Thalassa Consulting LLC

03/16/2023

https://conta.cc/3ljFSMZ

A more spacious way to live   Making room for our stories   Self Compassion There’s an old story about a Hebrew poet/political activist. He had been spending all of his timing dreaming of what the nat

03/06/2023

https://conta.cc/3L0DEwt

You don't want to miss this.     Moving from Empathy to Compassion Empathy, empathy, empathy. Aren’t we all supposed to be flipping Brene Browns, or, Counselor Trois (if you’re an aging nerd like I am

12/23/2022

Greetings all, I'm looking out at a winter wonderland and am wondering how many folks planned ahead or find themselves scrambling...and now contending with an icy mix? Planning obviously doesn't bend the future to your will, but it's vital to get as clear as possible on who you are, what you are feeling summoned to in the year ahead, and to think through as many details as possible. I'm offering a free, 1.5 hour workshop on zoom next Thursday, December 29th at 1 PM EST/10 AM PST. Send me a PM if you'd like to attend.

10/31/2022

As an internal family systems informed coach- I sometimes help people understand the various parts that drive them. Most powerful, though, is creating the space for people to connect with Self- our beautiful, inexhaustibly creative souls that cannot be damaged. When we are connected with Self, there is little we cannot do.

Recently I learned this amazing plant, Ferula drudeana, was thought to be extinct but has been found flourishing in Turkey. Sometimes we lose touch with our best selves, but our deep Self is always there, patiently waiting for us to reconnect. I wrote this as a reminder to myself to keep growing and deepening even when I feel, at times, unsure of the path.

Finding Our Way After It's Been A While

Ferula drudeana
Ancient silphium
Worth your weight
In gold

Apollo’s gift
Nero’s meal
Once dead
Now alive

Genius of hiding
Like sun
Behind clouds
You thrived

Even when
No one
Your presence
Could sense

Healer’s choice
Aphrodesiac and contraceptive
(How convenient)
Perfume and spice

After Rome
We lost touch
And left you
For dead

Except one
Cappadocian holdout
Survived now spreading
Out in fields

Too thick
To see through
Too many
To count.

Life abundant
Overflowing
Ferula
Drudeana

04/20/2021

One of the strange things about trauma is how a part of us stays present to the pain we endured even as the rest of our awareness is trying to move on. And it's amazing we're able to do this, by the way- kids need fed and work still has to get done. But that part of us that's hurt is still there inside of us waiting to be seen and heard.

It reminds me of the story of Hiroo Onoda. He was the last soldier left fighting WW2. He was abandoned on Lubang, an island in the Philippines. He was told not to kill himself if the Americans invade but to fight until the Imperial army comes. He did...an amazing job. He survived on coconuts, bananas, and stolen rice for thirty years. It was only when a young, crazy Japanese kid named Norio Suzuki went looking for "Onoda, a panda bear, and the abominable snowman, in that order" did the outside world connect with him. Through their strange friendship Onoda was able to lay down his rifle and rejoin the world. This is what we do in trauma work- we make connection with the parts of ourselves that are still fighting even though the old wars ended a long, long time ago.

The poem is framed in a Tanka structure, an early and common Japanese poetic form. It's similar to haiku, but the syllabic structure is 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. It seemed fitting. 🙃

Hiroo’s Journey

“They have done really well to stay alive this long.” -Prime Minister Junichero Koizumi on his desire to bring Onoda back home if he is found alive.

Hiroo Onoda
Hero of Wakayama
Told to never quit
Left for deep jungle
When planes invaded Lubang.

Born from samurai
Trained to see his enemies’
Lies, he carried on
Fighting a war that had been
Over for thirty, tired years.

Leaflets, a strange snow
Falling on Onoda’s deaf
Ears, practice bombs proof
That the war wasn’t over
Out there and he had to fight.

Then Suzuki came
Searching for a panda bear,
This last warrior,
And a mythical snowman
And somehow he made contact.

