In honor of Frida Kahlo’s birthday, I am re-posting a piece from February. Maybe it will hold some relevance for you on this scorchingly hot day.
I’m giving myself fifteen minutes to check in here, as it has been a while. Over the years, I’ve become acquainted and comfortable with these lulls in my online presence, which seem to correlate with moments of seeking clarity, of getting quiet, going inward for one reason or another.
Sometimes, the world feels too full to talk about – at least publicly – and I find I have to be selective in how I reach out, what I share and with whom.
Sometimes, I invite too many opinions, only to confuse matters.
It’s as if I get on the phone with myself, intending to have a deep and meaningful conversation, but call waiting keeps beeping and I take it every time, and my self starts feeling like chopped liver. Listening to her, really taking in what she knows about me, taking her seriously and believing in her belief in me – this is our dance. This is my task now. It reminds me of one of my favorite Frida Kahlo paintings, The Two Fridas.
What is my work in this world? What do I really want to do? I have been wrestling with this question over the past week (or twenty years, depending on how you want to look at it). I have been sitting with it, talking to myself on the old-fashioned phone in the bedroom, the one with the long cord I wind in wide loops around my fingers, all the while beeping over to see who’s on the other line, to ask them what they think.
I know what it is to have a gut feeling about something and to ignore it. Or worse, to battle it, to actively try to override it. To fight what I know my heart is saying, to talk myself out of it, to justify and rationalize. When I do this, I end up feeling frantic, urgent, and generally freaked out, with tears in my eyes and ears full of static.
I’m not usually one to say I “heart” things, but you know what? I heart coaching. I really do. I heart my clients and the amazing privilege of sitting in a room with someone who is feeling enlivened by a rediscovered connection to her own self, or someone who is fighting what her heart knows and for a moment puts aside the struggle and just stays with the knowing. It is heart work. It is heart coaching.
There is one reason and one reason only for arguing with what my heart knows: Fear. But I will save that for another post.
What do you heart? What does your heart know that you keep arguing against? What are you afraid will happen if you really listen to yourself without beeping over to someone else’s opinion?