Stuck is a Movement (not a place)

When we have been diagnosed with a certain disease, we may have many responses.  At the very bottom and top is fear of what the disease might do to our life, and whether we will have to give up the personality we have become used to, and die. We would have to give up what is familiar to us and to those that have “seen” us.

I often think about the question, “What has become so familiar to me that I don’t want to give it up and hang onto it for dear life?”. How do I “see” myself, and what do the thoughts and voices bring into my life and direct it to bring joy, despair, disappointment, anger, hope, frustration, etc….all the thoughts that create my feelings.

Is there any way that I can take charge of these feelings?

Wouldn’t it be interesting if I could let go of the personality that calls herself “Ute”, so that ever so often I could slip into a new life, change my name, go to a different location, or even a country, and start over building a new identity?

  • Maybe I could become a caretaker of trees, checking on their roots, their branches and leaves, and make sure they have room to grow. Who would I be then, and how would others “see” me?

  • Maybe I would be a hat maker, shaping felt or other material into forms that people would enjoy wearing for warmth, as well as a way to “see” themselves differently in the mirror, project a new personality to the world. How would my hat creations shape me?

  • Maybe I would be a sailor, being rolled by the waves of the ocean until my body could get used to  a different internal rhythm, when all I would see in the distance is where sky and water meet. How would I approach my humanness and all the feelings that entangle me to other people and events in my life if my only orientation for weeks and months at a time were sky, water, wind, and a ship?

Maybe I’m contemplating with a certain excitement that I might attempt a chameleon life in response to a vastly changing world. Things are changing with such a speed that everyone on this mothership is called to shift and change now so profoundly that some live in constant fear and others turn to new possibilities and inventions.

It seems to me that I need to focus more and more everyday on the meaning of my life. What is the meaning of a tree to me, the shape and color of a hat, or the water where it meets the horizon? What are the meaning of these words to me as I write them down on a Saturday morning in between an earthquake on Tuesday and a hurricane that is supposed to land here tonight?

Might all the changes in weather patterns, economic collapse, deep polarities between those that “get rich” and those that ‘get by’ show us the meaning of being a human on planet earth. At times it seems we are overwhelmingly hurdling into self-destruction?

What personality shift am I asking of me so that I might be able to respond with resiliency no matter what the outcome? If I wanted to recreate myself, would I have to give up something that I have held dear and precious, but is no longer needed or useful for my next step? Might I discover a buried treasure inside myself that has never seen the light of day, but would delightfully surprise me? How could that bring meaning or deep feelings of safety even into this precarious life and introduce me to the meaning of transient fragile beauty?