feel that if I didn’t take a stand in one direction or another I was somehow part of the problem. Really? Is this true? Life can be tough for those of us who have the ability to live in the grey area. That place where you see both sides of the coin, good and bad. It’s rare that I see black or white in any given situation, which is a blessing and a curse. So I did what I’ve always done; retreat inward, observe, and then write.
Silence
You know nothing of my silence.
My silence does not breed hatred
My silence does not condone racism
My silence does not lay down with the bigot
My silence does not embrace homophobia
My silence does not imply complacency
My silence is not the route of all evil,
nor does it dance with the devil
You know nothing of my silence
My silence chooses peace when I am surrounded by chaos
My silence chooses sanity when there is little to be found
My silence chooses calm when your storm wants to consume me
My silence chooses time when I am pushed to act NOW
My silence chooses to observe rather than join in the dance of fear
You know nothing of my silence
Do NOT make assumptions when I am silent
Do NOT tell me my silence has no worth
Do NOT tell me my silence is the problem
Do NOT convince yourself you know what my silence holds
You know nothing of the ways in which
I am willing to step up that you may
never be a witness to
You are free to fight your battles however
your heart chooses, I will not judge your voice
But you know nothing of the battles I have
fought with my silence... and won
You know nothing of my silence
XO,
Carrie
Silence
You know nothing of my silence.
My silence does not breed hatred
My silence does not condone racism
My silence does not lay down with the bigot
My silence does not embrace homophobia
My silence does not imply complacency
My silence is not the route of all evil,
nor does it dance with the devil
You know nothing of my silence
My silence chooses peace when I am surrounded by chaos
My silence chooses sanity when there is little to be found
My silence chooses calm when your storm wants to consume me
My silence chooses time when I am pushed to act NOW
My silence chooses to observe rather than join in the dance of fear
You know nothing of my silence
Do NOT make assumptions when I am silent
Do NOT tell me my silence has no worth
Do NOT tell me my silence is the problem
Do NOT convince yourself you know what my silence holds
You know nothing of the ways in which
I am willing to step up that you may
never be a witness to
You are free to fight your battles however
your heart chooses, I will not judge your voice
But you know nothing of the battles I have
fought with my silence... and won
You know nothing of my silence
XO,
Carrie
Blank Page
I'm sure I've mentioned to you that when it comes to sharing my feelings, I've always preferred the written word over the spoken one. Writing allows for a certain clarity that only comes from being still enough to hear it. It allows me to access the truth needing to be shared in a way that speaking doesn't. My truth has the potential to get lost in the midst of a conversation. How many times have you thought you were totally clear on the message you wanted to convey when speaking to someone, only to walk away feeling like you didn't say it? Or wishing you'd been clearer on your point of view? When you have a conversation with someone you're engaging with their energy and emotion, and while that's one of the wonderful things about face to face communication, it can also be very distracting and frustrating, depending on the circumstances. The only distraction you need to contend with when writing is your own brain!
Last summer, while vacationing on Lake George with my family, it was a beautifully quiet morning. Half of the gang was out fishing and the other half were still sleeping when I started thinking about our stories, and wondering how much of our stories are of our own making and how much were written long before we came into existence. You know, those simple morning coffee thoughts that come out of nowhere. No? Not your typical morning coffee thoughts? Welcome to my world! So I grabbed a pen and some paper and thought I'd share what surfaced.
The Beauty of the Blank Page
When I see a blank page, I see opportunity. What is hiding deep down, waiting to be revealed? What am I carrying day in and day out that weighs me down, creates a sense of burden and affects my well being? What is the root of the negative thoughts that tend to push forward, each day with a bit more ease? The answers can be found in the blank page. The empty space invites. Pen in hand today's story emerges and little by little the truth is revealed. Past hurts. Core beliefs. The monumental differences between you and the world.
The noise. The chaos. The fear. The doubt. The pain. How much of it belongs to you and how much of it was planted in your DNA centuries ago? The suffering of your ancestors carried down through time and passed on to you, your children, your grandchildren.
