The abundance bank


Every creative thing I’ve tried to succeed in brought me face to face with an army of “authorities” telling me I’m wrong and am not good enough to be in the world with my creative venture.  I should sing like this, I shouldn’t sing like that, I definitely can’t sing the way I do, my novel is wrong, my scripts are wrong, I shouldn’t paint the way I do, play piano the way I do.

I was always looking for nurturers, mentors, but I couldn’t draw them into my world.  Instead I found detractors.

I didn’t want criticism, I craved support, to be told I could do this, I was okay as I was, that everybody starts somewhere. I needed to be given a chance.  Didn’t happen.  Entry to the abundance banquet room was prohibited.  Right of admission reserved for those who are good enough.  Cool enough.  Smart enough.

The only place I ever got what I needed was in therapy.  Home.  My therapist was the one who helped me dismantle my fear, which unlocked my voice.  The teachers just made it worse.  They knew (some of them) about the mechanism of singing, but they didn’t know what fear does to your voice, or how to fix it.  They so terrorized me (unwittingly) that I couldn’t sing in front of anybody.  Even them.

My therapist said the way you sing now is fine.  It’s perfectly right.  It’s just a starting point.  Everybody started somewhere.  Keep singing, and when you can’t sing, listen to what you’re feeling, listen to what you need.  He took all the pressure away and I got to all the reasons I’d shut down my voice.

It was the same with everything else.  Couldn’t get a violin or piano teacher to take me seriously or let me be where I was and build a real foundation, couldn’t find money to go to university, couldn’t get anybody to publish my novel, couldn’t find money to develop my film script, couldn’t sell my paintings fast enough, then galleries didn’t want them at all…

People kept saying to me “you’re so incredibly talented”.  Then why couldn’t I succeed at anything?  It drove me demented.  It didn’t matter what my potential was, I couldn’t access it in any way that would allow me be in the world with it.  It was like being a computer, with a big hard drive but a lousy operating system.  Loads of amazing software, all of it totally useless to me.

Therapy made it all accessible to me.  The experience of love, parenting love, finally gathered enough momentum to take me over a certain threshold of self-belief.  Which enabled me.  I got a better operating system.

And I’ve found something to do in the world where nobody can prohibit my admission, nobody can dictate to me.  I can make a start, learn, improve.  Nobody has to like what I write, and everybody has the freedom to say what they want about it.  But nobody has any authority over me.

Finally, the timing is right.  I’m in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing.  The only prohibitions that I can experience will be those in my head, they won’t be material.  I won’t be able to be tempted even to say the world is stopping me, because it won’t be.  It’ll obviously be about me.

Me I can deal with.  It’s a total shift.  At a real, physical material practical level I’ve walked through the participation-in-the-world door, doing something meaningful to me.  My self esteem is repaired enough and my entitlement is good enough to have enabled it.  My own fears aren’t strong enough any more to have prevented it.

Nobody’s even trying to stop me.  Nobody wants to.  There just isn’t a barrier.

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