Tag: Self-actualization

Spiritual Teaching

“The spiritual teacher must know every inch of the way, every danger and pitfall, and not from books or maps or hearsay.  The teacher must have traveled it themself, from the foothills to the highest peaks.  And must have managed to get back down again, to be able to relate with students with humanity and compassion.  Not everyone who attains Self-realization can make a reliable guide.”. Eknath Easwaran

I feel like the experience that has been my life has been one of psychological and spiritual cartography.  Every detour felt like a travesty. But, there is no escaping blazing the trails where others haven’t yet trod.  And so, the feeling of travesty dissolves into its unmasked form… leadership.

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Inevitable Moments

There are these inevitable moments in life. Today I got word that a 3rd member of my family has died. My poor father is shaken with grief as this was his older brother. It seems there was a lot left unsaid. And, honestly I don’t blame that on either one of them. I blame it on life. This is the 3rd unexpected death in 9 months. To be perfectly honest, I began heavily medicating after the second one back in December. And, I don’t mean I’m staying high. I’m just taking a lot of prescriptions to hold me steady so I can still function mentally. I still haven’t regained my ability to walk more than about 1800 steps per day with lots of rest periods and that still carries a bit of repercussion with bouts of tachycardia at bed time when my body is trying so hard to recover from the strain of movement on top of the emotional trauma of the past year. My cat died, my mother died, I lost 2 vehicles, almost got evicted, had to move in with a relative because I can’t afford rent anywhere anymore due to soaring cost of living and I’m not able to work right now and won’t be able to for quite some while. I lost a younger cousin. The last surviving son of my elderly uncle. I can’t believe he lost both of his children and faces his elder years without them. I can’t believe me and my mamaw and brother have to face the future without my mother. There’s just so much. And, while I’ve said since 2017, “I can’t take anymore.” I do. I’m writing this because I’ve just taken so much more than I ever dreamed possible and still survive it. Granted, I have lost my mobility to emotional trauma and stress and I am heavily medicated and have packed on more weight than I thought I ever would. I have taken a toll. But, I’m here. Writing.

There are these moments in life that are inevitable. And it sucks when they all pile up together rather than being spaced out allowing time for recovery before the next crisis. But, here I am. Doing all the nervous system things, leaning on my friends, loving on my family, appreciative of the shelter, helping where and how I can. And, writing. Oh, I also made the Dean’s list at University and am about to publish my first book in about a week or so. All this during the hardest years of my adult life. And, I’m middle-aged and that sucks honestly. Because of the crisis I have not been afforded the opportunity to find the “finally don’t care” attitude that I hear women talk about when they get a certain age. I haven’t found the solidity women say they feel at my age because to walk in my world feels like the globe has been greased and I too have been oiled and walk on it slick and naked. Vulnerable and no balance. My world feels like a greased pole where the floor is lava.

There are these inevitable moments in life. And, when they come…you can’t pray them away, you can’t manifest them away, you can’t cuss them away, you can’t wish them away, you can’t science them away, you can’t psychology them away, you can’t religion them away, you can’t God them away, you can’t spell them away, you can’t gather an army of friends, family, or politicians to resist them or tell them to go away, you can’t write them away, you can’t therapy them away, you can’t spiritual them away, you can’t atheist them away, you can’t hide from them, you can’t run from them, you can’t deny them, you can’t sublimate them, you can’t pay them away, you can’t doctor them away, you can’t medicate them away, you can’t exercise them away, you can’t work them away, you can’t sleep them away, you can’t drink them away, you can’t starve them away, you can’t not see them.

But, you can allow your friends to love you through them, you can let your family hold you through them, you can let your cat or your dog lay on your chest and lick your tears as they fall. You can open your chest wide and accept that these moments are life too. You can acknowledge that your steps are in sync with the march of humanity and that your footfalls imprint the human continuum and whether it feels like it or not you are right where you’re supposed to be. You, me, we….are part of the marvel. The dynamic, diverse, prism that is humanity. One massive, non-congruent, yet deeply cohesive at the same time, collective unconscious, reflectively conscious, forging forth for a better day.

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Why?

