If you’ve spent time with me throughout the seasons (especially the chilly months) you’ll know I have a thing for hats. I also have a particular fondness for the Mad Hatter character in “Alice in Wonderland.” Perhaps it’s our similar infatuation with head coverings. Or maybe the casting of Tim Burton’s rendition starring Johnny Depp has something to do with it? I’m sure it’s both, but I’ll lean towards Mr. Depp anytime. In this version of “A in W” the Hatter says to Alice, “You’ve lost your muchness.” I love this line. Have you lost yours?
I think we all lose track of our muchness sometimes. I’ll be trotting along with the courage of some wild, feathered peacock – powered by uninhibited inspiration when all of the sudden I freeze mid leap. I’m surrounded by a toxic fog of fear. Fear is totally irrational. Most fears don’t even come pre-packaged with a because. Fears burn into our thoughts like radioactive particles attempting to exterminate the endorphins in our brain. They wear many costumes and have automatic play-back on phrases like: “They’ll never hire me.” “I’m worthless.” “I’ll never find love.” Fear is a paralyzing nothingness that disguises itself as a great and powerful something-ness. It’s like the Wizard of Oz hiding behind the curtain when really he’s just a spineless, little man who (by George) can’t turn a horse purple without a can of Krylon.
When confronted by the Hatter as per her muchness, Alice begins to remember her father and his habit of dreaming six impossible things before breakfast. By the end of the film Alice dreams her own six impossible things. It seems the six impossibles are a ticket on the express train to one’s own muchness. This morning I wrote six impossible things before I devoured a good bowl of cereal. Tomorrow I will write six more and the day after that and the day after that. It was exhilarating allowing myself to burst through the barriers of ‘reality.’ Writing six impossible things allows you to bound from multi-colored cloud to cloud, soaring along to the most cosmic music you’ve ever heard while tasting root beer floats and warm chocolate chip cookies simultaneously. It’s like nothing else. Go wild; go crazy. Write the first six things that come to your awareness. No barriers; no mind. (I love that line in the “Last Samurai” – no mind.) There’s no need to over think things that are dubbed “impossible.”
I recently started the “Artists Way” again. It’s a book by Julia Cameron known as A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. I think this will be my 3rd time through the book. I love this book. I’ve given it to several of my friends and recommended it to more – and now to you! Julia Cameron teaches the importance of writing morning pages. Three pages of brain drain in the morning – first thing. For lack of a better explanation it’s like letting your mind throw-up on paper. She describes it as getting all those interrupting thoughts (or, as I like to call them – the gremlins in your brain jumping up and down for attention) out of the way. Get the thoughts on paper and then don’t look at them again. There’s no purpose in looking back at pages filled with fear (and mounting to-do lists.) Once you’ve cleared them away, you’re free to create and to dream and to think positively!
You can take those fears that appear in your pages and turn them into affirmations. Affirmations are positive declarations that affirm the good you want in your life. It’s best to put the affirmations in the present tense. Here’s an example:
Fear: “I’ll never find love.”
Affirmation: “I am a good person; I deserve love. I am a loving person; I share my love and love returns back to me. I am loved.”
Affirmations will become addicting and exciting! They make you see your fears as the little pretenders they are and give you the freedom and fuel to dream “the impossible dream(s).” I encourage you to try it. Try a little positive thinking; dream up six impossible things before breakfast. If you need a little help, drain the brain of the gremlin talk first so you can get to the good stuff. Then greet the day with your muchness intact.
Have you lost your muchness? I think not! Maybe it’s hiding, but deep down you know the truth of the matter – you’re something special. Heck, push that cereal bowl aside and get up on your kitchen table, just you and your muchness, and do the Futterwacken dance. You’ll see all your fears fade into (what?) – let me hear you say it! – nothingness. Salute and celebrate your something-ness.
(photo credit: Cathryn Lynne Photography)