One Word (Written by Gwen Bell): Encapsulate the year 2011 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2012 for you?
Community (Written by Cali Harris): Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2011? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2012?
One word Hm, encapsulate 2011 in one word? That's tough. I've been thinking about this for about 36 hours now (not constantly, mind!), and the word that has come up for me is 'Kaleidoscope'. This year has been a whirlwind of colours, emotions and experiences. I've lived through desperation, exhilaration, connection, isolation, newness, longevity, times of breathtaking beauty and others of bleak greyness.
Many months ago, whilst immersed in the middle of a process centred around my purpose and how that might manifest in my work in the world (an ongoing process, I might add), I made this picture.
I think it pretty much sums up what my year has been like.
One thing I can't say about 2011 is that it's been dull. Whether it's been cycling over the top of the Yorkshire Moors at 3mph in crazily strong head-on winds with my beloved Nige or cycling downhill at 45mph, assisting conscious connected breathing exercises in a life-changing workshop, teaching English to people from all over the world (including, I admit, a country I had never heard of before - Turkmanistan), or the myraid other experiences I've had, I have, despite all my fears and worries, lived a colourful, multi-faceted, explorative, delicious year. It's been pretty f-ing wonderful, to be honest with you.
And my word for 2012?
I have been so busy trying to think of a word for 2011 that I'm not quite ready to reveal my 2012 word yet. You'll have to wait and see! (Um, so will I).
Community
Communing, being in community, is something I've craved in the last couple of years of my life - and I am delighted that looking back on the year, it's been there in many different ways.
- Henfield Theatre Company has provided me with a really down-to-earth, fun way of connecting with people from all walks of life. Being in two shows plus a concert gave me a place to connect with people twice a week.
- Moving to the village of Steyning and beginning to get to know people has given me a tangible experience of community.
- Teaching English as a foreign language - EFL schools are like mini communities in themselves, and I've worked at two different schools which I have loved.
- Doing the Screw Work Let's Play 30 day challenge was like taking steroids for community building. Wicked experience, but really intense (not sustainable for me in the long run - I was online, connecting with people and their projects, for way too long for it to be something I could've kept up for longer than a month.) John Williams in his wisdom closed the community after the challenge finished, and now a bunch of us continue to connect on Facebook.
- Cycling and meeting other cyclists. It's like being in a club with no official membership card, but discovering that other people are in it is very exciting to my inner child. Just yesterday I learned that one of the teachers at school is also a road cyclist and I wanted to jump up and down, swap stories and compare routes.
- I hope that the women's circle in Steyning will continue to grow and provide a point of connection and community for the women in the village and the surrounding areas.
- Working at the editor of Clearmind International's online magazine, as well as assisting on The Awakening workshop, is quite simply the most incredible experience of community. I would love everyone I know to try this work. It is heaven on earth.
In 2012, I intend to continue with the above, but particularly to strengthen my sense of community and communion with women (we are unreservedly amazing, every single one of us, and I have learned so much this year about being a woman), both online and face to face at the women's circle.
I promise myself and you that I will get the mailing list up and running. I've been suffering a bit of writer's block around this... But I think the solution is to be real, authentic and honest, pretty much how I try to be in my life.
I am going to grow my work with women in a number of exciting ways, including my first ever women's one day workshop in London (email me for more info! elloabarbour@gmail.com) and at least one e-course to be launched in early 2012... more on this soon!
Your turn!! What is your one word, and where and how have you experienced community this year... and what's your vision for the next 13 months?! xxxxxx
Ugly feels unloveable. Ugly feels alone. Ugly is rejected, less than, not worthy, not enough, weird, an outcast, beneath others, unsuccessful, unwanted, a rotting apple in the reduced section of a supermarket, shunned and shamed into a dark corner, handled and inspected, glanced at and then seen through, an object unworthy of attention, unworthy of being seen, unworthy of touch, tenderness or - God forbid - adoration.
Ugly is frozenness whenever a camera is around.
Ugly is wanting to smile but not allowing it in case anyone notices - and is repulsed by - the crookedness of your teeth.
See how this word, 'ugly', has wormed its way into my consciousness.
All I want is to feel pretty.
And then there is 'FAT'.
On a day when I 'feel' fat, I feel repulsive, disgusting, a freak, undisciplined, unloveable, a heifer, an object of ridicule, shame-ridden, guilt-ridden, gluttonous, less than human, deserving of judgement.
Being fat (even if it is only through my eyes and no one else's) means I have sacrificed the right to dignity, to pride, to loving myself or not being subjected to other people's opinions of Who I Am. Because I have let myself become Fat, and in so doing have given strangers permission to harass, ridicule and mock me, to make of me a freak show, a scapegoat, putty to be molded into any shape and size they want so long as they do not humanize me.
I have done all of these things to myself.
Because I believe I'm fat, I am a pig.
Because I believe I'm fat I don't have feelings.
Because I believe I'm fat I don't matter.
Because I believe I am fat, I live in hell.
See how this word, 'fat', has wormed its way into my consciousness.
All I want is to feel pretty.
Moreover, I am driven to be pretty, to make myself pretty; to shoehorn myself into 'slim', 'attractive', 'stylish', 'smooth', 'plucked', 'trim' and 'toned'. Not because I want to be an athlete, strong and feminine, awake to the power of my physicality. Not because I have authentically chosen this for myself.
No. Just because I believe that I need to be slim and pretty in order to think that I am allowed to feel good about myself.
I have chosen this, for many, many years.
I have let my mind run riot.
And now I am asking the question: SAYS WHO?
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What if, by gathering with other women, we could change things?
What if we could change how we feel about ourselves?
What if we could find freedom?
Acceptance?
Joy?
Transparency?
True beauty?
Love?
LOVE.
What if, by gathering with real women, by sharing the scars that run so deep beneath the surface that they seem to have gouged away part of our sense of wholeness, we could realize that in truth, nothing has been lost, merely covered over?
What if we could un-cover (rather than re-cover) the sacred feminine presence that dwells within us?
True, it dwells so deep, in the realm of the inner child.
But stop for a moment and really consider this: What If?
This is the reason we gather. We share stories. We reflect. We get quiet, and we speak, letting our voices cut through the barrage of cultural messages until they resonate clear and strong, until we can hear ourselves truly thinking our own thoughts, declaring what is true in the absence of all fear, declaring what is true when there is only love.
We gather so that we have the strength not to succumb to the thoughts we automatically think when we see the latest make-up campaign (I am ugly and therefore all of the above). We gather to touch our own sorrow, to stand in the centre of the fire, face ourselves and face what we do to ourselves and say, 'ENOUGH. No more. I will not crucify myself like this any more.'
And it is gentle, this process. It is just one step at a time.
There is no pressure.
There is nothing to prove here.
No demands are made upon you.
You just come, and be as you are, and allow yourself to breathe, and listen, and observe, and feel.
You share if you want to share.
You say "no thank you" if you want to remain quiet.
And slowly, slowly, you and I and all the women in the circle remember that we are incredible, beautiful beings who have been given perhaps a few decades to simply shine our light.
It is time to get real about how we think and speak and feel about our bodies.
It's is time to let go of 'pretty'.
Love,
Elloa xx
P.S. I am starting a mailing list. To be on it, please send me an email to elloabarbour@gmail.com and I will add you to it.
