Our shy souls: approach with trust

November 2, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

Separated from our own souls. We end up living divided lives, so far removed from the truth we hold within that we cannot know the “integrity that comes from being what you are” – Parker Palmer citing Douglas Wood

The soul is shy” shares Parker Palmer in his book, A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward and Undivided Life, and rare are those places where it feels safe and supported and seen.

Many of us who care about, and have faith in, the soul believe we came into this world with a pure and perfect one, and that, over time, it hides in fear as the “powers of deformation from within as well as from without” distort it. Gosh, I would hide too if I was being tormented endlessly.

Fortunately, the soul is a resilient little (or not so little) thing, and it bides its time waiting for when it’s safe to come out “toward the light of [its] own wholeness.”

So, what makes for a safe haven for the soul? According to Palmer, it’s “a circle of trust” of supportive and loving acceptance, where we can finally hear our inner truth and listen to the guidance of our inner teacher. It’s where we can talk to the soul through a “third thing”: through poetry, story, music or a work of art that explores a topic the soul wants to approach ever so gingerly.

Gently approaching the soul can take other forms–through transformation coaching, where the coach builds a container of trust to approach the soul indirectly; through ceremony and ritual where we honor the wholeness and interconnectedness of life; through working with our dreams, which are messages from our soul; and through soul path work, which guides us to and through archetypal energies. The soul loves nothing more than beauty, metaphor, imagery, deep meaning, and purpose held lovingly in a sacred container. They are gentle and yet powerful ways to touch and heal the soul.

When approached too directly and before trust has been established, the soul runs away and hides, “afraid that [its] inner light will be extinguished or [its] inner darkness exposed.” So we must tread carefully toward it, honoring its shy nature, its innocence and its light.

My own journey with my soul has been a circuitous one. I could always feels its presence, its “still, small voice”and yet I tuned it out, wanting, and sometimes pretending, to be something that I wasn’t. Extrovert wannabe, who denied the beautiful gifts of her introversion; ‘perfect’ daughter, who hid her wild partying on weekends and got straight A’s during the week (until Calculus came along); and calm, cool, and collected corporate warrior, who was nicknamed the Ice Princess.

I chipped away at the ice for a long time, and as I got closer to my soul, my approach became less direct. My soul, in its small voice, insisted on it. So, through ceremony and my dreams, and opening myself to the slender threads she left for me to follow, I found a warm soul huddling deep within me.

ice-and-snow

Apparently, it’s not so little after all: it’s big and bright and yet gentle and sweet. It can be insistent and a wee bit demanding (I would be too if I hadn’t been listened to for decades), but it always knows what I most need.

I am now a proud, self-proclaimed introvert, who lusciously revels in her alone time, names her imperfections with glee (and laughs), and whose inner light has finally melted all vestiges of that ice…. Hmmm, maybe that’s why I had to move to California from Canada :).

Parker Palmer’s own journey to wholeness has taken a similar path, and I share with deep respect some of his wisdom: being divided from our soul “often seems like the easier choice” but “we pay a steep price” when living a divided life, “feeling fraudulent, anxious about being found out, and depressed” about denying our own selfhood. “A fault line runs down the middle of [our] life…divorcing [our] words and actions from the truth [we] hold in. That’s when things “get shaky and start to fall apart.”

His words touched my soul. May they touch yours in such a way that your soul peeks out from whatever it is hiding behind, and it says, “Hi there, I’m here, can you help me find my way back home?”

Copyright ©2016 Soulscape Coaching LLC

The gift of retreating

September 11, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

“There is nothing more natural than for Life to align with Light in a sacred dance of co-existence and co-creation.” – Birgitte Rasine, The Serpent and the Jaguar: Living in Sacred Time

The Lake (Lake Atitlan) called me back and I returned, not alone this time as on my first solo retreat, but with 10 beautiful and brave souls, who were open to whatever awaited them there. And what awaited was more than any of us imagined.

As we opened to our retreat, we left the bustling world behind and immersed ourselves in a new energy, an interplay of quiet solitude and tribal community, relaxation and movement, restoration and revitalization, and receiving and giving.

