We’ve hit #1 on 94.9 The Bridge!

That’s our song, “Good to Me,” in the top spot, followed by a little band called Death Cab For Cutie. I mean … .

This chart is based on the number of times a song has been upvoted by listeners in the station’s app (iPhone / Android). I know some of you out there are listening and upvoting, and this chart success is in part because of YOU — thank you!!

It’s extraordinarily rare for an independent artist like me to get support from commercial radio at all; so to be in the company of world-renowned artists, and to have (literal!) votes of confidence from this station’s listeners is very, very rewarding.

I wanted to share this moment of joy with you, because you have been with us on this journey for a while now — and your support has helped us to get to this moment of celebration. THANK YOU. 

In other news …

Jamie and I had a blast performing at the Shipwrecked Music Festival last month. I don’t know when the last time was that I had so much fun planning for and rehearsing a live show.

And then … the reaction from the festival crowd was awesome. We followed some curiosities we’ve been having, we stepped way out of our comfort zones to build something new … and it all felt like a smashing success.

So … what’s next???

The festival performance was the first baby step toward that. We’re building on that step now — we’re hard at work preparing for an innovative full album release later this year, as well as (fingers crossed!) a return to touring in the new year, with a brand-new approach to bringing the experience of our music to the stage.

What that all really boils down to is … we’re in the very vulnerable, squishy, terrifying middle of trying a bunch of new things, which – if you’ve ever subjected yourself to trying new things, you know — is both exhilarating and petrifying.

So we’re excited. And scared.

I’m taking comfort from — or, at least finding camaraderie in — a quote I heard last week while watching the (gorgeous, moving, profound) HBO series Station Eleven:

“We’re artists. We’re always terrified.”

I hope to have more to share with you soon about these upcoming plans of ours. Stay tuned.

Annnnd that’s all for today! I hope your end-of-summer is sweet. Sending love from the middle of a changing season here in the PNW.

Love and curiosity — shannon

The post We’re number one! ☝🏻 appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

As you know, if you’ve been following along, this album is centered on doing personal work in the area of cultivating peace within myself and grabbing hold of my agency to act in the midst of difficult times.

WOW, am I grateful for having set myself on this course of exploration and personal discovery these last months. In particular because the circumstances I identified at the beginning as being those which were robbing me of my peace and making me feel powerless have only progressed in the time since. I’ve written more about that below. 

I’m so, so thankful to have had the opportunity to sharpen my tools for navigating these times, and I’m grateful to you for coming along with and supporting me on this journey.

So … without further ado … here is the last song. It’s called “Good to Me.”

“Good to Me”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “Good to Me” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first nine stops on this journey. If you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first 9 entries here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9.)

A commitment to myself 

Here are the prompts that guided me:

Having been through this journey, and having discovered tools to help me cultivate peace inside myself and access my agency to act, what can I say about where my peace and my power come from?

• What is the relationship between my circumstances and the source of my peace and my power?
   
• What is the relationship between other people and the source of my peace and my power?
   
• Who is responsible for my peace and my power?

I began this journey with the idea that I wanted to cultivate my peace and power during difficult times. But … how does this work apply to times that are not difficult?

• Can I describe a time in my life when circumstances were objectively good, but during which I was not experiencing peace in my spirit, nor a sense of my own power?
   
• How might doing this work have changed my experience during that time?

What commitment(s) to myself do I want to make here at the end of this journey, as I move into the future of my life?

It’s only ever up to me

The conclusion that all of this work brings me to is one simple, profound truth: my peace and my power will never come from anywhere other than inside of my own spirit, cultivated by the work that I show up to do for myself.

This is how I take care of myself.
This is how I can be good to myself.
No one else can do the work inside of me, to tend my spirit, but me.

Circumstances won’t bring me peace and power.
Another person can’t bring me it.
Even someone who loves me a lot, and who wants good things for me, can’t do it for me.

Realizing the peace that is mine,
and unlocking the power that is mine,
will always ever only be up to me.
If I want it, it’s my responsibility to create it, to grab hold of it.

It’s mine; but it won’t ever be given to me.

In all times

I began this journey with the intention of finding peace of mind and grabbing hold of agency in difficult times. But I’ve been reminded in the process that it is in all times that this work is relevant.

I’ve known plenty of days when my circumstances were good, where people in my life were treating me with love and kindness, and yet I experienced discontent inside my spirit, felt angst about my existence, was caught in a web of powerlessness … because I wasn’t showing up for myself in the ways I now know my spirit needs in order to have peace, and to be living in my power.

In the future, even when circumstances are good, or even if they become worse, my peace and my empowerment are always ever only up to me. Not dependent upon circumstances. Not dependent upon other people.

In this moment,
I’m holding in my thoughts
the incredible power of this work
to bring transformation to my spirit in good times and bad.

It brings to me a subtle, yet sublime, sense of possibility and hope.
My eyes widen, my breath deepens, and my heart swells
when I ponder what an awesome, open, joyful, loving,
courageous, bold, connected, beautiful life is mine
IN ALL TIMES
if I commit to continue doing the work to bring this goodness to my spirit.

I’m not a religious person, but this sounds divine.
Like heaven on earth.

A solemn oath

So, here I am. Standing with palms open, chest lifted, heart still.
I’m committing to myself …

… to adopt a new pattern.
… to name my struggles, fears, and worries when I feel them.
… to recognize things not in my power to change.
… to let go.
… to embrace the freedom I receive in acceptance.
… to pay close attention to my feelings, my needs, my values.
… to choose courage.
… to use my power to change the things I can.
… to seek out others who are doing their own work and living in their own
power.
… to build power with those others.
… to stick with this work, in good times and in bad; even in the midst of struggle, chaos, pain, and hardship; and in those precious moments when the sea of my circumstances is calm.

I’m committing to myself that I will make these habits a part of my daily life, because I’m committing to being good to myself, and this is how I can be good to myself.

A healthy body requires daily attention in order for it to remain healthy — eating good food, moving, stretching, getting enough rest.

A peaceful spirit requires daily attention to remain peaceful, too — acceptance of what is, courage to change the things in my power to change, letting go of what needs to be released, standing in my power.
 

This is my oath:

“Shannon, dear one, I promise you:
I’ll be good to you.
I’ll be good to me.”

Wrapped in gratitude

In this moment, while I speak these words of commitment to myself, my heart is folded into deep, profound gratitude.

First, I have gratitude for the people in my life who modeled all of this for me before I knew how to have peace and power in my own life, and who showed me what’s possible.

I think specifically of Nancy, an elder member of the first Codependents Anonymous fellowship I was a part of in my early recovery. I saw her at the meetings every week. I heard my story in her story. But she had something I hadn’t yet known in my life up until that point: serenity.

I can close my eyes even now, and see her face as she sat in the circle of chairs. I can see the peace she’d cultivated in her spirit softening her eyes, playing around the upturned corners of her mouth, resting on her relaxed forehead. I can see the evidence of the ways in which she had shown up for herself — in her language, in her body, and in her story.

The gratitude I feel is centered on the idea that an ancillary outcome of her having been good to herself is that it helped to illuminate the path for me to discover my own peace and power. What a gift she gave me.

And second, I have gratitude for myself.
For choosing to take care of myself.
For showing up for myself.
For being good to me.

Now, more than ever

I started this album project in January 2022. At the outset, I identified rising fascism and climate change as the circumstances that were robbing me of my peace.

In the time since then, the progression of each of those circumstances has accelerated in ways more profound than I was prepared for — especially in the realm of rising fascism in the United States.

This last week, we experienced, for the first time in American history, the removal of legal protections for a fundamental human right. That has never happened here before. Up until how, our government has been in the (however infuriatingly slow) business of expanding protections for the inalienable rights we each have as people, not eliminating them.

But in the spaces where minority rule has been entrenched in our government by this rising fascist movement — spaces like the current United States Supreme Court — those with power are pulling out all the stops, in a rapidly-accelerating fashion, to force us all to adhere to immoral, undemocratic laws that enforce a social hierarchy that serves only their white christian fascist worldview.

This is a watershed moment. Although I’ve been aware of the threat for a while, I felt a significant shift — something of a tipping point — this past week. It’s terrifying, and so, so sad. Our country has the potential for so much more than the course these small-minded, dark-hearted, power-hungry fascists have in mind for us.

Over the course of history, in countries where those in power have reversed course from democracy, and turned toward fascism — turned down a road of removing protections for human rights — those countries decline, and fail.

