Being Visible

Picture by Ari Fox.

Last weekend I was invited to talk on a panel about 'The Invisible (Older) (Wo)man" at the Women of the World Festival in Exeter. I love how PC that title is! Basically it was a discussion on whether/why older women are not seen.

The funniest thing about it was that every single email in the booking process - and the Power Point at the event itself spelled my name incorrectly. The spelling of my name is important to me (as many of you know!) but it's also a very useful sign of consciousness. When we are conscious, we notice unusual things like a different spelling of a name. When we are unconscious (i.e. in our ego) we don't.

It certainly gave me a big opportunity to be very visible indeed at the start, by pointing that out...

Popularity mark: minus one.

I will cheerfully put my hand up to spelling other people's names incorrectly too at times; I'm nowhere near enlightened. And yes, I do know that autocorrect is not my friend. But I will continue, politely, I hope, to correct misspellings because a person's name is a valid part of their visibility.

I've done quite a lot of panels with an audience discussion and, in my experience, they frequently descend very swiftly into mutual pity-fests where everyone swaps negative stories. It's temporarily comforting because you feel heard and understood, but it doesn't move the situation on in any way. So, I decided that, this time, I simply wasn't going to participate in any of that. I wasn't going to court popularity in any way.

I'd say that was pretty successful... :-D

The author and teacher Caroline Myss calls repeating our unhappy stories in public 'woundology' - a way of showing that we are more interested in perpetuating and sharing our wounds than we are in healing them. The wounds become our identity - and often our excuse - instead of something from which we heal and move on. Caroline has lost a few friends through that one.

So, I didn't engage in the acknowlegement of wounds, nor tell my story at the start. I just said that I was not invisible and told them what I had done in order to make sure that I was visible. I said it was entirely an inside job and I hoped they would find the information I shared useful.

Popularity mark: minus two.

To be absolutely fair, by not telling my stories of unhappiness or grief, and by instead positing solutions upfront, I did inspire three women (who kindly told me so) but I seriously pissed off most of the rest of the room (some of whom not-so-kindly told me so - which was, of course, their right).

Now, it's perfectly legitimate to tell your story - and to tell how you overcame massive odds to succeed and both my fellow panelists did that very well. But I chose to say that I am happy and empowered - and much more so since growing older and becoming silver-haired - and offering solutions that have worked for me and which are the reason why I don't nowadays repeatedly tell sad stories of my life.

I also acknowledged that I was being annoying  :-)

One questioner said she didn't have time to do that kind of work.

I suggested she got up earlier, took magnesium if she were habitually exhausted and said I certainly found that I wasted too much time on social media and she might look at that.

Popularity mark: minus three.

One questioner asked what to do about shop packaging (not sure what that had to do with the topic!)

I suggested she handed plastic back at the tills, bought when she could from a local shop, made more of her own food and grew vegetables in window boxes if she didn't have a garden.

Popularity mark: minus four.

The questioner said she didn't have time to cook.

I suggested she cooked enough food for a fortnight at the weekend and froze it (that's a lot cheaper than living on take-aways).

Popularity mark: minus five. (fair call. She might not have had a freezer...).

A questioner bemoaned the fact that Dr. Christine Blasey Ford has vanished from the news and is in hiding and Brett Kavanaugh is still in the news and in public.

I suggested they wrote letters to Dr. Ford to thank her.  Her address is c/o Palo Alto University, 1791 Arastrado Road, Palo Alto, California 94304. The university will forward them.

Popularity mark: minus six.

I was also challenged for saying that I understood a situation that one of my fellow panellists spoke of as a reason why any of the Work I suggested above could not be done.

'No you don't understand!' she said with great emotion. I let her have that one because, having not told my story, she could have absolutely no reason for knowing that I did understand that situation. And I am immensely proud of myself for taking that hit and not succumbing to the temptation to dive into 'woundology' in return. That was quite a challenge...

Popularity mark: minus seven.

I was informed that I am privileged, arrogant and unsympathetic. This is a first for me and I think I might actually be rather impressed.

