Circumstantial identification

The Moon is a reflection of the deep, dark cave of the feminine within all of us. She's the shining light in middle of the night. She's powerful, moving the tides of change. She's the constant steady calm reminding us of our hidden intelligence and intuition. It's because of the Moon that we can count the passing of days and the change of seasons. 

I was reminded of her strength in Rod Stryker's immersion last weekend. It's the quality of the Moon we want to cultivate to remain steady amidst change, to remain calm when turbulence hits and we are grabbing the arm rests, almost thrown from our seats. She's the one who shows us we are not this body, this situation, this feeling, or this circumstance. We are greater than that. The phases she moves through from new moon waxing to full moon and waning back to new moon are the epitome of "change is the only constant." And yet, she's still the moon.

In a meeting with a coworker, I was given constructive advice on how to build a good reputation within the team and with the people we work with. Urgency was the word he used. I heard it as "be faster" even though I've been in this position for not even six weeks and most of the processes I've done only a few times. I was STUCK on this word and this meeting for the rest of the day. It turned into a fast, deep spiral down the "Not Good Enough" drain. Not good enough for this position. Not good enough to be working here. Not fast enough. Not savvy enough. Not enough. Period. Despite the attempts of my husband to console and comfort me, I couldn't be swayed from this story that my mind kept telling so elaborately and enthusiastically. I was in bed at 8:30pm that night - emotionally exhausted was an understatement.

3am: I'm wide awake hearing the story on repeat. Wanting to justify myself, to explain that I can't yet be both fast AND accurate, I turned on my lamp and wrote a letter (luckily my husband was still asleep on the couch). I expressed my own frustrations about being brand new to a position and having to be okay with this space of not knowing everything, of having to ask for help, of being the reason why other people's work is a little slower because they're having to train me. A sense of relief washed over. VINDICATED.

I wanted to express most of my letter in person with my coworker but decided against it because I was feeling okay with the situation and felt like there would be more clarification soon.

We go to coffee and he talks more about this urgency I need to have. I listened, like actually listened, to hear what he was saying in a new light, and like the Batman searchlight shining in the night sky, I heard it. Reply to emails more quickly is actually what he meant. To get my name in front of people. To be a reliable person for others. 

In a blinding flash of the obvious, I realized I had attached my entire self worth and identity to a circumstance. A circumstance that was created by the words of someone else and upon which I placed value. My OWN value, nonetheless. I identified with that circumstance so much, I almost started crying while he was still talking. I didn't even hear the rest of the conversation. I wanted to quit. Give it all up. I ignored / forgot the fact that it will change. Because I am not that circumstance. I am not those words. I am not this position at work. In the words of Pema Chodron: "You are the sky--everything else is just weather." I am constant. The rain and sun will change but there I will be, steady and calm among it all. And, like the Moon, I too am waxing and waning, light and dark, full and new.


you are.
is not
you are."