Holding My Selves
I walked into the grocery store the other day with only five items on my list: hamburger buns, steak tomato, a head of iceberg lettuce, and four Cosmic Crisp apples. As I made my way through the isles, several thoughts floated across my mind: “Oooh, maybe I should get some of those yummy browned-butter chocolate chip cookies?” “Or maybe double dark chocolate gelato ice cream for dessert?” “Cheddar and sour cream chips sound yummy, too.”
A few more thoughts joined in: “Yeah, I don’t really need anything else, do I?” “I’m not really wanting ice cream or chips; the apples in the cart are pretty delicious, yeah?”
A third perspective in my conscious mind appeared to be taking in both sets of thoughts, and for some reason the feeling of my feet against the inside of my shoes came into awareness. More body sensations came into focus: the skin of my legs brushing against the inside of my jeans as I walked, my hair touching the nape of my neck, and the weight of my glasses on the bridge of my nose. This domino of somatic awarenesses made me realize I hadn’t been in my body when I first entered the store. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
It was a moment of complete and utter fascination—like realizing someone else was in the room, but the “someone else” in this case was a loving and understanding older sister who only wants the best for you. I have practiced moving into the wise observer position in hundreds of workshops and trainings over the years, but lately I’ve experienced more natural shifts into this third perspective, that of the neutral, compassionate “wisemind” observer.
Last summer, my husband and I attended a somatics and movement-based retreat held on an organic farm in Canada. We delighted in ridiculously delicious homemade and wholesome meals three times a day for the entire week. It was a life-altering break from old, unquestioned eating habits. We have since committed to choosing foods based on health and nutrition, which mainly meant cutting out processed foods and making most of our own meals at home—no more fast food. This has made quite a difference in how we feel and how we honor our intentions toward our health in general, but this recent shopping trip provided yet another insight: old narratives remain in the body even after they are debunked by present truths.
I was shopping with two selves, one from years past who literally bounced back and forth, from one compulsive thought to another, fueled by an underlying sense of feeling deprived. This part of me pushed back against the indignity of being told what I could or couldn’t have and this perceived forced restraint usually resulted in over-indulging in some form or another.
The other part of me was holding space for the desperate anxiety-filled seeking of this shadow self and calmly and compassionately offered reminders of the present-moment reality that was filled with contentment and gratitude for the abundance of healthy foods already at home and in the grocery cart.
It was quite a pleasant feeling having both selves engage in this real-time conversation of sorts, like witnessing two beloved friends working out a decades-long dispute and finally being able to delight in the eventual clearing of the air and accompanying hope for better times ahead. Our narratives will always be a part of our experiences—welcoming, holding, and allowing all versions of ourselves to exist allows for the parsing and metabolizing needed to be able to choose our new realities based on all these information-rich states of being.
Leaving the store with items I intended to purchase (rather than less-than-healthy choices I would regret later), I acknowledge the benefits of my embodiment and nervous system regulation efforts. Through practices that focus on movement, breath, and mindfulness along with advanced training in depth psychology, I have been learning over the last decade how to open doors to my unconscious and dwell more in my body so that I may receive deeply held inner wisdom that informs my presence and choices today.
Placing a hand on the heart with a long inhale and longer exhale, mark-making with movement to tap into an emotional current stirring within, or maybe just a quick circuit of tightening and then releasing various muscle groups throughout the body—there are so many ways to practice depth and embodiment work. As a result of instituting these practices daily, I am more frequently encountering a delicious and growing expanse between unsettling experiences and my reactions, giving me time to bring forth the salve of awareness and compassionate curiosity. This precious, grace-filled pause brings hope for more empathy and deeper connections with others as I continue to grow my capacity to feel loving and kind-hearted toward all parts of my Self.