Propensity to be Wrong and the Art of Presence
In being wrong, I was always right. Because I believed that I was fundamentally flawed, my “go to” response was, “I must be wrong.” About everything. That meant that, not only was I wrong in everything I did, said, felt, thought, and hoped for, but when it came to making a decision I consistently chose the “most wrong” path so that, in the end, I could say, “See! I’m always wrong!” I had found a way wherein I could be always right – by being perfectly wrong all the time. Even the times when I knew I had done good – or “right” – I found a way to be wrong and broken by seeing the ways that others were better than me in whatever we had done right together. Sneaky me.
If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, then you are aware of this lifelong propensity to make myself out to be wrong and broken. You also know that, over the last couple years, I have chosen to willingly reprogram this immediate response so that I could actually experience life through my aliveness and Love.
One thing I’ve come to understand is this… I was fully – ONE HUNDRED PERCENT – committed to living my life as a victim and that commitment was killing me. It was the most insidious, long, drawn out, and “acceptable” way to commit suicide. As long as I chose to jump to “wrong,” I was, literally, killing myself. My systems – emotional, spiritual, mental, physical, and energetic – were all hearing that *I* was wrong. Wrongness and aliveness cannot exist in the same place because there is “rightness” in being alive, which is not a match for “wrongness.”
Being willing to be fully alive meant becoming willing to imagine that I was right in every single moment, rather than wrong – not right as in a “you’re wrong and I’m right” sort of divisive attitude, but rather in a deep down, soul-loving sort of “I understand that even if I make mistakes, there is magic and blessings in every single thing I do and that is my rightness” sort of way. It meant becoming willing to be honest about who I truly am, to look at my divine perfection, and to understand that, in every moment of my life I am right. Then, I realized, it meant that I got to decide about how I wanted to be right. Did I want to be right by always being wrong???
This morning, I chose to turn my green drink into a smoothy by adding frozen blackberries and bananas. I got out my blender which is aptly called, “Ninja,” because this machine, with it’s six ultra-sharp blades up the center of it, can seemingly blend anything I put in it. It makes quick work of everything I make in it and I delight in the magic of the whole thing. I placed my greens, protein, and water in the blender and turned it on, expecting the sound of the instantaneous whirring power to fill the air.
I turned it off and glanced behind the machine to verify that I had plugged it in. Yes, the plug was in the socket. For a split second, I felt panic. In that nanosecond of panic was a myriad of old programs jostling for position, hoping to take hold in my brain and spiral me down into the depths of Victimhood and Despair. Thoughts like: I’ve done something wrong! Someone broke my blender! I don’t have the money to replace this!
In less time than it takes to blink my eye, my brain was firing “wrong” and “broken” and “broke” into my face like it was a mudslinging contest. The rapid-fire blitz was stunning, the destructive thoughts all colliding with the preprogrammed desire to bring me down.
I took a deep breath and took a step back from the situation, recognizing the mind-battle that was happening and my unwillingness to give into any of the thoughts. When I literally stepped back from where I was and took another deep breath, I was able to see the issue clearly.
The lid was not on.
See, with the Ninja, the company built in a safety mechanism that guarantees that those devastating blades cannot spin until the lid is on and locked into place.
I took another breath and began giggling. I walked myself backward through time, to five seconds prior to turning the machine on. I checked in. I realized that, instead of focusing on what I was doing in that present moment, I had been in my head, working on a website I am redesigning for an On-Purpose client. Instead of paying attention to the measurements, I did it by rote. Instead of being with the process I was in, I was off in Creative Land, resolving an issue, and laying out the design.
Because the creators of the Ninja had foresight for such a situation, they protected me from creating a huge mess. They also effectively brought me back to the present moment so that my attention was focused on where I was and what I was doing.
I had the awareness that while I was living my life with a commitment to death and wrongness, I was rarely present for what was happening in that moment. I was usually paying attention to everyone else, what they were doing, what they were getting, and how it wasn’t coming to me. I was paying attention to what was going on everywhere but within me and that is what the art of being not-present looks like.
The art of being present looks like being fully aware of what *I* am doing, feeling, thinking, and speaking in every moment. It is the art of being aware of the fact that the lid is not on the Ninja prior to attempting to turn the blender on. Being present looks like drinking this smoothy and delighting in the sweet-tangy taste and the chill on my tongue. And being alive – being “right” – means that, when I realize I haven’t been present, I bring myself back to presence and enjoy the moment simply as it is. And that often results in a giggle.