Nice title, yes? Catchy, huh? This is where I went this morning, into this concept of ‘untangling’. I love it. I made some notes I will be sharing with you in bit. But first, to give credit for this lightbulb moment:
In the midst of this non work time, two weeks ago I grabbed the one book off the shelf that represents a major turning point in my life; An UnknownWoman, by Alice Koller, 1981. I can still remember the day, as a young mother, unhappy in my marriage and lost of ones own agenda, I walked into Jabberwocky books in Newburyport, MA., then on State Street. It feels like it was earlier than that, that 1981 year. I was sure, in my memory, that Jabberwocky had just opened in its first location, but history says that was 1972. And, that I bought it shortly after I was married in 1973…..but, the copyright is 1981, so, my memory is incorrect. I myself had been a book store manger in the late 70’s, so I would have known it then! Even though, I remember my awe at this shop, owned by a woman, with the coolest shelves being held by chains. All displayed clearly, confidently. Women books. Hundreds of titles. My heart skipped beats. The title grabbed me. I left my marriage two years later.
Understand, I was born in the 50’s, I grew up in the 60’s. Women were beginning to find their voices, to fight for rights. When I married in 1973 I was not allowed to have my own credit card. They had to say “Mrs” so and so on them. I was looking at the Angela Davis, Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem’s of this new language of feminism. I was raised by a well behaved hostess, and none of these topics or women would be welcomed at my parents dinner table.
I am re-reading it. This book that set my soul on fire to know more. It feels heavy this time. I remember it in lightness, a relief. I chose to research present day information on the author before I began this trek through her book, that in my memory helped me to find my own self, it started a conscious path to be craved out of myself. Her life has been a continued path of sadness, loneliness and philosophcal desperation. Her book helped me to further my own path, but I do not know that it helped her. Rather than ‘I cannot put the book down’, this time, it is a very slow read. This time, the sadness and despondency of her words is palpable, and there are too many similarities in who I use to be, for comfort. I know enough now, that discomfort is a gift, and to keep looking into it to reveal the gold.
She mentions the word untangle. And a spark is ignited. I hear in my mind; ‘The Untangling of Ourselves.” Great, awesome, I want to author it – book title. That is the journey, wether we are male or female; to untangle ourselves from everybody else’s opinions, WHICH WE HAVE ADOPTED AS OUR OWN! Think about that line again. Speak it out loud. Take your time.
- to emotionally de-tatch ourselves – to untangle the thread, that invisible line from where the seed of, the origin of that negative thought, that fearful idea, that not helpful at all statement either thought of or spoken comes from. Where oh where are you from, this idea – when was the first time I said it, heard it? Or felt the energy of it?
- Most vital, who does it belong to? If it feels good, okay. If it does not, why am I thinking it? Whose is it???? Is it mine? Do I want it?
- to untangle the thread of our beliefs in order to see ourselves without another’s opinion, should’s or have to’s.
- untangle ourselves from our parents behavior, their wounds, their stories. Their poor decisions, their less than’s.
- who am i without that story? what is left when i take that story away? when that tangled thread, that is now unconsciously woven through my life, is let go of, given back to its originator, what is left?
- what happens when I let go of old garments that i insist on wearing, carrying around?
- what is left when i let go of expectations I had at seven, or my parents expectations I carried into my twenties?
- what is left of me, when I realize it was never my thought in the first place?
Here is an example: Today I have stayed in bed, (so far) surrounded by coffee cups, manuscripts in process, thumb drives, notebooks. The thought dropped in, ‘I am being lazy.’ Simple thought, but my minds voice said it critically. I stayed with it. Why am I calling myself anything with destructive unloving efforts? Here are some choices:
- A). Brought up in a family that everything was in motion all the time.
- B). Raised with needing to prove myself by creating only on the linear plane.
- C). Told by parents actors and writers do not make enough money, marry wealthy instead.
- D.) Was taught daydreaming was behavior of a lazy child.
- E.) Parents were lazy and inactive and you never want to be like them in any way.
Two of these are my answers. Nope, not going to tell you.
Wherever your tangled thread lands at the other end, free yourself of any body else’s assumptions. Whatever you believe, make sure it is your own conscious loving choice.
Great read for women. An UnknownWoman by Alice Koller.
with great love and gratitude,