I wish it weren’t so, but I expect that things may get worse here. I don’t say that lightly, nor to be alarmist; I’m just trying my best to face with clear eyes what is already here, and what’s been promised to come, directly from the mouths of the leaders of that movement themselves. I don’t know precisely what form that “worse” might take. But as it currently stands, the minority have entrenched their power enough that there isn’t any immediate remedy to their destructive actions.

When starting this project, I did not expect that I’d be required to confront so soon the possibility of fascism taking root here, nor that living in a society ruled by fascists might define my near and long-term future. I think I thought that it was a rising threat, but that somehow we’d pull through and defeat it. And … we might still! I hope we do.

But over the course of this project, and in the last couple of weeks in particular, I’ve found myself having to sit at the foot of the possibility that the future may, indeed, become even darker than it is now. And what am I going to do with myself then? How will I live? How will I define my own experience and presence in a world like that?

The answer that keeps coming back to me, again and again: keep doing my work. Cultivate my own peace. Grab hold of the power that is mine. Seek others who are doing the same. Stand together. Live with the dignity and beauty and freedom and serenity and power that ARE MINE, no matter the circumstances.

That’s my commitment to myself.

Other courageous people, in previous moments in history that were as difficult or worse than the moment we’re facing now, have managed to do it. They have set an example of the gorgeous possibilities intrinsic to the nature of humanity. And if they could do it, so can we.

In the near term, while I allow myself to feel fully and to listen to all of the feelings of fear, worry, and rage that have come with this devastating moment for our democracy, I’m also assessing the ways in which I have power to act in practical ways.

Here are some:

1. Giving direct aid to organizations helping people to access the medical care they need in states where legal protection of their right to bodily autonomy is being denied. Jamie and I have given money via this organization: National Network of Abortion Funds.
    
2. Committing myself to help mobilize voters in the 2022 Congressional election, in order to help keep a Democratic majority in the House of Representatives, and to expand the Democratic majority in the Senate with new, pro-choice Senators who will vote to eliminate the filibuster, codify reproductive rights, and expand the Supreme Court to correct for the current state of its undemocratic illegitimacy.
   
   Since our home state already has two Senators like this, Jamie and I will be working phone banks for the Senate race in Wisconsin. We’re already connected with democracy advocates in Wisconsin because we volunteered for that state in the 2020 Presidential election. We got ourselves connected with that work via Vote Save America.
    
3. Being good to myself. By doing my work, every day. By showing up for myself to protect my spirit, tend my mind, cultivate peace, and embrace my power. And by joining hearts and arms with others who are doing the work, too.

If you’re one of the people doing this work — and I know that many of you reading this are — thank you. It’s a deep honor to be walking in this time with you, and I’m so grateful that we have each other to turn to.

Thank you, thank you, thank you … for being on this journey with me these past months. I’m having all kinds of feelings about being done with this phase of this project. I imagine I’ll write to you again in a couple weeks to tell you more … as well as to fill you in on what’s next with this work, because there is more to come.

Until then, we’re going to take a little break, exhale, and rest our spirits. I’ll talk to you again soon.

Love and promises — shannon

The post The last song: “Good to Me” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

It’s the second-to-last song from this album we’ve been making and releasing in real time over the last several months. Back in January when we started, the main inspiration for me doing this project was centered on doing personal work in the area of cultivating peace within myself and grabbing hold of my agency to act in the midst of difficult times.

I suppose it would have been an obvious prediction at the time that the world would offer up a whole bunch of new circumstances that fit that category — giving all of us doing this work fresh batches of opportunities to use the tools we’re discovering here.

And that it has. I have more to say about that below; and, actually, the song has something to say about it, too. So … without further ado:

“Serenity”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “Serenity” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first eight stops on this journey. If you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first 8 entries here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.)

Peace in the midst of struggle 

Here are the prompts that guided me:

How does everything that I’ve discovered on this journey function to cultivate peace of mind in the midst of struggle?

• Make an inventory of all the tools I’ve discovered and describe how they help me make peace in my spirit.

Must I be removed from chaos in order to have peace in my spirit? Why or why not?

What does the answer above imply for how I go about cultivating peace in my every day life?

What’s in my tool belt?

An inventory of my tools:

NAMING takes away the mystery and some of the power that the struggle has over me. When the struggle is both nameable and named, I’m no longer spooked by the potential of what lurks around every corner when I’m not able to see and call out, specifically, what it is that haunts me.

Looking at my go-to COPING mechanisms, and understanding how they may harm me, helps me to get unstuck — helps me get my wheels out of grooves that keep me struggling in the midst of chaos.

Understanding what I am POWERLESS to change, and coming to terms with the futility of engaging in battles that I can never win, frees me from that cycle of defeat.

ACCEPTANCE — this is the big one. Being with what is steadies my heart, allows my chest to expand for deep breath, quiets my mind. I don’t have to do anything. I can, and must, just be.

Choosing COURAGE to act focuses my energy toward something positive. It harnesses and concentrates my desire to do something, channeled into an outlet that will actually be productive and good for me, for my relationships, and for the world.

LISTENING is a still activity that requires a quiet spirit, and reinforces quietude in my spirit — because when I listen, I get the downloads I need to know where to focus my energy. It feels like I’m in sync with myself, and that’s a harmonious, peaceful feeling.

Owning the POWER within myself, recognizing that power in others, and building power with others gives me a feeling of roundedness, of belonging, of purpose. All of this brings calm to my spirit.

The bill always comes due

So, to the question, “Do I need to remove myself from the chaos in order to use these tools and cultivate peace?”

Like … a permanent vacation? While that might sound appealing, it isn’t a real possibility. Life is always there, waiting for me upon my return from any place I’ve run to try and escape it. Not that vacations, or self-care time, aren’t great things to do for myself when I can! But escape hatches aren’t any kind of sustainable long-term solution, you know?

I was having a conversation with a friend recently, and we were talking about the ways in which we sometimes try to avoid the hard stuff of life. We talked about how a lot of us manage to escape into our coping mechanisms of choice — and how it can sometimes feel like we’ve successfully avoided it all for a while! — but how the bill always comes due.

I suppose — and there isn’t any way to know this with any certainty — that in death I’ll escape the chaos forever, and experience peace in its place. That is, if the myths from which I’ve borrowed in my meek attempt at understanding the mysteries of the universe, and of life and death, resemble anything like the actual truth of the universe and of life and death.

We’ll just have to wait and see, though. Because I’m far too interested in living, and in life, to experience the answer to that mystery any time soon.

So, at best, removing myself from the chaos is only ever temporary. But I’m okay with that. First of all, because it is what is. But also because I believe — and know from past experience — that having peace in my heart is possible in the midst of the struggle.

Life is like the train

So, what does all of this imply for the cultivation of peace in my spirit? The implication is that the choice to pursue peace is available to me every single day, every moment, regardless of my circumstances, regardless of the choices and actions of other people — it’s available to me all the time, if I choose to pick up my tools and cultivate it.

I recently saw The Daily Show’sTrevor Noah interviewing Jay Shetty, author of the book Think Like A Monk. Shetty once trained to become a monk, and he shared in this interview a story from his training experience.

He and his teacher went on a 72-hour train trip in India. He explained that, in the monastic life, you don’t buy first-class train tickets; you buy the least expensive ticket, and travel in the least desirable place on the train, in an effort to detach from your sense of comfort in material things. As a result, the car in which they traveled was pure chaos — filled with people, and animals — just loud, hot, and full of distractions.

So, at every stop, Shetty got off the train to find a quiet place to meditate. After one such stop, his teacher asked him why we was getting off the train. When Shetty explained why, his teacher asked, “Do you think life is like the stops? Or is life like the train?”

And he realized that his teacher was helping him learn that what is needed is to be able to find, cultivate, and receive the stillness of meditation in the midst of the chaos, precisely because chaos is the nature of this life.

I thought a lot about that story with regard to my cultivation of spiritual peace during difficult circumstances.

I realized …

… if I have to get off the train to find peace of mind, then I’ll never have peace in my real life.

… if I have to get off the train to find peace of mind, then I’ll never go anywhere.

My task is to learn how to be in the struggle AND have peace in my heart.
It’s on the train where I am powered forward in my life.
It’s on the train where I move forward in my life, where we move forward together in the world.

On the train — with all of its chaos and humanity — is where we live and progress.

A footnote

When I began this journey, I identified rising fascism and climate change as being the two main circumstances that were robbing me of my peace. And … those are, without a doubt, still present and on my mind.

