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Practice what you preach, Suzanne

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Practice what you preach, Suzanne
woman meditating on a beach

©iStockphoto.com/Djura Topalov

Here’s a sorry, ironic truth about the summer of 2011 for a couple of quirky, well-intentioned Central Pennsylvanians: Trond and I have worked ourselves into a pair of royal swivets publishing a book about the critical importance of people becoming calm and collected enough to make a significant difference in the world. I am not a little ashamed of myself that it has come to this.

 

I’m sure there’s a lesson here. And I think the Chinese acupuncturist we sought out to administer treatment for our ailing beings was onto a simple one the other day. Trond and I were lying side by side (and sunny side up) on tables in Batbayar’s office—as if for couples massage, I thought. Trond, who is less inclined to bodywork but was in enough (back) pain to accede this time, had couples’ biers in mind. “It’s as if we both died at once,” he said, as he sweetly hopes we will.

 

“You know about yoga and meditation, don’t you?” Our acupuncturist asked me out of the blue. (I haven’t a clue how he knew, but I do know, of course.) “Practice what you preach,” he added matter-of-factly, as he stuck another of his magical hair-thin needles into my third eye.

 

Yep, Batman, you’re onto me; it’s decidedly time to reassess, regroup and rearrange my life so I can feel a tad more authentic when the words in Bare Naked at the Reality Dance start rolling off the presses. (Okay, it’s a print-on-demand book with no presses involved, but you know what I’m saying.) I don’t need to try to be perfect (a hopeless intent anyway). But the world is always a better place when I practice the supreme self-care that the book I wrote teaches.

 

This week I’ve made significant progress in that direction. No, the irritable bowel syndrome that settled in a few weeks ago isn’t gone. And rather than stopping to rest, I ran around like the Madwoman of Chaillot preparing for a trip. But I also took significant steps to back away from the situations that had wreaked havoc on my body, mind and spirit. I slowed the book project down. Most critically, I screwed up the courage to tell a key book production team member that I could no longer work with her. And I hadn’t a clue how I’d manage without her skill set.

 

It wasn’t easy or in the least comfortable to do that, and I felt badly for her. But I remembered  (as she, too, wisely acknowledged) that relationship is a two way street, and if one person isn’t totally satisfied, it’s no good for the other one either. So I drove another nail into the coffin of what used to be a more deadly case of co-dependence, even as I liberated myself from frustration and resentment that was making me—and according to Batbayar, my spleen—sick. A great sigh went up from my body-being as I hit Send on the “it’s all over” email and realized I don’t have to do this anymore.

 

I don’t have to do anything with anyone who doesn’t feel altogether right just to get the book launched in a hurry. No. I can wait till the exact right person to help with next steps comes along. That is my right and my responsibility. Anything less, I’m being untrue to myself and the book.

 

Wouldn’t you know it, the very next day that exact right person showed up in a way that took my breath away. The proof was in the pudding a day later when I was back on the acupuncture table. Batbayar checked my nine pulses as usual and, only because I asked what he felt, he had this to say in his calm, matter-of-fact tone: “Your spleen is stronger, Suzanne.” More soon about how the miracle of letting go of what doesn’t work makes room for the universe to offer us what does.


Categories: Inspiration, Self-Care
  • Lulu Priddy/Hurn

    The power of letting go and letting something else be in my life isn’t always easy. I have the tendency to let go with a fist extended instead of an open hand. Not a lot of elegance, grace and dignity this week.

    In taking care of my earth suit I decided to follow through on a referral by my Doctor. Off I went Tuesday, for a simple biopsy of my scalp. 2 hours later a 50 cent size piece and 1/4 inch deep of my earth suit was removed. As they may say in the hood. Fitty cnt’. Of course, I had no idea of the size because it was right on the top of my head with no mirror in hand to look at the mugging of my body. My friend who was getting a massage came back to pick me up and jumped when he saw the piece gone. Not stitched not covered no hiding of this exit hole. Trying to let go I deflected my pain with the comment can you see my committee of little people leaving. They laughed and suddenly the throbbing began. Next I reflected on meditations that I used to do with visualizing a thread running through my body and aligning it to reach the perfect position wondering if because it was clogged could not stay focused to reach the moment of enlightenment. In the process of trying to let go, I am trying to open my fist and give this one away without losing the laughter. Today, had to humble myself and let others wash my hair. The lesson of letting go is so very present making me eat a lot of humble pie. Blessing, love & an abundance of light.

  • http://www.suzannegrenager.com Suzanne Grenager

    Thank you for your blessings, dear Lulu! I am glad you are letting your hair be washed It is an act of love to receive such tender care, every bit as much as it is to give it, methinks–especially for those of us who may have erred on the *giving* side. May you open your fist, your heart and your sore head to receive all the love and grace you are deserving of. I will await further word about your biopsy results and hold you in my heart in the meantime.

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