In the process of helping out a friend I recently volunteered to have my body 'read' to aid a student of mind/body practice. In the course of doing so it was determined that although I have an open 'third eye' and a particularly loving and giving heart - that is to say not all the chakras are blocked - I have considerable pain stored in my body. Fundamentally, I hide from the world, so the student said.
Whether we are speaking symbolically or literally, I related to the message. I certainly didn't, nor couldn't refute her words. I grew up on the top floor of my parents' business, which they worked seven days a week. They were devoted to the business and to their marriage, so being hid away, out of sight and mind of men who went there to 'drown their sorrows' was central to my life.
This childhood of mine together with being born with a quiet, contemplative disposition was a complete mismatch. I needed nurturing, to be integrated with my parents before I could go out into the world to feel safe. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
It was decided on the day of the reading that my intuition was high, an openness to new ideas apparent, but that this wisdom could be impeded by intellect. This is rather interesting to me since I am quite happy to become 'lost' in academia at the same time as I believe my value and truth is best explored through story - exploring the universality of being human on this earth, together with the specificity of character.
Also, if someone has been through the rigors of academic training the openness of ideas can only go so far before the mind springs back and asks about a person's qualifications to make certain statements. I will ultimately seek some sort of evidence; use my rational thinking mind to make an assessment about an alternative therapy.
In fact, I am by far the most joyous when I dance. My body craves rhythmic movement. There was no mention of this sort of thing, that this body that they were analyzing to death actually would have loved to move to the music in the background. I guess they were looking for the problems to fix. It's important to remember this when offered a therapy. We are all made up of attributes and deficits and a practitioner, almost by definition, will focus on the 'problem'.
Generalizations are not easy and there are always exceptions to a rule. Generally speaking, writers, particularly of fiction, hide away. That's what they do. Alone, they commune with the world through the process of writing about the world, based on their observations. They watch. They listen. They write. Apparently, I'm a watcher. No surprises there. In fact there were no surprises anywhere. I had to admit that the observations made of my body did line up for me, in one way or another. It was how the observations might be interpreted that was at issue.
I was labelled a 'submissive', not by the student who wouldn't have known that terminology but by the teacher of the student. I wasn't happy with the inference because it implied that in some way I wasn't being honest, part of the hiding. It also implied that I was not being my true self.
It's not straightforward because these sorts of people who bunker down into their modality of choice seem to suggest that there are choices when there are not necessarily choices at all. I didn't bother to say that to him exactly. I did say, 'Well, when you live with someone who insists on the dominant role, what other role is there?' I said it, not really in an open way, but in a 'let's deal with reality here, shall we?' way because two people can be sarcastic. I'm not the pushover he thinks I am.
The pushover thing, that was brought up too. My nose spoke to them, that there is a fire underneath the quiet disposition. Go too far and you'll meet my ire.That is not news to me either.
This 'combat' between the teacher and myself, some sort of effort to get me to react, was compounded in a physical way, a very strange minute. There was some doubt as to what to call my pelvis, a slightly 'tilting' pelvis perhaps. The string came out to better make that judgment until the teacher decided that the best way was to press on my pelvis. He did so, not in a careful doctor/nurse kind of way but with such force that I was in considerable pain and discomfort. An angry red weal formed on my skin. It still hurts as I write this in the middle of the night. Why did he do that?
Some of the material they wrote in their conclusions, I had offered to them, and they concurred. I told them that I had only recently played with the notion of self-love and was working on generating those feelings in myself. I was working on being a separate person, not enmeshed, not responsible for the decisions made without my input and with any desire for my input. Though, I was angry about that, the lack of input and I said that, but in a controlled way. I decided to remain controlled in a day of stupidity really.
In fact at times I actually chose to disassociate from what was happening to me. I chose not to listen as they said confronting things about me as if I wasn't there. I only really got angry when I left. I said my goodbyes hastily and rushed for my getaway car only to find the garage locked. Back in again to get the code and as the gates slowly drew open the thought of leaving prison entered my mind, how that's how it must feel, free from the clutches of people who could taunt and taint you.
I felt stuck, they concluded, not an unreasonable conclusion. I have a need for safety and that feeling hasn't been available to me for some time, and yet is leaving this place a safer place? To their credit there was no suggestion of this sort of thing, no attempt was made to 'solve' my dilemma outside of certain recommendations that related to deep tissue work and emotional release work to get at the locked emotional pain in my body.
As I sit here I ask of myself, 'are there negative emotions' stuck in the body? I feel it in my throat quite regularly now and I could release it onto my mother but I don't and I won't. The constriction in my throat troubles me but it's not trapped either. It's just sitting there under the banner of 'frustration'. I see it for what it is. I work with it. I talk about it even but not to the person in question, that's all. That's reasonable, since she couldn't cope with any dissent or suggestion that her behavior hasn't been good enough.