But the world keeps throwing up all sorts of other things that cause me worry and pain. During the span of time in which I was preparing for and writing this song, we experienced the mass gun murder of Black people buying groceries at the hands of a white supremacist terrorist in Buffalo, New York. Ten days later, even before funerals had been completed for those victims, we witnessed the mass gun murder of fourth graders and their teachers in Uvalde, Texas.

I imagine that your spirit, like mine, felt shattered in that time. Feels shattered, still. It’s just one horrific, unnecessary tragedy after another, coming at us in a kind of rapid-fire fashion that we should not in any universe be expected to endure. And this is not to mention all of the other tragedies that occurred in that span of time — personal and public — which were equally as horrifying, but didn’t make the evening news.

One after another after another.

It seems like they’re coming faster and harder these days.

I don’t have the answers. (Although I do have some strong ideas about what our elected leaders ought to be doing about the gun violence, in particular, which align with the work that this incredible group is doing.)

But what I do have is an inventory of trusted tools, that I’m finding myself needing to pick up every single day these days — in order to

keep my head above water,
wrap my spirit in the peace it needs,
and give myself a fighting chance at using my power to make a difference in this hurting world.

So that’s what I’ll do. I’m on the train. Heart open. Tools ready. Let’s go.

Thank you for reading, and for listening. We’ve only got one more stop to go on this journey — which means we’ll have one last song for you in the next couple of weeks. See you then.

Love and riding the train — shannon

The post New song for you: “Serenity” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

… it’s been hard to be a human in america lately. I imagine you’re feeling it, like Jamie and I are feeling it. The agony, the anger, the weight of everything. It feels like it’s all too much, because it is too much.

I hope that you’re finding moments to care for yourself in the midst of all of it; and I hope that all of us who can imagine a better way will be able to figure out how to create that.

Which brings me to the eighth song in the journey of our album project … which happens to be a song that is a bold statement of affirmation about the power we cultivate within ourselves and the power we build with each other when we do our work. And without further ado, here it is:

“I Am”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “I Am” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first seven stops on this journey. If you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first 7 entries here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7.)

Power within / power with others

The previous stop on this journey revealed how the act of listening is the beginning of unlocking my power. So … what does this power actually look like? What does it mean? How does it feel? How does it work?

Here are questions to guide me: 

What does it mean to me to have power within myself?

• What does it feel like, in my mind, my body, my spirit?
• How do the choices I make impact my power within?
• How does living in harmony with my values impact my power within?
• How does doing my work (my internal / spiritual work) impact my power within?

What does it mean to have power with others?

• How do we build power with each other?
• How might “power with” create a scenario in which circumstances bigger than me can be changed?
• How might “power with” upend oppressive systems?
• How might “power with” change the world?

How does cultivating the power within myself contribute to the effort of building power with others?

How does building power with others contribute to my effort to cultivate power within myself?

What impact does all of this — building power within and power with others — have on my personal sense of peace?

I Know Who I Am

The following is the stream of consciousness response I wrote in my journal to the questions above.

Standing tall
balanced equally between my two feet
palms open and aiming forward at my sides
head held high
breathing is easy, full, and deep
my eyes are wide open and accepting of all that I see around me
my heartbeat is strong, slow, and steady.

I feel strong, steady.
I know who I am and who I want to be in the world.
I know that I am worthy of love and belonging.
I understand in my core that I have value and that I have valuable contributions to make in the world, in
the lives of others, in the experience of the people I love.
I know that nothing — absolutely nothing — that happens to me or around me can diminish in any way my worthiness, my humanity, my wholeness.

I AM.

Every time I choose courage,
and act in ways that protect and nurture my spirit,
act in ways that align with my values,
I add to my power within.
It’s a positive feedback loop, and I never want to get off it.

When I practice acceptance,
when I let go of things out of my power,
when I listen to my spirit and act to meet my needs,
and act in the world according to my values,
and I accept responsibility for
my own existence,
my own experience,
my own choices,
my mistakes,
my own learning and growth,
my own connection with myself and with others —

— when I choose those things,
I pour into myself all the goodness that allows me
to stand tall, breathe deep, and know who I am.

When I can connect to the power within myself, I gain new eyesight with which I can see other people who also are connected to their power within.

I’m drawn to them like a magnet.
My spirit has an undeniable drive to connect itself to their spirit.
It’s like attracting like.
It’s chemistry.

When I know my own worthiness,
I can more clearly see other people’s worthiness.
When I know my own power,
I can see the power that others embody.

There isn’t any competition or hierarchy in our intersection
— because we’re both standing tall, breathing deeply, knowing and loving ourselves.

HOLY SHIT.

That, in and of itself, is a powerful, paradigm-shifting reality!
We are — in a microscopic, person-to-person way —
DISMANTLING hierarchical systems that oppress, harm, and destroy,
when we can approach each other in all the fullness and wholeness of our own realized power within.

Healing ourselves dismantles the hierarchy,
and heals the world.

And all of this is true
before we even begin to talk about
the ways we build power with each other
when we join forces,
strategize together,
act together,
encourage each other,
have each other’s backs,
and do big thing together that make
tangible change on big issues in the world.

When I can connect with the power within myself,
I give myself the power to connect with others.

And the power we build with each other contributes …
… to my ability to keep standing in my own power,
… to our effectiveness in changing big things for the better, together,
… to increasing my own sense of peace and purpose and agency
— even when I, we, are still in the midst of difficult circumstances.

I think this may be how we change the world: we heal ourselves.

Thank you so much for listening to our new song and reading my journal thoughts. This one felt like a risk for me … but I feel happy to have taken the risk.

I’ll be back in a couple-ish weeks with the second-to-last song of this project! See you then.

Love and standing, breathing, knowing — shannon

The post It’s New Song Day! Listen here to “I Am” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

In this step of the journey, we’re exploring how the act of LISTENING unlocks the power within us as we cultivate peace of mind and grab hold of our agency in difficult circumstances. Here it is:

“The Silent Sea”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “The Silent Sea” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first six stops on this journey. If you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first five entries here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6.)

“Where do I start?” 

I’m recalling the steps I’ve taken so far in this journey …

… NAMING the circumstance that is robbing me of my peace
… identifying my reactionary COPING mechanisms to the feelings this stimulus brings up
… coming to terms with the parts of the situation over which I am POWERLESS 
… ACCEPTING the reality of what is, and also the reality of what lies beyond my control
… choosing COURAGE to act in the areas in which I do have power.

Having done the work
to identify the monster under the bed,
to reject coping mechanisms that don’t serve me,
to identify the areas in which I am powerless,
to accept the things I don’t have the power to change,
and to choose courage to change the things I can …

… I arrive at this next phase,
where I’ll have the opportunity to ACT,
to actually do something,
“to change the things I can,”
with a whole lot of junk and mire cleared out of the way.

That. Feels. Great.
And I’m ready.
LFG.

And yet …
… I find myself at the starting line
of this next leg of the journey
asking the question,

“How on earth do I know what to do?”

The answer — ironically — leads me to loop back to territory from a few steps back in the journey.
Back to the FEELINGS I’m experiencing in the midst of this circumstance.

But the difference is that — this time —
I’m aiming the new, clarified focus that I’ve cultivated
toward exploring those feelings in a deeper way.
A way that actually serves me.

Because those feelings contain something that I need:
a map that can help me figure out what to do.

And the key to deciphering the map … is the act of LISTENING.

Here are the prompts that guided my journey through this step:

Describe my relationship with feelings.

Do I welcome them? Do I avoid them?
Do I know how to sit with them? Do I numb them?
Do I know how to process them? Do I linger or get stuck in them?
Do I trust them? Do I fear them?
Are they useful for me? Do they define me?

How do I listen for what I’m feeling?

What are the practical things I need to do to be able to listen?
Do I need quiet?
To go for a walk?
To create something?
To write?

What are the things that get in the way of listening?

Distraction?
Numbing?
Avoidance?
Other people?

Let’s practice.

Get myself into a space / environment / headspace where I can listen.
Listen.
What am I feeling?
Can I connect each feeling to a specific need?
What do I need?
Which of these needs exist in the realm of “things I have the power to change?”
What am I going to do about it?

More practice.

Get myself into a space / environment / headspace where I can listen.
Listen.
What am I feeling?
Can I connect each feeling to a value of mine, to something that matters to me?
What is it that I value?
What does this value tell me about what is the right thing for me to do?
What am I going to do about it?

The Most Powerful Force In My Life

There was a time, back in the days before I found 12-step recovery, in which my feelings were the most powerful force in my life … but very much not in a good way.

