Inner Light

Darkness falls early now. With each passing day I find myself surprised anew at how quickly the sunlight fades this time of year. I never seem to get used to it, even after decades of repeated exposure to the changing seasons! I long for light even as my body instinctively welcomes the darkness, wanting nothing more than to slow down and rest. It seems, at first glance, to be an uncomfortable opposition of forces, this longing for light and darkness at the same time.


Our culture tells us to go for the light. It convinces us to ignore any thought of slowing down and retreating into darkness; we are exhorted instead to do more, buy more, cook more, party more. We keep the lights on well past sundown in our homes and offices, forcing ourselves to maintain a pace that is completely at odds with the inner self who flows with the cycle of the seasons. We are a culture addicted to doing, producing, buying and achieving, and hidden beneath that addiction is fear.

We are afraid of the dark.

At a level below our conscious awareness, we are afraid that if we slow down and look into the dark corners of our lives, we will find ourselves lacking. We will stumble into a heap of evidence proving that we are flawed, we are lazy, we are mean-spirited, we are weak. We are simply not good enough. That’s what drove us into all the frantic “doing” in the first place: we wanted to avoid the pain of feeling “not enough,” and we wanted to prove to ourselves that maybe, if we worked hard and did all the right things, we could be enough.

So we turned away from our inner pain and marched into the glaring light of the outside world, steadfastly denying any impulse to come back in. And here we are, busily managing our to-do lists and planning midnight shopping sprees and double-booking ourselves for holiday parties, even as autumn fades gracefully into winter and our inner being calls out for rest. We’ve forgotten that periods of darkness and rest are essential to growth, creativity and life.

And we’ve forgotten something else. Deep within each of us, waiting quietly in the darkness, is an inner light. It is the light of our truest being, an eternal spark of divinity. In the words of Barbara Brennan in her best-selling book, Light Emerging: “It is your unique essence…the individuated divine within you.” As a student at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, this light was introduced to us as the Core Star, because those who are gifted with an expanded sense of visual perception actually see it as a brilliant, sparkling star in the very core of our bodies, a central point just below the heart. This is the light that awaits us when we are willing to turn away from the outer world of doing and rest within the stillness of Being. Burning brightly behind and beyond the darkness of our fears and doubts and judgments, it is the magnificent light of our true self.

I am reminded of a song from the play Godspell. (I dabbled in musical theatre back in the day, and Godspell was my all-time favorite play. It was a rowdy and rousing musical based on the gospel of St. Matthew. It may not have pleased biblical scholars, but we sure had fun doing it.) The song’s title was, “You Are the Light of the World,” and it was boisterous and uplifting. It had goofy lyrics such as, “The tallest candlestick ain’t much good without a wick,” and “…if that light is under a bushel, it’s lost something kind of crucial!” Yet the song somehow left a real and lasting impression on me. I loved the idea that each one of us is the light of the world, and it’s our job to tend our inner flame so we can shine brightly and brilliantly. That felt right and true to me.

Years later, as a senior at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, I rediscovered that sense of rightness and truth in Barbara’s teachings about the Core Star. It was thrilling to contemplate an inner light not just as a spiritual metaphor, but as an energetic reality. This Core Star is the divine dimension of our human existence. It is more real than our personalities and our bodies in that it is eternal, yet at the same time it infuses our personalities and bodies with our very “realness,” our uniqueness. The Core Star is the birthplace of our talents, gifts and aspirations. It is the everlasting flame of our creativity.

Knowing I’ve got my own personal star within me has provided immense comfort during challenging times and an expanded sense of peace and possibility during good ones. This brilliant light can never be sick, dull, frustrated or depleted. It never whines or complains. It is never in a foul mood. (And it never has a bad hair day.) It radiates my highest qualities, my purest creative impulses and my deepest love. When I remember to connect with this light, it softens the rough edges in my psyche and warms me from the inside out. When I invite and allow this light into my life, life becomes lighter. I become lighter.