In thinking more about this, that feeling in my throat, the constriction which they identified as 'soft tissue' also relates to my understanding over time that only intensified as we aged, that any idea I expressed to my husband would receive an immediate response. That is to say, his strong tendency towards verbal impulsivity meant that conversations could often be compromised. In the past few months, I had, I admit, given up trying.
I think my truth, something they seem to think I am keeping hidden, might actually be twofold. I'm a person trying to break free of the past, coming to terms with my past and unmet needs. I'm a person trying to break free of roles designated, putting other peoples' needs ahead of my own, such that it looks like I have no needs. I want my needs to be taken seriously. I want to feel nurtured in the same way that I have nurtured.
However, and this is the twofold aspect, there can be no doubt and there is no doubt in my own mind, that I revel in the submissive/feminine role. I feel most instinctively and naturally joyous when my heart, mind and nature is free to be me. I feel more naturally me in a dress or skirt, soft, light, free, content. This sense of abundance is felt in the submissive frame of mind which means, as I search for words that explain this feeling, that there is a dominant presence somewhere in my life, if only on the periphery.
There is the case for someone who is responsible or protective being identified as a dominant presence, but this isn't exactly what I mean. I acknowledge that no-one is rational all the time, or reasonable all the time, or even available or nurturing more than occasionally, due to their own needs and demands, or preoccupations. I take this into allowance because I must. But, acting dominant - responsible and protective - is not the quality that allows me a sense of freedom leading to a sense of submissive joy. A lawyer could be responsible and protective, or a doctor. There must be more.
To feel happy and content I need to feel safe. To feel safe, there must be calm, some element of steadiness as well as some acknowledgement of my presence. The truth is that if left to my own devices I would create the environment for myself and the life that felt most innately, creatively and aesthetically pleasing for myself and my loved ones. I really could do a better job of this than anyone else that I know. That I don't do this speaks to my submissive nature wherein I continue to allow sub-optimal outcomes to please other people's sensibilities above my own.
When I was in my late teens I was working as a part time waitress when a couple approached the Menu written on a blackboard. He was attentive to her, touching her and smiling at her. I thought, 'That's what I want, that attention and interest in my pleasure. I want to feel cherished.'
It's not having the spotlight on me, or needing someone to be there endlessly. Introverts don't want anyone there all the time. They feel they can't breathe when that happens. But, they do need regular little reminders of their worth. They do need to allow their light side to be given freedom to play; to levitate even. When the world is relatively calm such there is a sense of safety in this way, the path is cut for entry into the submissive space where I can glow on even the gloomiest day. All the body reading in the world won't pick up that subtle truth of mine. I'm not going to waste my time trying to explain to them what they don't want to learn. You on the other hand might just get it.
Whether we are speaking symbolically or literally, I related to the message. I certainly didn't, nor couldn't refute her words. I grew up on the top floor of my parents' business, which they worked seven days a week. They were devoted to the business and to their marriage, so being hid away, out of sight and mind of men who went there to 'drown their sorrows' was central to my life.
This childhood of mine together with being born with a quiet, contemplative disposition was a complete mismatch. I needed nurturing, to be integrated with my parents before I could go out into the world to feel safe. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
It was decided on the day of the reading that my intuition was high, an openness to new ideas apparent, but that this wisdom could be impeded by intellect. This is rather interesting to me since I am quite happy to become 'lost' in academia at the same time as I believe my value and truth is best explored through story - exploring the universality of being human on this earth, together with the specificity of character.
Also, if someone has been through the rigors of academic training the openness of ideas can only go so far before the mind springs back and asks about a person's qualifications to make certain statements. I will ultimately seek some sort of evidence; use my rational thinking mind to make an assessment about an alternative therapy.
In fact, I am by far the most joyous when I dance. My body craves rhythmic movement. There was no mention of this sort of thing, that this body that they were analyzing to death actually would have loved to move to the music in the background. I guess they were looking for the problems to fix. It's important to remember this when offered a therapy. We are all made up of attributes and deficits and a practitioner, almost by definition, will focus on the 'problem'.
Generalizations are not easy and there are always exceptions to a rule. Generally speaking, writers, particularly of fiction, hide away. That's what they do. Alone, they commune with the world through the process of writing about the world, based on their observations. They watch. They listen. They write. Apparently, I'm a watcher. No surprises there. In fact there were no surprises anywhere. I had to admit that the observations made of my body did line up for me, in one way or another. It was how the observations might be interpreted that was at issue.
I was labelled a 'submissive', not by the student who wouldn't have known that terminology but by the teacher of the student. I wasn't happy with the inference because it implied that in some way I wasn't being honest, part of the hiding. It also implied that I was not being my true self.
It's not straightforward because these sorts of people who bunker down into their modality of choice seem to suggest that there are choices when there are not necessarily choices at all. I didn't bother to say that to him exactly. I did say, 'Well, when you live with someone who insists on the dominant role, what other role is there?' I said it, not really in an open way, but in a 'let's deal with reality here, shall we?' way because two people can be sarcastic. I'm not the pushover he thinks I am.
