By Tuesday Rivera This is the third in a three-part series that Tuesday has written about transformation (revisit Part 1 & Part 2). In hindsight, this could actually have been the first instalment of the series, but that is not how it flowed from her. In fact, she says that it feels like this could only be written at this specific moment in her own transformation. She reflects on staying in the liminal space of transformation far longer than she anticipated. This extended period has allowed her to uncover and articulate long-held patterns that we all experience in our lives that make our own transformations both slower and more necessary. When I began to get a strange sense about my work in the world coming from inside me, felt the gentle rumblings of “not this”, I was able to ignore them. I’m just working too much, I thought. I’m burnt out. I’m sore from the ongoing effort of trying to make change in the world. I need to slow down. And then, through a huge effort of will (and many months of therapy), the support of loved ones, and a global pandemic, I did slow down. Work slowed down. And while there was always more than enough to do, my work somehow became manageable, and that felt A LOT better. But interestingly, the quiet “not this” that seemed to emanate from my very bones continued. And now, I had time to pay attention to it. Maybe this is how transformation started for many of us as we came out of the pandemic. The little niggles of not-quite-aligned were now able to be noticed, investigated, and more deeply considered. The pace of our lives made the quiet doubts and discomfort of how we were spending our days unable to be ignored. What we had tolerated - onerous tasks, unrealistic schedules, objectionable people - now became, if not untenable, then at least undesirable. And we had the time to notice. And to desire more. We started to desire meaningful work, reasonable schedules, and people pulling in the same direction as we are. We understood that our time, our lives, are valuable beyond production even if what we’re producing is good for the world, were fused to be complicit in a grind that no longer made us feel accomplished, let alone happy. Fortunately for many of us who are making change in the world, meaningful work and admirable people are part of the job, but I found that, even when I rearranged my calendar to be more sensible, the feeling of “not this” continued. In fact, it became more insistent. Habits Uncovered by “Not This” When I listened close enough, I realized that this sense of “not this” began to point me to a particular set of bad habits and asked me to change them for good. Below are three types of habits that I have needed to break ,and as I work with others in their own transformations, they seem pretty universal. (1) Compartmentalization That is, keeping the different parts of yourself or your life separate from one another. One of the main ways many of us compartmentalize is we separate our work from our life. This is important! We need to make sure that our work doesn’t take over, but this separation can become unhealthy, for example when we do work that conflicts with our very values or we don’t allow any of our personal feelings or experiences to impact our work. Those of us who work to make change in the world would often never consider taking on work that conflicts with our values, and yet we may not bring our full selves to our work in a way that could provide benefit. In this transition, I have found myself compartmentalizing two key aspects of my work and personal life. My work involves a lot of strategy and clarity. My personal life involves a lot of intuitive, spiritual practices for guidance. Until recently, I have kept these work strategic practices away from my personal soulful practices, and I am coming to see this as a mistake. My “not this” radar goes off when I try to keep these two essential elements of my work/life apart. My coaching work has become a place where I am finding the way to blend the strategic and soulful. Instead of compartmentalizing these powerful elements, I keep both active and connected as I engage with others who are in their own transformations. In any coaching session we may talk about the strategy of dealing with a challenge while also bringing the body, the spirit, and the imagination to bear as we move forward. Paying attention to the “not this” of compartmentalization can lead to a powerful and unfolding integration of different “parts” - in my case the strategic and soulful - that will allow even fuller expression on the other side of this transformation. (2) Obligation This habit involves doing a task, activity, or other behavior because we feel like we have to rather than want to. Often this habit involves a strong sense of duty or commitment, which can be positive, but it can also involve significant feelings of guilt and pressure. These are often the “shoulds” of our lives. Things that we do for the benefit of others rather than a sense of our own personal fulfillment. Things we feel compelled