And so this is how I reconcile the seemingly opposite longings for darkness and light as winter approaches. I make time for physical rest and meditation. I slow down and turn my attention inward. As my swirling thoughts begin to settle, I close my eyes and allow myself to simply be still in the velvety darkness. I breathe as deeply and slowly as I can without forcing my breath in a particular way. And then, ever so gently, I focus my attention on my Core Star. I imagine that with each breath I take, it becomes brighter, stronger and more radiant. With each breath I take it expands, infusing every cell and fiber of my being with its celestial glow. With each breath I take, I am lifted out of the darkness and into the light.

It is a simple yet powerful meditation, and one I hope you will try. Even if you don’t embrace the notion of a core star within you as “real,” focusing your thoughts on it as a symbol or metaphor can be calming, inspiring and enlightening. Take some time to consider your light. Pause and honor your gifts, talents, passion, willingness and courage. Step back to rediscover what the holiday season means to you, and how you wish to express that meaning in your life. Slow down enough to notice what moves you deeply. Consider what you are longing to create or experience in your life. Reflect on all you have gained from previous creative endeavors, and all you have learned. See, feel and know yourself as the highest and best you can be.

There is magic in the changing of the seasons. As the days of autumn become shorter, allow the waning of outside light to remind you of the radiant and loving light within you. Allow the light within you to ignite your mind with clarity and truth. Allow your unfettered truth to choose what is important for you to do – and not do – this holiday season. And allow this holiday season to be a celebration of light, your light. Because you are the light of the world.

The above article was originally published in the December 2009 issue of Living.Well Magazine.

Put This Purpose First

It's that time of year when the already-crazy demands on our time and attention ramp up at warp speed. Even when we're committed to honoring the true spirit of the season, holding intentions for mindfulness and gratitude and simplicity, it's challenging to maintain our centeredness when all of our senses are bombarded with relentless messages to buy, to decorate, to plan, to cook, to bake, to party, to give to charity, to draw a name for the Pollyanna, to do, do, do, do more...

It can be a bit stressful. Crazy-making, actually. And the best antidote to crazy that I know is - are you ready? - Self-connection. And I don't mean connection in the form of an inner debate with our small, worried, taskmaster self, but rather as deep communion with our highest Self. Sacred time we set aside for contemplation, journaling, meditation or prayer. Not as one more thing we have to squeeze into our day, but as the one thing we embrace that opens us to clarity and peace in every day. Genuine Self -connection is both a magnificent gift to ourselves and a responsibility we hold when we are committed to realizing our fullest potential. We simply cannot live authentic, meaningful and inspired lives when we are disconnected from the inner truth and magnificence of our highest selves.

I've recently finished a book written by Barbara Marx Hubbard, a brilliant futurist and one of the early founders of the Human Potential movement. She has lived a full and vibrant life and, at the age of 80, is still vital and engaged and teaching and creating. The title of the book is Emergence: The Shift from Ego to Essence, and it's a highly personal yet universal account of the process of what she calls fully incarnating as her Essential Self. She describes a commitment she felt called to make to devote substantive time each day to this intention, in the form of deep meditation and journaling.

For a period of 21 days she spent three hours every morning immersed in this profound experience of Self-connection. And this was at a time when she was under extreme pressure to finish a crucial project to which she had committed.  Time and again her worried self tried to talk her into cutting her Self-connection time short so she could make those phone calls and schedule those meetings and develop that curriculum, already! Yet she chose to honor instead her audacious commitment to true Self-connection; her inner voice told her firmly and repeatedly to "put this purpose first."

So she did, and discovered in doing so that she was renewed and replenished in a way far beyond what we normally think of as renewal and replenishment. She felt regenerated, alive and open and deeply at peace. She became more effective rather than less so, moving through her life from a whole new state of being that was profoundly clear and centered. Not only did she "get done" what she needed to get done, she experienced a state of joy and relatedness with others that completely elevated her sense of Self and life purpose.