We closed ourselves off to the world as we knew it and entered a cocoon, a sanctuary, to emerge from our chrysalis more vibrant and alive, and with bright wings that allowed us to rise above ourselves and the world and see with new eyes.

We lived into the spiral of life, the intertwining energies of the four elements: creation and destruction (fire), nourishment and growth (earth), deepening and flow (water), inspiration and clarity (air). And we yearned to take that emergence and transformation home with us, back into the world.

Re-entry into that world is always challenging after retreat as it seems less real or even unreal, an alternate reality of frenzied, ungrounded energy, disconnected from our own deeply felt experience while on retreat.

Retreating brings us back to our true selves, and we want to bring that radiant energy and truth back with us. It can feel like a burden as the world does not always welcome truth and radiance, but it’s a gift we must give to the world, knowing that everything we give will return to us perhaps not in that moment, but in time.

Our inclination may be to protect what we experienced, shielding it from the unremitting, relentless darkness of the world. If that helps us to keep the light within us alive, then let us hide it for awhile, but know, to hide it for too long, weakens it; it needs to be given to others, so they may shine too, and in their shining, their energy comes back to us. It is the energy of life, the spiral on its return journey, the law of attraction, flow.

If we have one mission in this life it is to rediscover who we truly are, so we can offer our light and our gifts to the world as we walk on our soul’s path. Retreating from the world for just a little while to deepen that connection to ourselves and to life itself allows us the spaciousness we need to restore that light. And then we, and others we touch with our light, can shine.

Many of us will return again to Atitlan. Our retreat may become an annual celebration of the transformative power of the Lake and our own transformation….

Copyright ©2016 Soulscape Coaching LLC

What makes you weep?

August 8, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

P1000133 Yesterday, I was contemplating what to write for my blog post. Usually, ideas just come to me and they flow. A couple came to mind, but they felt flat, there was no flow, my energy did not rise with them. And if my energy does not rise as I write, then my reader’s energy certainly isn’t going to either….

So, when does my energy rise? When I care deeply about something or someone. When I feel joy or even sorrow. When I weep. And that’s when I remembered what made me weep last week.

I primarily coach women who are looking to find their soul’s path. And, as I do that, I discovered that after we’ve explored their gifts and what they love, moved on to addressing their fears and limiting beliefs, and created the confidence to begin living into their new soul-fulfilling beliefs, inevitably, romantic relationship comes up.

My clients want to know how to heal and grow their current relationship or how to create a healthy, loving supportive relationship if they don’t have a partner. In either case, they recognize deep in their beautiful soul that their relationship needs to support the whole, healthy, vibrant person they are becoming. I weep with joy for them as that come to that level of clarity.

And what I hear, when my clients share their worries and concerns about their current partner or the people they are meeting, is that they are not being met, their soul is not being lifted up or nourished, and they know in their heart that something more is possible. And that is what they truly want.

In the past, we often looked to our romantic partner for certain needs, be they financial or familial or sexual, and that is no longer the case. We don’t “need” partners in the way we traditionally did. We need them at a much deeper level. And that is when I wept again. I felt deeply for all partners, who want deep connection too.

To allow our partners to feel true connection, we have to find a way to express our deepest need for them, not from a place of neediness, but rather one of strength. To see and understand their gifts, to know what gives them true nourishment, and to be able to say with love and curiosity, “I need you,” or ” I need your help,” in such a way that they can respond with their gift or knowledge or strength. Deep connection follows the recognition of being truly seen.

Be curious. Express your appreciation. Ask for help that only your partner (or your prospective partner) can fulfill using their gifts. Create a sense of deep belonging. And watch what happens….

As we lift up and nourish our own soul and the soul of our partners, we all become whole. We live in alignment with our soul’s path. We love. We weep with joy.

Radiant darkness

July 3, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. –Carl Jung

I have a confession to make. Probably 50% of the time when I mean to type, “sacred,” I type, “scared” instead. My next confession is that I am not a touch typist, I am a hunt and peck typer, so that may explain why, but I think there’s more to it than that….

There’s something about the deep unknown that scares us (or at least some of us). We’ve been told and taught that the unknown is dark and shadowy; it’s murky and mercurial; it’s a place we should not go. Hence, scary.

