I see you. Thank you for sharing your story. Reading your words always moves me. You are more than a survivor. I see you are an inspiration, a true artist, an amazing teacher, a wonderful friend, a caring, compassionate human, and more than that, I see that you are beyond labels, having accessed the higher perspective. I love that you are dancing and that you will be volunteering at Children’s hospital. May you be the presence you wished you’d had during your years at the hospital. Your presence is the sweetest of gifts and I can already feel how children will light up when they see you and get to share time with you. I know I sure do! You are welcome to come sing, play and dance with me, anytime! Sending love your way! 🙏🏼😘
(I have a busy day today, so once again I’m going to use this written reflection to count as my practice this week!)
My practice is to write everyday for at least 10 minutes, and I have found that each day the practice looks different. Some days I have a writing group with co-working (2-3 days per week), so I usually write much more than 10 minutes those days. And I’m also attending Janisse Ray’s weekly writing class, where there are several writing prompts. So that accounts for another day each week. That leaves 3-4 days of having to find my own time to write, which has been harder but doable since it’s only 10 minutes. I haven’t missed a day yet!
How has this practice changed the way I see myself? Well I guess proving myself that I am indeed a writer, and that I can actually follow a writing commitment. My biggest struggle with my writing has been having consistent practice, and this is the first time I feel I am actually following through with it. Even on a busy day like today, I can take 10 minutes.
In that sense, writing feels like a self-care practice, not just a creative practice. And that does feel new to me. Even when I was doing morning pages, it didn't really feel like self-care (even though I found it hugely beneficial for processing my thoughts). With my current practice, I’ve given myself permission to write about anything I want for 10 minutes, which feels more free and liberating.
"this is the first time I feel I am actually following through..." This is what I love about this community!!! We show up for each other. And it matters. You lift me up with these words and your practice and your permission. Thank you, truly.
In the practice of writing down personal stories, I notice how easy it is to write the funny, the exiting, the heroic stories. But these all feel shallow, hollow, and not particularly engaging
But when I am curious and allow myself the requisite introspection, I discover other stories. These are the ones that are harder to write (even if just to myself), but when I do I become aware of their depth and humanity. In these I fail, am not particularly brave or heroic, and am certainly not who I aspire to be. Yet they remind me that regardless of my foibles and flaws (which are myriad), I can still seek beauty, peace, and love.
What a wonderful way to give the world something you needed,to put it out there instead of wishing it were there. As always, you inspire.
My practice has been to observe, alter and adjust my self talk to be more like the way I talk to my clients. Oddly, I am finding it is making me more curious about others, listening better, etc. My mind isn’t so busy critiquing me, so I have more space to really be present. I don’t know if I can explain it better than that. There’s a profound sense of acceptance that comes with observing over absorbing. There have been plenty of potentially activating experiences coming at me this week. Things not quite going as planned, etc, and I think “what would I say to me if I weren’t me?” It pulls me out of the waves and onto the shore.
I know this isn’t necessarily an artistic practice. But creativity gives us perspective. I am broadening my perspective and considering it art, with no outcome focus, just a shift, just an adjusting of the lens, or a watering down of pigment, a pause in the prose.
Normally, if I notice that a neighbor or someone else doesn’t seem to be okay, I look away. Not because I don’t care, but because I don’t want to embarrass them or seem intrusive.
After reading your piece, I think I’ll take that risk. I’d rather be misunderstood than miss the chance to help someone who might need it at exactly that moment.
I’m 54 years old. How did this thought never occur to me before?
I LOVE that you're going to share your radiant light at CHLA. 💛 I remember spending a week alone in a hospital at age 9. Not years ... I remember the chaplain visiting. Not my mom. You had to pay to have the TV on, so I had no TV, but I loved the candy-stripers who came by to visit.
Anyway, this week I continued to play my flute every day, truly enjoying connecting with the soaring, aching, or triumphant melodies that were once so familiar.
Something I noticed, which connects with your theme this week, is how I allowed my music to become quiet because of others: my husband's tinnitus, my son's need for quiet. Letting myself fade so as not to offend. Not that I was asked to stop. (& besides, life was busy) How was that an easier solution, though, than problem-solving time and place? It feels so good to reclaim this joy; reclaim myself - noisily!
Ooooh, this makes so much sense about quieting yourself. I love that you recognize this and have found ways to play anyway. And my heart reaches out to the girl you were too, who was alone when she most needed love and affection. Good work this week!!!
Michelle, after I read your posts, I always spend time reading the comments because I quickly noticed how deeply connected people feel to you and your writing. The ache that fills my body to read your story and your posts is soothed by all the love, generosity of spirit, support and kindness I find flourishing here.