Now, granted, she wasn't also trying to buy dozens of holiday gifts or bake a thousand cookies. But the point is that even as her external life became crazy with stressful demands, her commitment to genuine Self-connection became the solid ground from which she could meet those demands in the most inspired and effective way. In putting that purpose first, she served herself and others with great integrity and vibrancy.

I've experienced this phenomenon myself - even without ever having spent three consecutive hours in meditation! Yet my morning practices of journaling, prayer and meditation center me in a way that nothing else can, and on the rare day that I omit them, I find myself more prone to worry and distraction and procrastination. (Not to mention garden-variety grumpiness and irritability.)

So as we dive headlong into Holiday Season 2010, let's make a pact to put this purpose first: to start each day in communion with our highest Self, inviting it to soothe us and guide us and inspire us. Let's declare peace within as our greatest means to realize peace without. And let's just see how much we get done.

Showing Up

I woke up on a Sunday morning not too long ago, with an unwelcome sinus headache, to gray skies and a steady rain. I was scheduled to lead a workshop at 1:00 p.m. at a location more than an hour's drive away. As of the day before only two people had registered for the workshop, plus one who was a "maybe." When I'd spoken with the event promoter I told her it might be best to cancel. She was willing to do so if I insisted, but reminded me that people often show up to workshops at the last minute, without having registered ahead of time. I said I would think about it.

As I shuffled around my kitchen that bleak morning, absent-mindedly feeding my cats and making my morning coffee, all I could think of was what a perfect day it would be for sitting in front of a cozy fire. Or napping. Or both. I was tired and achy and wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. But the coffee was on and so I sat down to breakfast and an impromptu date with my journal.

I wrote honestly about how I really didn't feel like driving over an hour in the rain to lead a workshop for two people. Surely they would understand if it was cancelled; I had a right to declare a minimum number of participants in order to hold a class. Yes, cancelling the workshop would fall easily within any reasonable code of conduct for a workshop leader. I had almost convinced myself to stay home.

Except...except for an oddly quiet but persistent thought that seemed to arise not from my mind, but from somewhere deep inside my being. It told me, simply, to go. To lead the workshop. Not because I was going to have an unexpectedly full class and make lots of money and sell dozens of books and CDs, but just because teaching is my work in the world. Leading that class, that day, was mine to do.

I closed the journal and stood up. All the inner debating about whether or not to go had subsided and I went about the process of getting ready with great ease. There was little traffic on the long drive and I arrived in plenty of time. I had five people for the class - and more than that, I had fun. The energy in the room flowed and sparkled, and each of the participants had at least one "aha!" moment for which they were sincerely grateful. I was in my element, sharing new perspectives and insights and responding to questions as best I could. The time flew. We listened and learned and laughed. And I even sold a couple of CDs.

It wasn't lost on me that my choice to go was the perfect reflection of the theme of the workshop itself: daring to live true to your dreams. I'd been moved to create the class after reading a wonderful quote from Michael Beckwith. He said, "Do not look for your dreams to come true. Look to become true to your dreams."

I find that profound and profoundly helpful. Especially in this day and age when so much material about the Law of Attraction seems to imply that we can simply think and visualize our way to success, this deeper truth reminds us that we need to become the people our dreams call us to be. We need to do the work of identifying our highest and best intentions, and then aligning our beliefs, thoughts, language and action with them. We need to learn new ways of navigating through our resistance, our self-doubt and our fear. We need to listen to the still, small voice within that always has our best interests at heart.

We need to show up for our dreams, not because anyone else is going to reward us but because showing up for them, over and over again, is how we bring them to life. It is how we come alive to Life itself.

