Thursday, December 13, 2007 at 1:01am
Mr. Toad's wild ride
Column: wavelength
Are you stressed? In fact, are you so stressed, you feel you have created a new, high-intensity, off-the-Richter-scales level of stress? Have you been stretched out of your comfort zone to catch fly balls from the universe? Do you feel pelted by incoming not-so-charming surprises, such as snowballs from hell? Do you feel pressed to do more, be more, accept more than you ever thought possible?
If so, welcome to Mr. Toad's wild ride.
Oh, are you not familiar with this term? Well, actually, I wasn't either; my brother-in-law introduced me to this silly phrase that I relegated to the back corners of my mind — until it flew, unbidden and unconsciously, out of my mouth a number of months ago. At that moment I said to the gods, as well as the person who was sitting across the tea table from me, that I was willing to take Mr. Toad's wild ride all the way to the end. Little did I understand the full meaning and gravitas of my words.
You see, Mr. Toad will take you on an ever-changing adventure of constant movements that stretch your internal resources, call forth all of your reservoirs of wherewithal, and force you to be slammed back into your whole self. This is, to borrow a phrase, where the rubber meets the road. You are on a forward trajectory of a path; there is no turning back.
Mr. Toad's wild ride breaks the sound barrier of limitation. This wild ride catapults you into change.
Allow me to digress for a moment:
We are told that the only constants are death and taxes. What is missing from that small list is the inevitability of change. I don't think any of you would argue this point. Clearly, change is an enduring constant.
There are so many words for the concept of change. It is part and parcel of our daily lives. Change is the mother of all modifications, alterations, amendments, revolutions, shifts, transitions, transformations, variations on a theme, new ideas, re-orgs, growth spurts and the like. You can't turn around without bumping into change; it's everywhere.
A huge example is Mother Nature; she is a master agent of change. Her mantra is life, death and rebirth. You can't get more dynamic than that. Think of those million people in Oklahoma and adjoining states who recently lost power due to an ice storm; they are certainly faced with challenges as they try to stay warm and safe in their powerless homes - and all of this amid the usually frenetic holiday season.
Change is new; it moves us out of the familiar. It can be discombobulating, prickly and uncomfortable. It calls for a learning curve. It breaks patterns and disassembles the automatic and robotic.
Change is fraught with mixed emotions; it can be heartbreaking, gut-wrenching and terrifying. It also can be a breath of fresh air, wonderfully heartwarming and completely soul-satisfying.
The rules for riding Mr. Toad are fairly simple. It's akin to riding a surfboard. You stand up and anchor your feet. You bend your knees (therein lies the flexibility to ride the ups and downs of the incoming); you balance your weight (and this calls for actually being in your body, not operating solely from the shoulders up and allowing only your mind to call the shots); and you pay attention to what's coming toward you. If you get washed out (read: overwhelmed, overloaded or shut down), you simply get up, re-anchor, rebalance, refocus and begin anew.
It sounds simple enough, but it is actually quite the feat. There are no seat belts or restraints. It takes a fair amount of guts to hang on to Mr. Toad as you are tossed and turned and somersaulted through psychic (as in soul) space.
And there are always free will and choice. You can choose to, metaphorically speaking, paddle around in the water, or you can choose to take the ride for all its worth.
If you say, "Yes," and are willing to take the wild ride, I suggest that there is a bigger, more significant force in operation here.
The end point of Mr. Toad's wild ride is that you get out of jail. That's right: the very prison you so lovingly created. At the time of your construction, it didn't feel like a prison; it might have felt like the right thing to do, the exact place to be and comfy as home. But as time marched on and you became more and more of a one-trick pony, the walls began to close in on you. Your option pool dried up; your possibilities took a hike. Your vision narrowed, and parts of yourself went underground. You could hide and stay invisible. Like the hermit card in the tarot, you kept your light hiding under a basket.
Your soul is longing to shine its fullness. Are you ready to take the wild ride?
Mr. Toad is waiting.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
If so, welcome to Mr. Toad's wild ride.
Oh, are you not familiar with this term? Well, actually, I wasn't either; my brother-in-law introduced me to this silly phrase that I relegated to the back corners of my mind — until it flew, unbidden and unconsciously, out of my mouth a number of months ago. At that moment I said to the gods, as well as the person who was sitting across the tea table from me, that I was willing to take Mr. Toad's wild ride all the way to the end. Little did I understand the full meaning and gravitas of my words.
You see, Mr. Toad will take you on an ever-changing adventure of constant movements that stretch your internal resources, call forth all of your reservoirs of wherewithal, and force you to be slammed back into your whole self. This is, to borrow a phrase, where the rubber meets the road. You are on a forward trajectory of a path; there is no turning back.
Mr. Toad's wild ride breaks the sound barrier of limitation. This wild ride catapults you into change.
Allow me to digress for a moment:
We are told that the only constants are death and taxes. What is missing from that small list is the inevitability of change. I don't think any of you would argue this point. Clearly, change is an enduring constant.
There are so many words for the concept of change. It is part and parcel of our daily lives. Change is the mother of all modifications, alterations, amendments, revolutions, shifts, transitions, transformations, variations on a theme, new ideas, re-orgs, growth spurts and the like. You can't turn around without bumping into change; it's everywhere.
A huge example is Mother Nature; she is a master agent of change. Her mantra is life, death and rebirth. You can't get more dynamic than that. Think of those million people in Oklahoma and adjoining states who recently lost power due to an ice storm; they are certainly faced with challenges as they try to stay warm and safe in their powerless homes - and all of this amid the usually frenetic holiday season.
Change is new; it moves us out of the familiar. It can be discombobulating, prickly and uncomfortable. It calls for a learning curve. It breaks patterns and disassembles the automatic and robotic.
Change is fraught with mixed emotions; it can be heartbreaking, gut-wrenching and terrifying. It also can be a breath of fresh air, wonderfully heartwarming and completely soul-satisfying.
The rules for riding Mr. Toad are fairly simple. It's akin to riding a surfboard. You stand up and anchor your feet. You bend your knees (therein lies the flexibility to ride the ups and downs of the incoming); you balance your weight (and this calls for actually being in your body, not operating solely from the shoulders up and allowing only your mind to call the shots); and you pay attention to what's coming toward you. If you get washed out (read: overwhelmed, overloaded or shut down), you simply get up, re-anchor, rebalance, refocus and begin anew.
It sounds simple enough, but it is actually quite the feat. There are no seat belts or restraints. It takes a fair amount of guts to hang on to Mr. Toad as you are tossed and turned and somersaulted through psychic (as in soul) space.
And there are always free will and choice. You can choose to, metaphorically speaking, paddle around in the water, or you can choose to take the ride for all its worth.
If you say, "Yes," and are willing to take the wild ride, I suggest that there is a bigger, more significant force in operation here.
The end point of Mr. Toad's wild ride is that you get out of jail. That's right: the very prison you so lovingly created. At the time of your construction, it didn't feel like a prison; it might have felt like the right thing to do, the exact place to be and comfy as home. But as time marched on and you became more and more of a one-trick pony, the walls began to close in on you. Your option pool dried up; your possibilities took a hike. Your vision narrowed, and parts of yourself went underground. You could hide and stay invisible. Like the hermit card in the tarot, you kept your light hiding under a basket.
Your soul is longing to shine its fullness. Are you ready to take the wild ride?
Mr. Toad is waiting.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.