to do, even though we don’t especially want to. This one gets sticky and unclear as a parent, partner, business owner, employee or community member. In any of these roles, we are often obligated to do things that we may not especially want to, but we can also have difficulty discerning when this is the case and when it is simply a troublesome habit. In this liminal period of transformation, I have come face to face with my own habit of obligation - how often I take up responsibility because I feel that I should, rather than because I feel genuinely amenable to the task. I had a real breakthrough in this habit recently, when I realized that almost no one in my life wants me performing tasks or taking care of them out of a sense of obligation. And no one in my life appreciates the resentment that comes along with this sense of obligation. They’re happier when I’m doing less and discerning more. But the habit of obligation - especially in leadership and caregiving roles - is subtle, so turning into the “not this” is an especially important practice to support our discernment. Putting our energy and effort toward our real obligations rather than a habitual pattern allows more space for our transformation. (3) Concealment This habit involves hiding or withdrawing certain aspects of ourselves from the view of others. This may be a strategic choice, for example we may choose to not share mental health information with others if we are concerned about the stigma we encounter. But often, this habit is less of a strategy and more of an act of fear. We choose to conceal key aspects of ourselves - the “real” us - in an attempt to belong or gain acceptance. We fear those parts of ourselves that we think most people won’t accept and so we put them into exile. We choose not to show our full selves. Our weird selves. Our dramatic selves. Even ourselves that believe we can do something great in the world. (We don’t want anyone to think we have an arrogant self, after all.) We choose to play the game of conformity and inauthenticity. The issue with concealment is that those aspects of ourselves we put away are us. They are part of our true self, and if we can’t access our true self, then transformation becomes longer, harder, and more painful. I’ve been working to show those parts of myself that I don’t often allow others to see: my dancing self, my “woo woo” self, my devotional self. And as I call them back to myself, I have been bringing them into my work with great success. My coaching practice involves much of what you might expect: support for personal reflection and clarity, guidance and strategy development, and tools that support growth and development. But it also includes the gifts from my exiled selves: I send clients playlists, we do guided visualizations, pray and talk about matters of spirit (if it makes sense), and often move our bodies during a coaching session. It’s all allowed because it can no longer be concealed. Listening to the “not this” has given me the opportunity to break these lifelong habits of compartmentalization, obligation, and concealment has been part of the deep work of my own transformation. Listening to “Not This” As a person who is generally positive, it has been a challenge to listen to the “no” of “not this” as strongly as the “yes” of cool projects and possibilities. I still listen to the “yes”, of course. It can provide powerful guidance, but I have found that it is often the quieter “not this” that is fueling my real transformation. I’m still learning to listen to this. Closely. Every day. It is steadily nudging me in a direction - asking me to sink down below the habits of my mind and listen to the internal compass which is constantly nudging me through “not this” “maybe” and sometimes “hmmm… we’ll see” which is so much softer than the “yes”, “hell yes” and “let’s do this” that is a part of my typical way of being. It would be a lot simpler if a “not this” was loud and clear. Instead, it is often gentle and almost always willing to concede the floor in the face of longstanding habits, fears, and cultural pressure. So listening in must involve being gentle with ourselves, listening attentively, and then honoring the “not this” when we can. And if we listen and follow with dedication, we will find that the “not this” can lead us to a clearer and clearer picture of what we want (through knowing what we don’t). The “not this” - in showing us what is not for us, leads us to a whole new world of what is for us and maybe to the other side of this particular transformation. It’s a slower, steadier process that many of us envision transformation to be. But on the other side, listening to the “not this” leads us: to be more fully integrated (not compartmentalized), in choice (not obligation), and on full display (not concealed). That is the stuff of real transformation. These kinds of habits take some time to uncover and then even longer to shift. Stay in it, friends. Pay attention to the “not this” - it’s a powerful way to move forward in your transformation. 