And so that day I brought my dreams to life. I didn't headline a conference or autograph hundreds of copies of my best-selling book - both of which I would dearly love to do! - but I stood present in my longings to teach and support others in a meaningful, authentic way. And those five beautiful souls received me with great warmth, eagerness and appreciation. They chose to spend their valuable weekend time with me, and I was honored by their choice. And I'd like to think that, in that workshop, we lit a spark that cast its brilliant light on their dreams. I hope they follow that light and keep showing up for their dreams.

Even - or especially - on gray and rainy days.

Giving Up

One of the most transformative experiences I've had on the spiritual path is learning to let go of worry. That may not seem like a big deal, but it has been for me. There's a strand of high-octane worry that runs through the gene pool on my mother's side of the family, and it happily took up residence in my DNA. For years I was a world-class worrier - in fact, I've come to think of my years as a financial analyst, with all of those what-if projections into the future, as being a paid worrier! So at least there was some benefit...that, and being a worrier bonded me with my mother and my uncle - we joked about the many dire outcomes we could effortlessly call up even when things were going just fine. It was a way for me to "fit in" and so it became part of my identity.

But over time it became abundantly clear that in order to live a truly authentic, purposeful and spiritual life, I would need to untangle myself from the worry habit. I knew from my reading and studies and interactions with people who graced me with their clear, peaceful and powerful presence that this was possible, and so I held a firm intention to learn what they knew, and to practice and embody it as well as I could.

And guess what? I found that it IS possible to let go of the worry habit. Most of the time, if not all of the time. And that translates into a much better time for me. I still go through cycles of worry, to which my friends and family can attest, but I'm able to coax and coach and love myself through them, to find the solid ground of my deeper truth and not get pulled into the undertow of fearful projections and damning self judgment. (I'm also better able to receive the loving guidance and perspectives offered by my friends and family who can see clearly when I cannot.)

So here I am, feeling pretty darn good about my ever-growing capacity for inner peace and self-trust, when I find myself wide awake at 3:00 a.m. not too long ago, being tossed and turned by a rising tide of panic about my future. No problem, I initially thought; I'll just do what I know to do and will be back asleep in no time. I took several long, deep breaths. I brought my attention to my body, reminding myself that while these thoughts were temporarily with me, they were not me.

They had a different opinion and were quite vocal about it.

So I breathed even more deeply, and fixed my attention on the soles of my feet where all was calm. I could re-center in peace there. But those damned thoughts followed me all the way down, taunting me not only with visions of an impoverished future but also of my complete impotence in dealing with the thoughts themselves.

I revved up my determination to shake them and got sucked into escalating, back-and-forth cycles of  "I'll show you who's in charge here!" First the negative thoughts, then my resolve to ignore them, then the negative thoughts again - even more convincing this time - then the effort to silence them, then...I'm sure you get the picture. What started out as a simple practice to shift my attention away from worry and into calm, became an inner conflict fueled by my judgment of some thoughts as "good" and others "bad." I was locked in struggle and finally, in absolute frustration, I declared simply to myself, "I give up."

I Give Up. It wasn't a premeditated strategy, it was what arose in the moment as the only sane thing I could finally do. And boy was it ever. In that instant of giving up, I was filled with the most welcome sense of tender spaciousness I've known in a long time. I was completely calm. My mind attempted to disrupt the calm with, "But what exactly are you giving up? Are you giving up on your dreams?" but by now I was on to her tricks. And there was no way I was going to allow any interference with that incredible, spacious calm. So I simply repeated, "I give up," and I was returned to sanity. Then I fell into a deep, restorative sleep.

I awoke the next morning feeling more deeply at peace than I've felt in a long time. I reflected on the poignant and profound experience of surrender that had ushered me into this place, and realized that what I had given up was the struggle. I had given up the damning judgment of myself that said I should know how to stop worrying, for God's sake! I had given up needing to know exactly how my dreams could be realized. I had given up knowing how to do anything. What freedom.

