Recently, I have been into a Korean reality cooking show, “Culinary Class Wars.” In the final challenge, two finalists were tasked to create a dish that they would be willing to stake their names on. What immediately came to mind, too, were Japanese samurais and the importance of honor to them. A miss can cost both their clan names and lives. And of course, I proceeded to consider the question for myself too, though not in the same cooking context. How could I miss such an opportunity for discovery?
What is my labor or creation that I will stake my name on? While contemplating this question, another question arose. I needed more clarity, a distinction between showing up for something and hiding behind something. When was I showing up, when was I hiding? There was a felt difference in me I had yet to articulate.
Reflecting upon my past role as an Experience Designer, my confidence came from technical competence and experience. When I no longer held that role, and had to enter a new field where that role mattered less and was almost unheard of, I was a beginner, an infant, all over again. In this example when I showed up only as the designer, the rest of me was unconsciously hidden behind that role. Who was I if I could not wield my skills and experiences that I had accumulated? With little knowledge of who I was other than my role, I had reduced myself to nothing without my job. Was I willing to stake my name on all my creations that existed as blueprints and user flows? No. I had to let some things go; I had created designs that did not align with my values. It might have been in service of the clients, but it was not in service of who my heart truly wanted to serve.
I am <X>.
Attention is placed on <X>, allowing <X> to show up, while incidentally obscuring what is beyond the periphery of <X>
I find my human journey to be a series of movements between unconscious and conscious:
(unconsciously) I am — { I am this and only this; I am this, not that; I am this and that; I am many things; I am who I choose to be; } — (consciously) I am
Last Saturday, the chance to participate at a local authors festival brought about a corrective experience. There was little to hide behind since my book contains some of my rawest feelings. Did my book or writings represent all of me? No. But it was me. It was what I birthed and share with the world. At the event, I was an author of a book that is about me. Essentially, I was invited to show up almost bare like my book.
Out in the sea of people, there is each person and there is me. I felt instant heart connections with the handful of persons who bought my book, and a few who came by to browse. I got to witness how they are, even how they walk: quiet and sweet, light-footed. I caught a glimpse of my soul through them. The right ones will come, I just have to show up and make contact, even if it is just a hello. I opened my heart, the door to the bridge of connection, and I met and was received by other sensitive souls.
My book was neither my armor nor weapon, it was also not my ticket to existence. It was the baring of my soul, my sacred gift; I was its guardian. To stake my name on something is to assert my right to it; to take a risk for it; to be its guardian no matter what; to infuse it with my being, and trust in the shape it takes; to create, even carve out, new spaces for its existence and flourishing when there appears to be no room for it. I want to be paving the way for my dreams and creations, not to beat them down and bend them to fit in. I want to be my safekeeper by working toward creating and opening possibilities for life to flow, more verdantly than ever.
I love who showed up on Saturday. Shy and sweet, I recognize her, the gentle and loving heart. Pure and courageous to be vulnerable and real as she explained her book to those who took a step closer.
As I signed my name on the books, a deeper significance was revealed for what it means to put my name on and behind something. I staked my name. I chose to have an active stake in life.
An inscription of my name on the book; an inscription of who I am in my soul.
Strong. Soft. In element.
🍯 The Dandelion Notes ~ Writer’s Fund
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Hello & welcome — I am glad you are here. I am Rosslyn Chay, an inquirer, poet, and coach. The Dandelion Notes are field notes on my process and learnings through my human journey as I go on a quest to mend our fractured relationship with our nature.
"I find my human journey to be a series of movements between unconscious and conscious:..." I love this sentiment, this liminal space is one to explore. I'm intrigued by the many ways we walk the bridge that spans the conscious and unconscious, tending our dreams, journaling, tarot, Authentic Movement, retrieving the gold from the unconscious, doing the work of alchemy.