When I receive feedback that is not only positive, I can tend to lose it. It is so humbling to remember who I am; to remember that I am human. I am a human being with limitations and I am not perfect. When I receive feedback that is not only positive, it helps me to grow. It helps me to learn how to listen and to be open to the world. When I receive feedback and lose it, it is because I have been living the illusion that I am perfect. Rationally we know, nobody's perfect, right? But that doesn't mean that I live it. I live by illusions every day and though it sucks when they come crashing down, I kind of love it.

After receiving this feedback today, I jumped up in my head. I started thinking of the ways I could be right, the ways I could discount this feedback (from someone who I deeply respect and am deeply grateful for), and ways in which I could avoid my feelings of fear and shame. Finally, finally, I sat down with a cup of tea in the sun and breathed. It wasn't easy to hang out with such strong feelings; feelings I know have ultimately nothing to do with this feedback. They were old. As I sat, I continued to jump up in my thinking mind that was causing me to feel very lost. Then, all of sudden I heard from within, get your butt up. I literally felt a presence pushing my butt out of my favorite rocking chair seat that I had no desire or intention to leave. There I was, walking down my street with my cup of tea in my hand. I walked all over the neighborhood with tea spilling out of my cup as I bounced along. God wanted me in my feet, it is just that simple. My breathing led me back to my body. And like John O'Donohue, my Irish philosopher friend now on the Other Side says, the body knows it belongs. It knows where home is because it is home for this short time we are here on earth.

When I returned home, I still needed more time to remember that I belong and that I am loved, so I took my worries to the dance floor. As I spun, stomped and glided across the floor, tears slid down my face. Tears of gratitude. Tears of remembering. As I danced I found myself repeating out loud the words "You belong to me." Over and over, until they all jumbled together. That was God reminding me to whom I belong. The belonging comes from my breathing feet. This is where I remember who I am. It is from this place of true identity that I can allow the words that I receive from others whom I trust to help me to grow. I remember that my unfolding, my growing, is what I am here for. It is not about finding the perfect posture and staying in it. Life is moving. Breath is flowing and my body reminds me of that.