This is not to say that efforts to shift our attention away from worry and toward the deeper truth of our being are ineffective. They are effective, and worthy of our devoted practice. But when that devotion morphs into a twisted demand that we fix this thing that is "wrong" with us, we automatically create inner conflict that can do nothing but deplete us. We cripple what started out as a loving practice with a sense of struggle - and it is the struggle we are called to give up so that we can find our way back to center.

So if you're struggling with anything right now, try giving it up. Give up needing to figure it out or get it right. Give up all of your self-judgments. Just for this moment, give yourself some space. And let me know what happens.

Getting (Re)Started

You’ve probably noticed that it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Quite a big longer than my once-per-week commitment would allow, given that my last post was on August 23rd and it is now almost one month later. That was one heckuva long week, wasn’t it?!


I could tell you about all the many challenges I’ve faced during this time, but frankly that would be beside the point. The simple truth is that I didn’t feel at all inspired to write…but I couldn’t just let myself be at peace with that. No, I would vacillate between giving myself permission to suspend work on the blog and taking myself to task for failing to honor my commitment. And as I ping-ponged back and forth between those two perspectives, I stirred up that age-old fear that every writer faces from time to time: I have nothing to say. I may as well just hang a digital “closed” sign on the blog, pack up and go home.

And so I did, for a time. I rolled over and allowed the weary voice of failure to call the shots, even as a tiny part of me was tugging at me to get back up and start blogging again. Just do it, she exhorted me! I liked her energy at first, but as I continued to avoid my blog day after day, her voice became a bit more urgent. She was trying her best to rally me into action, telling me all kinds of good things and assuring me I could just get back on that horse and ride.

And as encouraging and affirming as she was, I found her just the teensiest bit annoying and decided to ignore her.

More time passed. I wondered if I still remembered the login and password to my blog. And then I stopped thinking about it.

Until this morning, when I decided to consult my Wise Self about the situation in my journal. I already knew, of course, that judging myself for procrastinating would never provide the motivation I actually needed to get moving, and in fact would shut me down further (which it already had). So I’d moved past the self-recrimination but still hadn’t found an opening for action. Trying to coax and prod myself into writing – even in the most gentle and loving of ways – just wasn’t working.

And that’s when my Wise Self offered a whole new perspective. She encouraged me to share everything that I was feeling right now; and so, along with disappointment in myself over not maintaining my blog, I offered to her my sadness at having to cancel my beach vacation this week. I love the beach, and here on the East Coast the weather is beach-perfect. I would love to be there. I long to stand at the ocean’s edge and gaze at the horizon, with my feet sinking into the warm, moist and yielding sand.

So I wrote about that and paused. Deep breath…then my Wise Self reminded me of the wisdom of canceling the vacation, and suggested that my image of sinking into the sand was just what I needed to support me in restarting the blog. Rather than holding it as something apart from me that I had to do, or as some kind of small mountain I had to climb, why not view my blog – and all of my work – as a warm and nurturing presence that supports and comforts me? Why not sink into my longing to help people see themselves and their lives through the eyes of love? Why not see my writing not as a task, but as a natural and accommodating ground for my work? Why not simply soak in my love for what I do?

Why not, indeed?

I thanked my Wise Self and closed my journal, resting a moment in deep appreciation for her simple yet powerful suggestion. And I have to tell you, I’ve been looking forward all day to writing this post! I’ve been looking forward to sinking my heart into a connection with you that I hope brings some needed reminder or the spark of a new insight.

Perhaps you will be comforted to be reminded that…

…You have a Wise Self and he or she is always with you, just waiting for your attention and curiosity.

…Speaking openly and honestly with yourself about your feelings – acknowledging them without wallowing in them – clears space for new perspectives to be recognized.

…Changing your perspective of anything changes your experience of it.

…Working with imagery is a powerful way to change your perspective.

…Judging yourself will never lead to inspired thought or action.

…What you love is an integral aspect of who you are.

…Surrendering – sinking in – to your longings fosters internal wholeness and integrity, whereas seeing them as “things to do” that are outside of you promotes inner conflict.

