I'm not a garden composter I'm a tapping expert, but I do compost old beliefs, relationships, experiences and feelings which helps me and my clients learn and grow. It takes nature a while to break down tree branches, leaves, grass and other debris into a new, usable, recycled material. Green compost like grass clippings and green stuff helps speed the composting process to a few months. Trees can take 4-5 years! To hasten the composting of big materials, Nitrogen and other fertilizers can be added.
Tapping, added to the compost of old memories, beliefs and experiences, can speed the change process dramatically. Tree branches and other materials slow to compost are like experiences of early childhood adversity, trauma and long term mental health tendencies such as depression, anxiety, anger, grief and loss. When working in tandem with a healthcare provider, tapping is an incredible accelerator in the change process. For the PTSD and anxiety that I habitually experienced, talk therapy was a pressure release valve. But I was never able to completely compost the experiences down into a new organic mass until I learned how to tap. Those tree branches just wouldn't break down!
I was patient with my pile of debris. Please be patient with yours. Now, the compost of my past has turned into rich soil teeming with life, and I am able to confidently handle strong emotion. Today I was on a Zoom call and as the speaker shared his story, I laughed and cried and identified with him intently. I did "finger tapping" as emotions rose, (that's where you tap on the nail bed of each finger) to interrupt the strong feelings at hand. Here's a quick demo on how to do it. https://www.facebook.com/tapoutstress/videos/2578240832442403/ This is easy to do in the moment when emotions run high. So as grief rose to the surface, my throat choked up and tears sprung. I got off the call when it ended. I considered hanging up early and not "going there," not feeling. But that's not what I do now. My soil is rich and I am capable and confident. "I can handle strong feelings from the past," I reminded myself. How?
I paused. "What are you grieving?" I asked myself. "How old are you sweetie?" A little five year old Mary popped into my head, so I knew it was an early childhood memory. I asked what had made her so very sad. "That was my story," she said. "They were sarcastic and mean and it hurt when they made fun of me. Not all the time, but I never knew when it would happen. I ran away inside so I was safe." That was my little poppy shooting up from the compost pile of my past, like author Natalie Goldberg describes in Writing Down the Bones. She writes:
"Often I will stab many times at something I want to say...I attempted
several times a month to write about my father dying. I was exploring
and composting the material. Then suddenly, I can't say how, in December
I sat transfixed at the Croissant Express in Minneapolis and a long poem
about the subject poured out of me. All the disparate things I had to say
were suddenly fused with energy and unity--a bright red tulip shot out of
the compost."
How's your compost breaking down today and what flower is popping out of the rich learnings from your past?
