Happy first anniversary to The Dandelion Notes!
Can you believe it? I’ve been writing my weekly Dandelion Notes consistently for a year. I hope you’ve enjoyed and benefitted from these notes so far. Thank you for walking alongside me.
As a way to celebrate us, and also as a mid-year review, this week’s note is on transformation, particularly looking at how the changes within me are also manifested through my physical form. Moreover, I hope my example can be a reminder of the potential of us, human beings. We are not fixed or static creatures.
May we live fully into possibility.
It has not ceased to amaze me how we can grow and transform as human beings. When I place my attention simply on the flow of life through this person called Rosslyn, I marvel at its beauty and preciousness. And when I am fixated on the hurt and difficult experiences I suffered, I am cut off from gratitude and appreciation of life.
Awe arises at the figure in the mirror—the transformation this soul underwent. A mix of disbelief and gratitude that it can happen for me. Some people in the healing profession think that they can help every other person except themselves. I tend to slide into this category while enjoying being proven wrong.
How might I freshly describe my work today?
Right-sizing. I am an advocate for and a commitment to living a life true to our integrity.
What will that look like?
Transparency. Our outward expressions are aligned with our essence.
My coach training course with New Ventures West introduced me to the world of somatics. The shape assumed by our body is one such outward expression. The word sōma in Greek means “of the body”, and the word has evolved over time to mean “the living body in its wholeness.”
Consider this: Life is a process. Our living body is a process.
Sōma invites us to an integrated view: we are a living organism that includes our mind, spirit, body, and more. We are not merely one part or faculty. To see ourselves as a process is to recognise the ongoing conversation within us that is constantly evolving through our interactions with the world, allowing ourselves to give and receive, to shape and be reshaped.
Our mind shapes our reality, and our body assumes its somatic shape accordingly as a reflection of that. (Likewise, changing our somatic shape can open or close possibility for us.) For example, when we view the world as a hostile place with people out to get us at any chance possible, our body will in turn brace itself for contact. Certain muscles will harden in order to protect the parts we feel are vulnerable. We then “build a wall around us.” Imagine being on heightened vigilance every waking hour with parts of our body tensed up almost perpetually, what are the chances of experiencing ease, joy, love, or more? Also, when we walk around as walls, what impact will this have on our interactions with others? What is the likelihood that they will be open to us? When they close down to us, it reinforces our belief of hostility. The vicious cycle continues.
In coming to know more and connect with our true selves, we undergo a series of relaxations and expansions, and our physical body also changes its somatic shape to become a true expression of our essence.
Change is possible. And it happens in biological time.
What I call “inner work” is the practice of developing awareness of one’s conditioned patterns and beliefs in tandem with inquiring to understand and digest them. As we increasingly contact parts of ourselves beyond our personality, we start to experience the cracks in our beliefs. What we took to be true of ourselves was only a facet. As our sense of self changes, our interactions also change. When our inner world changes, it manifests on the outside too.
Here is a glimpse into my journey as seen through my somatic shapes (the upper half of my body at least).
In facilitation spaces:
2017: A body that held itself in: constricted shoulders, pulling themselves in to take up less space and appear small (a form of hiding); a softness without inner strength and alignment.
2023: An expanded and relaxed body that is held by the ground and its own internal alignment and column. Still soft. And strong.
Relating to my book:
Feb 2020: At a cafe after enquiring about the options for self-publishing. There is a sense of settledness and commitment in this body along with a softness and a slight collapse in the chest. I will and I’m not sure if I can.
Oct 2020: Weeks before my book launch, hoping to get some shots with my proof copy for keepsake. There is joy and tentativeness in allowing the excitement to fully infuse and inflate my chest. I did it. Still unsure, but I have a wish.
May 2023: A relaunch and revival of my book through a consignment with Kensington Row Bookshop under its Local Authors program, with hopes for my gift to meet more people. Still some tentativeness, along with a quiet joy and groundedness, this body can now hold itself, and afford to be occasionally full of myself.
I can belong and connect with others without abandoning myself to merge.
2017: Notice my tendency to lean in (almost crouching) to the other when taking group photographs. This was part of my merging pattern to seek belonging.
2024: I can lean in without my shoulders rounding or my chest deflating. There is enough space for everyone, I do not need to hide or shrink. I can be an individual while still being a part of the group—connected to self and others.
Interested in having a strategic conversation about the somatic shape you have assumed?
Drop me a note.
Compare the incline of my shoulders over one year!
For the longest time, I had felt vulnerable facing the camera for a full-frontal shot, for my chest to bear openness. I was also conscious of my jawline, my perceived wide face, which carried the story of being shunned by my mother. I thought I had a big head till the husband raised the question, “What if your head looks big because of the small frame you contort yourself into?”
Jun 2024: The husband may be on to something. (He asks for his wisdom to be recognised.) My head looks more proportionate to my body here as my chest and shoulders expand.
There is entropy and there is maturation. The latter is not guaranteed.
2012: The narrative my shoulders held: I will play small, I won’t be a threat, you can have all the space, I won’t take up much, please, let me belong.
2024: Entropy shows up as the silver strands and the less than supple and glowy complexion. Maturation shows up as the ease in being oneself and basking in one’s radiance. My width, open and accepting, still expanding; my depth rooted in my belly center; my length in its dignity and my right to be.¹ My shoulders convey: I’m comfortable with myself, and I’m comfortable being with you.
Slowly and surely, my unfoldment continues.
¹ To find out more about the dimensions of length, width, and depth that I talked about, read more here.
Interested in having a strategic conversation about the somatic shape you have assumed? Drop me a note.
Write Your Way To Wholeness
I’m hosting a writing workshop with NI2C on Jul 10 at 5pm Pacific / 8pm Eastern Time. Give writing a chance and be surprised by what wants to be expressed by your being.
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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.
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