On imposter syndrome
Rarely these days am I to be found on F******k, and my usage of I****gram is far less than what it was. However, I needed to login to F this morning to check out the conversations on a course that has a group page.
F offers ‘Your memories’ - I was surprised to see the above image noting it was six years ago today (18 February as I’m writing this). The significance of the image is a month prior, I had held ‘Women’s Stories’ in Stamford - my first offering of writing, blended with meditation and yoga to create a somatic approach to getting words to the page.
I’d chosen Stamford for several reasons; it’s a beautiful place, the venue I used (the Arts Centre) was incredible - I facilitated in the Victorian Ballroom, complete with chandeliers, creating a perfect backdrop to the day.
However the main reason I chose to host there, some 82 miles from home, was one of confidence, or should I say, the lack of it.
In my heart I knew what I was offering was relevant, but felt somewhat vulnerable about it. My thought was that if it bombed, nobody knew who I was and I could feel safe. (That was the voice of the inner critic working overtime).
It didn’t bomb, in fact it sold out, and a similar event in Canterbury some time after the same.
A month after this offering in Stamford, a group of women had shown an interest in gathering regularly to continue to write. I offered to host a get-together over coffee and cake at Cafe au Chocolat, do some writing and for the women to meet each other. They then readily swapped details and I stepped back leaving them to their writer-y aspirations.
Why am I telling you this?
Mainly as an aide memoire to self, not to let imposter syndrome get the upper hand, but you may find it helpful too. I know that so many of us speak of that not-so-friendly voice, living rent-free in our minds, can be something of a challenge. If left unchecked, it can rob us of experiences and joy.
Recently the voice has been one of constant questioning.
An example: “does anyone want to read any of this anyway?” was getting in the way of me writing a muse-letter. I’d read an offering from another Substack writer I follow that echoed this chain of thought - you can read it here:
Often these thoughts can turn into obsessions - I’ve been guilty of this too recently…
I’ve been dealing with an issue since January and not shared with anyone, as I want to be on the other side of it, rather than talk about it whilst still current. Otherwise, for me, it’s like Feeding Your Demons1
Without the outlet of sharing outside the sanctuary of my journal, it’s created a cycle of thoughts that have not been healthy in the slightest.
This week I was reviewing some words from a teacher…
The more we obsess and identify with our problems we block everything else out. [Through meditation] we develop the ability to not run away, we discover order in the chaos.
I had become blinkered to my situation. Of course I knew this…I mean, really knew this. I practice it. I teach it. Yet still I need to be reminded.
I’m sharing this to show that despite many years of parking my bum on the cushion, this is the whole point of practicing meditation. I / we need to keep showing up and being present with ALL that is hitching a ride at the same time.
Meditation helps us notice when we are being less than kind to ourselves - imagine talking to your closest friends the way you speak to yourself sometimes!
The purpose of the path is to work on what comes up
My meditation teacher often referred to our thoughts like herding yaks.
In Tibet, the traditional shepherds let their yaks roam free over vast areas - this is likened to allowing our thoughts and mind plenty of room. Thoughts will come and go with ease and we, as the "shepherd" are simply aware of them.
However, if we herd our yaks into a small area, it becomes very busy and noisy with them bumping into each other, and similarly, our thoughts take on a more intense quality. We get caught up in them and lose the spaciousness of our meditation practice.
A simple practice when we notice we are being less than compassionate towards ourselves is to…
Stop! Bring awareness to what’s present in this moment
Drop into your body and notice your breath and physical sensations.
Take note of thoughts that are present, but don’t enter into dialogue with them
Take three mindful breaths, focusing on the out-breath lasting a little longer
Place a hand over your heart and ask yourself, '“what do I need in this moment?”
Then ask yourself again, “what do I really need in this moment?”
Speaking of practice, here’s the calendar of upcoming offerings you may be interested in:
Saturday 4th March - women’s meditation (online)
Sunday 26th March - Meet the Mirror - women’s online writing
Some of you may also be aware I’m part of Sakyadhita UK and we host a monthly (online) informal chat on Buddhist topics. Head over to our page or website for more details.
a terrific book and training offered by Lama Tsultrim Allione at Tara Mandala