The pushover thing, that was brought up too. My nose spoke to them, that there is a fire underneath the quiet disposition. Go too far and you'll meet my ire.That is not news to me either.
This 'combat' between the teacher and myself, some sort of effort to get me to react, was compounded in a physical way, a very strange minute. There was some doubt as to what to call my pelvis, a slightly 'tilting' pelvis perhaps. The string came out to better make that judgment until the teacher decided that the best way was to press on my pelvis. He did so, not in a careful doctor/nurse kind of way but with such force that I was in considerable pain and discomfort. An angry red weal formed on my skin. It still hurts as I write this in the middle of the night. Why did he do that?
Some of the material they wrote in their conclusions, I had offered to them, and they concurred. I told them that I had only recently played with the notion of self-love and was working on generating those feelings in myself. I was working on being a separate person, not enmeshed, not responsible for the decisions made without my input and with any desire for my input. Though, I was angry about that, the lack of input and I said that, but in a controlled way. I decided to remain controlled in a day of stupidity really.
In fact at times I actually chose to disassociate from what was happening to me. I chose not to listen as they said confronting things about me as if I wasn't there. I only really got angry when I left. I said my goodbyes hastily and rushed for my getaway car only to find the garage locked. Back in again to get the code and as the gates slowly drew open the thought of leaving prison entered my mind, how that's how it must feel, free from the clutches of people who could taunt and taint you.
I felt stuck, they concluded, not an unreasonable conclusion. I have a need for safety and that feeling hasn't been available to me for some time, and yet is leaving this place a safer place? To their credit there was no suggestion of this sort of thing, no attempt was made to 'solve' my dilemma outside of certain recommendations that related to deep tissue work and emotional release work to get at the locked emotional pain in my body.
As I sit here I ask of myself, 'are there negative emotions' stuck in the body? I feel it in my throat quite regularly now and I could release it onto my mother but I don't and I won't. The constriction in my throat troubles me but it's not trapped either. It's just sitting there under the banner of 'frustration'. I see it for what it is. I work with it. I talk about it even but not to the person in question, that's all. That's reasonable, since she couldn't cope with any dissent or suggestion that her behavior hasn't been good enough.
In thinking more about this, that feeling in my throat, the constriction which they identified as 'soft tissue' also relates to my understanding over time that only intensified as we aged, that any idea I expressed to my husband would receive an immediate response. That is to say, his strong tendency towards verbal impulsivity meant that conversations could often be compromised. In the past few months, I had, I admit, given up trying.
I think my truth, something they seem to think I am keeping hidden, might actually be twofold. I'm a person trying to break free of the past, coming to terms with my past and unmet needs. I'm a person trying to break free of roles designated, putting other peoples' needs ahead of my own, such that it looks like I have no needs. I want my needs to be taken seriously. I want to feel nurtured in the same way that I have nurtured.
However, and this is the twofold aspect, there can be no doubt and there is no doubt in my own mind, that I revel in the submissive/feminine role. I feel most instinctively and naturally joyous when my heart, mind and nature is free to be me. I feel more naturally me in a dress or skirt, soft, light, free, content. This sense of abundance is felt in the submissive frame of mind which means, as I search for words that explain this feeling, that there is a dominant presence somewhere in my life, if only on the periphery.
There is the case for someone who is responsible or protective being identified as a dominant presence, but this isn't exactly what I mean. I acknowledge that no-one is rational all the time, or reasonable all the time, or even available or nurturing more than occasionally, due to their own needs and demands, or preoccupations. I take this into allowance because I must. But, acting dominant - responsible and protective - is not the quality that allows me a sense of freedom leading to a sense of submissive joy. A lawyer could be responsible and protective, or a doctor. There must be more.
To feel happy and content I need to feel safe. To feel safe, there must be calm, some element of steadiness as well as some acknowledgement of my presence. The truth is that if left to my own devices I would create the environment for myself and the life that felt most innately, creatively and aesthetically pleasing for myself and my loved ones. I really could do a better job of this than anyone else that I know. That I don't do this speaks to my submissive nature wherein I continue to allow sub-optimal outcomes to please other people's sensibilities above my own.
When I was in my late teens I was working as a part time waitress when a couple approached the Menu written on a blackboard. He was attentive to her, touching her and smiling at her. I thought, 'That's what I want, that attention and interest in my pleasure. I want to feel cherished.'
It's not having the spotlight on me, or needing someone to be there endlessly. Introverts don't want anyone there all the time. They feel they can't breathe when that happens. But, they do need regular little reminders of their worth. They do need to allow their light side to be given freedom to play; to levitate even. When the world is relatively calm such there is a sense of safety in this way, the path is cut for entry into the submissive space where I can glow on even the gloomiest day. All the body reading in the world won't pick up that subtle truth of mine. I'm not going to waste my time trying to explain to them what they don't want to learn. You on the other hand might just get it.
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