Blindfold me for the battle so I can at least be authentically barbaric
The masses have always hurled in to peril the esoteric

Slipping through the cracks I’ll never look back
But, I will remember my blood dripping through the black

I’m drowning in their cognitive dissonance
While crowning myself the leader of dissidents

With raised fist I’m screaming in to the void
I am my id the cautionary tale by Freud

Primordial and parabolic
I’m a corporeal hydraulic

Telling the story of how modernity is primeval
My nervous system lunging and launching in upheaval

My voice exists on the other side of the veil
But my body is here going through hell

The observation of this peculiar disconnect
That my self-awareness longs to resurrect

Rhyming and timing my sanity like a metronome
Like a daft pendulum the swing is my home

Wisdom that inspires wonder is reputed to be of significance
But the collective seems to relish in the bliss of ignorance

A scathing indictment that leads to incitement
Where even the Socratic of the democratic find themselves affrightment

I’ve simplified my question to three letters, “why.”

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Soulmate Romance

As I think through my concept of a soulmate, the first thing I think of is the emphasis on the word “mate.” For me, mate, means match, alignment, similarities, and therefore comfort. The soul component is the deeper part of our humanity that the majority of other humans do not adequately or accurately perceive about us. A soulmate, for me, would be someone who does see that part of me with clarity and mirrors back to me the profundity of what they see because that person shares many of the same qualities and perspectives and emotions of my own soul. That person can see me because they have seen their own soul, deeply. It is the element and degree of depth of their own self-awareness that is one of the greatest qualifying factors for me to identify with that person as a romantic soulmate.

As I’ve gotten granular on the semantics of the word, “soulmate” it has occurred to me that I’ve been too willing to accept men who do not match or align with me on a soul level. And, to be perfectly honest, and as I’m told by those closest to me, I am likely too deep for most and therefore unrelatable to a great degree. So, where is love for me? I feel like my depth very much limits my options. Added to that, my “niceness” has always given the impression that I can be treated poorly or not have my relational needs met and they can still have priority and benefit from my love of them. 

I think this post serves mostly as a precursor to an impending perspective and behavioral change. I don’t know what that will look like but if I could describe the emotion of what is gathering in this regard it would be more confidence, less tolerance of bad behavior for the sake of being flexible and making it work, and self-belief. I would say “glow-up” but I feel that term has become banal and I’m growing to despise it for that reason. The next several months of this year feel like they will be an unearthing of the “why” and the “how” I need to change my understanding and behavior of who I am willing to accept as a romantic partner. I think ultimately it will be a massive contrast in how I’ve always I’ve seen things pertaining to being loved. And once that change is done it will likely seem to others that it was like an overnight explosion that completely changed my emotional landscape and personality aspects. But, I can intuitively tell that for as profound and impactful as it will be it will be a process of gentle erosion. One that my body can keep pace with and not one that will cause further non-congruence in my soul. Because it is those non-congruences I think, that are creating the disparity between who I desire and who I actually attract.

Cheers to self-discover, shadow work, and the romance of the soul.

Cozett Dunn

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Cozett Contemplates Being A Healer

You used to be so nice~ It was because I was afraid of the implications of displeasing you.

You’re so strong & such an inspiration ~ It’s because of my survival instinct and because I’m naturally a good person

You’re so brave~ My nervous system would no longer allow me to tolerate the confines of the box people wanted me in. It was either tear it apart or continue to betray my emotional well-being

You must be an empath~ I’m hypervigiliant. I’m highly attuned to the energy of others because I was traumatized as a child.

As a trauma survivor you find yourself on a continuum. There is a linear space, thread, that runs from your childhood, into your present, and reaches out before you in the time to come. Like a train track you can stand on any point of it and feel the vibration of the train whether its behind you or has passed you. It doesn’t matter if you can see it. You can still feel it its vibration. Its energy.

As if in a dream, you find yourself experiencing an alternate reality than that of those around you, and you’re constantly teaching yourself what’s real and what’s not, what to hang on to, and what to let go of.

People who have experienced emotional trauma have brain changes, similar to those who have had concussions.

Emotions, feelings, are so powerful they can physically reshape the structure of your brain and thereby color your reality. Thankfully, neuroplasticity is a thing. But, healing is something that needs support and takes work. And while the trauma isn’t your fault you are the one who will have to take the responsibility to heal what you didn’t harm. That feels unfair and is traumatic in its own sense.