You were raised by people who didn't know how to love. You were not unlovable. I know you know that, but maybe it helps to hear it sometimes. xo You are a sparkling light of love that seems to radiate out into the world, and I have a feeling those kiddos at CHLA will be grateful recipients of your attention and love.
Paying attention to my practice has revealed that I am more willing to take creative risks than I thought. I am working on an art project that I am not yet ready to share. It is new, unfamiliar, and very challenging for me.
The process has shown me how uncomfortable it can be to make something without knowing whether it will work. I have had to stay with uncertainty, frustration, and the temptation to judge the work too quickly. At the same time, I have also discovered curiosity, persistence, and a willingness to keep going.
This practice is changing the way I see myself. I am beginning to see myself as someone who can enter unfamiliar territory, experiment, and allow the work to develop before explaining or defending it. I do not have to share everything immediately. Keeping this project private for now has given me room to be more honest, more vulnerable, and more open to where the process may lead.
Michelle, I remember listening to this part of your story and it stopped me from breathing. I know that feeling. Of knowing your parent doesn't want you or need you or love you enough to stay. Not even to see you, just to stay. This scene broke my heart, but since I know you as the woman now who can write about these things from such a beautiful place, I feel a little less sad a little more hopeful. And this, "And what I need now is relationships with people who notice when I’ve gone quiet, who wonder what I’m carrying, who are paying attention and are curious enough to ask." SO.MUCH.YES. That's really all I need now. And by a confluence of work and miracles, we both know how to build relationships with those people. So much love to you. xo
WOMAN. Weeping in recognition and admiration of your courage and grace. Damn. Thank you for changing my life right here.
Beautiful Elena, what an inspiration you have been to me, a woman who demonstrates curiosity and genuine care.
I see you. Thank you for sharing your story. Reading your words always moves me. You are more than a survivor. I see you are an inspiration, a true artist, an amazing teacher, a wonderful friend, a caring, compassionate human, and more than that, I see that you are beyond labels, having accessed the higher perspective. I love that you are dancing and that you will be volunteering at Children’s hospital. May you be the presence you wished you’d had during your years at the hospital. Your presence is the sweetest of gifts and I can already feel how children will light up when they see you and get to share time with you. I know I sure do! You are welcome to come sing, play and dance with me, anytime! Sending love your way! 🙏🏼😘
I am coming to sing and dance with you, dear Flory. You are not getting out of that invitation!
(I have a busy day today, so once again I’m going to use this written reflection to count as my practice this week!)
My practice is to write everyday for at least 10 minutes, and I have found that each day the practice looks different. Some days I have a writing group with co-working (2-3 days per week), so I usually write much more than 10 minutes those days. And I’m also attending Janisse Ray’s weekly writing class, where there are several writing prompts. So that accounts for another day each week. That leaves 3-4 days of having to find my own time to write, which has been harder but doable since it’s only 10 minutes. I haven’t missed a day yet!
How has this practice changed the way I see myself? Well I guess proving myself that I am indeed a writer, and that I can actually follow a writing commitment. My biggest struggle with my writing has been having consistent practice, and this is the first time I feel I am actually following through with it. Even on a busy day like today, I can take 10 minutes.
In that sense, writing feels like a self-care practice, not just a creative practice. And that does feel new to me. Even when I was doing morning pages, it didn't really feel like self-care (even though I found it hugely beneficial for processing my thoughts). With my current practice, I’ve given myself permission to write about anything I want for 10 minutes, which feels more free and liberating.
That’s my 10 minutes, so I’ll end here!
"this is the first time I feel I am actually following through..." This is what I love about this community!!! We show up for each other. And it matters. You lift me up with these words and your practice and your permission. Thank you, truly.
In the practice of writing down personal stories, I notice how easy it is to write the funny, the exiting, the heroic stories. But these all feel shallow, hollow, and not particularly engaging
But when I am curious and allow myself the requisite introspection, I discover other stories. These are the ones that are harder to write (even if just to myself), but when I do I become aware of their depth and humanity. In these I fail, am not particularly brave or heroic, and am certainly not who I aspire to be. Yet they remind me that regardless of my foibles and flaws (which are myriad), I can still seek beauty, peace, and love.
we can always see those things, and in time, we can find them
I think the humanity is often more compelling than the heroism.
What a wonderful way to give the world something you needed,to put it out there instead of wishing it were there. As always, you inspire.
