Writing Around the Table Using My Centres of Intelligence

Diana Reyers
Jul 24, 2021
3 min read

Updated: May 24, 2022

Diana Reyers, Founder of Daring to Share Global™

Combining all 3 Centres of Intelligence to self-guide through life and on the page is a delicate dance that takes an amplified level of self-awareness. Twelve years ago, I discovered that I used my thinking centre most of the time, leaving my physical and emotional centres on the sidelines. They were definitely there, waiting to jump in, but I ignored them, not realizing how critical they are as authentic guides. I learned that if I incorporate all 3 centres, I not only lead a more authentic life but I write more genuinely, and I become more inspired as I tap into how I truly feel.

I was definitely challenged this week, having had a fall last Sunday morning with significant injuries. I feel so fortunate that I didn't break anything, only being left with some painful bruising and swelling.

I wrote about some pretty personal stuff this time around, with my main focus on articulating how my extended family's dynamics have influenced who I am today in both favourable and detrimental ways. I believe that before I became aware of what was happening, I was following a path of destruction, becoming someone I was not very proud of and who would subsequently influence her children in becoming the same. Traits of narcissism were bubbling up, and by the age of 30, along with the birth of my first child, I recognized how they could destroy my soul: it took another decade to discover that I had the power to choose another way of being. I chose to keep safe the complimentary attributes of my fore-mothers, and discard the uncomplimentary ones - not an easy task, which in the end, took decades to manage.

I also went back to my previous chapters and added more description writing about people and experiences. This chapter also includes some historic mentions, and familial stories around World War II. I feel this adds more context to the characters and what they went through and felt, as well as why they and I became who we did.

Following is an excerpt from Around the Table: Daring to Share My Perception

Even through the war, my Oma went to church at six o’clock every morning before anyone else got up. My mother told me it was her time to reflect with God before beginning a long day of running a large household. At the end of the week, she and Opa took the family to church for Sunday mass. They were devout God-loving, God-fearing Catholics who taught their children to be the same. When I was young, I was taught that trusting and following God’s word automatically translated into love and peace for all. However, this confused me because sometimes I experienced that tranquility in the company of my mother’s sisters, but I also discovered that God has no control over the dissonance created when jealousy rears its ugly head. They were all led by God, but harmony took a back seat on many occasions.

As adults, whether in Holland or Canada, my mother’s brothers and sisters all appeared to get along when they got together at birthday parties and reunions or to play cards or spend the day at the beach, but I heard some horrible arguments woven in between all that allegiance. Most of the sisters talked behind each other’s backs and had long-term feuds with one another. I listened to their endless bickering for so many years that it became a part of my normal daily living. They always managed to carry on as if nothing ever happened – the word sorry was used sparingly and disingenuously and only when they were caught in the discomfort of a lie and the possibility of having to admit their wrongs – apologizing was a last resort, a desperate attempt to escape the admittance of guilt. They were brought up to repent their sins, and they may have done so in the private secrecy of the confessional, but their egos dissuaded them to admit discretions to their victim if at all possible.

The families of each of the five sisters and one brother, living in Canada and the US often vacationed together at each other’s homes. When I was very young, I often opened my bedroom door a crack after going to bed, watching the adults sing along to old Dutch songs. I was drawn to the magical "gezeligheid" that danced around the room along with the music, and I longed to be a part of it. They created a welcoming place to embrace their culture within the four walls they gathered in.