This is why its imperative…..to not feel like you have to be nice to everyone. Because everyone….isn’t supporting the healing of your brain and nervous system. Everyone isn’t guarding your heart and prioritizing your well-being or creating safe spaces for you or trying to understand the decisions you make.

In fact, most people aren’t critical thinkers. For many it’s never occurred to them how they could make the world a better place by looking through the lenses of others and a lot of people have zero desire to do so even if it has occurred to them. The fact is, that those with narrow emotional experience, narrowed and selective perspectives that require people to believe the way they do, behave the way they do, see the world and others the way they do creates disenfranchisement because it automatically has the implication that there are consequences for people who aren’t like them.

So here we are as trauma survivors. Healing from harm we didn’t create. Creating corners of safe space from spaces that others assume should only belong to them.

I want to take this post and tell trauma survivors how amazing, dynamic, multi-faceted, emotionally intelligent, beautiful, powerful, and expansive they are. You have amazing qualities that evolved on the inside of you. You are an evolved human being. You have space on the inside of you. That space is capacity. Capacity for good. Capacity gives you the ability to receive that narrowness cannot afford you.

I believe that humanity has begun a massive shift. A shift that values emotional intelligence and expansiveness and tolerance. A shift of conviction.

There will be a collective of humanity who deeply hold the belief that it is better to be a bridge builder for every chasm is better than clinging to feeling superior because of what “sets them apart.”

There will be a collective of…us…who deeply believe that to be a healer isn’t something relegated only to licensed professionals or the “spiritually” gifted. Healing belong to humanity. Period. It is expressed in community not division. It is given and received in relationship with those who understand that though we are many, ultimately we are one.

I refuse to be anything other than safe. I refuse to be anything other than a healer. I refuse to be anything other than whole.

And, if you’re not of this same energy you can’t be in MY energy. At all. My health cannot afford you.

The community I’m creating, the circle I’m curating, the reality I’m shaping is necessarily humane, good, sovereign.

Cozett Contemplates the conviction of what it means to be a healer

Yours in emotional intelligence,

Cozett Dunn

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The Taxi Driver

I’m sitting outside on the patio anticipating the sunset. It’s about an hour out. And it’s a warm winter day. About 58 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m quietly reflecting on who I want to be in 2024. How will I define myself? In what ways will I be boundless and free from definition? My skin is pale and my eyes sensitive from being indoors so much this year. Its like I lived in a bunker all of 2023. Listening to shells drop all around me. Waiting on someone or something to save me. To airlift me out of the hellscape.

People walking their dogs here in the complex have no idea what dwells inside the woman who is sitting on patio furniture gazing silently up at the sun. I have no idea what’s inside of them either.

I hear a car radio, factory grade, thumping coming down the parking lot. At first its behind my back so I only hear it. My mind’s eye begins to project images of what it might look like once it appears in my field of vision. It is factory for sure. Someone is absolutely juicing their factory car radio. I love that. Its likely a sedan. Probably grey or silver with shimmery undercoat that glistens in the sun if its clean. I imagine its probably a 2018 model and has a child’s car seat in the back with Cheetos covering the back floor board. I guess it has tinted windows. All of this my mind conjured before I could see it.

It was a taxi driver. The car was a tiny 4 door. Big, bright, green, logo on both sides. Indeed it was clean. Windows were tinted. As it pulled up to a garage I could hear the 1981 song by Olivia Newton John, “Let’s Get Physical” erupting out of the driver’s open window. I wondered to myself, “who am I gonna see get out of this taxi that’s been BUMPING Olivia Newton John?”

A lady in her 70’s opens the back door and slowly climbs out. She seems active but also a bit frail. Strong but fading. Definitely filled with the spiciness and zest of life. Big smile on her face. The taxi driver opens his door. He’s a white guy and balding. When I tell you the setting sun was beaming off the top of his head….I guess he’s in his 40’s. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that gapes at the bottom struggling to cover a pot belly. Dark, inky blue, straight cut jeans, that look like Wranglers. Black socks with taupe, open-toed, rubber sandals. 2 straps across his thick black socks. Olivia Newton John was still reverberating thru air. I wondered if the music wasn’t so loud it made it hard to hear his passenger. But, they both seemed happy. Pleasant. She’d had a great ride. Maybe the music was her choice? As someone born on the cusp of the 80’s I did enjoy that sound and I’m assuming the taxi driver is older than me and also an 80’s fan. But, something tells me that was her song choice. And, as someone who also drives I would never have the music that loud, or even choose the music. The volume and genre are always per my rider’s request.