0 Comments
By Tuesday Rivera and 4 tips as everything dissolves.At The Outside, we used to talk about the need for transformation. “Old systems are failing,” we’d say. “We’re being asked to do more with less; we are facing issues more complex than ever; etc.” Now, however, we don’t talk about that much because there is no longer a need for transformation. Instead, there is only the reality of transformation: happening at all times and seemingly unstoppable. Transformation is happening around us, between us, and within us. It may be personal, organizational, or systemic, but there is no doubt that everything is up in the air and we are floundering to catch the pieces as they fall. In the prevailing conversation about transformation, the concept of liminal space is often invoked to help us to understand the middle phase of transformation, the “space in between” - where we are neither what we were nor what we’re going to be. We don’t know what we are becoming but we know we are not what we were. It is that space that feels full of both uncertainty and possibility. The example of the butterfly can be very helpful in understanding this space. The cocoon is an actual physical “liminal space” - the place where the caterpillar goes to dissolve and then reform into the butterfly. It’s quite miraculous. One kind of being enters a space of deep unraveling - even on a cellular level! - and comes out of that space something entirely new. It is a perfect metaphor for our transformation fable. One can only imagine that the caterpillar is driven by some powerful instinct to create and enter the chrysalis with no real understanding of the transformation about to happen. In fact, caterpillars enter the cocoon with the express purpose of transforming into a butterfly. And as far as we can understand, after dissolution, those cells just “know” how to reform into a beautiful winged creature. Using the butterfly as an example, we can begin to see the failing of our systems and organizations - and even our personal lives - as the necessary precursor to our own evolution. Our own caterpillar to butterfly hero’s journey. We can trust that we will know what to do once we come apart. That the very laws of nature will support our transformation. It is a hopeful orientation to the unceasing transformation around us. But I’ve recently entered that chrysalis - and haven’t emerged yet if I’m honest, and I have to tell you nothing feels normal or natural or evolutionary about it. It feels hard. And scary. And uncertain. And I DO NOT THINK MY CELLS KNOW HOW TO DO THIS. So mostly I’ve been surviving. And talking to other dissolving caterpillars around me, and we all agree that while this liminal space thing sounds amazing and deep and meaningful in theory, it actually sucks in reality. We don’t think anyone asked the caterpillar who was turning to goo and then into a butterfly what the experience was like. We do not think they would have given it a thumbs up. My training as a social worker, my loving and supportive family, and my spiritual practices did not prepare me for this level of uncertainty. This feeling like I am falling and, while I’m scared to hit the ground, I’m also not exactly sure there is a ground to hit. It is the most untethered I have been in my life, and I do not like it. But I’m in it. And I think…maybe…I’m learning a few lessons: Stay With Your Feelings This may be the last thing you want to do. Some feelings of this stage - anxiety, uncertainty, fear, or doubt - make us want to flee into action. To do something… anything really, rather than feel what we’re feeling. But if we can slow ourselves down and allow ourselves to actually be with our feelings rather than try to get rid of them, we often find even the hardest feelings to be fleeting and tolerable. When we stay present, we realize that in this moment, we are likely fine. We might be worried. We might be afraid. We may be riddled with self-doubt, but we are also - unbelievably - okay underneath it all. When we stay present, we may also realize that alongside these difficult feelings, there may be other, more positive feelings. We may actually feel anticipation or, on good days, even a sense of elation. We are changing and with that can come a feeling of real possibility. These other feelings may be small and drowned out by the louder, more difficult feelings, but when we don’t move away from any of our feelings, we can find that this transformation also contains joy even in the midst of all that feels hard or hopeless. Don't Believe Your Thoughts There is no doubt that transformation is hard work emotionally, but it is also a mental workout. Our brain, in an effort to keep us functional and safe, tries to make sense of what’s happening in our process of transformation and sometimes leaps to terrible conclusions: This will never end. I’m never going to figure this out. How could I have strayed so far from my purpose? What am I even doing right now? I will lose everything and everyone I love. My cats won’t even want me anymore. I will die alone. Likely in a gutter. I need to pull myself together! And, of course, these thoughts aren’t based in reality. They are a natural byproduct of a self seeking its own preservation. Your psyche has a sense that big change is on for