I had fostered a belief that my feelings were the definition of my existence.
I often felt like I was living at the loose end of a long whip,
with no agency to change my position there,
being thrashed around in my life by the force of whatever I was feeling at any given moment.

(And, in my codependency, those feelings were often directed by the vagaries of whether or not I was experiencing the acceptance, approval, and praise I desperately craved from other people.)

It was a terrifying way to live.
I was constantly fearful of experiencing the bad feelings, afraid of losing the good feelings.

Until I learned in my recovery that …
… first: I am not my feelings.
… second: my feelings don’t have to be labeled as being “good” or “bad.”
… and third: feelings can, instead, be extremely useful to me.

I learned that feelings are messengers,
like emotional morse code,
which can point me in the direction of what I need and what I value.

And if I can identify what I need and what is important to me,
then I can determine what actions to take in order to meet those needs and to act on those values.

What I’m saying here is:
my feelings can help me find my POWER.

That’s what it means to me to be empowered:
to know what I need,
to know what is important to me,
to identify the tools I have to address my needs,
to identify how I can live a life of integrity, in which my actions align with my values,
and to give myself the opportunity to do something about it.

That, for me, was the beginning of engaging with the experience of my existence
in a way that has — every day since then — allowed me to create a life that I want to live and am proud to live.

“… and she lived happily ever after?”

Ha! If only that’s how it worked.
The fact of this big, amazing, life-saving and life-giving discovery
that I (gratefully) stumbled into 17 years ago
does not mean that I don’t have the capacity — still — to fall back into old patterns.
I do, all the time. It’s just part of how I’m wired.

And that’s why maintaining my recovery, which includes the practice of working my way through the elements of the Serenity Prayer, like I’m doing here, is something that I do in my life on a near-daily basis.

It helps me excavate myself from the mire, and it points me toward my power.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I mean … the entirety of the inspiration for this project, this journey, is the fact that — here in 2022, with a whole lot of big, bad stuff happening all around me — I’ve been finding myself failing to experience the peace of mind, failing to embrace the agency, that I know is possible when using these tools.

So … back to the beginning of this journey. I described the circumstances that have been robbing me of my peace. I named climate change and the rise of fascistic authoritarianism in our country. I dove into my feelings about those things, and I identified fear and anger.

What if, rather than getting stuck in the vortex of fear and anger, and allowing them to fuel self-defeating coping mechanisms, I instead used them to help me identify what I need? To help me gain a deeper understanding of what I value?

For instance, fear … can help me define my boundaries.
It’s a flashing signal that points to my need for safety.
It can help me to know what is okay for me, and what is not.
Then, I can determine and establish boundaries that protect my spirit.

And anger … can alert me to something that is important to me.
It’s a flare that draws my attention to injustice.
It reminds me that justice is a deeply-rooted value of mine.
Then, I can decide where and how I can act to promote justice where it is lacking.

Now that’s some tangible, helpful direction!
And I found it …
… inside of me.
That’s incredible.
And powerful.

Choosing to listen to my feelings like the messengers they are
sets me up to reclaim my internal peace and use my agency in powerful ways,
even as I continue to live in the midst of unsatisfactory and difficult circumstances.

So … to listen.

For me, it means getting still.
Clearing out distractions, like

• input from other people
• the “shoulds” in my own head
• expectations I’ve placed on myself, or those that others may have of me.

Slowing my breath.
Closing my eyes.
Paying attention to how I feel in my body.
Concentrating my thoughts on the center of my spirit.
Opening my mind to whatever floats to the surface.

Sometimes it helps for me to scan a list of feelings words and noticing when one snags my attention.

Taking a pencil to paper and just writing, without thinking, judging, or editing.

Strapping on my shoes, getting on a trail, and staring at the water, or being with the trees.

Sometimes it helps to make a song.

The mechanism for getting there doesn’t really matter, as long as the result is that I’ve allowed myself to tune in to the bell of truth that rings inside my spirit.

I know it when I’ve heard it.
No one else can tell me what it sounds like,
because it is only mine:

This, here, is what you need.
This, here, is what matters.
Now go, use the power within you, and decide what it is you’re going to do.

Look at that: my feelings very well might be the most powerful force in my life. But in a good way.

The post A new song for you: “The Silent Sea” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

I’m so eager to share this one with you. In this step of the journey, we take a look at the role that COURAGE plays in the process of cultivating peace of mind and grabbing hold of genuine agency in difficult circumstances. Here it is:

“Sweat & Butterflies”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “Sweat & Butterflies” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first five stops on this journey. If you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first five entries here: 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5.)

“Courage to change the things I can”
 

Picking up where we left off last time:

I’m accepting the things I cannot change. I am letting them go.
So … now that my hands are empty …
they are free …
to act,
to change the things I can.

“Courage to change the things I can.”

I wonder why courage might be necessary? Let’s explore …

Make a list of things I have the power to change, both in general, and also specific to any circumstances that are currently causing me distress.


In preparing for this step of the journey, I watched the Brené Brown Netflix special, Call to Courage. If you are able to watch it, I cannot recommend highly enough that you do. In it, she shares this definition, which is a foundational principle of her research:

“Vulnerability is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.”


With that definition in mind, does the notion of acting on any of the items on my list make me feel vulnerable?

• That is, is there any action on the list that makes me feel uncertain, feels risky, or has me feeling emotionally exposed? If yes, explore in more detail what that vulnerability feels like.
   

What are the risks to me in acting to change what I have the power to change?

What are the risks to me in NOT acting to change what I have the power to change?


Another couple of quotes from the Brené Brown special:

• “There is no courage without vulnerability.”
   
• “Can you cite a single example of an act of courage in your life, or in someone else’s life, that didn’t require uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure?”
   

Go over my list and, with each item in mind, complete this phrase with as many endings as I can think of:
“Courage is ________.”

Fear of Heights

Things I have the power to change:

• my actions / my thoughts / my reactions / my choices
• what I say / what I do
• how I take care of myself
• how I treat others
• my own boundaries
• my yeses / my noes
• taking responsibility for myself
• making amends when I’ve wronged someone
• what I eat / what I watch / what I read
• who I spend my time with / how I spend my time
• to what or whom I give my energy / to what or whom I give my attention
• how I spend my money
• when I rest
• whether or how long to stay in a space / in a relationship
• who to trust with my story / who to trust with my heart
• in whom I invest my love / my friendship
• my own understanding / my own learning / my own growth
• discovering, determining, and defining what I value
• acting according to my values
• how I use my privilege / my voice / my power

Ok … can I just say this right up front? All of this feels vulnerable.

Why?
Because this list is proof,
in black and white,
in my own handwriting,
that I can’t pass the buck on my own experience any longer.

This list is full of ways in which
I have the power to step up to my own life.
This list is for no one but me.

If I’m to “change the things I can” …
… to ACT …
… to take responsibility for my own life and my own experience …
then I’ve got to … simply … do that,
I’ve got to dive right in.

And in doing so,
I don’t get to blame anyone or anything else
when it hurts,
or when I get it wrong,
or when it goes off the rails …
… because these are the things within my power to change.

That feels extremely vulnerable.
It is the heart of uncertainty. It is risky.
In each of these actions,
and in the more general sense of showing up to my life,
I am totally exposed.

There’s no longer anyone to point a finger at
for my own discontent, my lack of peace, my stagnation …
… because … my goodness … look at that list!
There is power in that list.
And it’s mine.

It’s dawning on me that
grabbing hold of my own power
is one of the most vulnerable things
I will ever do.

I could take the risks and fail.
I could swing for the fences and miss.
And that might feel embarrassing, humiliating.

I might rustle other people’s feathers,
if I act in a way that doesn’t match what they expect of me,
either because of how I change from the way I’ve acted in the past,
or because I thwart expectations that the culture puts on me — or on people like me.
And that might be uncomfortable.

I might attract the attention, and the criticism, of others,
if in their view I speak too loudly, or honestly,
or if I take up too much space,
or if I appear to ask for too much out of life.
And that might hurt.

I may lose or fundamentally alter relationships
that were based on a no-longer-relevant version of me.
And that my cause me to experience loss, grief.

But if I don’t act …

I risk living an unrealized, unfulfilled life.
I risk not living in harmony with my values,
and therefore I risk letting myself down.
I risk failing myself.

I risk not experiencing genuine love, connection, or belonging;
because if I never live my truth on the outside,
if I never allow my true self to be seen,
then there is no way to be loved, to connect, or to feel like I belong. 

I risk becoming withdrawn, isolated, and disconnected.

I risk not experiencing meaning in my life.

I risk my own sense of freedom and joy.