My practice has been to observe, alter and adjust my self talk to be more like the way I talk to my clients. Oddly, I am finding it is making me more curious about others, listening better, etc. My mind isn’t so busy critiquing me, so I have more space to really be present. I don’t know if I can explain it better than that. There’s a profound sense of acceptance that comes with observing over absorbing. There have been plenty of potentially activating experiences coming at me this week. Things not quite going as planned, etc, and I think “what would I say to me if I weren’t me?” It pulls me out of the waves and onto the shore.
I know this isn’t necessarily an artistic practice. But creativity gives us perspective. I am broadening my perspective and considering it art, with no outcome focus, just a shift, just an adjusting of the lens, or a watering down of pigment, a pause in the prose.
It’s absolutely an artistic practice!!!! I love that you’re doing this. Shifting your mindset is everything.
Normally, if I notice that a neighbor or someone else doesn’t seem to be okay, I look away. Not because I don’t care, but because I don’t want to embarrass them or seem intrusive.
After reading your piece, I think I’ll take that risk. I’d rather be misunderstood than miss the chance to help someone who might need it at exactly that moment.
I’m 54 years old. How did this thought never occur to me before?
I love this, Natalia. It’s never too late. Truly. Thank you for sharing this.
I LOVE that you're going to share your radiant light at CHLA. 💛 I remember spending a week alone in a hospital at age 9. Not years ... I remember the chaplain visiting. Not my mom. You had to pay to have the TV on, so I had no TV, but I loved the candy-stripers who came by to visit.
Anyway, this week I continued to play my flute every day, truly enjoying connecting with the soaring, aching, or triumphant melodies that were once so familiar.
Something I noticed, which connects with your theme this week, is how I allowed my music to become quiet because of others: my husband's tinnitus, my son's need for quiet. Letting myself fade so as not to offend. Not that I was asked to stop. (& besides, life was busy) How was that an easier solution, though, than problem-solving time and place? It feels so good to reclaim this joy; reclaim myself - noisily!
Ooooh, this makes so much sense about quieting yourself. I love that you recognize this and have found ways to play anyway. And my heart reaches out to the girl you were too, who was alone when she most needed love and affection. Good work this week!!!
Thank you, friend.. Sending love back to the child inside you, too. My heart just aches for her months and years of invisible aloneness. 🩵
Loud music is medicine!🤘🏼
Loud music is definitely medicine!
Michelle, after I read your posts, I always spend time reading the comments because I quickly noticed how deeply connected people feel to you and your writing. The ache that fills my body to read your story and your posts is soothed by all the love, generosity of spirit, support and kindness I find flourishing here.
You were raised by people who didn't know how to love. You were not unlovable. I know you know that, but maybe it helps to hear it sometimes. xo You are a sparkling light of love that seems to radiate out into the world, and I have a feeling those kiddos at CHLA will be grateful recipients of your attention and love.
Ahhhhhh, thank you so much for seeing me Jo, for connecting with me and for being such an inspiration to me in our Inner Room group.
Such a beautiful post Michelle! I love that dance is leading you to so much more! It’s the magic of dance for sure.
Thank you so much for this encouragement, Alexis. Yes, the magic of dance! Who knew! (winky face)
Simply observing our inner processes, without judgement, brings so much freedom. 💛
Thank you for including that powerful excerpt. It’s gorgeous writing.
Thank you for reading. And witnessing. And sharing.
Paying attention to my practice has revealed that I am more willing to take creative risks than I thought. I am working on an art project that I am not yet ready to share. It is new, unfamiliar, and very challenging for me.
The process has shown me how uncomfortable it can be to make something without knowing whether it will work. I have had to stay with uncertainty, frustration, and the temptation to judge the work too quickly. At the same time, I have also discovered curiosity, persistence, and a willingness to keep going.
This practice is changing the way I see myself. I am beginning to see myself as someone who can enter unfamiliar territory, experiment, and allow the work to develop before explaining or defending it. I do not have to share everything immediately. Keeping this project private for now has given me room to be more honest, more vulnerable, and more open to where the process may lead.
Love this for you! It’s good to hear you challenging yourself in this way. And if/when you’re ready, it will be so exciting to see your hog reveal!
Michelle, I remember listening to this part of your story and it stopped me from breathing. I know that feeling. Of knowing your parent doesn't want you or need you or love you enough to stay. Not even to see you, just to stay. This scene broke my heart, but since I know you as the woman now who can write about these things from such a beautiful place, I feel a little less sad a little more hopeful. And this, "And what I need now is relationships with people who notice when I’ve gone quiet, who wonder what I’m carrying, who are paying attention and are curious enough to ask." SO.MUCH.YES. That's really all I need now. And by a confluence of work and miracles, we both know how to build relationships with those people. So much love to you. xo