you and wants to ensure that you keep yourself intact through it. That’s it’s job. The problem is, that it is your very self that needs to dissolve into goo to get to your next you. (Or at least that’s the lesson of the Butterfly, if we are to believe it.) Meditation, prayer, chanting, exercise, cognitive behavioral therapy. All of these things can help us see that our thinking, while useful in most areas of our life, is only of limited value when in the throes of transformation. We need practices that help us interrupt our thoughts, see them as useful, at times, but not always believable. I’ve personally been using The Work - a rigorous method of self-inquiry - a lot lately to keep myself from falling prey to the irrational at 4am. My favorite thought to do the work on right now: I don’t know what I’m doing. Try it. It’s super useful. (You’ll likely find out that you know a little bit of what you’re doing. Enough to get you through the next day, anyway.) Ask Your Body We’ve been told for years that our brains are not able to multitask or to keep us with all of the information that we receive in a day or the choices that we need to make. We know, for sure, that our brains cannot keep up with the pace of change we’re all experiencing right now. And yet, in these seasons of transformation, we still try to rely on our mind to figure it all out. (See above on why this is a bad idea). But if we can’t turn to our minds, where do we go? One answer is to our bodies. We can turn to our bodies to give us direction about what to do in any given moment. That might look like tuning into the fluttering in your heart as you hear a new idea or listening to your gut before you make a decision. It definitely means learning what your body does when you are a “yes” to something and what it does differently when you are a “no”. One thing I have learned is that my body - even in this time of great uncertainty - does not lie to me. When something is good for me, my body gives me a clear signal. I often relax, even if the situation is stressful. If something goes against my best interests, I contract and always have to override some physical sensation if I go forward. This is really good news: we can still turn to ourselves in the midst of turmoil. We are not lost to ourselves just because our feelings are frantic and our thoughts may not be trustworthy. We just have to sink in a little deeper and trust a wisdom that resides in the heart, and the belly, in the hands and feet. Look For Signals In the midst of transformation, we want to know the answers: Where are we going? What are we turning into? When will it be done/over? We want answers that may only be available to us in the distant future. Often, we only have information that relates to our immediate next steps. Not some distant future, but now. Today. Or, perhaps, just this hour. And so we need to stay curious and look for signals. Small indicators that we are growing in the right direction. Feedback that lets us know those liminal cells are forming into something, even if we don’t understand what it is. Signs that tell us that our motion is forward, even if we don’t know toward what. These signals may be weak - a piquing of our interest, a discovery of a new skill, a burgeoning friendship - but they are meaningful. And we can cultivate paying attention to them without knowing where they will lead us. They are not necessarily who we are becoming, but they may very well be part of who we will become. We need to stay curious about these signals because we don’t know where they will lead. They may be momentary - but enjoyable! - distraction or a pathway that is opening up for us. We can’t know in the moment, so we have to stay open and willing to follow what’s right in front of us. Rather than seeing the whole transformation - I would bet the caterpillar has no idea it will become a butterfly - we can attend to the here and now. We can do more than just “hang on” and wait out this challenging phase. We might actually thrive and develop new skills during it. In fact, that might be the whole point: to weather uncertainty and see what we discover. A dear friend said recently, “All of us. We’re changing. We’ve already changed. We just don’t have the next form ready to contain this new version of us.” In other words, we may already be the butterfly out of the cocoon, but the branches of a new tree aren’t there yet for us to land on and rest our wings. I found this heartening. I certainly feel like after years of Covid, the racial reckoning, the accelerating climate crisis and the failing of other major systems, I am a different person. Which makes me believe that the current transformation is so profound for all of us, that we may not even come out of it as butterflies but as an entirely new type of being. In the meantime, we need a few practices to sustain us and keep our stamina until that next form, maybe even that new world we’re seeking, arrives. Good luck and happy transforming! By Tuesday Rivera 6 things to do that bring clarity in the midst of uncertaintyIn our ongoing series about navigating transition (Part 1 here), Tuesday explores what to do when we don’t know what to do next. What happens when we aren’t sure of our next step? What do we do when we don’t know what’s next