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  • Lidija Mavra

Once Upon a Time: Recovering Your Authentic Self


Once there was a little girl, free and full of wonder, excitement and the joy of living. She delighted in everything she did, and saw beauty and value in all that was around her.



But things began to go wrong. She had ideas; exciting, adventuresome ideas! But she heard, “NO! You can’t do that; that’s dumb.” She had thoughts; interesting, challenging thoughts. But she heard, “There you go, thinking again. The trouble with you is that you think too much.” She had dreams; inspiring, exhilarating dreams. But she heard, “How can you be so stupid? You can’t do that!” She had feelings; happy, sad, scared and sometimes angry feelings. But she heard, “You can’t feel that way. It isn’t nice. No one else feels that way.” With each encounter, the little girl became more subdued and distant. She learned to be quiet.


So as the girl grew into a young woman, she hardly ever heard the voice of the little self she had been any more. One time she thought she did. One time she heard her say, “It’s a beautiful summer day. Let’s go out into the garden and enjoy it.” And so she went out into her garden. But when she looked around, she saw the dead limb on the tree that needed attention. She worried about all the weeds coming up along the side of the house. She never even saw the pretty yellow of the dandelions; she only worried what her neighbors would think. The little girl didn’t talk any more.


The young woman went about the business of being a reasonable, responsible and competent person. She eventually filled the roles of wife, mother, businesswoman, Brownie leader, choir member, and entered a whole host of other arenas where she could show that she was reasonable, responsible and competent. But somewhere inside, there was a little girl who knew she could have been more of herself by being less of what others needed and expected. The little girl who knew what she had been designed to be, but who had learned to be quiet.


And the woman, in her most secret moments when no-one was looking, would wish she had a time machine to take her back to the garden and enable her to begin again, this time following the guidance of the child.


Whatever your current age or gender, can you relate to this silenced voice within you? This small, tender, vulnerable, and deeply pure – deeply wise – part of you that may have been put away so deeply for safekeeping that you’re not even sure it exists anymore. But exist she does; it is only a matter of looking:

Looking for this child in the darkest corners of your mind, where the shadows of physical and emotional pain move, convincing you they still have shape and substance… a painful place to go, but where go you must if you are ever to rescue that child and bring him into the light.

Looking for this child in the bright light of day when, for a moment or even longer, there is a sudden, inexplicable shift inside you, and you find yourself running, laughing, dancing, loving being in your body, and creating for joy, from a place of integrity.

Looking for this child in the most difficult times, when you have to choose between your integrity and the push of the external world – the child is the beating heart of that integrity, and will show up in wordless emotions and physical symptoms if you don’t listen to him.

If this child could speak to you now, what would she need you to hear? And what would he share with you about what your life today is, and what it could become?


If you feel that the wonder, excitement and joy of living lies dormant within you today and desire to wake it, to let it rise and shine as it did once upon a time, you can begin with the simple exercise described here, co-created with Pat Wyman, founder of the 3Keys Model for Self-Understanding.


Inner work exercise: connecting with the silenced child


Get a couple of pieces of un-lined paper and some pencils or crayons. Sit in a comfortable position and allow yourself to breathe deeply for a few moments. Then, when you feel ready, bring to mind an aspect of your life that is currently unfulfilling to you. This may be something that you promised yourself you would do (or be), but never quite got round to it. It could be something to do with an attitude you hold towards yourself – your inner qualities, your body, your actions with others. Or it may be just a general sense of sadness or resentment, that there’s something missing from life, but you’re not sure exactly what. Allow whatever arises first to slowly take shape in your mind, and whatever feelings associated with that to be there - don't try to force them away.


Once you have this fully present, take a piece of paper and draw the child you once were, who did not get her dreams and expectations met. Write out a series of adjectives describing this child and his/her age, however s/he appears to you now, on the page. On the left is an example of such a drawing, very graciously provided by one of my clients, Ming Holden.


Then, imagine that you are that child, experiencing anew the feelings that have arisen. Take another piece of paper and write a letter in that child’s words, expressing all that this child needs you to know about how s/he has been feeling, and what s/he needs from you today. Take all the time you need to write this letter, allowing yourself to feel any further feelings that come up. When that feels complete, sit back and read the letter out loud to yourself, again allowing any emotions to flow. Breathe deeply.


When you feel ready to move on, gently stand and stretch however feels good, doing a little dance or jumping on the spot – any movement that feels enlivening, for a minute or two. Then stand or sit still again, and remember a moment when you felt a sense of wellbeing, calm and strength in your adult life. Examples might be when walking by the sea, or enjoying caring for an infant. Closing your eyes, breathing deeply, and experiencing what you’re wearing and what’s going on around you in that moment will really help to shift you into the associated feelings. This will feel quite different to the experience of the hurt child – be honest with yourself and take all the time you need to make this shift. Once it feels that it’s ‘clicked’ inside you, allow yourself to hold this experience, ensuring that you are actually being the adult (rather than watching yourself as in a film), noting where in your body these new sensations arise… and enjoying the moment for as long as you like!


Finally, open your eyes and, on a new sheet of paper, as this grounded adult, write to the hurt child as if s/he were your own, or a child you were charged to care for. Be sure the letter outlines specific ways in which you will care for the child…

…and then go forth and follow through! This is, of course, the hardest part of inner work such as this, which is why it’s so important to allow the pain of the child you once were to rise to the surface and be met by the Adult you are today, who is now motivated and equipped to care for that child in ways that the child herself – lacking a home of her own, freedom to come and go, financial resources and internet access – did not have. Essentially, the child is a symbol understood by the subconscious to represent a non-rational part of you. This part contains both a wounded soul, a heart full of hurt and unheard pleas… but also your keenest intuition and, once heard, your deepest delight and warmest feelings.


However, this ‘soul’ part of you, so to speak, is not empowered to externalize actions in the world – it needs you and the vehicle of your adult body for that! As such, writing to the child from the perspective of your adult self shifts you out of that non-rational part of your psyche and into a rational and empowered part that can take the actions being summoned by your soul. This is the wisdom – and the challenge – of this work, and I hope this exercise may prove helpful to you in opening the door to it.

 

What feelings, hopes and actions came up for you as you did the exercise? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below, or get in touch if you'd like further guidance.

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