My first awareness is a gentle flutter coming deep from within. But what started as a gentle flutter now moves into and spreads throughout my entire being. Within seconds that gentle flutter now feels like a flurry of butterflies who seems to be caught under my skin and desperately attempting to break free of the container they find themselves within. Sitting still becomes difficult, my mind races at high speed and my breath becomes shallow and quick. All this resulting from a conscious decision to make yet another big change!
This is not a new feeling for me. I have felt this many times before in my life: moments before I jump from a plane, the moment the first sighting of the nearing rapids occurs, the first time I approached “him” with an extended hand in an introduction, the first time I spoke in front of a large room filled with many people, and more. And now today I experience this uncomfortable physical sensation as I take a very big step forward in living my passion. This is not a feeling I have enjoyed, if anything the exact opposite. I have worked hard to ignore and push aside this unsettling physical experience. But in recent months, slowly…very slowly my discomfort is easing.
Earlier today, I had the opportunity to listen to the Best Selling Author, James MacNeil, tell a wonderful story, it went like this… There was once a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman working deep in the south. As he approached one of the homes he could hear a hound dog moaning. The sound at first was attention drawing. But as the salesman attempted to make his sales pitch, the sound became very distracting. He asked the owner if the dog was okay. The owner replied with “don’t you worry he’s fine”. The salesman attempted to start into his speech but once again had to stop because the moaning was just so unsettling. He worried that the dog might actually be in pain. The owner replied again “don’t you worry he is just a lazy dog”. The moaning continued. In the salesman’s third attempt to make his pitch, he stopped and asked, “what do you mean lazy?” The owner responded “the damn dog is laying on a nail, it doesn’t hurt him but it is uncomfortable enough to make him moan. And he is just too lazy to do anything about it”. This story really struck home for me. The moral of the story is often we complain a lot about our circumstances but the discomfort of the circumstances isn’t quite enough to move us forward and change. I think that is the space I have lived in recently for a time. I knew I needed to make some changes, as things were getting very uncomfortable, but not yet painful enough for me to do anything about it.
In order to avoid the physical experience of the furry within, I was accepting the mild discomfort. My go to excuses have been: I am too busy, there are not enough hours in a day, I just don’t have the time, I am too tired, I am a single mom and can’t do everything, it is not who I am. I’m coming to understand that these excuses have been robbing me of my greatness. Today the flurry within is a recognition that more is changing for and within me. Change is on the move again, pushing me forward and refusing to let the dust settle. The nervous discomfort that I feel, I am coming to understand is a completely natural physical reaction when one is making significant change. It is the ego’s way of resisting the change. The mind works very hard to rationalize why the change will not work because the ego desperately wants to protect status quo.
Over the last couple of months, I have taken much action to make change in my life. I have worked very hard to intentionally stop complaining. Today the discomfort, the butterflies I feel inside, are no longer something I am trying to ignore, squash or subside. Today I celebrate the feeling of discomfort as it is an indication to me that I am growing, learning and taking action that will lead to more positive change in my life. Today I am making friends with the butterfly effect. It’s not easy but it is so worth it. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I will continue to do the best I can and trust that I am better off for it!
© Kathy Bazinet 2013