Become a Yes.
Discovering how a commitment changes how the universe interacts with me.
My skin was stretched and salty. The rhythm of my feet, had been my constant companion for the last 2 hours. I was following the white line on the side of the road, cars thundered past me, angry, hungry machines, set on disturbing the air as much as they could as they roared through it. I noticed I was holding my breath as I ran. The strip of causeway was surrounded by flat, mud plains. High winter sun gleamed off it, making me squint, the air was clammy, salty and fumey.
What am I doing? I asked myself.
The road fed itself over a narrow bridge. I had about a hip width space to cross, half an arms length of empty air between me and the slick metallic bodies whizzing past at a dizzying pace. Placing my attention in my diaphragm, I dropped deeper into my body, and as I have practised thousands of times before, declared an energetic bubble of personal space around me. I fiercely guarded the edges of it, then as I picked up my pace to get across the narrow bridge as fast as possible, I looked the driver of each on coming vehicle directly in the eye, ensuring they saw me and were taking care to stay in their lane.
Safely, on the other side of the bridge, part of the answer to my own question revealed itself, in me. I was experimenting, practicing, and researching.
Specifically how commitment changes the shape of my being and from there how the morphogenetic field interacts with me.
It all started about 10 weeks ago, when I was joyfully bouncing around the streets where I live, doing something called ‘going for a run’. I just felt happy, moving, a bit sweaty, inventing my own route on my own terms. A car drove past, its number plate flashed at me: RUN21K it said. So I thought: “OK!”
The next day I got up, laced up my shoes and headed out the door to run 21km, a half marathon. I had run that distance a few years before and thought I’d be fine. 12km later I returned to my backdoor, happy but exhausted, stiff and sore. 21km was way out of reach for me. But something in me had already committed, it was as if I knew I would do it, I would just have to take the steps to make it happen. And, many steps revealed themselves to me. I found a book in the library with a training plan, which I copied and stuck on the fridge. The next impulse arrived and I reached out to my brother and sister to be on my team, I showed them my training plan and gave them frequent updates on my research and training runs.
About 5 weeks into my plan I was started to get very sore, sometimes slowing to a walk in my short runs. Once I just lay down on the beach part way through my run to take a nap. Something needed to shift. I went back to the trusty running section in the local library and an intriguing book on the art of running, caught my attention. After reading that book, I had a complete do-over of my running technique.
I rediscovered the natural bounce in my skeletal and fascia system. Taking the ‘just push through the miles” mentally away, instead I started to approach my runs with a quest for the poetry in the movement. I rediscovered the beauty and fascination of the process. Another lineage was on its way to support me in my commitment also. In the regular embodiment sessions I was attending, I was slowly making my way out of frozen stress response and into an alive fluid relationship with the energy of my feelings flowing in my resonate tissues. This became particular supportive when running my 21km.
I discovered how I would bind all my frozen fear up in my abdomen, especially my diaphragm. What this meant while I was running was that, I would get a stitch, pelvic pain and tension in my torso which would interfere with my regular breathing cycle. This made running seem like ‘hard work’, not a fluid poetical motion. In a particularly powerful embodiment session I got to make intimate contact with my diaphragm, supported with physical touch navigating to an embodied experience of staying present with the fear in it. I let my fear flow again. In my run, I could pin point the moment when I was starting to clamp and grasp my diaphragm and instead of crumpling up over it, I relaxed into the fear and sadness inside my body, letting it flow freely into the surrounding tissues. I could find my running poetry again, within a few steps. I had almost no prolonged pain in my whole 2hour plus run.
Yesterday, I ran 21.78km and celebrated, by finishing with a satisfied flop on my friend’s wet front lawn.
So, in short, commitment truly does change the shape of your being. It changes the sorts of experiences and information that flow to you through the morphogenetic field. As your being changes shape, you become receptive to the field interacting with your altered form.
I am eager to continue my experimenting. You can try this too.
It works like this: Instead of tying to figure out how to get what you want. Or how everything is going to work. Start by choosing to commit first. Just decide, “Yes, I will be there” or “yes I will do that” or “Yes, I will make a cake”. then notice how the universe unfolds its self at your feet.
As a hint: Start with the little things, although as Julia often reminds me “there are no little things”. But start with those things that your body can open towards without going to into overwhelm or hysteria. Like: a massage, or a deep conversation or a healing that resonants deep inside you, or something that your heart has a clear, unwavering ‘yes’ for.
I want to hear your experiments and discoveries too.
Love,
Millicent
