Marion Rose

“I want to show you what I’m capable of”

Jul 1, 2020 | Conversation with Life

 

It was summer 1998, and my 30th birthday.

 

I’d planned three days of festivities with friends from all different parts of my life up until then – childhood neighbours, school, London University, Cambridge University, Exeter University, Psychosynthesis friends, and local friends from Totnes, Devon.

 

It was Saturday night, and the big 60’s/70’s/80’s themed dance party. My then-husband and I were into House music at the time, and there were smoke machines and all the things.

 

My favourite song of the time came on, by Camisra, and I ran across to the dance floor, shouting, “I LOVE this song!”

 

Here are the words:

 

“Let me show you what I’m capable of
Honey, would you just give me the chance…”

 

A few seconds after I arrived on the dance floor, the music stopped and the lights went out.

 

The smoke machine had set off the alarm system and turned off all the power. I felt so upset and powerless. That was the end of the party.

 

I knew at the time that it was a message from Life. I was desperate for people to let me show them what I was capable of.

 

I had a Ph.D. from Cambridge University and had worked as a Post-Doc Fellow whilst training and working as a Psychosynthesis Psychotherapist. At 30, I was working as a University Lecturer on The Therapeutic Relationship and as a psychotherapist in private practice.

 

Yet I knew that I wasn’t really showing what I was capable of. My internal dialogue was harsh, and my belief in my capability was minimal.

 

The power turning off as I was trying to dance to that song was a clear demonstration to me of how I wasn’t showing what I was capable of.

 

It wasn’t until years later, and lots of inner work later, that I realised more of what was going on.

 

The song wasn’t saying, “I want to show you what I’m capable of,” (or even, “I’m going to show you what I’m capable of.”)

 

The lyrics were: “Let me show you what I’m capable of. Honey, would you just give me the chance.”

 

I was waiting for others to “let me” or “give me the chance;” it was there that I was giving my power away.

 

My 30th birthday was the biggest experience I’d had up until that time of seeing how clearly my own self-relationship was showing up in the world.

 

At the time I knew roughly how to read the message, but I didn’t really know where to go from there. I didn’t understand how I was communicating with Life, nor did I experience Life as helping me.

 

22 years on, and I have learnt a lot about being a part of the Conversation with Life. And I am willing to keep on learning for the rest of my life.

 

I experience Life as being deeply loving and compassionate; always there to help me on my journey.

 

Much of the time the Conversations with Life are enjoyable, or awe-inspiring, like when the black cockatoos flew low overheard this morning as I was talking with Mary Walker this morning as we prepare for The Room: a place for Conversations with Life.

 

Sometimes the Conversation inspires me to chuckle, since Life seems to have a sense of humour; even, like yesterday, in a client session where we were literally in hysterical laughter in response to the message that appeared.

 

And sometimes, I feel frustrated or shocked when the messages arrive, like when my oven door shattered last week.

 

But the beauty is, I know how I am a part of the Conversation. I know that my attending to the messages, taking note and making my own internal and external shifts communicates back to Life.

 

I’m reminded of Rilke’s words:

 

“How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.”

 

The paradox at my party was that I wasn’t powerless to express my capability.

 

I was simply waiting for someone else to give me the opportunity.

 

I had the power all along.

 

Just like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.

 

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” is what I would hear now.

 

The Room with Mary Walker and I is opening any day now! Keep an ear out, if you’re interested in joining!