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Saying “no” (out loud) to shame

Nov 18, 2022 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been thinking about shame a lot lately.

I know it’s showing up because in the seemingly-endless writing/editing of my book manuscript, the story I’m working right now is all about shame . . . or so we’ve been told. (No, it’s not Eve — though that’s true in her story, as well.)

Here’s the shocking thing: there is NO reference to shame in the text itself. Every bit of it, centuries of it, has been brought to bear by those who have told her story.

She doesn’t feel shame. It’s what has been overwhelmingly applied to her. Blech!

Here’s what I’m struck by: this is what we do in and to our own stories — apply shame to ourselves!

Why? Why is that so often our default?

Yes, there is MUCH to be said about patriarchy, capitalism, consumerism, and then some — cultural and ideological realities that prey on the fact that when we feel shame we stay in line, don’t get too full of ourselves, don’t feel empowered, remain convinced that we’re not enough, spend money to become enough, and never quite hit the mark (which starts the cycle all over again).

But even after we’ve named all this, parsed it out via good and ongoing exploration of our own stories, it still sits there and shows up again and again and again: the burden of shame.

And so I wonder (not surprisingly), had this woman’s story — and Eve’s and so many more besides — been told without shame, would we so easily, unconsciously, and repeatedly apply it to ourselves?

My answer (not surprisingly) is that we most definitely would NOT!

Our work is to discern, in our own stories, our actual life, if shame IS what belongs there, or if its what we (and others) have assumed, applied, and layered on after-the-fact. 

One way to do this, to parse through all of this conflicting story-stuff and shame’s prevalence, is to think about a time in which you considered breaking the rules, stepping outside the lines, following your intuition / wisdom / heart. You KNEW it would create a ruckus, that others wouldn’t like it, that you would be seen as stirring up trouble or not following protocol or being selfish . . .

Or think about a time when you did it anyway . . .

  • What did you feel when you contemplated this choice?
  • And if you went through with it, what did others “make” you feel?
  • Do those emotions (which I’m guessing include shame) mean that you shouldn’t have done it? That you were wrong? That you WERE selfish? (I’m hoping your answer is “no.”)

See?

The insipid presence of shame either keeps us from trusting ourselves enough to make bold and brave choices that are in perfect alignment with who we truly are, what we truly want , and all that we deserve OR we do make the choice and then pay the price. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.

Have I mentioned? Blech! So, back to the story and no actual mention of shame . . .

What if there was no mention in our own? What if we erased it? What if we didn’t give it a second thought? What if we understood it to be something that we’ve inherited and been taught to apply, but that doesn’t belong to us at all? What if we could eradicate it from our vocabulary and our lived experience?

What if, indeed!

And how would we do that, exactly?

Well, there are lots of ways, but here are two that come to mind:

First, we become acutely and intimately aware of when shame IS the emotion present (vs. guilt, humiliation, or embarrassment — to use Brené Brown’s vocabulary). We assess if it is REALLY what we feel or if it only seems like it because it’s what we are so familiar with — and/or if it’s what others expect and WANT us to feel (or are applying). And then we say, “no!” We refuse shame’s presence. We deny its power. We separate ourselves from the pattern or habit. We turn on our heel and walk a different way.

Second, not as alternative but as accompaniment, we reimagine and retell the countless stories we have been told about a woman’s shame — as though it were a given, just the way it is, commonplace, and to be expected. We critique our own assumptions and others’. And we re-vision those stories in ways that reveal their inherent beauty, wisdom, and strength . . . so that WE are the ones who come to see, understand, and value the same in ourselves.

Brené Brown says that “the antidote to shame is empathy.” For ourselves! And according to Kristen Neff, self-compassion is the key — which includes self-kindness vs. self-judgment, acknowledging our common humanity vs. isolation, and mindfulness vs. over-identification.

Think of it!! If empathy and compassion had been our implicit and overwhelming response to Eve’s story, to that of the Woman at the Well (the one I’ve been working with), to countless women throughout time, and ourselves?!? Everything would be different. I have to believe it still can be.