or how to get there? Where do we turn when all we really want is a crystal ball to tell us something, anything, about the future that stretches out before us, and crystal balls are in short supply? Many of us are in transition right now. Or, rather, many of us want to be in transition right now but we actually feel stuck right where we are. Or maybe, it’s fairer to say that our minds are in transition though our bodies may be right where they’ve always been. We know that we don't want what we have - be it our current job, our primary relationship, or perhaps the place we live - but we also don’t know what we want. We are stuck in the NOW which is unsatisfying, unfulfilling and perhaps even toxic, but we can’t imagine where to go next or can’t see a way to get there. We know that we have to take steps but don’t know where we want to go or how to get there, so it’s hard to know where to place our feet. This is why the idea of “visioning” is so attractive - it gives us a direction, a goal. We imagine a future where we are clear and living our best life. And once we have an idea of that target, we can begin to build a path to get there. But in these wild times, many of us are failing to even have a vision. We’re ready to let our arrow fly toward our targeted vision but the fog is so deep in front of us that we can’t even see the direction of the bullseye! Sometimes it’s because our vision is vague - we want a slower pace, a quieter life, to be in nature, to write, or we just want something different - and it’s hard to know whether to point ourselves left or right. Sometimes we know what we want - to be a teacher, to get a divorce, to move to the country - but we can’t imagine how to possibly get there. When that’s the case, I suggest that we put away our vision boards, forget the ideas of targets and arrows and bullseyes, stop looking for that crystal ball that will tell us the future and, instead, remember who we are. Remembering who we are, means that we are never truly stuck or lost. Uncertain, sure. Plagued by doubt, absolutely. But lost, nope. We can’t get lost when we remember that we have a home right here within ourselves. All we have to do is remember ourselves, and we are there. Spiritual leaders will tell us that we can remember who we are with every breath. I believe that to be true, but I also know the feeling of being unable to catch my breath because I am so uncertain about my future. So, how do I remember who I am at any given moment - especially if I’m anxious and breathless? I have started engaging in small, but contradictory behaviors. When I want to remember who I am, I have a set of actions that are in opposition to each other, that help me find myself. Each of these help me to reacquaint me with myself. And while I don’t necessarily do the below in any kind of sequence, I have noticed that doing them regularly is a sure way to remember who I am. Find Your Smallness Go to nature. Pray. Look at the stars. Go into a crowd of people and watch them flow by you - none of them knowing you or your story. Do something that reminds you that you are but one small being in one small place on one small planet that simultaneously depends on you for its protection and survival and has no care for you at all. All of this is happening within a universe that is expanding in a way that makes you even smaller in comparison. Remember that you are from and of that universe. The sense of awe that can come from finding your smallness as you look at the sky, as you try to count the trees in the forest and have to give up because there too many, as you watch a squirrel balance on a fence post having not a care in the world about you… these things can help you remember who you are. Find Your Bigness Alternately, you are the most important being in the world. Your thoughts and feelings and actions matter. They certainly matter to you. So find ways to spend time with others who they matter to as well. Your children, your partner, your friend, a coworker. You make a huge difference in someone’s life daily: your moods affect theirs, what you think and talk about directly impacts what they think and talk about, your behaviors can make or break their day. Be with them and notice your impact. Notice the love that is available to you there. Even if it’s the small kind of love. The kind of love where they smile back at you as they pass your desk. Or the big kind of love, the kind of love where they rely on you to feed them and read them a story at night. Sometimes our bigness can feel overwhelming but when we notice it alongside our smallness before the universe, a beautiful balance emerges, and you understand yourself more deeply. We are both unimaginably big and infinitesimally small. And it is in this place between the giants and the ants, that we begin to remember ourselves. Don't Do Anything To remember who you are, don’t do anything. Rest, don’t make any plans, and get really quiet. Allow enough of a slowdown that you might even get bored. When was the last time you allowed that? Give yourself enough time and space on your own without a screen, a phone, a book or a task. Allow your mind to pause enough to wander and be bored. With no place to go and nothing to do, you’ll be astonished by what you remember about