Byron Katie, the great teacher of The Work, says 'who would you be without your story?' and that is a  deeply profound question. Who I was, without my story was:

• Not entirely popular.
• Highly visible.
• Perfectly happy.

I can live with that.

62. I Chose the Road of Faith

Today I walked on the Moor again. This has been my delight and my spiritual discipline most days since we moved here to Devon. Nowadays I walk barefoot and consequently with much more care. Prickles still catch me and there is much hopping while I clear the foot but I have dodged all the moor-poo successfully so far. The sun shone and I sat down against a tree and said my prayers of blessing for this land and for me while the beagles did their own beagly stuff.

I promised to rest entirely for a week even before the latest healing crisis—which has certainly made me keep my word. On Sunday it was so hard to swallow that I finally (finally) did the three-day juice fast that most of the world recommends. When they don't recommend a seven-day or even longer one.

Hideous, just hideous. Sorry healthy folk but it made me weak as a kitten; there is nothing you can do with juiced spinach which is going to make it taste good and dear Lion's frustration at stuffing bags of kale into the juicer and getting half an inch of liquid was heart-breaking to a Taurean.

Today I am up again and into the second day of eating again and for the first time I have strength again, but I will still spend at least every morning in bed again until Sunday, as a discipline. I don't rest enough. My homeopath tried to tell me weeks ago and I still didn't listen. This morning, I was pottering in the kitchen before I went back to bed and listening to instructions from above and I said, 'yes I'll do that and that but I'll have to stop when I'm tired and rest.'

Suddenly I was doubled up with laughter that wouldn't stop for minutes. That was God laughing at the idea that I would be the one who decided when I was tired instead of having to be beaten into bed.

I'm not afraid. I know this internal journey has more than turned the corner; these last days I've been deep into my soul in the company of Caroline Myss, working with the Tree of Life and chakras and clearing the levels of endurance and intuition and giving my will up to God. I've also worked with the most beautiful healer, Deb Rowley, whom I met on Facebook and who has been of unfailing support and a total delight. As she lies in her bed at night in New Zealand with her husband sleeping beside her, I lie in bed in the morning covered in beagles and we talk and talk in messages.

The ho'oponopono chant that I have been using off and on for years has become my confessional; any time I feel a negative or judgemental thought coming in, I move into ho'oponopono (I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you) and it is dissolved.

But probably the biggest gift Caroline Myss has given me this time round is the acknowledgment that this is a road of faith. I always promised myself that if I ever got a life-enhancing dis-ease I would not go down the route of chemotherapy. So many, many times I have broken my word to myself over the years—I would meditate more; I would eat better; I would do this, I would not do that.

And I broke my word. Again and again. For decades. I thought it didn't really matter but it does. So my will (neck) has been compromised.

But when it came to it, when the chips were well and truly down, I kept my word. I chose the long and sometimes arduous road of faith.

I did have some treatment with an interleukin which was not a lot of help but that was not a breaking of faith because I have always believed in interleukins since Henry's sickness. At a time when I was seriously scared, it may well have given me a couple of months of faith to continue on my journey. But I have been adamant that I will take the route of inner healing and I have kept my word.

So the days of breaking my word to myself are over. Hopefully so are the days of breaking my word to others. And if my will is committed to that, then it is now a will that is worthy of handing over to God.

And in that knowledge, and the deep inner knowing that I now have that God loves and supports me and that my mission as a spiritual comedian is my new ordination, I place it, and myself in God's hands and I commit to following my guidance as much as I possibly can. I don't promise to do it all the time and all my life because I might not make it, so I simply say that I will commit to doing my best.

(My guidance incidentally hasn't shut up since then and seems to be very insistent that it wants to hear me sing and laughs its non-existent head off whenever I do).

To read more of the story, please click on 'newer post' or 'older post' in black below.

If you are new to this blog and would like to start at the beginning, please go to the side bar and click on 'January' to find post no. 1. Thank you.