He had the energy of a driver who had just started their shift and wasn’t thinking yet about the long night ahead. As he helped the passenger get some things out of the back seat another man comes out of the apartment. Older than the taxi driver, but younger than the passenger. He extends his arm to the driver and I’m assuming was paying and/or tipping him. Maybe that’s why the driver seemed so energetic and happy? Maybe it was the tip? Maybe he felt exuberant from his interactions with his passenger? I wondered at what the source of his joy was. It did seem more than happiness. The scenario tasted like genuine joy mixed with a large helping of abandon, with a dash of ignorant bliss. He laughed with the man who came out to meet them as he rounded the hood of his car to get back in and wait on another fare. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

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Alchemizing Our Loads: A Dedication To The Women In My Circle

I am a tree of life but my branches are breaking

And the thought of enforcing boundaries leaves me shaking

I knew this day would come. The catalyst has arrived.

But her appearance is nothing I could have surmised

The cool soil beneath the souls of my feet

This well-worn path formed by my heart beat

Everything! Everything is important to me. My heart wants to hold it all

My wise woman’s words telling me I can’t carry it all or I’ll fall

From an ancient wild forest she emerged from a bank of dew-laden moss

And she says to me “no, my child some of what you’re carrying is dross”

Statuesque with a tall basket upon her own head

She pulls from my load things that I dread

Complex emotions and situations from my past

I hadn’t realized so much had amassed

Ancestral traumas and narratives that defeat

She placed her hands on my own and laid these at my feet

We’re going to the stream she said…there’s cleansing work that needs to be done

We’re going to alchemize your load until your battle is won

Wading out into an emerald green pool

The water so refreshingly cool

Together we reached a briskly swirling eddy

She looked deep into my eyes and asked, “are you ready?’

“Lay your burdens down in the stream and watch them flow away

I’m teaching you how to release through the magic of play”

As I laid my burdens down into the bubbling flow

I felt a rush of tickles on my legs as I watched them go

My consternation gave way to a relieved smile

I looked at the creek bank where there was waiting for me a tiny pile

The wild wise woman began splashing her way back to the shore

I danced in her wake and reveled in her lore

Through her parabolic ways I learned how to discern piece by piece

What to carry close to my heart and what to release

As we stood together on solid ground I gathered to my chest

My lighter load that resembled a nest

Suddenly I noticed I had grown wings

And that they were made up of broken things

This leg of my journey now felt so complete

My energy and joy had become replete

It truly did all work together for my good

The profundity of my strength was being understood

As she walked away the wise woman gazed up to a clear bright sky

As she uttered the words, “and now you know why”

© Cozett Dunn July 25th, 2023

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Cozett Contemplates: Your Write To Heal…

Cozett Contemplates writing to heal trauma…

For trauma survivors it’s hard to feel like you can ever again be fully safe. High-alert is a constant state of being. And, appearing relaxed and “normal” becomes a survival skill.

This has been one of my most honed life skills. I learned early on that to show disquiet…distress…or to speak out…would rock the boat. The fact is, is that when people become uncomfortable…things slow down as they try figure out:

1. What’s wrong with the person who’s upset?
2. How do I feel about what I’m hearing and seeing from this traumatized person?
3. Do I believe what I’m being told by this person?
4. How can I help in ways that won’t disrupt my own life?
5. Should I reach out to others to aid me if I help this person?
6. Are there problems too much for me and should I just keep moving and trust someone else will help?

These are just a few of the processes people sort through when thinking about how to help the traumatized.

As you can see not only are trauma survivors sorting through a lot of emotions and questions but so are those with whom we open to.

Because of all those processes and the time and energy it takes I decided as a child that I wouldn’t seek help. I couldn’t waste energy getting rejected over and over by people who didn’t have the capacity to hold space for me. I needed that energy to keep moving. Because life doesn’t stop. Even for the wounded.