yourself. Some of it will be awesome and some of it will be uncomfortable. But - here’s the trick - don’t do anything with what you discover. Don’t make plans around it. Just allow yourself some time to be with yourself without doing anything about it. (It can be hard but also very rich.) Do Something Creative Alongside doing nothing, remembering who you are requires you to create. This can be hard for those of us who don’t consider ourselves artists. (I am so envious of people who say that they have to - insert creative expression here. Who, when asked about their craft, say that they can’t NOT create. Something moves through them and has to be expressed. I do not have that experience. Creating can be really hard for me.) I am not an artist, but I - because I am human - have a need to express myself. We all do. We all need to be seen and heard in our unique expression of ourselves - even if we are the only one doing the listening. Remember who you are by writing, singing, dancing, cooking or doing anything that expresses a YOU that is no one else in the world. It doesn’t need to be for public consumption - yourself as an audience of one is sufficient - but it does need to remind you that you are the only instrument you can play. And that playing that instrument feels good. Get quiet. Express. See what expression comes after the quiet and also how the quiet changes after you express. Notice yourself in both times. Remember who you are. Be Great By being “great”, I mean do something that you are great at. Something that comes easily. Something that, by virtue of its simplicity (or your competency), feels effortless or fun. Sometimes we think this “remembering who we are” stuff must be earnest, deep, and accompanied by great epiphanies. But it can also be relaxing, second nature, done without much thought but with enjoyment. Bake your secret recipe cookies, connect two people you care about who need to meet each other, write a dirty limerick, or help a younger colleague with a task - anything, really, that reminds you that who you are also includes ease and competence, not just seeking a next step or figuring something out. Be Terrible And also, do something you’re bad at. Really bad. So bad that you don't even think about striving for perfection because basic competence is so far away. This may be an arts and craft project - see here for inspiration - or a night of karaoke, or hammering stuff together (Why is it so hard for a nail to go in straight?!). It doesn’t really matter what you do. The point is to do something that you canNOT possibly excel at. Don’t do this to inoculate yourself against the sting of failure, but to remind yourself that you can’t be good at everything and sometimes the absurdity of the results can actually bring enjoyment. Every now and again, I try to catch a ball or swing a bat just to keep myself humble, and I always end up laughing a lot. Be really excellent and revel in that ease. Be really awful and enjoy yourself. Remembering who you are doesn’t have to be full of effort. Clues can be found in ease as well as (light hearted) failure. Remembering who we are is the work of a lifetime, but it becomes especially meaningful when we are in transition. It is, perhaps, the most important action we can take when we feel stuck and lost. Maybe if we found that elusive crystal ball and looked into it, we would see that remembering ourselves as both whole and full of contradictions is our future, so it makes sense to engage in some seemingly contradictory behaviors now. Working with these contradictions can bring us new perspectives on ourselves and help us find a kernel of clarity at our center that moves into that future. Give it a try and see. |
TUESDAY RIVERAHello there! This resource page is a space for me to share inspiration, insight, and connection. Here, I’ll offer reflections and practical guidance related to personal transformation, intuitive practices, and embracing the divine feminine as well as other topics that have my attention. Whether you’re seeking insight, a bit of encouragement, or tools for transformation, I hope you find meaningful content here to guide your journey. CategoriesArchives |
RSS Feed
|
ABOUTAKASHIC RECORDSCOACHINGPROGRAMS & WORKSHOPSROOTED IN LIGHT PODCASTBLOGCONNECT |
Sign Up For Tuesday's Newsletter!Follow Along On Our Socials!
|
Privacy Policy: Rooted In Light is committed to protecting and respecting your privacy, and we’ll only use your personal information to provide the products and services you request from us. By providing us with your information, you consent to allow Rooted In Light to store and process the personal information submitted to provide you the content requested.
Terms of Service: Refunds are at the discretion of Rooted In Light. Requests for reimbursement can be sent in writing to [email protected].
All rights reserved. No unauthorized reuse:417 Loveman Ave., Worthington, OH, USA 43085
For more information, contact [email protected].
Terms of Service: Refunds are at the discretion of Rooted In Light. Requests for reimbursement can be sent in writing to [email protected].
All rights reserved. No unauthorized reuse:417 Loveman Ave., Worthington, OH, USA 43085
For more information, contact [email protected].
Copyright® 2025 Tuesday Rivera.