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My racket, as most rackets, was created by some act of stupidity. The natural stupidity of a 3-year old.
I did the 4-day Forum back in 1987… and I learned about racket. Or maybe it was later? In a later incarnation for the Forum? Does it matter? I learned about it when I learned about it… long time ago.
It seemed to me that every complaint is a different racket, and I wasn’t alone with that. Everyone thought that.
Staff members’ favorite slight to each other and participants was: ‘That is just a racket!’ pronounced in a tone designed to diminish you.
Then 1991, in an integrity seminar we were given an assignment to create a purpose for our lives, by standing a big complaint, the complaint of our lives on its head.
My complaint was: I am always in trouble, always in peril, never a dull moment. That was the complaint of my life. And my attitude was: resentment.
Looking back, I could have noticed then that that was my racket, but I am looking now… and I can hear the sniggling in the belly area. That is the racket laughing at me. My racket.
So back to how it was born.
I was born unwanted. My mother didn’t want my father, didn’t want me, but you just had to look at my mother and she would get pregnant.
But I was born, a preemie, and I was left in the hospital. By the time the hospital released me they settled into life without me, so I was an upset again. My brother was upset (2 years older) because I got all the attention: I was a tiny, sickly baby, requiring frequent feeding, and I threw up all the time.
I was in a hostile environment. I bet at least two of the family was dreaming of throwing me to the dogs… lol.
I was wondering what was wrong… but I was still preverbal.
At almost age two, still pre-verbal, my mother was supposed to go somewhere with me, but I could not keep up with her, she walked with a long stride, and my knitted bootied feet could not keep up with her. She left me in the street.
Obviously someone picked me up, because I remained in the same family.
At age 3 my mother gave birth to another baby, but the baby died… she was preemie too. I decided that I must have killed her somehow, because they didn’t take me to the funeral.
At age 3 and a half my nanny took me to her village. It was her summer vacation time, and she took me with her, to let my mother have some peace.
When we arrived to the village there was some feast going on, pigs being killed, chickens, and festivities. I found myself alone, and lost.
It was becoming night, and I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t know where my nanny was.
A man approached, dark suit, white shirt, open collar, black hat. He reached down his hand. I grabbed it, and thought ‘Goodie. I was found! yay’ and happily walked with him.
He lead me to a barn, threw me in the hay, and hurt me.
The next morning the villagers surrounded me and there was a lot of hoo and hah… My nanny washed me up, and we went back to the capital where we lived. I remember the wooden slats of the train seat hurting my butt.
My mother listened to my nanny’s story, looked at me with disgust, turned away and said ‘kurva’. It is slut or whore in English.
Oh, that is why they don’t want me… whatever that means.
When I got to school age at age seven, I couldn’t see the blackboard, I couldn’t read what was on the page, so I got a new name: ‘stupid’. ‘hülye’ in Hungarian, that means more imbecile than stupid, but it won’t matter.
I didn’t find out that I was seriously dyslexic until much much later, two master’s degrees later and thousands of books devoured later.
I went to Israel first. I was interrogated for eight hours before I was allowed to stay. My parents were founding members of the Hungarian communist party (was really socialist party, but that was really just a name) and my ex boyfriend had a high position in the Hungarian intelligence service… so I could have been a spy. Hungary and Israel weren’t on good terms. Hungary is deeply antisemitic. Maybe even more than the Germans.
Anyway, I went to Israel because I had a distant relative there who promised that his family will be my family, but after a week, at his wife’s demand, they asked me to leave.
I promptly broke my foot… maybe that wasn’t an accident either. A few winters earlier I broke my other foot, back in Hungary, just after my quit my corporate job and was starting out as an independent architect. Of course I was fired from that contract, given that I could not walk for a while.
I was either fired from jobs I had, or I quit… I was rootless, and ‘not wanted’ everywhere I went.
I always felt at peril, the next tragedy was just around the corner.
When I look back, I engineered every singly incident, or more accurately said: my racket engineered them with my willing cooperation.
After that 1991, when my new life purpose became: ‘Living on the edge, generating distinctions of transformation for humankind’ I was at least able to see my role in the turns of events, and at least not complain: instead keep my eyes open, and see what I can see on the very edge… while falling… almost falling… having fallen…
There is a lot to see.
We could say that that purpose has turned a lot of my life around, but we would be mistaken.
I was still engineering ‘on the edge’ situations, with real regularity, where I can lose all my money, my freedom, my everything. And I’ll probably never be not doing that… but the frequency has become bearable.
What happened?
I read two books called The Art of Soaring, and The Power of Luck. I used the magical technique of renaming on myself, and got myself a new identity: I am the one for whom my mother makes black currant preserves.
Because it went to the core of the issue, to the seed level, the self-sabotaging incidents have become a rarity. And I recover a whole to faster, without much drama.
I had one big one this year… won’t share if you don’t mind, but it could have been tragic. But I took it in stride, and it became just a blip, a pebble on the road. I skirted being thrown out once. I also had some health blips, all self-inflicted. The racket doesn’t stop working… don’t even dream about it. Just know that it’s the racket, stop running it and you’ll be well.
So what was the lesson?
The lesson was, really, that none of it is about me. And that if I keep my head and look before I leap, I can be safe, well, and prosperous.
PS: A student of mine asked whether a person can have more than one racket.
Although each complaint seems to be a racket on their own right, there is only one machine can occupy and run a person’s life… so there is only one racket, and many different ‘moves’ of that same racket.
For example, the person who was told ‘get out of here’ as a 3-year old will fight being left, thrown out, fired, etc. and they will leave instead… It is still the same racket.
They will make themselves a pest by demanding attention, love, instead of doing something useful with their lives, getting busy, etc. They will risk being thrown out, threaten to leave… etc. Whether it’s a job or a relationship, it has to be a drama… similar to mine, and yet different.
I turned my lemon into lemonade… in an unusual move, at the request of a seminar. Without that I probably would still be completely useless for myself and for others.
Back in 2012 when I read those Soaring books, I turned around and taught it to my students. I still have the recordings.
This coming Saturday, and then once a month I will teach a new magical move in The Soaring Method live course, so you can start living your life as a magician, and magically alter your future by altering who you are inside, from moment to moment.
It’s a workshop, once a month, and then four weeks of hand holding in email coaching. It can totally change your life. As long as you remember that you are a magician, life can change for you, including illnesses, even serious ones, like the Big C.
Because, believe it or not, you are very powerful. You have made every bad prediction come to fruition in your life, no matter who you blame. You did it.
I did it just like you… before I learned to be a magician. Today I remember I am a magician more days than not… and my life is smooth and enjoyable. My relationships are stable and enjoyable. My work is fun and profitable.
That is what’s possible for you if you are a magician and you remember it.
Go to step 2
OK, and here is a bonus: Listening to me walking on the edge, risking falling off… on one of my Freedom Course calls:
Here is the link to the audio in my mobile App.
Open the link in your smartphone. Don’t worry, if you don’t already have an account the app will lead you through the process, so you can have it.
This audio is not available anywhere else. You’ll laugh or be mortified… your choice. lol.