…Writing blog posts really isn’t all that hard.

So I’m back and delighted to be reconnecting with you through this modern medium. And I’d love to hear about your experiences with your Wise Self, with imagery and journaling, with releasing self-judgment, with sinking in to your longings – or with any other insight this may have sparked in you! I hope you’ll post your comment so others can benefit, too.

Until next time…

Living the Dream

I have a client who recently returned from a high-profile, high-impact consulting engagement halfway across the world. In the interest of protecting her privacy I won’t share the actual details of the project, but I will tell you that her work is directly related to solving some of the most important environmental challenges of our time. It is essential, life-giving work that serves our planet and our species.

And her soul. This is the kind of work she’s dreamed of doing for years.

It’s also the kind of work that takes years to develop, and there were many times she was almost tempted to give up. Maybe she actually did give up a few times – tired and frustrated and overwhelmed – but then she gave in. She gave in to her deepest longings and highest aspirations, and she let them re-inspire her again and again.

She also, not incidentally, invested in coaching. This client, whom I’ll call Kristin just to keep the writing a bit simpler, decided that her dreams were worthy of her energy, attention and commitment. As a Ph.D. she knew she had the educational and technical background for the work she wanted to do – not to mention the kind of work experience that gleamed like a precious jewel on her resume – but she also knew there was something holding her back.

For Kristin, as for so many of us, the “something” holding her back was a constellation of fear-based beliefs that had fooled her into thinking all kinds of disempowering thoughts - and feeling the icky, suffocating fear that kept her stuck on the couch rather than reaching for the stars. This network of assumptions about who she was and how the world works was seductively convincing, and in spite of her obvious qualifications for doing the work she loved it kept whispering to her of hardship and failure.

You may recognize some of its “logic” in the following statements, commonly held by even the most educated and thoughtful among us:

…It’s a male-dominated world and I won’t be heard.

…It’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and I just don’t have a big network.

…I don’t have the kind of money I need to get this going.

…There are already so many _________ out there, how can I possibly compete?

I could go on and on, but I’m sure you get the drift. And I’m not saying there isn’t an element of truth in these observations, but what’s important to understand is this: there is always a deeper level of truth than what we see on the surface. In fact, these surface observations often cover another whole constellation of false beliefs that further hide the deeper truth and reveal, instead, our fear and vulnerability. Beliefs such as…

…I just don’t have what it takes.

…I’ve never been truly successful.

…I’m too introverted to really make this work.

…I don’t know how to do this.

Again, I could go on and on, but the point here is that, in the absence of the kind of loving and clear-minded support that a talented friend, mentor or coach can provide, it’s all too easy to let these conclusions about life – and about ourselves – remain unchallenged. It’s all too easy to see ourselves as small or limited in some way. It’s all too easy to see only obstacles before us, and fail to see the brilliance within us.

It’s all too easy to give up.

It’s all too easy to forget the deeper truth that our love and creativity are far more powerful than our fear, and it is our sacred responsibility to cultivate and embody the love that we are.

Kristin knew it would be too easy to give up on her dreams, and so she invested in coaching. As her coach I hold her vision with her – and sometimes for her, during those periods of self-doubt. I help her challenge the limiting beliefs and connect with the deepest and wisest part of her being. I support her in creating practices to cultivate and honor her talents and gifts – and the immense power that the longing to express them awakens in her. I help her discern the inner voice of truth and guidance, and encourage her to trust that voice. As my coach, Tama Kieves, has helped me.

It turns out that we’re really not meant to do this alone. (What fun would that be?!) And while I recognize that paying for support may seem like a luxury you can’t afford, what I’ve learned is that I can’t afford not to be supported. I can’t afford to give up on my dreams, because in living them I am, finally, fully living. Investing in my dreams, through coaching and many other means, has been the most fruitful and life-giving investment I have ever made.