This week, maybe start small. Notice when shame rears its ugly head — and how it makes you feel. Then quietly (or loudly!) just say “no.”

Another thing? When you see shame being applied to other women — whether on social media, in a book or film, on the news — say “no” again. Out loud. And in its place, apply generous doses of empathy, self-compassion, and yes, grace.

You deserve a story without shame — past, present, and future. Every woman does — past, present, and future.

May it be so.

*****

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Letting go of happy endings . . .

Sep 30, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been ensconced in fiction lately. There is a LOT to be said for getting lost in the pages of a book, stepping vicariously into the realities of others, witnessing their happy endings and imagining them as my own. I often feel a palpable ache when I turn the last page; I’ve become so attached to the characters. It’s like their story is somehow connected to mine.

Which, of course, it is. That is the power of story! When we immerse ourselves in it, we more acutely feel our own desire, disappointment, loss, loves, trials, tribulations, and hope. The very best stories are ultimately less about the characters themselves and far more about us! Even in the most fantastical or tragic of tales, we find ourselves between the lines; we see aspects of ourselves mirrored back in actuality and in aspiration, again and again.

For all that is the same, one thing is vastly different: most of the stories we read or watch have a happy ending. Perhaps not perfect or Disney-esque, but wrapped up nicely with some kind of bow, some kind of resolution, something that makes sense of all that’s gone before. Understandably, we want the same for ourselves! And there is absolutely nothing wrong or wasted with such a wish. The problem occurs when we compare the goodness or worth of our own story, our very life, to that which can (only) be captured so neatly in fiction.

Unlike the books we read or movies we watch, our lives are not neatly packaged. They are messy and unresolved, difficult and confusing. The plot is not clear. The characters are conflicted. Bad things happen. Good does not always triumph. Any sort of ending feels illusive and often far from happy. Ours is a story that is “true.” 

In Untamed, Glennon Doyle says this:

“The truest, most beautiful life never promises to be an easy one. We need to let go of the lie that it’s supposed to be.”

She’s right, of course. Not “happily ever after,” but most definitely true (and beautiful).

I would love to tell you – with conviction and personal experience – that “everything works together for good;” that your endurance (and compliance) guarantee success and/or bliss and/or endless love; that if you just persevere, everything will eventually turn rosy and bright – an amazing story with an enviable “happily ever after.” I cannot promise or speak to a bit of this. But if you want to know what is true, I can both promise and speak to that with vast personal experience and lots of conviction.

The hardest realities in your story, the loose ends, the impossible twists and turns, seemingly no fairy godmother (or god) to be found, are exactly what make your story worth being told…and lived. 

Little consolation, I know, but no less accurate or important to know and name.

When I look back over my life thus far, I see so much that I would have never predicted or foretold. The most painful seasons have invited profound growth and transformation. My biggest mistakes have been converted into a mostly-unswerving belief in my value and worth. My fear and anxiety, depression and grief, anger and frustration have somehow, miraculously and unwittingly, become the most gracious of teachers, the closest of companions, and my dearest of friends. No pretty bow. No tidy conclusion. Unwieldy and unpredictable. Hardly easy or perfect, but honest and real and “true,” even beautiful.

Pages worth turning. Stories worth telling. A life worth living. And uniquely, surprisingly, amazingly…mine.

“Happily ever after” remains to be seen. It’s all that happens along the way that matters most, that we remember, that makes a story – your story – worth writing, telling, and living. 

Not practicing what I preach

Jun 17, 2022 | Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my desire. No. That’s not quite true. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my lack of desire — my resistance to it. Not across the board — but in particular areas of my life.

This awareness has come as a surprise to me, quite frankly.

Desire is hardly a new thought or topic in my world. I’ve learned to follow its impetus and wisdom more times than not (after many decades of just the opposite). And I’ve certainly written and talked about it a ton — redeeming Eve’s story in ways that reveal her as inspiration and model of desire — in the best and most perfect of ways. Our blueprint, our forebear, our legacy! She calls us, beckons us, invites us to desire; she reminds us that our desire is good, that we are!

