Something subtle is happening within the four walls of our home these days. It is understated but distinct. No one is putting a finger on anything and it may be I am the only one noticing - but it’s there - something in the air that feels just a little lighter, a lot less tense; like the house is inhaling and exhaling just a bit more easily these days. I recently got back into yoga, my breaths fuller and more complete again, but I don’t think it is that. Let me explain in the best way I know how. Through the magic of story.
Yesterday, while finishing up some morning errands with the dog in tow, I made my way to the final stop at the bank near our home. I realized I was driving down the very same street my son’s new school is on. Music playing, windows cracked, the dog and I gleefully bobbing our heads side to side like muppets, as we see there are some kids out on the school soccer field.
“Nooooo,” I say, double-taking Bauer in the back seat to make sure he is seeing this. “It can’t be…what are the odds?” As we get close enough for a good look, four eyes from the car set fixedly on the soccer field, we now discern and I exclaim, “Yes! YES! It’s his class, Bauer! It’s him!”
I don’t know from where this rush of exuberance came - maybe it was sheer relief-turned-glee that things worked out pretty good at the end of a week packed with lots of old routines and some new changes - or maybe it was just that I was on the upside of the bet that in a school of 500, my son’s class would be the one outside at the precise moment I would drive by. But for whatever reason, the second I spotted his burgundy college hoodie, sleeves rolled up and cap on backwards standing on the field, I was so overwhelmed with enthusiasm that I found myself honking wildly, “beeeep, beeeeeeep, beep, beep,” and Forrest-Gump-style waving to him from the car. Bauer grinning in the back. There we were, slow-driving the entire length of the field, the dog and I locking eyes with nearly every student in my son’s new class, arm whipping back and forth like windshield wipers to the same cadence of the horn blasts. And there he was, hands on hips watching without motion, eyes steadily on the car as the last of us were out of sight. I turned my eyes and wide smile back towards the road ahead of me and let out a “well that was fun” sigh as Bauer settled back down in his seat after all the commotion, and considered briefly, “that’s weird, he didn’t wave back, oh well, maybe he didn’t know it was us.”
And there it was. The little voice.
The one that creeps in, more often than I like, so conditioned it has become; ready to steal this innocent, totally dorky but most authentic moment and judge it into submission where my truest self has become inclined to belong. The place I dim the light within so as not to do too much, know too much or BE too much. The smile on my face fading, Bauer’s unchanged eyes peering at me from the backseat, the voice says, in its most condemning tone, “What on earth just possessed you to wave like that at your son, with a new peer group, while he’s in class at his brand new school!” My mind reeling as it takes it all in - the horn blaring, the idiot in the front seat waving (that’s me) - my son’s inaction. The voice concludes that I have made a major error and embarrassed the crap out of my pre-teen. “Why did you have to do that?” the voice condescends, as a final nail is hammered into the sign that’s just been posted above my head, “You’re a moron.” Bang. This voice is convincing, stubborn without effort, not used to being questioned or considered as anything less than fact. And this voice, for as long as I can remember, has had a front seat in the judge’s gallery on all my thoughts, actions and words.
But I have another Voice - and as this journey unfolds - it likes less and less to be quieted and kept in the shadows. It is the Voice of my highest source and center. The Voice of love, compassion, forgiveness. It is the Voice of Truth.
And so I took this to my own Soul Coach and Mentor that very afternoon because it is a really small glimpse of a much bigger picture. An experience so palpable lately, I’ve described to her the feeling of having a straight jacket on and there is just one more buckle to bust open to be free but I cannot get it. Over and over I struggle with it and it will not budge. I am so close to my freedom but I just cannot seem to break free completely. And I want out. For good.
“Allie,” she sets her eyes on me after I finish my story and deem myself ridiculous again, “Your inner judge is so strong!” And though she is not surprised (we have worked for over a year together) she understands now just how persistent - and distracting - this little voice is. And so do I. It is time for it to go. This voice is the final block to my freedom - it is the buckle on the straight jacket - and when it is gone, swept away permanently, there is a beam of light within ready to burst forth, unstoppable creation and magic to be released - as God intended - just as I AM.