As I’ve sojourned into middle-age and resolved to become more authentic, unapologetic, shameless, proactive, and courageous….I face the challenge that vulnerability brings.

Vulnerability, even for non-traumatized individuals is hard. But, as someone who has known what it is to be stripped bare of any ability to trust and feel safe it is especially…hard. I know I’m not alone with this?

This is the original reason I began to write to begin with. It was never because I thought I was good at it, or because it was a hobby for my free time. It was never because I had writing peers or was part of a book club or even a poetry lover! If you know my poetic soul that may seem surprising. 😆

I began to write because there weren’t enough tears. I couldn’t cry enough to even come close to releasing and processing all I’d been through and was going through.

I had so much pent up pain and agony that I needed the entirety of my being to release and cry as much as I did it just wasn’t cleansing me.

So I took to my keyboard. While hot tears streaked my face the fire of my words set ablaze my laptop and phone screens.

I held nothing back. There was no person who could hold space for me….so I created my own space. Private. Free from scrutiny. And it was as wide and as long and as endless as my pain.

My writing space could hold everything. And therefore it could hold me.

I want to encourage you today, if you’re a trauma survivor to know that even when humans can’t hold space for you…that there is a wide open and endless space available to you that can be curated by and for you.

Maybe you’re not looking to publish but you would like to heal? And you’d like to not do that alone?

I’m offering spaces for you. If you’d like to write to heal…alongside me….I’d be honored to hold, share and lead that space.

Reach out to me if this sounds like something your soul is calling for and together we will create the space for you to be held, seen, understood.

I love you. I really do.

Cozett Dunn

#cozettcontemplates #traumasurvivor #writingtherapy #lifecoach #author #healer #traumahealing #traumarecovery #traumainformed #mentalhealthmatters

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The Energy Of Obligation: First Vacation In 11 years

I just got home from Perdido Key, FL in the US. It was only 4 nights but it’s the first real vacation I’ve had since 2012.

I am…home. But. I experience myself as a citizen of Earth. So, I am here….but will always be….there….and there…and over there as well….

Being in my apartment in Hixson…isn’t my dwelling time. It is a pause to rest then plot my next course. Which could be Thailand, India, Europe, Florida…who knows. All I know….is my soul is nomadic.

My sweet little mamaw told me the other day, “I’m so surprised. Shocked really. You never grew up traveling. We never did any traveling. It seems odd. But, I’m happy for you. I just want you to be safe. You’re braver than I am. Just be careful.”

There are few things in my life that…facilitate….me being able to fully feel any experience other than suffering.

One of those things is travel. It’s the only time I am fully happy. And, because this trip was the first vacation I’ve had since 2012 that I haven’t had to work and respond to calls, emails, texts, and more, I was able to finally release my phone without giving into fear of “letting someone down because I’m not immediately available to them.”

I’ve lived an on-call lifestyle 7 days per week since 2012. Sit with that. It’s emotionally devastating.

The energy of obligation even if you’re not fielding a bunch of calls….still depletes your energy stores, your joy isn’t full, your happiness is laced with dread, and some of my trips were absolutely ruined by customers or clients who chewed me out during vacation.

Sit with that. That’s freakin hard. A single woman who doesn’t have a college education. Who has multiple health issues that won’t allow for a 40 hour per week clock job without getting fired due to chronic conditions. Yet, not sick enough to qualify for any assistance.

The entirety of my life before 44 years old has been quite unkind.

I deserve the next 44 (plus) to make up for every tear I’ve cried, for every panic attack I’ve spiraled out of control, for every ER visit, for every expensive therapy session (that I really couldn’t afford).

I deserve the rest of my time here to make up for every man who has cheated on me, lied to me, compared me to other women, talked down to me, bet against me, body shamed me, mentally and verbally abused me, and abandoned me.

We are more than a social media feed. There are definitive reasons behind the decisions people like me make that do not make sense to, or offend others.

And, for those shortsighted or selfish enough to not think through the possible reasons I am (or you are) not meeting their needs…then maybe they deserve the discomfort of the decision I (or you) made. Maybe my lack of presence (or yours) will be the catalyst they need….to awaken. To understand that just because they are a: client, customer, family member, friend, etc. That their role in your life, whether it be personal or professionally based….does not preclude you from being autonomous….WITHOUT REPERCUSSION.

