Several months ago, a client showed up for our Zoom session with his Durga shirt on. He told me, “This is my Durga shirt and I’m wearing it for you!”
I had no idea who Durga was. I shared this and he spared not a moment delighting me with tales of the Hindu Goddess of “creative destruction” (as he put it).
She rides a tiger.
She has many arms carrying weapons.
As Wikipedia says:
“She is the warrior goddess…combating evils and demonic forces that threaten peace, prosperity and dharma of the good. She is the fierce form of the protective mother goddess, willing to unleash her anger against wrong, violence for liberation and destruction to empower creation.”
I mean, how could I argue with my client, who wanted me to bring my inner Durga to this session?
Isn’t that part of what you want in a coach, someone who will protect your creative vision, and help you destroy that which stands in your way as you pursue it?
Of course it is.
High on my goddess trip, I got to thinking about creative destruction and my clients. Every client, every single one, has to destroy the present in order to create the future.
- Quit the job.
- End the bad relationship.
- Move out of the house.
- Leave the city, the state and sometimes the country.
Everyone takes big, bold creative action to achieve their goal, like:
- Get a better job.
- Get a better paying job.
- Get a job where you work half as many hours.
- Create space for motherhood.
- Create space to be the father I want to be.
- Create space to connect with my partner.
- Work on myself so that I can find the right partner this time.
My clients destroy so that they can create.
Wondering how I’m going to tie in my breasts? Here we go.
I am a firm believer in different phases of life. I find great relief and release recognizing that every state is impermanent and perfect in it’s own way.
Just yesterday, a client was lamenting that her next job wouldn’t be her dream job. Perhaps not, but it’s exactly the right job for the right moment. Your dream job at 12 is different from the dream at 25, 45, or 65. The dream changes as you change. The dream is not finite; in fact it is infinite.
I had an extended young adulthood. Where other women may marry and have children at 18-25 years of age, I waited until 40. That gave me a good long time to live an independent life, and I enjoyed it.
Now, as I edge closer to 50 with three young children and a near-adult stepchilid, I’m in a very different phase of life. I’m nesting. I spend my energy bringing other people into the world.
Which brings me to my breasts.
The other day, my five year old daughter took a good long look at my breasts, which she calls mimis and said, “Mom, your mimis are small now. They used to be big, and now they are small.”
This is true. Her brother, who is six, added, “They are small mom. They are like deflated balloons.”
We were eating breakfast. I looked over to my husband, who turned his back to me so I couldn’t see his face. His body was shaking, so I knew he was laughing and trying not to show it.
My son continued, “When they were filled with milk, they were big and then we drank the milk. And then we got big. And now there is no more milk and they are small. They’re flat and deflated.”My daughter added, “They’re the same size as my mimi’s!”
What is more creative destruction than the annihilation of this woman’s breasts after nursing three children for five years? I destroyed the buoyant breast and I made people. I yielded that perky piece of me that attracted mates and fed babies.
And now, I need big firm breasts like I need…like I need…another partner and another baby. Which is to say I don’t need or want them at all.
Creative destruction. I destroyed my breasts and created new lives. It’s a trade I feel pretty good about. Destroy, create; destroy, create.
What have you destroyed to create?
What can you destroy right now?Summer is almost over — nature’s about to get her destruction on, of course not before that final blaze of glory. She creates, she destroys and we bear witness.
I’d love to hear some destruction stories when you have a minute.
Love,
Allison