All this said, you can see why this is a conundrum for me, this chasm between what I practice and what I preach!

A dear friend came to visit me. We sat in my living room and talked of many things — among which was our respective books. She told me about just recently turning her completed manuscript over to a designer who will now create the book itself in preparation for self-publishing. (It’s going to be magnificent.) I spoke of my own manuscript, my timeline, how I am (mostly) pushing past my resistance. And we bantered back and forth — sometimes lightly, other times with much more angst — over the whole world of marketing, publicity, and promotion that yet remains. And all with no guarantee of “success.”

In the midst of all this, I said, “What if I just don’t care? What if I just write the book because it deserves to be written, because I want it written, and then let it go? What if don’t worry myself with the outcomes, the numbers, the success (or not)? What if it’s really about the creation of it — not what happens once it’s finished?”

To which she replied, “I suppose that’s one option, Ronna. Or you could actually acknowledge that you do desire so much more. If you’re being completely honest, you want your book to be wildly successful. You want your work honored, your voice heard — not just by some, but by many. Maybe you could let yourself have that: all of your desire — whether it happens, or not.”

Record scratch.

That was weeks ago. I have been sitting with her words ever since.

Actually let myself want? Really acknowledge my desire? Open myself up to that kind of dreaming — even though it feels completely unrealistic and outside the realm of possibility?

If I don’t desire — at least not in amazing and vast and extravagant ways — if I tamp it down, then I spare myself that pain. Sort of. Not really.

To let myself desire — honest, raw, and unedited — means that I allow disappointment instead of trying to avoid it.

*sigh*

Every bit of my resistance (and yours), every emotion that rises to the surface for me (and for you), invites me/us that much deeper and further in — to our stories, to our soul, and yes, to our honest, raw, and unedited desire. Which, of course, is good…and amazing and vast and extravagant. Really.

When Eve bit into the apple, she gave us the world as we know the world — beautiful, flawed, dangerous, full of being… All we know of heaven we know from Eve, who gave us earth, a serviceable blueprint: Without Eve there would be no utopias, no imaginable reason to find and to create transcendence, to ascend toward the light. Eve’s legacy to us is the imperative to desire. ~ Barbara Grizutti Harrison, Out of the Garden: Women Writers on the Bible

The imperative to desire.

May it be so, yes? For you and me both!

About NOT living a conventional life

Apr 8, 2022 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

“Most of us live conventional lives. We want to avoid the discomforts that arise from complications. But the full, creative life must be open to unpredictability. Jewish wisdom urges us to open our eyes to the possibility of change, even to the need to break a rule. Sometimes the only way to grow is to take a bite of the apple.” ~ Rabbi Irwin Kula

Fantastic. Powerful. And true.

Here’s where we’re headed:

  1. a conventional life = avoiding discomfort
  2. a full, creative life = unpredictability
  3. change = breaking a rule (or two)
  4. growth = taking a bite of the apple

Yum!

When I look back at my own life, my adamant demand of avoiding discomfort (for myself and for others) has caused me to choose what is generally done or believed — at the expense of my intuition, my wisdom, my very heart. The opposite has also been true: when I have listened to my intuition, trusted my wisdom, and followed my heart it has always been outside of convention, incredibly uncomfortable, and most-definitely (ultimately) worth it.

How about for you?

  • What stories come to mind? Where, when, and with whom have you diligently worked to sustain comfort (your own and/or others’), maintain the status quo, avoid discomfort and choose convention?
  • Think about your own experiences of being uncomfortable. Are they also the places in which you’ve gone against the grain, done what’s unexpected, and (hopefully) chosen what’s best for you instead of what everyone else wanted from/for you? What does that invite you to consider?

Instead of resisting discomfort, how might we welcome it? Could we learn to see “complications” as a form of discernment; a trail of breadcrumbs that lead us to what is unconventional — and far closer to what we truly value and desire?

Because I do not want to live a conventional life, discomfort cannot be avoided.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the “state” of my life, now 61 years old, relatively-suddenly living on the other side of the country with my sister and her family, changing pretty much everything. It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this: seemingly random and unconventional. There is a part of me that wants to believe I’ve been the one to make this happen, but I know better. In truth, it has been the unexpected, the surprises, the random and seemingly-crazy choices that have ultimately shaped the life that is mine.