Because, let’s face it. When someone “punishes” you or myself by taking away their business, or freezing you out of the family or a friendship….that is in a nutshell….manipulation. An intentional willingness that gets off on causing those with less leverage in this life….to suffer.

More on this some other time. But, I’ve said all of that to say this…personal power is a right. And just because you enjoying your autonomy makes someone uncomfortable or feel some kind of way…is no sign that you have to betray yourself in an effort to keep them approving of you.

So much more is coming. Stay tuned.

Cozett Contemplates

#cozettcontemplates #thecatalystpodcast #autonomy #personalpower #relationshiprevolution #travel #travelblogger #traveltheroad #thejourney #lifepath #perdidokey #perdidokeyflorida #pensacola #sunset

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The Haunting Resonance Of The Grit: Grungy Motels And Why I Can’t Resist Them

Traveling is one of my greatest passions. There has yet to be a greater rush for me that confirms I am indeed alive.

Travel challenges me. It is an epic (and I mean this in the literal sense of the word) vehicle for shadow work, soul-searching, and, self-discovery. The profundity I encounter is always trajectory shifting. Mind-blowing. Salvific. Paradigm shattering. And, oh soooooo endearingly sweet.

I do mostly solo travel, and if there is 1 regret I have from this, it is that I have these most profound moments alone. I live my life nearly entirely unwitnessed. And while my life isn’t opulent (yet), it is worthy of being witnessed. I’ve transformed and moved through some pretty awe-inspiring shit. I want so much for someone to see it with me. See….me with me. See the grit and feel it with me so that I can tell my stories about the black grainy gravel that made its home beneath my fingernails for a while.

I want to share how and why I find such a haunting and somewhat macabre peace when I stay in a dirty, shady motel. For one thing….the energetic imprints in these types of motels are downloaded onto my psyche like an old school record and needle. By feeling the grooves, I hear the song. It’s like preternatural braille. The imprints tell me their stories without words or any sort of audio. I seem to somehow “know” and “feel with” the room I stay in and the lobby I occasionally venture into.

Would I prefer to be in an all-inclusive 5-star resort?? You betcha. But I don’t yet feel a resonance with that atmosphere. I suppose that’s because I’ve always fluctuated between lower middle class and poverty. But, for the sake of adventure, I hope that will soon change so I can know what it feels like to resonate with the opulence and unadulterated relaxation that I actually need.

At any rate, I wanted to share a picture of where I am tonight. March 13th, 2023, at 12:42 am. I am at the Super 8 Wyndham motel in College Park, GA. Hartsfield-Jackson is adjacent. And I have been plane spotting while here. That is another rush for me. I can’t get enough of lift-offs. I find resonance in them as well. More on that some other time.

But this motel….it’s rough, hahaha. I saw a 10 year old boy across the street at Food Mart dealing drugs. I have just begun writing this post after calling on the angels for him. But, 10 years old. Wow. I was around drugs but thankfully wasn’t doing or dealing them at that age. There’s always someone who’s had it worse. Perspective.

I can’t resist these places because when I walk in and I see how the rooms are half dilapidated and should be condemned but it also looks like some upgrades have begun….it is my mirror. Half-dilapidated yet under construction. Hints of mildew in rusted showers. Carpet that smells like mango perfume but makes the bottom of your feet look like you’ve stepped in soot. A king sized bed wrapped in so many cases and sheets with decent pillows yet when you lie in it you find yourself rolling to one side because it has some weird hump in the middle that isn’t visible but can be felt once you’re stretched across it.

But, the mirror looks new. The mini fridge works. And the night stands look new. In the words of William, The Worm, in the movie, “Labyrinth,” “Oh,well. Close enough.” It is in that spirit I exhale in the darkness that now surrounds me knowing that although I’m in a strange and gritty place, I’m also in a place that feels familiar. And, even though this motel gets 2 stars with one review stating a guest left because as they were checking they encountered an Atlanta Homicide team and on their way back to their car walked past a coroner vehicle, there is strangely still comfort in familiarity. An understanding. And of course…this unwitnessed moment that no one will ever see….but me.

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