Category: Spiritual and Personal Development

Who’s Running My Show by Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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My whole life I’ve sought approval from others while believing myself confident and independent.  I can see it so much more clearly now.   Valued for being tough, competitive, for not crying.  Compared and weighed against everyone around.

And I was pretty good at delivering the goods, playing the parts that earned approval and recognition.  I was a tough, successful human doing.  Always striving, always struggling.  Being wasn’t enough.  Never, ever enough.  I can see it so much more clearly now.

Recently I’ve been on a quest to peel away the programmed, trained parts of myself, the armor I’ve added to shield the lack.  I’ve asked many times:

“Why does that comment hurt so much?”

“Why am I so afraid that she’ll leave too?”

“Do I really want to compete all the time?”

“Why do I want to hurt back those that hurt me?”

In stiller moments, I, the deeper I, the I that touches Spirit, the I Am, doesn’t want to add to the hurt and ugliness in the world.

But then that old, familiar armored combat soldier resumes her place on the front line.  My heart closes down and the possibilities narrow to the fight in front of me.   In that moment who’s really running my show, calling my shots?  Is it really me?  Or is the disapprovers, the judgers whose opinion of me I allow to matter?

They don’t even know me.  I’m only just beginning to really know me.  Shake it off!  Enough.  Enough.  Enough.  Let it be.  Be. 

Cylvia Hayes

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Impermanence and My Magical Yard and Beyond

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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My magical, lively little backyard is a mirror when I take time to look, reflect.

Every year I’ve worked on it, planting many strong plants to return each spring.  And they do.

The juniper and pine trees stand firm, deeply rooted. 

The honeysuckle vines take ownership of their section of the tall, wood fence.  Hummingbirds battle for turf there.

The massive rose bushes fill up the southwest corner creating a safe roost for dozens of fluttery sparrows.  

The jays, doves, blackbirds and finches flock to the feeders, as do the gray squirrels.

Every year this happens.  I count on it.  It seems certain, familiar. 

But it is constant change, unfamiliar from moment to moment. 

The raspberry patch opens up in the same corner but also sends new shoots out a dozen feet away.  These I pluck.  

Last year my hanging planters on the tall wood fence were lush, colorful, vibrant.   This year, they are pale and ratty.  Mysterious.

The planters beneath my bedroom window, sitting in far too much shade, are bursting with vibrancy and color, flowers spilling all the way to the ground.  Surprising. 

The birds at the feeder feel like old friends but many of them are this year’s fledglings and we’ve only just met.  Many I’ll never see again.  

This place of constant change is home to me.  I am utterly comfortable in its uncertainty.  

What if I could feel the same way about all of life?


Cylvia Hayes

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