Monthly Archives: October 2008
Deadly Comparisons
As I notice more and more occasions these days where I am one of the older people in any given room, and as I observe that folks classified as “overnight successes” are getting younger and younger, it seems a fitting time to consider the subject of comparisons. They’re my thorn in the flesh . . . the proverbial albatross around my neck . . . the cross I seem to be continually bearing . . . you get the idea.
Somewhere along the way I developed this pesky habit of noticing how other people are doing, particularly in the arenas that interest me and then giving myself a hard time for not doing as well or better. It’s petty. It’s superficial. It’s totally unproductive. It’s me.
But the question is, why do I continue to do something I know is counterproductive? Comparing myself to others is nearly always a lose/lose proposition. So I asked The Shower Team, why do I keep choosing to play a game I can’t win?
If you could somehow compile statistics for such a relatively unquantifiable thing as death of dreams, we assure you that you would find comparisons to be a leading cause. It’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing that scatters your herd of dreams and desires, leaving them lost and vulnerable to all manner of attack.
We watch you—every one of you—launching your brilliant desires from the place of pure genius creation that is your natural state, and we see the childlike wonder and joyful anticipation in your eyes as you contemplate how far into space those rockets will travel before coming back to you in a wondrous explosion of fulfillment and satisfaction . . . You stand there oh so briefly and beautifully focused on YOUR rocket and its perfect trajectory . . . and before it’s even out of sight, you allow your eyes to wander to the ones next to you, also launching their rockets . . . and you see them sneaking glances over at you and pretty soon you’re all busy checking each other out and noticing how far his rocket has gone or her rocket has gone and, hm . . . their rocket seems to be moving a lot faster and going in a completely different direction and, I wonder, shouldn’t my rocket be moving at that same speed or heading in that direction? What’s wrong with my rocket? I must have misfired somehow. There must be some malfunction or I must have not have as much knowledge or experience as that launcher over there . . . how will my rocket ever catch up to theirs and if it doesn’t, what good will it do me to have launched the thing in the first place . . . I must be one lousy rocketeer with no idea what I’m doing. Who do I think I am, standing here in the midst of all these master rocketeers, launching my puny, piddling little rocket. . . .
Perhaps we’ve beat the metaphor somewhat to death, but you see our point. The minute you shift your focus from YOUR desires and your alignment with them, is the moment those desires begin to lose their momentum . . . you become divided in your attention and in the energy that you are flowing to and through your desires, you become conflicted in the vibration that you are offering—one minute aspiring to reach the heavens and the next, crashing down to earth by your choice to evaluate yourself by someone else’s criteria.
It’s no wonder you struggle with this. The comparisons start practically before you’ve got a tooth to chew with. You’re evaluated in terms of how ‘normally’ you reach and move beyond the accepted standards. Are you learning to poop neatly and routinely in the pot? Are you moving from babble to discernible syllables on time? Are you pulling yourself up and putting one tiny foot in front of the other on schedule? Heaven forbid you get a little behind in any of that—your anxious parents will have you sitting with an ‘early development specialist’ faster than they can change your diaper.
It only gets worse as time goes on. You get the message from nearly every front that you’re only as attractive or intelligent or talented or successful as whatever norm has been established by the vocally insecure masses. You find yourselves understandably torn between what truly calls to you and what the legion of others insist should be your ambition and your timeline.
It can’t be done—this mixed, conflicted approach to having what you want. You cannot stand in your perfectly creative now, allowing the creative energy stirred by your desires to flow, and at the same time turn your attention to what anyone else is doing and judge yourself lacking—and expect any pure response to what you’re asking for.
We continually encourage you to ignore those around you, at least in terms of paying any real attention to what they’re doing or how it’s going for them . . . We continually encourage you to see and believe that you have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with you. They cannot influence your progress—or your lack of it—in any way that you do not allow. Not one of them can bring your rocket back to earth or cause it to veer off course. You and only you man those controls.
So what sort of captain of your own ship do you prefer to be? One who relishes his or her command and goes with what you know is in your heart—or one who looks at and listens to every naysayer, every voice of caution or disapproval, every well-intentioned but ultimately deadly bit of advice?
