My somatic therapist thinks I should start blogging about my somatic experiences. I said I thought that people would find that a bit dull.
He said that that was my existential shame talking. I have a lot of existential shame, it turns out. He says that my desire to be interesting, liked and to please others in some way here is me defending myself against my existential shame.
Maybe he’s right. But then don’t most of us desire to please, fit in and be of some interest to others? Do we all have existential shame?
And I realise I think that maybe we do.
I was co-facilitating a creative group for mothers the other day, and everyone seemed to suffer from guilt of some kind. Even before the guilt that comes with never being able to live up to our own, or society’s, frankly insane ideas about what mothers should be, look like and do, most of us had suffered from guilt linked to a sense of privilege, or something like that.
Somehow, we never feel deserving enough. Somehow, we always manage to find ourselves lacking.
And I’m not convinced it’s just women, although maybe the role of motherhood makes it all more screamingly obvious. The rawness and general chaos of it all makes it harder to hide from ourselves and from the eyes of others. Perhaps.
Anyway, I do think that a blog about somatic experience – in my hands at least – would be a bit dull. But I don’t think my somatic therapist thinks that that should be a problem. He thinks it would be good for me.
And even though I don’t think I’m going to blog about my legs and how they feel today, tomorrow, or even the day after, I do think he has a point. I mean, what if I really faced my demons and pushed my self-absorption to its maximum, luxuriating fully in dull observations about the tingling feelings I was awakening as I observed the energy in my legs and maybe in my hands and feet too – knowing that no one except me and him gave a damn?
What if I was dull, and it didn’t matter?
And then, what if the feelings I feel when I feel into my legs turn out not to be dull at all? What if it turns out that the secret to all existence actually lies in the feelings in my legs, and only this confused old brain of mine doesn’t know that – yet?
Apparently, much of our sense of self comes from our somatic experience. Our creative flow is there too. So it could actually be that somatic experience has far more to do with the growth, healing and feeling of being alive that I seek than any of my maybe interesting thoughts that I write here…
What would writing about life from the perspective of my body look like? I’ve said I was looking for a way to transcend my brain and become more present, so what if that is it?
And who would have thought it would feel so scary?
What if I am dull? What if you stop reading? What happens when those things no longer matter..?
New mum, old soul… Finding beauty, wisdom, spirituality, and opportunities for learning in the everyday (hopefully)…