It's not your fault. Do you hear me? IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. Nor is it your duty or your obligation to pass the torch of suffering on. Your duty is to find the light that makes you shine and BE THAT! The world does not need the pain of your ancestors to remain alive, what it needs is their joy. The joy, the delight, the unconditional love that was planted with the first seed of existence. This is your obligation. Bring this forward to the future generations and gracefully, gratefully, let the rest disintegrate. Let the divine forces of nature that live within and all around you bring cleansing as often as is needed to make the shift. Let the pen and blank page bring you back to yourself, again, and again, and again.
And just like that the page is full, and the soul is free.
XO,
Carrie
Last summer, while vacationing on Lake George with my family, it was a beautifully quiet morning. Half of the gang was out fishing and the other half were still sleeping when I started thinking about our stories, and wondering how much of our stories are of our own making and how much were written long before we came into existence. You know, those simple morning coffee thoughts that come out of nowhere. No? Not your typical morning coffee thoughts? Welcome to my world! So I grabbed a pen and some paper and thought I'd share what surfaced.
The Beauty of the Blank Page
When I see a blank page, I see opportunity. What is hiding deep down, waiting to be revealed? What am I carrying day in and day out that weighs me down, creates a sense of burden and affects my well being? What is the root of the negative thoughts that tend to push forward, each day with a bit more ease? The answers can be found in the blank page. The empty space invites. Pen in hand today's story emerges and little by little the truth is revealed. Past hurts. Core beliefs. The monumental differences between you and the world.
The noise. The chaos. The fear. The doubt. The pain. How much of it belongs to you and how much of it was planted in your DNA centuries ago? The suffering of your ancestors carried down through time and passed on to you, your children, your grandchildren.
It's not your fault. Do you hear me? IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. Nor is it your duty or your obligation to pass the torch of suffering on. Your duty is to find the light that makes you shine and BE THAT! The world does not need the pain of your ancestors to remain alive, what it needs is their joy. The joy, the delight, the unconditional love that was planted with the first seed of existence. This is your obligation. Bring this forward to the future generations and gracefully, gratefully, let the rest disintegrate. Let the divine forces of nature that live within and all around you bring cleansing as often as is needed to make the shift. Let the pen and blank page bring you back to yourself, again, and again, and again.
And just like that the page is full, and the soul is free.
XO,
Carrie
Saturday, February 2, 2019
What If?
I've been dealing with some unresolved health issues for a few years now. Last week I met with a wonderful nutritionist who specializes in functional medicine. If you're not familiar with functional medicine the simple explanation is that it deals with the whole picture of health, not just a diagnosis of your physical symptoms and the sole solution being found in the writing of a prescription. I'm not doing it justice, I'm sure, with this explanation but hey, it's 2019, you can google it! During our conversation she wanted me to go through my history from early childhood right up to today, as best I could, in order to give her an idea of my story and how it has influenced my health. It was a fascinating (and not so easy) endeavor which helped to shed some light on how every piece of our past influences our present. It doesn't have to dictate, but you can't get around the fact that it absolutely influences.
What if you could forget everything you've learned about fear through the years and had the ability to start over, fear free? Would you want to? And if you did, how on earth would you even begin to push that reset button? I'm sure you've heard that saying, "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" or something like that. I hear that and I can't help but chuckle. I understand it's a valid question and has likely helped a lot of people to begin the process of change, but come on! Is that really a relevant question for someone who lives their life from a place of fear?
Do they mean what would I do if I didn't have to fight for my life as a very young child due to severe asthma which set the tone for my immune system to live in fight or flight mode from a very young age? What would I do if I didn't have those breathing issues that led to years of bronchitis with just about every sniffle that found it's way to me and hospitalization for pneumonia just as my teen years were beginning? What would I do if I wasn't the youngest of seven children who fought to find her place in a large family day in and day out? What would I do if I didn't grow up in a family that passed down the unhealthy belief that food and a cocktail or two (or three) had the power to comfort and cure whatever ails you? Let me stop here and clarify something before going on. I have been absolutely blessed throughout my entire life to be part of the most loving, caring, nurturing family possible. I am grateful every day for them. That doesn't mean that we didn't struggle with our dysfunctions just like any other family.
