Balancing Pennies

I am a disciple of the gentle art of psychotherapy. I am also the disciple of the pursuit of a caring but [to me] often elusive Deity or God. I believe in a safe, reciprocating, and embracing experience of love with the beloved. But in both psychotherapy and in love I am reluctant—not afraid, arrogant, aloof, or detached—just reluctant. I live in a fabulous world of ardent self-confidence and crippling self-doubt—an edginess that has served me well, but when in the “crucible” of it—OMG in spades!

When I’m just too enthralled with myself, I know humble pie is waiting on a menu somewhere. And when I’m stricken by the weightiness of self-doubt, I know there’s a lot of work to do to attend to that. I hate this conundrum. But it’s equally accurate to say that I love it. Life might be easier if my personality were less a blend of opposing forces, and more a simple, pure dose of one or the other, but then I just wouldn’t experience life as the vibrant journey I’ve come to embrace.

Both of my parents played the piano, and therefore it seemed reasonable if not imperative to them that their first-born would play as well. My mother started giving me lessons when I was five—short practice sessions that included balancing pennies on my two hands while keeping time with a metronome. The experiment didn’t work. As a “pre-delinquent” I often flushed the copper coins down the toilet, and stuck wads of gum on the metronome’s pendulum—all while “she who must be obeyed” was visiting with a neighbor or fixing dinner.

I have, however, come to appreciate the pendulum-like swings between confidence and self-doubt, angelic and devilish behavior, and the reluctance that occurs in knowing that swings are an inevitable part of my life.

How do I cope? Well, being patient with all things Roger—an arduous task at all times—is a start. I have learned that to live fully into being who I am requires finding the capacity to handle hating what I love—the me of me.

The metronome-like inner life I have, and the manner in which I inhabit the spiritual, personal, and professional worlds therein works for me—a state of controlled chaos and reluctant acceptance arrived at through hard fought skirmishes and battles [mostly internal], but also in relationships and places of work and play.

Sometimes I want to flush the “copper coins” I discover in my pocket of doubt and devilry, but I’ve learned to hold on to them, and mindfully see what they can teach me. At these times, reflection, a practice of mindfulness, and exercise help bring the controlled chaos of the metronome’s beat back into focus.

I recently had an experience that demonstrated this very well. I met with someone whose services I wished to employ. I grew impatient as he made assumptions about my lack of knowledge in a particular area, and began to experience the metronomic swing into self-doubt. While maintaining an attentiveness to his words and ideas I thought: Breathe, Baby—this is about him, not you! After more self-talk than I thought I had in me he “came up for breath.” I thanked him for his time, and we moved ahead. By the way—I hired him.

Had I not listened in a mindful way he and I would have missed out on the benefits of a collaboration.

Your Reluctant Disciple

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