I risk stagnating in an unsatisfactory status quo.

I risk not being part of making the world the just and beautiful place that it can be.

Courage is …

… leaning into vulnerability.
… doing it scared.
… feeling uncertain, knowing I can’t control the outcome, and showing up anyway.
… acting on my values.
… being aligned in my speech, my actions, and my presence with what is true, even in the face of potential criticism or rejection.
… doing what I’m compelled by truth to do, even though I risk failure, embarrassment, criticism, or humiliation.
… choosing to stay engaged even after getting hurt.
… choosing to stay engaged even after getting it wrong.
… knowing I’ll experience failure, and jumping in anyway.
… multiplied by others who love me, and with others who are engaged alongside me.
… standing tall.
… speaking from my heart.
… examining myself, my assumptions, and my blind spots.
… making amends.
… taking care of myself.
… making, knowing, and defending my boundaries.
… standing on what is true, on what I value.
… saying yes when I want or need to say yes.
… saying no when I want or need to say no.
… owning my own life, taking responsibility for myself.
… doing my work (my personal, internal work).
… creating.
… feeling my feelings and listening to the messages they bring me.
… acting to meet the needs those feelings identify.
… reaching out for connection.

There are two chapters in this story:
there is my life before courage, and my life after.

Before — it is small, scared, stuck,
disconnected, unsatisfactory,
and characterized by suffering.

After — it is big, and full of possibility.
It’s still terrifying!, but also exhilarating,
It’s meaningful, and fulfilled.

I’m connected with myself,
I stand tall as I live my truth,
I live in harmony with my values, with who I want to be.

I feel all the feelings,
and I use them to educate myself about what I need,
and to point me toward how to act.

On the other side of courage are all of the things I long for,
all of the things I want in my life.

I visualize this Before and After
as existing on either side of a deep, but narrow canyon.
Narrow enough that it is possible to make a running leap from one side to the other.

But … I’m afraid of heights.
I steer clear of the edges of things when I’m hiking,
or when I’m exploring a tall building.
Whenever I’m watching an action movie where the hero is dangling off the edge of something, with a big drop below — even though I know it’s just a movie — my palms get sweaty, and fear flares up as a physical reaction in the lowest part of my abdomen.

And that is why this visual metaphor is so apt for me …

… because the chasm that lies between the ledges
of Before and After is filled with
failure, embarrassment, criticism,
humiliation, judgment, rejection,
loss, change, and discomfort.

But I’ve evaluated and enumerated the cost
of remaining on the safe side, and it is too much.
It’s much greater than all of the risks that lie below.

Courage is calling me to leap over to the other side.

I want to be brave.
I know it’s the only way to show up in the world as fully me.
I know it’s the only route to being connected with myself and with others.
I know it’s the only road to exercising my agency.
I know it’s the only path to every good thing that I want in my life.

And so … courage.
This is why I need courage.

To leap.
To show up for my life.
To change the things I can.

Thanks for reading, and for listening. I’ll be back again in a couple-ish weeks with what comes next.

Love and heights — shannon

The post It’s a new song day! “Sweat & Butterflies” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

The latest step in the journey of this album project — which is about cultivating peace of mind and grabbing hold of genuine agency in difficult times — brings us to a song about the act of radical acceptance. Here it is:

“Be With What Is”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This project …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “Be With What Is” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first four stops on this journey. So, if you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first four entries here: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

Acceptance 

Last time, I said that next time it would be time to do some radical acceptance. Well, here we are, and it’s time.

Make as exhaustive a list as I can of all of the things I do not have the power to change.


How are some of the items on this list related to the concept of personal boundaries? (i.e. “this is where I end and another person begins,” or “this is my side of the street, and across the yellow line in the middle is the other person’s side of the street.”)

• As I consider the concept of boundaries, is there anything I need to add to the list of things I don’t have the power to change?
   

How are some of the items on the list related to the idea of harboring expectations?

• How much of the dissatisfaction and pain that I experience arises from the difference between how I think things *should* be and how things are in reality?
   
• As I consider the notion of harboring expectations, is there anything that needs to be added to the list?
   
• Is it possible for me to release the expectations I have for the items on my list, to accept them as they are, without indulging my urge to judge them?
   

Create some kind of visualization exercise in which I can focus on each of the items on my list and let them go, without judgment.

• Walk through the visualization for each item on the list, one by one.
• What does it feel like to let them go? In my mind, my body, and my spirit.
• Are there hard feelings? What are they?
• Are there pleasant feelings? What are they?

To accept the things I cannot change

Here is a list of everything I can think of in this moment that belongs on my list of “things I do not have the power to change”:

• other people’s actions
• other people’s feelings
• what other people think
• how other people live their lives
• what other people think about me
• how other people feel about me
• what other people expect of me
• the past
• things I’ve done in the past
• anything that has already happened
• the future (insofar as the only time in which I have the power to change anything is the present moment)
• things that will or won’t happen in the future
• the problems and injustices and suffering in the world
• the weather
• what other people say
• what other people believe
• getting old
• who my family is
• where I came from (i.e. my background, my personal and family history)
• ways in which I’ve been hurt in the past
• ways in which I’ve been wronged in the past
• ways in which I’ve experienced injustice or oppression or abuse in the past
• lost time
• the fundamentals of what I look like: my height, my body type, my skin color
• natural disasters
• traffic
• the economy
• the fact of pain in my life
• the fact of pain in the world
• the unfairness of life
• the laws of physics
• human nature

There is so much that I cannot change.
So much that is out of my power’s reach
— not because of any personal failing,
or the result of a lack of effort —
there’s just a whole lot of stuff that is beyond my control.

Some of it isn’t any of my business — things that don’t concern me.
And also there are things that do concern me,
but which are not mine to change.
No matter what category they fit into, all of the things on this list …
… are things that just … are.

And, here’s the rub:
if I want to live in reality,
which — spoiler alert — is the only place where life is actually lived,
then I’m required to accept that which is real.

I am not an exception to the laws of physics, or time.

I am not immune to the weather,
or to the movements of the earth’s shifting plates and churning atmosphere.

I am not above or beside or outside of the reality of What Is.

In these examples
— the ones defined by the basics of observable science —
it’s sort of silly to think I could ever operate as if I exist outside of that reality, right?

But regarding the squishier items on my list
— the ones that have to do with the space between me and other people —
I have often allowed myself to be fooled by a fictionalized reality
in which I have power where I do not.

I’ve certainly triedtowill an unreality into being in those spaces.
One in which I have the power to change minds,
control others’ feelings,
manage what other people think about me,
manipulate the actions of other autonomous creatures …
… and it just does. not. work.

Not only does it not work,
but when I attempt it,
I create suffering for myself.

And then there are times …
in which I’ve learned and absorbed the fact
that I cannot change something that is not in my power to change,
but I am still not free of the suffering …
because I’ve gotten stuck in a pity party for the fact that I am powerless over it.

So, I might not be actively trying to change them anymore
— and I might even giving myself a big pat on the back for that —
but at the same time I’m spiraling around in an eddy of pathos and whining
about how those things ought to be different than they are.
And that … also creates suffering.

Pain is pain, and it happens in life.
That is a fact of existence.
But I do not have to allow pain to become suffering in my life.

It is time to accept the things I cannot change.

So it’s raining, and I’d rather it be dry: accept it.
There’s no point in fighting the sky.

So something terrible happened, and I wish I could go back and prevent it: accept it.
There’s no unraveling time.

So someone thinks thoughts about the world that disgust me,
and that are harmful, and I wish they’d do better: accept it.
It’s ultimately impossible to manipulate the waves of another person’s mind.

I’m accepting the things I cannot change.

I’m saying those words to myself, over and over and over,
for as long I as I need to,
which will probably be forever.

Like a mantra, or a prayer,
the words of which trace a new pathway in my brain
every time they are spoken by my heart.

A line which deepens into a groove, and then a crevice, with every repetition;
until, eventually, it’s the deepest canyon in my mind.

The one into which all my thoughts, like water, can flow freely,
replacing the old pathways that only ever ended up at dead ends,
flooding my consciousness with bottomless pools of stagnation and suffering.

I’m accepting the things I cannot change.

As for all of the big problems of the world that stress me out and cause me pain, I can say this:
at least for now, this is the way it’s going to be.

I’m not saying I like it, or that I approve of it.
Acceptance does not equate to tacit approval — it’s an act I do without judgment.

It’s like a line I heard last year in Ted Lasso:
“The truth will set you free; but first it will piss you off.”

The truth.
I am accepting what is true, even if it pisses me off.