What would I do if I didn't marry and begin a family before I truly knew how to care for myself, let alone be a mother and a wife? What would I do if I didn't spend most of my life fearing for all of my children and the ways in which the world could potentially gobble them up? What would I do if our family (and my stomach) didn't spend years in turmoil trying to navigate our way through my son's drug addiction? Or what would I do if I didn't spend most of my life worrying profusely about others and their pain?
Okay, I think you get my point. It's kind of a foolish question in my book, my stomach is in knots just writing this! When you think about your life story are you surprised that it has brought you to where you are today? Or does it make perfect sense that you would be here? For those of us who've spent a good part of their life in fight or flight mode, all of that fighting settles deeply into your cells and brings your body, your mind, and sadly, your spirit to a place where it becomes fearful to trust. Fearful of being harmed, by the environment, by people, by circumstance, by food, you name it.
So, what if you could forget everything you've learned about fear and start fresh? Where would you begin? We do have a choice. As much as the question annoys me, that is the underlying truth. We DO have a choice. I'm 58 years old and I'm beginning to understand the meaning behind the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Old habits aren't easy to break. They become our comfort and our sense of control but I also understand that it's up to me. Who do you want to be now? Who ARE you now? I pretty much began my journey on this earth fighting and fearful but the good news is I don't have to go out the way I came in!
What if...?
XO,
Carrie
What if you could forget everything you've learned about fear through the years and had the ability to start over, fear free? Would you want to? And if you did, how on earth would you even begin to push that reset button? I'm sure you've heard that saying, "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" or something like that. I hear that and I can't help but chuckle. I understand it's a valid question and has likely helped a lot of people to begin the process of change, but come on! Is that really a relevant question for someone who lives their life from a place of fear?
Do they mean what would I do if I didn't have to fight for my life as a very young child due to severe asthma which set the tone for my immune system to live in fight or flight mode from a very young age? What would I do if I didn't have those breathing issues that led to years of bronchitis with just about every sniffle that found it's way to me and hospitalization for pneumonia just as my teen years were beginning? What would I do if I wasn't the youngest of seven children who fought to find her place in a large family day in and day out? What would I do if I didn't grow up in a family that passed down the unhealthy belief that food and a cocktail or two (or three) had the power to comfort and cure whatever ails you? Let me stop here and clarify something before going on. I have been absolutely blessed throughout my entire life to be part of the most loving, caring, nurturing family possible. I am grateful every day for them. That doesn't mean that we didn't struggle with our dysfunctions just like any other family.
What would I do if I didn't marry and begin a family before I truly knew how to care for myself, let alone be a mother and a wife? What would I do if I didn't spend most of my life fearing for all of my children and the ways in which the world could potentially gobble them up? What would I do if our family (and my stomach) didn't spend years in turmoil trying to navigate our way through my son's drug addiction? Or what would I do if I didn't spend most of my life worrying profusely about others and their pain?
Okay, I think you get my point. It's kind of a foolish question in my book, my stomach is in knots just writing this! When you think about your life story are you surprised that it has brought you to where you are today? Or does it make perfect sense that you would be here? For those of us who've spent a good part of their life in fight or flight mode, all of that fighting settles deeply into your cells and brings your body, your mind, and sadly, your spirit to a place where it becomes fearful to trust. Fearful of being harmed, by the environment, by people, by circumstance, by food, you name it.
So, what if you could forget everything you've learned about fear and start fresh? Where would you begin? We do have a choice. As much as the question annoys me, that is the underlying truth. We DO have a choice. I'm 58 years old and I'm beginning to understand the meaning behind the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Old habits aren't easy to break. They become our comfort and our sense of control but I also understand that it's up to me. Who do you want to be now? Who ARE you now? I pretty much began my journey on this earth fighting and fearful but the good news is I don't have to go out the way I came in!
What if...?
XO,
Carrie
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