And we tend to run from what scares us: from our darkest shadow, from our deepest emotions, from the parts of ourselves we cannot accept. We suppress our anger until it festers and we vent it on the wrong things (and people); we stifle our sadness until our unshed tears dry up leaving us empty of joy; and we deny our fears by trying to control everything and everyone in our lives. When we ignore these darker emotions, we are in danger of falling into a black abyss of depression where no light penetrates or emanates.

Without acknowledging these darker aspects of ourselves–our anger, our sadness and our fears–we aren’t quite complete. These aspects of ourselves don’t, and won’t, go away on their own. They stage a sit in and wait in the dark.

All this talk of shadows and darkness, reminds me of Ursula K. Le Guin’s book (the one many of us read as teens), The Farthest Shore, and Ged, the young wizard, who runs from the shadow he unleashes upon the world. It is not until Ged names his shadow that he is able to face it, to conquer his fear, and merge with it. It is his understanding and ultimately his naming of it that allows him to be whole.

Shadow work is the path of the heart warrior. – Carl Jung

One of my own shadows came to me in a dream, capturing my attention. I was both disturbed and intrigued by it. When he then came to me in meditation, this time in a more demanding way, I was alarmed. When I next meditated I could feel him lurking, so I asked him, “what do you want?” He expressed that he wanted my love.

I knew in that moment that he was an aspect of myself that I had rejected and denied–the free-spirited puer (young male) part of me. When I was able to acknowledge him and his positive energy, he was satisfied and became an energetic quality that I can call upon when young male energy is most needed. He became my ally.

When we choose to look closely at ourselves, most often when we are in a place of despair, we begin to see into our darkness with an honesty and a clarity that shines its light upon it.

If we sit in that darkness, without fighting it, our vision adjusts. And if we sit there long enough to name the shadow that we deny or suppress or ignore, the inner light of our being begins to glow with understanding and compassion, and eventually suffuses the darkness.

Our darkness begets the light. We shine with its radiance. And, as heart warriors, we unmask what scares and reveal the sacred within.

The energy of place

June 12, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman ~ 9 Comments

Our heart knows what our mind has forgotten–it knows the sacred is within all that exists, and through a depth of feeling we can once again experience this connection, this belonging. – Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee

The belly button of all Creation. I’m not sure I could make up an image more evocative of the energy of place than that. That is what the indigenous people of Guatemala call Lake Atitlan. It is a deeply sacred place to them (and now to me).

I tend to feel the energy of places quite deeply and distinctly. When my husband and I vacationed on one of the Hawaiian islands, which I will not name, we found ourselves grousing and fighting on our first day, which was so unusual (we never fight) that we both looked at each other and said, “What’s going on here?” We felt into the energy and realized it was angry, almost rageful.

Once we named the energy and decided not to let it in, we were fine, but we agreed that it was not a place to which we wanted to return. Friends, who have visited that island and with whom we have shared our experience, also found themselves inexplicably argumentative on vacation while there. Some even went home early.

The energy of Lake Atitlan is like nothing I have ever experienced. As I boarded the boat in Panajachel that would take me to my solo retreat, I felt in awe of the lake’s vast expanse cradled amongst towering volcanos and highland hills. The energy was powerful but distinctly feminine. I felt sheltered and cared for, even held, by its energetic presence.

The wind off the lake was warm and invigorating, and it was deeply transformative, cleansing me of all monkey mind thoughts. It was as if the lake’s energy urged me to be present and the magic of the wind carried away all my worries and cares.

The wellness center for my retreat was nestled into the hills across the lake from the largest volcano; it felt as if it were watching over me, protecting me with a fierce nurturing love.

There are certain places in the world that are kind of energy vortexes, which are phenomenal. – Ian Somerhalder

As I spent my days relaxing into yoga classes, a massage, cacao ceremonies, a Mayan fire ceremony, writing in my journal, meditating and consciously admiring the beauty, I sensed a strange restlessness deep within me. How could I possibly be restless amongst all this peacefulness? It was then I realized how poorly I was sleeping and just how intense my dreams were. Something was not at rest very deep inside me.