I am accepting the things I cannot change.

At least for now, this is the way things are.

“At least for now” … because acceptance is an act I can only ever do in the present moment,
even if it is possible that the circumstances may change in the future.
Even if it’s possible that I may have the power to be part of making that change.

Because dwelling on “if” is not consonant with acceptance.
Radical acceptance is an act that is detached from “if.”
It is detached from the future, or from what may happen in the future.
It is even detached from hope.

(Even though … acceptance is simultaneously, paradoxically, a necessary component of creating hope. Now there’s a mind twist. “The truth will set you free …”)

What Is … just is.

I can make space for What Is.
I can feel what I feel about What Is.
I can do that without judgment or resistance or attachment.
I can alleviate my own suffering.
Serenity.
To accept the things I cannot change.

/////

There is work to do.
There is work that can be done.
There are things I do have the power to change.
It will require courage to do those things.
But first … it will require me to Be With What Is.
And that’s a courageous enough act for today.

Thank you so much for reading and listening. It means so much to me that you did. I’ll be back again in a couple weeks with the next song, the next step on this journey.

Love and rivers — shannon

The post New song today! “Be With What Is” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

We are soldiering on with our 2022 album project — which, if you recall from the three songs we’ve released previously, is a step-by-step journey of cultivating peace of mind and grabbing hold of genuine agency in difficult times. And I’m pleased to tell you that today is New Song Day!

“Little Soldier”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

This album …

… is all about exploring how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “Little Soldier” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first three stops on this journey. So, if you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first three entries from my journey here: 1, 2, and 3.)

Powerlessness, control, and failure
 

At the end of my last series of prompts, I began to explore the idea of how my coping mechanisms might be related to an impulse to exert control over a circumstance in which I am powerless. Let’s pick up there.

Revisit the ways in which my unsuccessful coping strategies might be related to an attempt to exert control.

• How might they be attempts at controlling or manipulating the behavior or feelings of other people?
   
• How might they be attempts at controlling or altering a reality I don’t like?
   
• Do I engage in minimizing, denial, or numbing as a way to control my experience?
   
• Do these tactics ever work in the long term for me?
   

What does it do to my mind, heart, body, and spirit when I fail to change that which I don’t have the power to change?
 

What does a cycle of control —> defeat —> control —> defeat do to my spirit?
 

When I fail over and over in this cycle …

• how do I internalize the fact of that failure?
• how does it affect my beliefs about myself?
• do I ever adopt a view of myself as a martyr to justify or give meaning to perpetuating this cycle?
• what happens to my ability to hope?
• what does it do to my ability to make vital connections with other people?

How might this cycle be a trap?
Whose interests are served by me being trapped in it?

How is the attempt to control related to the concept of power?

• Are they the same, or different?
• Does attempting to control give me real power?
• How might my attempting to control impede my access to real power?

What does the word “powerlessness” mean to me?

• If I have a negative association with the word, why?
• Are there things I can identify over which I am powerless?
• What do I think might be the result of admitting that I am powerless over them?

A war I know I can’t win
 

In the last exercise, I wrote a little about the experience of coming up against my own powerlessness … 

“Did I think I might be able to exert control
over the circumstances?
Or affect the actions of others?
By the sheer force of my most red-hot emotions??
Perhaps I did.
Or least I wanted to believe that I could.
To believe that I could exert some sense of power in a circumstance that makes me feel powerless.

But I’m here to report that this effort has been thoroughly unsuccessful.

My attempt at control has not made me powerful.”

And yet I hold so tightly to the idea of control. I keep trying the same strategy, over and over, as though it might work this time. How can I break the cycle? How do I identify and choose another way?

This phrase from the Serenity Prayer comes to mind … “to accept the things I cannot change” … and I know I need to examine my powerlessness.

Powerlessness

It’s a big word. It’s a tricky word.

On its face, it sounds like weakness or disempowerment; but I think that’s wrong.

Here’s what I think that admitting my powerlessness actually is:
it’s an essential aspect of acceptance.
It’s getting a grip on what is real; not what I wish reality would be.

Because the truth of the matter is that I am not all-powerful. I mean, great as it might seem to be able,  superhero-style, to conjure up the might to exert my power over any circumstance or entity or person, and bend them to my will … that is just not reality.

The truth is that there are plenty of things which I do not and will never have the power to change. That’s just a fact. And yet: I resist that fact time and time again, every time I try to exert control over a situation over which I do not have power.

It’s like taking the same running leap,
over and over,
into the same brick wall.
The wall doesn’t move, and I end up a little more broken.

It’s like sending myself off to a war I know I can’t win.
I’m defeated every time; but if I can’t identify another, better way to cope, I’m doomed to repeat the same demoralizing exercise that does violence to my spirit.

You know the saying about how the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Well, I suppose it’s possible that I’m driving myself to insanity by remaining in this cycle …

… but what I know I’m doing for certain — as long as I do not “accept the things I cannot change” (i.e. admit my powerlessness) — is that I’m driving myself to:

exhaustion, cynicism, martyrdom, and disconnection.

Exhaustion

When I fail to change that which I don’t have the power to change, I feel defeated, hopeless, despairing.

I don’t have the power to change how another person acts or feels, and yet … in my anger I blame, blame, blame, to try to subtly or even unconsciously manipulate other people into feeling guilty for their actions and changing their ways. If I just lecture or debate them persistently enough, or cleverly enough, sure they’ll see the light and do better, right?! (Wrong.)

I don’t have the power to control or forestall bad things happening in the future, and yet …  I blanket myself in worry to create the illusion that I have some control over it. (I don’t.) And wearing that blanket is exhausting.

My energy to do anything is zapped — even sometimes to do the most basic things I need to do to take care of myself and my life.

This is not how I want to live.

But in my exhaustion, I begin to believe that any effort is useless, and that leads me to …

Cynicism

“It’s all just a worthless effort.” I become cynical, nihilistic.

In my cynicism, I’m tempted to escape into my privilege, where the relative safety and comfort I enjoy, thanks to the pure luck of being born into the station in life that I was, allows me not to have to deal with the difficult realities that have been robbing me of my peace.

Catastrophic climate change?
Well, the place where I live hasn’t been affected too badly, yet. So maybe I’m good. Maybe I’ll just decide it doesn’t matter so much after all.

Rising authoritarianism?
Well, I’m not among the most marginalized groups. I’ll probably be safe, for a while at least; so perhaps I’ll just tune out the bad news and live in a blissful, unbothered ignorance.

I give myself a pass, and I look away from those who are suffering, allow myself to stop caring so much — as if it’s the caring that causes so much pain, and not the reality itself.

I allow my heart to harden just a little — because a less tender heart can’t be hurt quite as easily, right?

I become more calloused, less compassionate. And in doing so … I cut myself off a little from my own humanity.

This is not who I want to be.

And so, sometimes — if I haven’t figured out a better way to cope — I resolve that this is reason enough to go back to that same losing war. To march myself back into defeat, over and over again. And that … sounds a whole lot like …

Martyrdom

I have, at this point in the progression of my downward spiral, nearly fully internalized the notion that it’s me against the world. That by sheer force of will, I must do what I can to rail (or, really, flail) against these unacceptable circumstances, even if that means sacrificing myself for the cause. Because if not me, then who? Right?!

(How dramatic. )

But in that equation of me versus the world, there isn’t room for anyone else. I’m a little soldier out here all on my own.

And out here, all on my own, I look around at other people …
… and I see a whole lot of people …
who don’t seem to care nearly as much as I do.
I pride myself in caring! Caring is good to do!
But, to be (brutally, embarrassingly) honest, when I’m in this mindset, I can get really judge-y.

Look at all those people who don’t appear to care as much as I do.
See how much I care? Why don’t THEY?

(Like I said: it’s not cute.)
(And also, wow … when, exactly, did this become about me?)

This is not who I want to be.

But I’ve really created quite an island for myself here. It’s an island called …

Disconnection

When I don’t have a strategy to process my feelings about all of this, I get trapped in them, and I can’t connect.

When I wear myself out, and I don’t have anything left to give to myself or others, I can’t connect.

When I judge other people, I disconnect.

When I start centering myself in this story that is so very much bigger than and not about me, I disconnect.

And man … there isn’t any power at all in being disconnected.

I can actually see that there are others out there trying to do their part to fix all of this. But I can’t genuinely connect with them, because I’m deep into a bunch of behaviors that interrupt my ability to make meaningful connections.

Every once in a while, I might find myself in conversation with another self-declared martyr, and we may bond for a short moment over how righteous we feel about being on the right side of history, or over our shared anger toward those who have invited all of this horror onto humankind.