Make the words, “That has nothing to do with me” one of your mantras. When your attention is drawn to another’s progress or achievement or manifestation . . . even if they are experiencing something that you also want but have not yet received . . . remember that they can’t get their hands on anything of yours . . . that what you’ve asked for is still waiting for you and that the more you focus on your movement toward it rather than their seemingly quicker progress . . . the sooner your desires will explode into the galaxy of perfect fulfillment that is yours and yours alone.
For some reason Captain Picard’s words “Make it so” keep ringing in my ears. Oh for that single point of focus, never wavering from my own distilled desires. Sometimes life on an island sounds pretty good.
But since I inhabit a fairly crowded planet, where it’s hard not to notice the guy or gal next to me . . . I guess I’ll just have to keep trying to remind myself that even though we share the same sod, we all have our own piece of the sky pie. Maybe it won’t ever be an easy thing for most of us to do. Maybe “easy” is overrated. But that’s another blog.
Nobody Here Is Judging You
In the last several months I’ve had a few people write to tell me how much they’ve enjoyed hearing from The Shower Channel and to ask if or when I might resume sharing messages from The Team.
It’s heartwarming to receive these notes from people who tell me how much the blog has meant to them at one time or another. I always respond with a sincere thank you and with the assurance that I hope to be back up and regularly posting very soon.
What I don’t say to those who inquire about The Shower Channel is that I don’t have a clue when or even if I’ll be back as before and that much of the time these days, it’s all I can seem to do to just manage my responses to the various dramas that seem to have shown up for me in recent months. The details aren’t so unusual or unfamiliar: a health crisis, a painful separation from my life partner , financial strain and worry, the stress of major life events and transitions . . . the stuff—the contrast—most of us experience in some form if we hang around on the planet long enough.
Maybe it’s because the details—the ‘what is’ of it all—are so familiar, that I sometimes find myself withdrawing from the offering of any sort of ‘wisdom’ to others. Who wants to hear the troubles I’ve seen, I’ll ask myself. And in particular, who wants to hear the trials and tribulations of a self-proclaimed ‘uplifter,’ a messenger of hope and encouragement, one who shares inspiration from Source? Who even wants to know that he has them?
So I shut up. I do what most of us seem to do at one point or another when life feels like it’s largely out of our control and on a fast slide into the crapper . . . I get quiet—or I rage. I cry or I try to find any excuse to laugh. I complain to anyone who’ll listen. I feel sorry for myself until I can’t stand me anymore. I bury myself in work or any other action that temporarily quiets the tinny, plaintive chatter in my mind. I get down on myself—mostly things our teachers tell us will do no good whatsoever.
Then, every once in a brief, blessed, while . . . I stop trying to be better than I think I am and I relax long enough to hear a familiar, loving reassurance:
Nobody here is judging you—except you.
The instantaneous relief of that simple statement washes over me like a gentle, tropical tide. It rocks me like the baby in need of soothing that I am—that we all are at least some of the time.
The loving voices in my head and heart often don’t say much more than that in those moments except for even simpler affirmations such as “You are loved—as you are and where you are.” “It’s okay to feel the way you feel.” “We’re still here—still with you.” My entire inner and outer being relaxes into the utter ‘yes-ness’ of that knowing.
My conditions, the details of the current contrast between what is and what I wish would be, may not change in any discernible way in that moment or even in the moments that immediately follow. My life may look the same from the outside in for a while yet.
But oh the change within . . . the sweet relief . . . the plush reminder that all is well, no matter what story I’ve gotten stuck on, no matter how far a field my eyes have wandered from the ever-present, ever brightly-beckoning horizon.
Nobody here is judging you—except you—and although we cannot join you in the bashing of you, we can love you through it and we do. We listen, we understand, we wait for you to remember enough about who you really are to let us help you find your way through the trouble you are seeing to the truth that you are always living—whether you can feel it or not—that you are perfect as you are, where you are . . . that nothing more is asked of you than that you know this, too.
