Who’s hiding in you?
Who slips up revealing herself now and again, catching you off guard?
A hypnotic self, an autopilot self, covering her tracks (or was she trying to get your attention?) with behaviors, predictable cycles you thought you’ld overcome, leaving you baffled.
Maybe she’s sensual or sad, exhausted, bossy, angry, childlike, playful or more vulnerable than the face you wear, opening the door for your next client.
Long ago nearly paralyzed by hurt, you (brilliantly) created a strategic mask, essential parts relegated to the basement.
What have you been ashamed of, but also enjoyed? There’s a clue in there.
Me: I’ve shapeshifted more than a time or two, willingly or not, pieces flying back exposing cracks, not so elegantly.
A client recently said: I messed up, I said something in a way I should never say it…
Reframe: You used your VOICE and it worked. Well done.
The you you ignore becomes distorted.
A shame spiral, grasping a belief of who you need to be.
How do fragments show themselves?
Symptoms, behaviors, your secret path to wholeness,
gifts disguised as pain.
Something important about that.
All a feeling wants is to be felt.
Something inside you is longing to come out.
On the periphery of your vision, you brush it off, gazing back at your screen….it whispers…LIVE ME….Experience Me…Get to know me….I have something for you!
Where did she go?
You feel stuck, heavy, old. Maybe this is life now. Give in, won’t be long now, tread water. Food, your consolation prize for life’s disillusionment.
Flash: You’re alive and vibrant. You flirt. With life. All of it.
You are playful, daring, careless for a moment, crossing lines you created long ago.
Your hips know how to raise eyebrows.
Your living room dance remembers you.
You’re an artist pretending to be a non-creator,
wondering, why the joy deficit?
When once you spun sequins scarves,
with an intoxicating ease, perfuming your laugh.
Where did she go?
You sent her to the basement, remember?
Told her to be “good” (as if she wasn’t).
Judgement, you feared she would mortify your good name.
She sat unmoving, stunned as you left her, naked,
the door creaking closed, no explanation.
You now suspect she is your life force, the gold you look everywhere else to find.
You believed the apple propaganda.
And wonder why food never tastes as good as you imagine.
Your whole self.
Hidden in plain view.
Right below your head.
You could force her back in….be good, stay.
Your new muse thrills, terrifies, peers through your wall for a long hard gaze.
Spackled over cracks show themselves again.
And yet, this time you to do something different.
You name her, give her a proper place at the table,
tentatively show her to your beloved,
fragments begin to mend.
Separated parts coming back together allow the system to relax.
The door is ajar
allowing the body to want what it wants,
without needing to get it,
the desire itself is the healing,
pointing the way to your next self, recreated.
Where you once flinched,
seeing only the wound,
humbled by your flaws,
you now perceive grace,
no more hiding,
Come dance with me!
This Sunday Eve, May 17th, Journey Dance Theme: Dancing Your Hidden Selves
Purchase advance tickets $15, at door $20 at Pulsepdx.com under special events.