And just so you know, this pattern applies to far more than just “good” things! Some of the hardest seasons in my life were unexpected and completely out of my control — others’ decisions impacted me in excruciating ways, there were circumstances I could have no more predicted than flown, ramifications and realities were everywhere that I didn’t see coming. All unpredictable — and much to my chagrin. In the moment, the opposite of “full and creative,” but usually the means through which my life has found deeper meaning, more fullness, and yes, creativity, as well.

When we look back, we see all the twists and turns our story has taken; a plot that has been far less conventional and far more full-and-creative than we might have ever imagined or predictably planned on our own.

How about for you?

  • What thoughts come to mind when you think of allowing your life to be unpredictable?
  • Consider when you were most firmly grasping for control, what was predictable, and what felt safe. What words describe your life during those times?
  • What stories come to mind that you’d define as “creative and full”? How was unpredictability manifest in the midst?

When we find ourselves in places that feel the opposite of “full and creative,” it is probably because the need to control is dialed way up; we (falsely) believe that life is 100% ours to determine and shape.

[I certainly do not believe it’s all in the hands of fate. Agency and choice, will and determination — these things matter. Take heart: if you’re anything like me, there’s no risk whatsoever of these things disappearing! The challenge and invitation is allowing in the opposite, the unpredictable.]

When/if life feels empty and dry, unfulfilling and exhausting, it’s the unpredictable that’s called for — which means letting go, surrendering, releasing our grip.

I’m a huge advocate for breaking things: rules, traditions, assumptions, patterns, habits, beliefs.

I haven’t always been this way. In fact, far more of my life could be defined by following the rules — no matter what! It ensured that I’d be loved, accepted, and allowed, even honored and esteemed. And every bit of that worked for me — until it didn’t.

How about for you?

  • Do you agree that change cannot occur without rules being broken?
  • When have you broken the rules? What change occurred?
  • Can you name the rules that you’re afraid to break right now in service of your own change?

It’s important to note that rules — especially those that we follow as women — are a) what is demanded of us; and b) the very things that perpetuate patriarchy’s harm. It is defiant to intentionally break them — and it is critical.

If we want change, because we want change (for ourselves and for our world), we must be fiercely committed to being rule-breakers.

No surprise: I love this part of the quote the most!

Eve’s choice to eat the apple is what moved humanity forward, invited life in a more expansive world, even brought forth vastly increased intimacy and connection with the divine (vs. the opposite, as we’ve been told) and yes, compelled growth.

She serves as a woman’s best template, mentor, and muse. She provides a model of what it means to choose the unconventional, to be unpredictable, to break the rules, and yes, to take a bite of the apple.

And yet, what we have inculcated and internalized (even if unintentionally and unwittingly) through her story is just the opposite! Which makes me completely crazy AND explains, at least in part, why it’s hard for us to follow her lead. We feel the tension when we are perceived as:

swimming upstream
going against the grain
thinking for ourselves
acting on our own volition
choosing what we want
listening to and trusting our own wisdom

Every bit of this has been reinforced as “bad,” wrong, even sinful for thousands upon thousands of years!

How about for you?

  • What is your very first thought when you hear Eve’s name? What data does that give you about internalized beliefs related to risk, trusting yourself, or being defiant?
  • What IS the apple you most want to bite? Can you name what prevents you from doing so?
  • Once again, look back over your own life. What are the experiences that have enabled the most growth? How many of those held an element of choosing yourself over others’ expectations or demands?

Instead of seeing ourselves as defiant when we take a bite of the apple, we must recognize it as our truest nature; pursuing and cherishing growth is our truest nature!

If you ever want to hear exactly what I think about Eve’s story (and the way it’s been told), listen to my TEDx Talk.