But I know that’s not real, lasting connection. It’s what Brené Brown calls “common enemy intimacy” — I don’t have real connection with a person if it’s based on hatred of someone else. In the end it leaves me feeling more distrustful, more isolated.

I’m disconnected, and defeated; and there’s no one but me around to help me get back up. I reach a point where I just can’t do it … and then I’m fully immobilized.

The individualism trap

Trapped in this spiral of exhaustion, cynicism, martyrdom, and disconnection, I also lose the emotional clarity to see how the really big problems that keep me up at night were always way too big for any one person to take on themselves.

In really looking at all of this, I realize that:

… if I’m immobilized in this way, and if others are immobilized in this way,

… if we have made ourselves into islands because we’ve believed the myths that we’ve built for ourselves, and the ones we’ve learned from our culture, that solving all of this is on our individual shoulders,

… then we have cut ourselves off from accessing the real power within ourselves,

… and we aren’t able to build real power with others,

… and in that state, the status quo will always triumph.

The only entities that win in that scenario are the ones that already benefit from a status quo that is currently destroying democracy and killing the planet. Why would I continue to fight that war on those terms?

It’s a losing mindset that will trap us all forever.

Time for a new approach

So … for me and my spirit, and in the name of actually accessing real power to do something about all of this …

… it’s time to admit and accept that there are some things which I do not have the power to change.

Because here’s the big, magical, anti-intuitive paradox about power:

There is POWER in admitting powerlessness.

When I can lay down my weapons in this futile war of constant defeat — trying to change things which I do not have the power to change — then, perhaps, I can find my way toward serenity, and toward genuine agency.

I want to be done with a failing, soul-crushing, hyper-individualistic effort to grasp for power over anything or anyone.

What I want is …

… to find my way to connection with others, where together we can build power with one another.

… and to get more connected to myself, where I can nurture the power within me.

/////

Next time: it’s time to do some radical acceptance.

Thanks for reading and listening today. I’d be lying if I said that sharing this work doesn’t feel vulnerable — it totally does! I’ve done work around the concept of powerlessness before, but this time through is bringing some new, fresh understanding. It’s not easy work, but it is good work.

And I’m really grateful to you for being a witness to my journey through it; and I hope you’re getting something from it, too. 

See you again in a couple weeks for the next leg of the journey.

Love and power — shannon

The post We have a new song: “Little Soldier” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

The world is so hard and heavy right now. I feel it; I’m sure you do, too. It often feels strange to me to go about regular business while there is so much hanging in the balance for humanity.

And yet it strikes me that the pursuit we’re on in this project — cultivating peace of mind and grabbing hold of genuine agency in difficult times — is very much the right thing to be doing at this moment. And … it’s what we can do.

So, here we are, and here we shall be. All of us, doing what we can to help each other through. Like always.

Since my own regular business is music-making, that brings us to …

New Song Day! I’ve been so eager to share this one with you. So without further ado, here’s the third song:

“From the Inside Out”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

The premise …

… of this album project is to explore how to realize both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m giving myself a series of journal prompts that help me dive into concepts like coping, powerlessness, acceptance, courage, and agency. My responses to those prompts become the source material for each new song.

(The writing about “From the Inside Out” that follows here will make most sense as a sequel to my first two stops on this journey. So, if you need to catch up with where we’ve been so far, you’ll find the first couple of guideposts here and here.)

Is This Working?
 

I have to say: as uncomfortable as it was, on the previous leg of the journey, to stay present with the source of my discomfort — to just sit with it and observe it, without moving directly to find some facile solution — I’m glad to have done it. I can say now that I’ve faced, named, and described in detail the circumstances that are robbing me of my peace and paralyzing me into inaction.

So now what?

Questions for guidance on this leg …

• What have my unthinking, instinctual reactions been to these circumstances?
• What are the feelings I’m experiencing in the face of these circumstances? 
• What are my go-to methods of coping with any of these feelings that might be difficult?

If I’ve not listed “at peace” in the category of how I’m feeling, then I there’s probably more to examine here.

If we begin with a premise that serenity and agency can come to open hands …

… what feelings, reactions, or coping mechanisms do I find myself holding onto that might make me unavailable to receive serenity and agency?

Am I holding onto …

• fear?
• worry?
• blame?
• resentment?
• regret?
• self-blame?
• denial?
• numbing?
• something else?

What’s driving my impulse to hold on to these things?

• In what ways have I hoped / thought / assumed that holding onto them might change the circumstance?
   
• In what ways have I hoped / thought / assumed that holding onto them might help me?

Is it working?

• Is the circumstance changing as a result of my holding on to these feelings / reactions / coping mechanisms?
   
• Am I getting what I need as a result of holding on to these feelings / reactions / coping mechanisms?

What negative effects to my spirit have I observed as result of my holding on?

• How do I experience those effects in my mind, my heart, my spirit, my body, my daily experience, my relationships?

How might all of this be related to an impulse to exert control of a circumstance that feels out of my control?

The Kindling Is My Spirit

For me, it starts with Fear. And it starts with Anger.

I fear how living on Earth might get harder. I fear that many people will suffer. I fear we might be overcome with fire and smoke and storms and floods and droughts and famine. I fear that there will be more scarcity, which will drive people to become uglier to each other as they scrape to survive.

I fear that that scarcity will arm aspiring authoritarians with more opportunity to divide us and create the conditions of chaos in which they can entrench their power. I fear that we will slide all the way into becoming a fascist state. I fear that people who aren’t a part of the dominant group — those who aren’t white, rich, straight, christian, male — will be increasingly marginalized, dehumanized, cast off, and left to suffer and die. It can happen here. I fear that it will happen here. I fear that years and decades of progress for humanity will be burned up like so many piles of banned books.

And I’m angry.

I’m so angry at the people who have brought us to this place — the power-hungry people who have been scheming on this outcome for decades.

But there’s a more personal anger, and it feels hotter and brighter inside me: I’m angry at the regular people who have gone along with, enabled, and supported those who seek to destroy our planet and our chance for multi-racial democracy. So many people I’ve known, spent time with, loved. I feel so much anger toward them.

I’m angry that they allowed themselves to be convinced that such ugly forces were on their side. I’m angry that either they were too easily deceived, or that the fascism actually appeals to an ugliness inside of them. Ugliness that I’m ashamed to see in them. I’m angry because they should know better … I’m angry because I expected that they would.

“They should …,” “I expected …” 
Hm … I’m taking note of those words.
I sense they’re worth filing away for future exploration.
But for now …

Fear & Anger

What do they do for me, and to me?

On the one hand …
… I think they can serve a necessary purpose in my life.
Fear is useful in helping me to recognize danger.
Anger is useful as an alert that something’s not right, and it can be a fire in my belly to act.

But they’re characteristically hot, short-lived emotions.
They flare up in the face of danger or injustice like flashing signals that something’s wrong.

And dang! Even though they’re a reaction to something wrong,
they sure can feel (something like) good, can’t they?
For a moment.
That RUSH of adrenaline. That SURGE of rage.
In a twisted sort of way, they make me feel like I’m alive, you know?

But wow … I can’t remain in the red-alert emergency space in which Fear and Anger exist. My mind, heart, body, and spirit can’t sustain it.

And yet, there are plenty of times when — for lots of reasons related to my base instincts, coded in deeply-seated coping mechanisms I’ve developed in response to difficult circumstances — I refuse to let go.

I convince myself that I need the fire of Anger to propel me.
And so I have to stoke it.
I imagine that never taking my eyes off of Fear will somehow offer me protection from it.
And so I draw it closer.

I look for fuel, and I look for cover.
And that brings me to …

Blame & Worry

Blame is what I do when I need to feed the anger fire.
When I point my finger and say, “YOU did this!” — 
attempting to displace the the discomfort of my Fear and Anger onto someone else’s shoulders,
onto the ones I think deserve it.

Blame feels great. For one hot moment.
Which means I have to keep it up; over and over and over, I stoke the fire.
And it leaves me in a pile of ashes.

Because it takes a tightly closed fist to properly point a finger, doesn’t it?
And all that anger I tried to direct elsewhere hasn’t actually gone anywhere.
It’s still in my hand. Burning me up.

Worry is what I do when I think that keeping Fear close to me
will somehow protect me from the bad things yet to come. I give myself the illusion of certainty when I keep the fear always front of mind.
Like I think I’m getting ahead of the next shoe to drop.
As if I’m outsmarting the system.