When restless, I often meditate, so that’s what I did. And that’s when the realization came to me. I hadn’t fully embraced the energy of the lake; I was out of sync with her energy. She had been calling out to me all this time, and while I had acknowledged her energy, I hadn’t brought it into me. The only solution to my dilemma was to immerse myself in the lake. Literally.

I found a spot to wade in to the lake rather than jumping in off the dock, which seemed a bit too shocking to my system, immersed myself and drew the energy of the lake toward me. It felt like a warm bath. It was so soothing. I felt whole again. That night and each night after that, I slept like a baby and touched the sacred in my dreams.

I came home from my retreat open, spacious, fully present and reinvigorated. The light in my eyes stayed for weeks and weeks, and came from a deep place within me. This was no mere vacation glow. Touchstone moments and talismans from my retreat became reminders of that sacred, renewing energy. I could call upon it and return to that fierce and nurturing feeling anytime I wanted.

I vowed then to return to Guatemala, to the belly button of Creation, and the very first thing I will do is immerse myself in the lake, a ritual to honor the life-giving energy of a most sacred place.

The dark night of the soul

May 27, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

There is no coming to consciousness without pain….One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. – Carl Jung

I was always afraid of the dark. Things going bump in the night (which was usually just my big sister under my bed). Where did that fear of the dark come from? From the uncertainty of it, from not knowing what was behind or within that darkness, or from wanting to avoid the darkness of pain or sadness?

My more spiritually minded friends suggested that I “embrace my darkness,” that I “surrender to it.” At the time, I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Despite their enthusiasm, the darkness–my darkness–still terrified me.

And I had gotten really good at avoiding it. I pretended it simply wasn’t there. I wasn’t angry or sad or in pain (was I?) or at least I didn’t go looking for it or dwell on it. Life was good. Somehow I thought if I worked hard and knew what I wanted, I was in control of my life.

And then IT happened. Everything I thought I wanted for my small business, the big goal I had been working on for over a year with a business partner, collapsed around me. I was left standing in the rubble, choking on the dust.

The darkness came without me asking it to. I was enveloped in it, I struggled against it at first, and then I just surrendered. What now, I asked? It was my dark night of the soul.

The dark night of the soul comes just before revelation. When everything is lost, and all seems darkness, then comes the new life and all that is needed. – Joseph Campbell

*I must also have a dark side to be whole*. – Carl Jung

I got it. This was the darkness I needed to face, to surrender to. So, I dove into it; I went deep.

I reexamined everything I “knew,” believed, assumed, and thought. I deconstructed myself bit by bit; decoded my dreams, which were full of messages; found a way to laugh at myself; faced and questioned my fears and demons with strength and resolve; made peace with them; and followed the slender threads that appeared before me seemingly showing me the way back to the light.

When I emerged from the dark, I felt like a whole new me. A more loving, compassionate and humble me. One that’s open to possibility, uncertainty and grace. A me that cares deeply about her soul and following its guidance.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have goals and aspirations, but they come from a different place inside of me now–a soul-directed place–and they sure as heck aren’t set in stone. We all know what happens to stone when a bomb goes off. Dust and destruction everywhere.

While I can’t say that I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes–that was a bit too Icarus-like to me (and we all know what happened to him)–I did feel like a fledgling learning to fly for the first time. My flight was a little precarious and wobbly at first, but the fact that I’m flying again with the jet stream instead of against it is absolutely beautiful and oh, so liberating.

Twin dreams

May 3, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

I dreamt–my Canadian English is showing–of twin girls twice. About two months apart. What is it about twins and the number two?

In the first dream, they were clad in black robes (a bit scary) and in the second they were in a basement (a Jungian therapist would have a heyday with that) and I could not get to them because I was blind–clearly I was not seeing something.

In dream analysis, when a dream figure or scenario recurs, it means the dreamer has not understood and integrated the message of the dream. Dreams tend to exaggerate for effect. In other words, if we don’t get the message the first time, the next dream will be even bigger, bolder, and always more dramatic, so we pay attention.

So, I played around with the idea of twins. First, I’m a Gemini. It could be related, but this felt deeper and more significant. After all, the twins were either clothed in dark robes or in the darkness. Geminis tend to be more lighthearted than that.