Curiosity
His bayonet, Suzuki
Did not come to fight
But to learn about the plight
Of this soldier time forgot.

It is an iron
Law: you cannot change someone
That you do not love
We each have an animal
Inside who kept us alive

Who is still fighting
Having received no contact
From the outside world
That the old wars have ended
And a delicious world waits.

Do not be unkind
To this beast who breathes inside-
She kept you alive
Now it’s time to say: “Thank you.”
“You’re safe. It’s time to come home.”

12/31/2020

The creator of sociology, Emile Durkheim, coined the term anomie (from ancient Greek literally meaning lawlessness) to describe the fundamentally chaotic and out of control nature of the universe around us. In response to this anomie Durkheim believed we created culture and religion- these thick stories that provide at least some organization to the craziness around us. 2020 definitely woke us up not only to the power of anomie but also to the limits of these stories we tell ourselves.

The work of our lives is discover who it is we have always been but have not quite yet become.

Anomie

When you are
born you must
figure out how
to breathe, how
to open up

your young eyes
and see the
world around. No
one can do
this for you.

When you die
you will have
to discover your
own way to
slip away, fade
to gray, and

no one can
do this in
your stead. Nothing
can spare you
from that crystalline,

singular moment when
you find yourself
stepping out of
who you were,
who you have

been, what you
have done, ending
what you have
only just now
begun to understand.

I’ve seen this.
Each of
us is thrust
into anomie- a
panoply of possibility

so overwhelmingly free
we spin stories
to keep the
chaos at bay,
create sacred canopies

to bridle our
way, preferring cruel
crafted gods and
worm theologies of
shame to the

only work that
matters: discovering the
sound and shape
of our secret
one true name.

A flame to
to warm you
with delight on
even the coldest
and emptiest night.

12/18/2020

One of the ways I made it through this last year was by noticing when I was losing myself in pain over the past or anxiety over the future and allowing myself to come back into the present moment. Only in the present moment are we able to focus on and be grateful for all that we are and have. We spend so much time in "then"- but we're only fully alive right now.

This Moment

Stop. Don’t fly
away towards a
future that has
not been yet

and will be
different than the
fever mad calamities
you have catastrophized.

Release the past.
Surrender your claim
to the title
of Worst Person

In the World.
You had your
own reasons-
your own ways

of surviving that
long, angry season
you were never
made to endure.

Stop. Rest. Breathe,
and sink into
the chair now
graciously holding you.

Pause. Be still.
And be borne
again on the
firm ground beneath

your feet. Know
in this moment
there’s nothing else.
The past is

gone. The future
will unfold far
beyond your ability
to control. The

only thing you
have; the only
thing you need
is right here,

this punctiliar point
in time that
never was nor
will be again-

and faintly sings:
you are enough.
You are enough.
You are enough.

11/25/2020

I am a logophile- a lover of words. A fun one- incanabula...sometimes appearing as incunabulum in English. It literally means the earliest traces or stages of something. (The word can also refer to early books printed before 1501.) Incanabula is what we feel when we experience a new beginning.

The thing with new beginnings...they don't generally happen by themselves. It takes some act of courage on our part. It takes staring into the void of a blank canvas or calling someone you dread speaking with...only after you leap into the unknown does the new start begin to take shape.

What new path is calling to you?

Incunabula

Tear out the paper.
Crush it into a ball
and throw it away.
If you miss the basket
leave it on the floor.
You are starting over.
There is no time
to waste.

Stop the conversation.
Interrupt yourself.
You’ve rehearsed this scene
a thousand times before
always ending in ruin.
Stop it. Start over.
Say something new
or say nothing at all.

Set down the screens.
Turn off the music.
Put down the bottle.
And feel
the scattered
weight of not knowing
what to think or write
or say or do next.

Expect confusion.
Anticipate chaos,
and welcome feeling
lost with open arms.
It is only when you are truly lost
that you can begin
to discover who it is
you have really been all along.

Nothing
is
certain.
Everything
is
possible.
Start
over.