Good morning, Unity of Louisville. It is so great to be with you this morning. When Rev. Valerie and I planned for me to come to your community and give a talk and do a workshop, it was months and months ago. We had no idea that it wouldn't be in person. The good thing is we have all of this wonderful technology, so we can still come together as a sacred and spiritual community. Thank you for welcoming me. The title of my talk is “That's My Story, and I'm Willing to Give It Up.” We all have a story. Stories are collection of experiences we've had in our lives. Some of them are positive. Some leave a lot to be desired. What we often do is latch on to the challenging ones. We make them the central narrative through which we filter current and future events.
I've got two stories from my life I'd like to share with you. When I was about six months old, I had big brown eyes and slicked down jet black hair. I was smiling all the time. When I look back at those pictures, it seemed like I was just so excited to be here. My mother used to tell me stories about taking me out in the stroller when I was a toddler. She had to double strap me in because she was afraid I might fall out. I was always jumping up and down and waving and trying to say hi to everybody. When I look at those pictures of me at those ages, it looks like there was this vibrant light that oozed from every pore of my body. I'm sure I thought that life no matter what it was was exciting and new. I was fed. I was clothed and I was bathed. I was held. People oohed and ahhhed all over me. Life was simply wonderful. Things started to change as I was growing up. Suddenly, the external messages I was getting from those around me weren't quite as rosy. Being myself became a challenge. All of a sudden other people had a lot to say.
“You're not smart enough.”
“You’re too smart for your own good.”
“Your race or your sexual orientation is wrong.”
“You're not black, Hispanic, gay, straight, whatever enough.”
“You're too tall,” or “You’re too short.”
“You're too fat,” or “You're too thin.”
“You're too young,” or “You're too old.”
“Your faith is wrong or you need to hold certain beliefs.”
“You really should drive this car.”
“You should wear these clothes.”
“You don't in this neighborhood,” or perhaps “You've forgotten where you came from.”
“If you live in a certain place or a certain manner.”
This list goes on and on and on. These supposed guidelines for living can be heavy burdens to bear.
Here's my second story for my life to share with you. In the spring and summer months, I like to ride my bike to the gym. It's a great way to get exercise. It's only about two miles from my house. I can leave my car at home. I always go the same way out of habit. I had been thinking for a while about going a different route just to do something different and see some new scenery. On Tuesday, July 18, 2017, I left my house. I went up to the corner and that first corner is where I always turn right. When I got to the corner, I thought, "You know what, let's make today the day. Let's go straight." I crossed over the street. I was riding downhill not particularly fast. I was totally aware of my surroundings. Up ahead on the sidewalk, I saw what looked like rocks and gravel streaming across it. I realized later that in my attempts to avoid the rocks and gravel, I over-corrected by squeezing both brakes. The bike screeched to a halt. The back wheel reared up and all I heard myself say was “AHHHH.” Just like in the movies, like when they may be trying to show someone having a flashback or an out of body experience, everything went white.
When the whiteness disappeared and life came back into focus, I found myself on the ground on all fours with most of my weight on my left arm and due to the intense pain. It took me about 10 seconds to realize I had probably broken that arm. To this day, I don't remember anything that happened in between the white. The only evidence I had is that I have had obviously gone over the handlebars and rolled. My bike and my backpack were up on the sidewalk in front of me. I had road rash all over my body. When I looked back at my helmet later, there were scratches where my head had obviously hit the ground. Fortunately, I was able to reach my backpack with my right arm, pull out my cell phone and call a friend who lived a few blocks away to come and help me. After I hung up with her, I laid on the ground in intense pain. The first thing that came to my mind was, ”Lysa, say your gratitude list.” I just started saying everything that I can think of out loud.
I’m on the sidewalk and not in the street.
It's daytime and not nighttime.
It's a sunny day and not raining.
I'm only two miles from the hospital.
I have health insurance.
My friend who's coming to get me, she'll know exactly what to do.
The biggest thing on that gratitude list for me was God is here. A man jogging by, my friend that I had called, and some people driving down the street who saw me on the ground all stopped right around the same time and called 911. After the police and paramedics came, I was put on the stretcher and into the ambulance for the ride to the hospital. On the way, I asked the very cute paramedics-- I hadn't hit my head that hard-- if they would say my gratitude list with me.
One of them said, “What's a gratitude list?”
I said, “It's all the things I have to be grateful for. Even while this is happening to me right now.”
They jumped right in and said it with me. Once I got to the hospital and to the emergency room, I got the distressing news that I had actually broken my left elbow. I will spare you the gory details but I had to have surgery right away. Once I got home all drugged up, my arm was wrapped from my shoulder to my wrist. Many of the abilities that I had and realized that I had taken for granted were suddenly, temporary taken away such as cooking, driving, opening the toothpaste, brushing my hair, typing with two hands, tying my shoes, and changing my clothes.