Darkness, in the Jungian sense, connotes the world of the unconscious, the shadowy aspects of ourselves that we tend to ignore, repress or negate. Hmmm, there could be something there.

A bit intimidated by that and not really wanting to go there, I thought of Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers in Roman mythology, who became the constellation Gemini, but they are the wrong gender, well, only wrong in that they weren’t female. No aha’s there.

Perplexed, I decided to drink some cacao (I’ll be writing a post about my passion for raw cacao soon) and reflect. It was early evening and I decided to sit out on the deck of our cabin nestled in the redwoods. As I sat down and took the first delicious sip, two black buzzards (known in South America by the more majestic name, Condor, which I quite prefer) circled above me soaring and floating on the wind. Their twin flight was so devastatingly beautiful that I began to tear up. And then just as suddenly as they came, they were gone.

And do you know what? I made no connection whatsoever in that moment to my dream. It wasn’t until I told my husband, Scott, about the buzzards, ahem Condors, and he started laughing that I made the connection. Again, twins in black, only this time they were “clothed” in feathers and appeared in real life.

What came to me next in my cacao bliss was the concept of duality. Not duality in terms of good and evil, but rather in terms of emotions or states of being: joy and sadness, innocence and what? What exactly is the opposite of innocence? Wisdom? For an adult, yes, but, in the case of children, the opposite of innocence is a term I will loosely call, “grownupness.” And the twin girls were clearly children–about the age of nine or so.

And then it clicked. When I was nine, my father became very ill, suffering from kidney failure. He lived, but was on dialysis for many years until he finally received a kidney transplant. And everything in our lives changed. It felt as if a part of him had died. And a part of me. The joyful and innocent part. I had to grow up very fast.

The message that I deciphered from my dreams was that I needed to acknowledge and reclaim all my twin feelings to feel whole again. There is such awesome beauty in that.

Dreams can be such wonderful teachers, showing us where we are and where we need to go in terms of our self-development. My twin dreams became a beautiful gift to my soul.

Soul messages

May 1, 2016 ~ Nicole Gnutzman

I’ve been working with my dreams for some time now, curious about and entranced by them because when I’m seeking an answer to or grappling with an issue in my life, they not only are more vivid, so that I recall them when I awake, they also are more profound. It’s undeniable that they have a message for me if only I can decipher it.

Some scientists and researchers believe that dreams are merely the body’s way of discharging energy or processing and organizing events of the day. If that’s true, then why do we dream about people we’ve never met or encounter things we’ve never experienced? Hmmm.

Our dreams may have more intelligence and purpose than mere energy dissipation or memory organization. If we can accept that the language of our dreams is symbolic and not literal, then dreams may have intricate messages for us that we can decode and from which we can learn. And that’s exciting stuff….

*“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”* – Carl Jung

Dr. Carl Jung, the preeminent psychoanalyst, in exhaustively analyzing his own dreams, discovered that “the dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.” He believed that our dreams seek to “express something that the ego does not know and does not understand” and that by looking more closely at the symbolism of our dreams we can begin to find meaning not just of the dream but for ourselves.

Jung determined that the figures in our dreams are not literal (your husband is not actually your husband in your dream), rather they are symbolic; they stand for an archetypal energy that is trying to get your attention in some way. Oftentimes, it is an energy or aspect of yourself that wants or needs to be acknowledged and integrated. So, let’s say your husband was a bit reckless while a car driving in your dream, you may want to look at whether you have been reckless recently and if slowing down would bring more balance to the situation. With Jung, a healthy, integrated self is all about finding balance and wholeness. And that’s a good thing, right?

My dreams have allowed me powerful and clarifying insights into aspects of myself that I did not know I needed to acknowledge or accept. When I take the time to record my dreams, decipher their meaning–what the symbols mean to me, not what dream interpreters claim they mean–and come to that “aha” moment where things click, I do feel more whole.

“Only the dreamer can know what a dream means.”– Jeremy Taylor, Dreamwork: Techniques for Discovering the Creative Power in Dreams

There’s so much more to share about understanding our dreams and how these messages that come from our soul can restore us to our true selves. I have a dream that I very much want to share with you, but it can wait for another blog post. Sweet dreams….