“But how do I silence this voice?” I ask, because I cannot imagine not having it. I ask her how you quiet down a voice when you know you have clearly made a mistake, when you feel in your bones how badly you have erred. I mean, you just cannot deny those times when you are undeniably in the wrong! And then I go to the one I look to, whose teachings have stood the test of time and embody all that is truth, beauty and goodness. I ask my mentor, “What would Jesus say?” And she reminds me that when Mary Magdalene was in the grips of guilt and shame, her own little voice telling her she deserved all the plights and sorrow she was getting, Jesus said, “Mary, you are forgiven. Your sins are many, but they are forgiven, because you have loved much.” Her interactions with Jesus did not ask her to dwell on the past - instead his presence and simple words transformed and freed her.
Wait. That’s it? “You’re forgiven? Move on?” No repentance, no spending days reliving your mistake and going over and over in your mind how you could do things differently? Or just BE different? Yes, that is it. Jesus forgave all - all people, all religions, all beliefs, all cultures - no fervent confessions, no rituals for cleansing. Just forgive and move forward. Keep love in your heart and move on. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
We are human. We are meant to make mistakes - little, big, irreversible ones - errors on a massive scale - and we are meant to learn and grow from them. Maya Angelou says, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.” She does not include that you must beat yourself down first and drown in guilt before climbing out and trudging forward if you can. And that applies to all things - little things like playfully embarrassing your 12 year-old son to the bigger, uglier things that you might not ever talk about.
I considered the morning’s events again - discerning this time between the small self voice and the Voice - a mom, albeit a dorky one, in her car, full of love and excitement at the sight of one of her most favourite humans. I asked the real Voice what it would say about that. Its reply, “Oh that?! That was awesome! Who wouldn’t want a mom THAT COOL?!” And that is Truth, because in that moment, I was who I AM. Purely, wholly and in love. No filter, no holding back.
The buckle on the straight jacket loosens, and after some wiggling and squirming I bust out like a butterfly in the final stages of exiting the cocoon. “I AM who I AM,” I hear myself say.
I AM who I AM.
Carolyn laughs and says, “I really hope we all get to see more of this fun, enthusiastic and REAL Allie!”
And that’s who I went home with - authentic, real Allie. Not the Allie who makes herself a bit smaller, ready to explain herself, apologize and feel badly for her moment of misjudgment. Allie - who laughs wildly with her son and mocks his light embarrassment, belly aching as she visualizes his hands on hips looking at his friends going, “nope, no clue who that is” and sharing the story again over dinner to the playful teasing of her people.
And maybe that’s why our household is breathing a little easier these days. Because we each bring a vibe and because maybe that’s not how things have gone down in the past when I have brought my smaller self to the table. Because if I bring a little bit of guilt and shame with me, maybe others have to as well - or at least match my own. And because I not only KNOW this deeply but I make it my mission to share Marianne Williamson’s message from her book, “A Return to Love” with others -”As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
So let it all go. Start to discern when that little voice tries to tell you you should know better, do better, or be better. Be aware when it persists and reminds you of the past mistakes and errors and wants you to live from that space - and then remind it that NOW is the only reality - we have nothing to atone for, we can just get better. One of my favourite lyrics in Roo Panes’ song, “Cub” goes “the best thing about this love is we don’t see old smoke, we only see the new fire.”
Forget the old smoke. Set yourself alight. Blaze forward! Your authentic, most truest self is waiting for liberation. Allow yourself to be the flint that ignites a wave of love and forgiveness to others around you - shining ever more light on the darkness until every last one of us is FREE.
Love Allie xo
(Author’s *short* note: I found an article called “The Struggle of the Butterfly.” It says, “the final exit from the butterfly’s cocoon is also the most grueling part of her transformation. In order to escape her cocoon, she must struggle to free her body with its brand new wings from its safe place of sleep.”
Allow the truth of these words to set in. I promise you - the point before you awaken from sleep is always the most painful, relentless and agonizing one. Through all of this, at any leg of the journey from the earliest memories I have of the Voice, one message has come through unwavering. The Truth of it, indisputable: “Keep going.” And I truly hope you will.)
References:
The Abbie Shelter, n.d., “The Struggle of the Butterfly,” www.abbieshelter.org.