lost touch and disconnected

It has taken weeks for me to sit in this chair and find my blog voice and then ofcourse I couldn't find my blog page or password or log in or interpret those silly screwed up letters that pop up or in any way shape or form contribute to my own blog. When I began this little adventure in the bloggers world I had an sneaky suspicion that I would occasionally neglect to sign in, that my confidence in believing that I had anything worthwhile to write about would wax and wane. With what ease and truly alarming regularity the critical ego demon could persuade me that I had nothing to say. Nothing to say? There is always something to say.  What does this demon look like, what form does she take? I know that she changes shape she increases and diminishes and she enjoys taking the form of a dragon. She has sharp claws that dig into my shoulder and she has a seductive sweet reasonable voice, she is I me myself my ego my shadow my critic and she is persuasive and she is always right. There will always be aspects of ourselves that we dislike that we hate that prevent us from living well and recognising or celebrating our goodness. The 'I am rubbish soup' we can stir and pick bits out to look at in more detail. The 'I should have done that better or differently' bits, regretting, reinventing the past, inventing other scenarios, other outcomes.So hard to include all of ourselves in our vision of ourselves, so hard to accept that it is all of these imperfections and perfections that we can call me. Too easy to hate and so tough to love.

The Silence has not been golden

A chance meeting with a friend yesterday evening alerted me to the neglect of my blog. My friend was delighted to have read my previous posts, but also puzzled as why they had come to an abrupt end on 27 October 2010. My feeble excuse was that I have been in dissertation purdah. Thousands of Words needing to make sense and convey to a marker that I am able to study and interpret texts in my own inimitable way. Do I only have a limited number of words per day to commit to a text? if yes, is that why I was all worded out and could not face my blog? There were excruciating days when I could not even open up the document - dissertation working doc. The merest sighting of the title would send me scurrying to my piano or grabbing the dogs lead, for yet another walk which, I was convinced, would clear my head and provide valuable 'thinking' time not panicking time. These activities which also include knitting, phoning friends, checking emails,reading anything other than books related to my dissertation (not housework you may have noticed) became not displacement activities as they are commonly known but essential activities. The emotional process of writing my dissertation awakened the chorus of critical demons. There were also, at times a choir of angels when I felt satisfied with my work.
Sitting with and Being with your difficulties, facing the 'demons', allowing the emotion to flow through you, this is the stuff of therapy and it takes courage. I needed to remind myself of that when I got stuck or overwhelmed by my emotions, when I was trying to write or think about committing any words to paper.
What came up for me? Fear of not being good enough, fear of being seen and heard, fear of criticism - and also the JOY of the written word, reading marvellous and interesting books, and sharing new knowledge - learning and studying new ideas. To let go of the fear and rest in the joy, to acknowledge that some days my brain would not work. It is always lurking in some recess of my mind, and I needed to befriend it and welcome it into my life.
There is a wonderful story of the temptation of the Buddha as he sat meditating in a cave. Mara the ultimate and supreme demon sent many different forms of temptation all of which the Buddha resisted and destroyed, so Mara realised he would have to go himself, he was the only one who could be a match for Buddha. As he entered the cave the Buddha greeted him warmly and invited him to take tea with him and they sat together and had a conversation they had a dialogue they formed a relationship.
So, in a way I have a formed relationship with my dissertation, I gave birth to it and I have nurtured it and it has taught and nurtured me and I shall let it go and hope it behaves well and is a credit to me.