Carl, the protagonist of the Championship Trilogy I’m working on, is two months away — book time — from losing his father to sudden onset cancer. Carl senses lurking forboding energy, but he’s focusing on his father getting better, so he ignores it. I’m the writer. I know how the plot goes. I’m also a Family Legacy Release Worker, and I’ve discovered for every page I write, I have to increase my inner release work to allow the characters room to move beyond my parameters. So, the death of a father is on the board for further ShakeOut.
Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven, is an excellent place to start. I type the name into the search bar and click on a YouTube forward triangle. The tender opening notes slow down my vibration, and I am sitting next to my mother at the old upright piano in my childhood home. She frequently played and sang on Saturday mornings between breakfast and chores. The death of a father is complex, a terrible tangle of apprehension and bewilderment in my experience. The few times he joined the family at the piano or sang in church, my mother dismissively silenced him for being off-key. There were many things I learned not to be: Don’t jounce your leg, don’t sing if you can’t sing on-key, don’t be so meek, stand up for yourself, and because of these terrible traits, divorce and being kicked from your home are reasonable.
My father struggled to fit in a world, alternatively welcoming him and spitting him out. When he laid down the life baton, I picked it up and continued the trek into inner release as a ticket for fitting in with myself and finding the strength to communicate with others without losing my even keel. The piano notes give ache wings, and the searching chords untangle knotted heart strings. My muted pain is alive, authentic, an honest expression of common hurt due to not fitting in, detrimental masking, meltdowns, and lash-outs, riding an uncontrollable wave without reins.
The Championship Trilogy protagonist, Carl Ramirez, is also bewildered by his relationship with his father. He lugs around guilt for not having been the son his father wanted, another common experience. But, he knows to go directly for psoas familiarity, understanding the core floor is the best seat in the house. I didn’t know anything about the psoas most of my l.ife, and when I learned the name, I still didn’t pay much mind. Carl is fortunate. He works at FLASH Theme Park, where avatars are replacing the virtual reality prototypes with muscle organization and vibration energetic readouts. The trekkers will be more directly connected to the avatar experience through ups and down, from anxiety to feat to anchored and safe. He fits into a community where inner release is the norm and story content and data are prized.
I return to the present moment, air playing the piano notes and chords with vigor, renewal, and tender joy. The writer is back! I’m ready to sit at the desk and do the next section of my job.