Everything was a challenge. I practiced being grateful for what I could do. I had gotten lost in the shuffle in the early days of my recovery. I realized what I was really suffering from was an overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. What I was telling myself about those breaks in my arm was,
“See, you can't do anything right.”
“Why did you have to go a different way to the gym? The other way was working just fine.”
“You always make bad decisions.”
“These problems you're having, they’re all your fault.”
“You're no good to anybody like this.”
Once again, I was tying my self worth to my old childhood stories. What other people had to say about me. We all have a story that collection of experiences in our lives, When we latch onto the challenging ones, we allow our inner critic to sit on our shoulder and whisper those stories to us over and over and over. In the book Radical Forgiveness by Colin Tipping, he talks about something that he calls a forgiveness centrifuge. He explains a forgiveness centrifuge that is kind of like having a juicer where you put something in, spin it around and separate the two parts. Its the forgiveness centrifuge.
He says we can use it to separate the facts of what happened in our lives from our interpretation of those facts. For example, your fact may have been that as a child, your father left the family. Your interpretation of that fact might be that it was because of you. You are bad or wrong, or you did something you shouldn't have done. You didn't do something that you should have done. You took his leaving to mean that it was about you.
Your fact may have been that you had a certain career goal and other people said that was bad or wrong. Boys or girls can't or do or be that type of thing. Your interpretation of that fact might be, “My ideas are stupid.” or “I really need to ask everybody else what I should do with my life, because I can't be trusted to do it on my own.” You may have even thought, “Who am I to have a dream in the first place?” Those false stories that we tell ourselves and what always might be considered a positive situation.
I have a friend who says she had a wonderful childhood. She loved every minute of it. She was told how smart she was and how resourceful she was. She was a good kid. She got good grades. She played well with others. She ate her vegetables. There was nothing but positive inputs. Those were her facts. Her interpretation of the facts were because of all those accolades, she had no room for error. If she messed up, people would see that she really didn't have it altogether. She was a failure. Once we can clearly see the difference between the facts of what happened in our lives and our interpretation of the facts, we can make conscious choices guided by our higher self about whether or not those stories are serving us any longer.
The willingness to look at our stories is not about spiritual bypassing or looking at the world through rose colored glasses and what some people might call denial. Rather, knowing that we have the power to reframe our old stories. I have five steps to help you do just that, to take our stories, put them in that forgiveness, centrifuge, look at what stories are true and which ones are error of thinking and take the letter and reframe them to chart a new conscious path for the future. So here we go.
Step #1. Stop and take a deep breath.
Let’s all do that now from where we are. When you do that, you sit or stand a little taller. Your shoulders open up a little bit. It allows maybe just a little bit of space for something new to come in.
Step #2. Thank the old story for getting your attention.
Thank the old story for getting your attention, whatever it is. It's trying to tell you something.
Step #3. Reframe the old story.
Reframe the old story you're telling yourself. Is it true? How is it true? Why is it true? Do the people who love and support you the most believe that story too? If you're having trouble answering these questions more than likely it is your inner critic sitting on your shoulder doing the talking.
Step #4. Reframe the Old Story.
You can ask yourself things like, "What is the opposite of this old story?"
"How do I want to feel about the burden of this old story?"
"What if I choose not to believe the story this time at all? "
Step #5. Be gentle with yourself.
Be gentle with yourself. You're changing negative patterns of thought that have been deeply rooted in your subconscious mind sometimes for years. It takes time. Beating yourself up for having those old thoughts and feelings is like going to the gym one time and expecting your body to look exactly the way you want it to. It doesn't work that way. We're just putting one story in that forgiveness centrifuge at a time, spinning it around and separating the facts from our interpretation of the facts.
If you practice these five steps on a regular basis, I guarantee you will experience amazing results.
I have a new arm. I call it my new bionic arm. If you were to look at pictures of the x-rays, you would see where I have a bunch of pins where they put them in to stabilize the bones and a plate at my elbow holding it all together. What I say now about those cracks in my arm, my old childhood stories is this.
I am adventuresome and like to try new things.
I am capable and smart.
My vulnerability is one of my strengths.
People love me for who I am, not what I can do.
I am grateful for the lessons and blessings hidden in this experience.
At that plate and holding it all together. I now say, “I am worthy and I love myself just the way I am.”
To that cute little girl, my older wiser self says "You were born a perfect expression of God. You always have been, and you always will be those other things were your old stories, but it's time to give them up. You just need to believe in yourself because you are far more than you know."
I've written an affirmation for us today. I’ll say it first and then wherever you are, let's say it together.
I have the power to reframe my old stories and chart a new conscious path for the future.
Let's say that together.
I have the power to reframe my old stories and chart and new conscious path for the future.
Unity of Louisville. Thank you for having me. Thank you for inviting me into your homes. I look forward to seeing you again in person in your beautiful spiritual community space. Thank you again and Namaste.