*****

One more time:

“Most of us live conventional lives. We want to avoid the discomforts that arise from complications. But the full, creative life must be open to unpredictability. Jewish wisdom urges us to open our eyes to the possibility of change, even to the need to break a rule. Sometimes the only way to grow is to take a bite of the apple.” ~ Rabbi Irwin Kula

May it be so.

How to Trust Your Inner Wisdom

Sep 24, 2021 | Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I could offer you a whole bunch of reasons why you can and should trust your wisdom, why it’s reliable, why it’s “right,” why that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within never leads you astray. But I’m guessing you already know all that.

Few of us are unclear that we should trust our wisdom. It’s the doing it that is problematic!

(Or so we fear…)

And our fear is real! We have experiences, stories, memories, and built-in-lessons-learned that have taught us that when we do trust our own wisdom things get hard, misunderstanding reigns, feelings get hurt, relationships struggle if not break, expectations are disrupted, disaster befalls…The list goes on.

I know. Believe me.

Though I have a gazillion stories I could tell, the one that comes to my mind happened 15+ years ago. I was about 18 months post-divorce and decided to try dating again. I met a man. We hit it off. It was fabulous and fun and easy. We laughed all the time. And we talked about everything: our past, our family of origin, our heartbreak(s), our marriage, our divorce, our kids. We also talked about faith. And sadly, those conversations often became heated, argumentative, not fun at all.

Around the same time, I was preparing for the HUGE honor of giving a TEDx Talk. It was about Eve: the way her story has been told throughout time, how it has defined and harmed women for centuries, how it has shaped the world in which we live. And it was about how I wanted Eve’s story to be told — as expansive and rich and beautiful, as model for who women are at their best, their most brilliant, their most wise.

We talked about it once before I gave it (despite the fact that I spent hours and hours and hours preparing — which he would have known about, of course). And we talked about it once after I gave it; I told him what it had felt like for me to be speaking on a stage about my deepest passion; how it was both the most embodied I’d ever felt and, simultaneously, almost an out-of-body experience; how it felt to let Eve’s voice be heard through my own. I remember that he said, “I’m glad.” And that was the end of it.

Until the video was released and made available months later. I was so excited to show it to him, to watch him watch me — certain he would finally understand and finally celebrate; certain this would shift our shut-down conversations about faith from this point forward. He watched the first two minutes, closed his laptop, and we never spoke of it again.

OK. Back to trusting my own wisdom.

I heard my inner wisdom — no doubt about it: This is NOT OK. This is not sustainable. This is not acceptable: not even being honored enough to be curious, to listen, to try and understand. And this is the tip of the iceberg. If we cannot come to even agree-to-disagree terms on this, there’s going to be more down the road that’s going to be even harder. (There was more, but you get the idea…)

We dated for another four years.

Here’s the point (if you haven’t already landed on it): I heard my wisdom early on — and ongoing. But to trust it meant that I would have to a) have even harder conversations and b) be prepared for what that would lead to…ultimately, our end. And I didn’t want to do or experience any of that!

The issue for most of us is not hearing our wisdom, it’s trusting it! 

Because to trust it means that hard conversations may have to be had, that things might change, that everything we’re trying to sustain and juggle and keep spinning might come crashing down.

I know. Believe me.

I did eventually end the relationship. It was hard. It was painful. It was heartbreaking. And I trusted myself (and my wisdom) enough to know that there was really no other choice to make. Finally.

If I am going to bear consequences either way, I do NOT want to live with the ones that inevitably come when I compromise, comply, and not trust my wisdom or myself.

I can see, with hindsight and perspective, that my wisdom WAS worth trusting. Every. Single. Time. Not just in this story, but in SO many more.

The risks and costs have not gone away. But (most of) my fears about whether or not I can handle them have. And, in many ways, I now know that the higher the stakes, the greater the perceived consequences, the MORE trustworthy my wisdom actually is!

So, what is the takeaway in all of this for you?

Stated simply, it’s just this: you CAN trust your wisdom. It knows of what it speaks. It is reliable. It is right. It will not lead you astray. And inventorying the inherent risk is EXACTLY what makes your wisdom even more clear, more certain, and more trust-worthy.

No silver bullet. No magic pill. No easy answers. But no less true.