I hold on to Worry like it’s a safety blanket. But it’s a cheap comfort.
Under that cover, no light, no fresh air, can get in,
and Worry only makes more worry.
Eventually, it suffocates, traps, and paralyzes me.

So … what have Blame and Worry done for me, and to me?

Nothing good.

After all this …
… my Blame hasn’t changed other people’s disappointing behavior.
… my Worry hasn’t changed any outcomes.

Did I think I might be able to exert control
over the circumstances?
Or affect the actions of others?
By the sheer force of my most red-hot emotions??
Perhaps I did.
Or least wanted to believe that I could.
To believe that I could exert some sense of power in a circumstance that makes me feel powerless.

But I’m here to report that this effort has been thoroughly unsuccessful.
My attempt at control has not made me powerful.
It has done the opposite.
At this point, the only result of my clutching on to Fear, Anger, Blame, and Worry is …

/////

Resentment & Despair

I’ve learned from past personal experience,
and I can sense it again inside me now,
that this state of being I’ve been cultivating is not delivering me peace,
and it’s not giving me access to my agency to act for a better outcome.

Rather:

Blame upon blame upon blame grows into Resentment.
And Resentment is a corrosive that eats me from the inside out.

Worry upon worry upon worry grows into Despair.
And Despair is a void that swallows me whole.

It turns out that I’ve allowed my own spirit to be the fuel for this fire.
In my Anger, I wanted to Blame and burn it all down.
But I’m the one who’s burning with Resentment.

And I’ve chosen a safety blanket that smothers my own joy, hope, and sense of possibility.
In my Fear, I sought protection under the cover of Worry.
But in my state of Despair, the air only gets stuffier, scarcer, heavier, until … it’s no longer possible to breathe.

I don’t want to sacrifice the state of my spirit to Anger and Fear.
I don’t have to. I know I can choose something else.

Like … what would happen if, when those feelings come,
I could really feel them,
I could receive the messages they bring,
and then open my fists,
and let them go?

/////

More next time.

The post New Song Day! “From the Inside Out” appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.

“Sandstorm”

WATCH the lyric video
on YouTube.

STREAM or DOWNLOAD the song
exclusively on Bandcamp.

Come listen, watch, enjoy, and share!

Cultivating peace of mind and genuine agency …

That’s the premise of this entire album project: to explore how to gain both serenity and the power to act in difficult circumstances.

To make this album, I’m diving into some deeply personal work, guided in part by some of the principles and tools I learned in 12-step recovery, which have been foundational to my wellbeing for the last 17 years.

The way that’s taking form is as a journey through concepts like struggle, coping, powerlessness, acceptance … courage, listening, agency, and serenity. I’m establishing journal prompts for myself, for each step of the journey; my responses to those prompts are what become the source material for each song on this album.

(By the way, a bunch of folks have responded to my invitation to join me in this journaling experience — I’m so excited about that! If you’d like to receive the prompt that goes with each new song, just send me an email, and I’ll add you to my “fellow travelers” list. You are free to do whatever you want with these prompts; the journey that you take with them is completely up to you!) 

And so … without further ado … here is where the first step in the journey has taken me …

The Monster Under the Bed
 

What, exactly, is the nature of your fear?
What, precisely, is the source of your pain?
What, specifically, is robbing you of your peace?

It’s tempting to avoid the topic altogether …
… to stuff the bad feelings, ignore the nagging discomfort, deny the existence of my worries.

“Everything’s FINE” … like the meme with the cartoon dog, smiling inside a house on fire.

It often seems like a practical way to cope …
… to plug my ears, shut my eyes, and pretend it will go away,
… or to fill the hours with distractions to draw my mind away,
… to fill my head and belly with stuff that numbs.

But it always comes back, doesn’t it?
… In unguarded moments, in dreams, in sleepless thoughts that metastasize in the middle of the night.
… In my joints and on my skin — bodily manifestations of subconscious distress.

It haunts me like a monster under the bed.

Un- acknowledged, un- named, un- faced, shrouded in darkness and uncertainty … that’s when it’s most powerful.

My base instinct tells me — fools me into believing — that acknowledging its presence would increase its power over me.
That naming it would allow it to make a permanent home in me.
That facing it would destroy me.

But my higher self knows better:
that turning on the light,
and saying its name,
and going face-to-face with this fear, this pain, this discomfort …
… reduces its hold over me,
… is the first step in taking its power away,
… is necessary, if I’m ever to find peace.

So I’m throwing the switch on a spotlight.
I’m calling it out by its full name.
I’m describing every detail of its features, illuminated by the beam of courage I’ve gathered to begin.

And then … after that … perhaps I can figure out what to do with it next.

Go deep.
All the way in.
With courage.
Leave nothing uncovered.
Let’s go.

It’s like a sandstorm coming …
 

So, if you’re curious … here’s what the monster looks like, in this time, for me:

Most days these days, I carry with me a constant, general discomfort.
A nagging, sinking worry — like everything’s about to get really bad.


For the planet …
I feel it every time a swath of California forest goes up in flames,
or when another record-breaking hurricane rips through the Gulf Coast.

It was acute, those weeks a couple summers ago, when we couldn’t safely breathe the outside air, or even see the sun, here in Washington. I heard that the smoke cloud eventually stretched to the east coast.

It roars to life when I see images of islands disappearing under the sea,
or read about ice shelves the size of small countries calving from continents,
or hear about famine-driven immigrants being met with violent refusal as they seek refuge,
or learn of the potential collapse of planet-regulating currents in the Atlantic Ocean.


For our country …
I experienced it like a punch to the gut on election night five years ago.
I was so overwhelmed with panic that I nearly threw up.

As though my mind spun instantly all the way down
a long, dark tunnel into our dark, diminished future,
where we were whipped around with daily abuse by a sociopath,
while a third of americans cheered him on
because they’d been tragically convinced that he was on their team,
and could not see him for the clown-like avatar he was,
representing every oligarch who would gladly shred democracy to preserve and grow their own power and wealth.

… and whose efforts are readily being carried on now by an anti-democratic party doing everything they can to entrench one-party, minority rule. “Government of the people, by the people, for the people” be damned.


Oof. All of that is really tough to write, hard to acknowledge.

On that night in November … just like in the days when I first absorbed the crushing reality of climate change …
I couldn’t make out the details of how disaster would come to us;
but my stomach knew that it wanted more than anything to expel it.

I couldn’t elucidate the specifics of how it would undo us;
but my gut knew that the horrific realities we had invited upon ourselves
would poison us, if slowly, in the years to come.

But lately, the picture has been getting clearer.
The details of our destruction are coming into focus.

Even though we’ve been running hard to avoid succumbing to it.
Even though we’ve been working hard to buy ourselves a little time.
The looming ruin of both our livable planet
and of our freedom-preserving democracy
often seem … horrifyingly … inevitable.

It reminds me of being on Interstate 10 in the New Mexico desert. There are periodic signs on the highway there, warning that dust storms are possible at any time. I’ve traveled that road many times on tour over the years; but I’ve only encountered a dust storm once.

At first, it was just a distant, ugly, brown cloud — miles away. It grew in height — or at least in perspective as it got closer — slowly, but steadily. It was far enough away for a long enough time that the sky above us remained crystal clear blue, and I wondered if it would ever actually reach us.

Until it did. Instantaneously, we lost all visibility. The warning signs on the highway had instructed us what to do — pull over, put your car in park, turn off your lights, take your foot off the brake — so we did that. And waited. Until the storm passed.

For me, this is the experience that comes to mind when I contemplate the looming threats posed to us by unmitigated climate change and rising anti-democratic forces in our country. I see them coming — sometimes still far enough off that my personal experience is still one of deceptively blue skies overhead — but they’re growing closer, and bigger, and more imminent all the time.

I’ll admit, there are days when I feel like the coming destruction is assured. That we will be consumed. That maybe we have let slip by our opportunities to stop them. That maybe all there is left to do is pull over, take cover, and ride it out.

It’s like a sandstorm coming, coming, coming, coming …

That’s what the monster looks like, for me.

Whew. There it is. I have to admit … it’s kind of hard for me to stay in this place of discomfort without looking for a bright side somewhere. Without trying to dislodge the pain and fear with some facile solution. But I think it’s been good for me to be present with it for a while, to really look at it, absorb it … so that I can figure out where to go next, with more clarity and resolve.

Thank you so much for reading my words and listening to my song. More soon … in a couple(ish) weeks from now.

Love and turning on the light — shannon

The post NEW SONG “Sandstorm” – naming the monsters appeared first on SHANNON CURTIS.