And so I hope you’ll take your own dreams and longings seriously. I hope you’ll invest your energy, time and attention – and yes, your money – in them. I hope you will commit to creating the life you came here to live, moment by moment, day by day and year by year. And I hope, like Kristin, you will relish reaping the rewards of that loving and lifelong commitment.

Seeing with New Eyes

One of my favorite quotes, which is also the tagline for my monthly column in Living.Well magazine, is this one from Marcel Proust:

"The real act of discovery consists not in finding new lands, but in seeing with new eyes."

Time and again in my life, and in my work with clients, I have witnessed the profoundly transformative power of this great truth. When we change how we see things, we change what is possible. Seeing with new eyes gives us access to the kind of paradigm-shattering potential that can end racism, sexism and every other "-ism" that divides us; it reveals opportunity in the midst of struggle; it softens our hard edges and invites us into deeper and more meaningful relationships with each other and with life. Seeing with new eyes is the art and science of conscious evolution, moving us toward higher levels of harmony, beauty and truth. In the absence of our willingness to look again, to look more deeply, to look through a new lens, we remain stuck in our prejudices, our blindness and our smallness. We fail to realize our most cherished potential.

Creating and exploring new perspectives on things is something I engage in frequently with clients who are committed to personal growth and transformation. Interestingly, in our therapeutically-savvy culture, many will identify this approach as a specific technique known as reframing. But for me, the intention to look with new eyes at something is a far nobler and more enterprising undertaking than simply "reframing" it. After all, the very notion of reframing suggests that the fundamental picture hasn't changed, we're just dressing it up to look a little better. It's sort of like finding a silver lining in the cloud...helpful to be sure, but there is still a cloud.

When we seek to look with  new eyes, we're not just trying to make the cloud appear less threatening. We're holding an intention to see our experience not as a cloud at all, but as something altogether different. It's sort of like that picture you may have been shown in a "think outside the box" seminar: you see either an old hag or a sophisitcated young woman, depending on how you interpret the play of lines, light and shadow. It isn't that you're putting a pretty frame around a picture of an old woman to make her look a bit more appealing; the picture itself is seen as something completely different.

And the same is true when we hold an intention to see differently - and to be clear, I'm talking about a specific kind of  "different." I'm talking about a willingness to see through eyes of love rather than through a lens of fear, doubt and judgment.

Let me share an example from my life that I've seen reflected in the lives of many clients who are seeking to find or create more fulfilling work. Despite having graduated with top honors with a challenging double-major in accounting and economics, despite having been hired by one of the most prestigious accounting firms in the world, despite having made a successful transition into a Fortune 500 corporation, despite having been repeatedly promoted and given every opportunity to reach the highest levels of the company - I did not, in fact, reach the highest level of the company. I bailed out. I didn't really have what it takes to become CEO, or even CFO. I - dare I say it? - failed. I didn't attain the career success that the greater part of my waking adult life was centered on achieving.

If I were to merely reframe that experience, I would remind myself of all the wonderful friends I've made along the way, the great salary and benefits I enjoyed and the innumerable skills I've developed that serve me wherever I go. I might even be generous enough with myself to point out the many ways I added value to the company and improved the lives of employees there. I would pat myself on the back and feel much better about my failure.

But when I hold the intention to see my work experience with new eyes - with the eyes of wisdom, compassion and the deepest truth I can know - what I see is this: I had to "fail" at what wasn't mine to do. That was the only way I could be open and available to create and commit to what is mine to do. In fact, my failure to reach the corner office wasn't a failure at all, but the inevitable and life-affirming result of my deeper intention to find work I truly, deeply loved.

And so seeing with new eyes isn't about ignoring our true experience, or pretending things didn't happen the way they did. It is about interpreting our experience in a way that reveals our highest nature and deepest truth. And when we do that, we connect with a magnificently wise and wonderful aspect of our being that wants what is best for us, always. We gain access to the kind of wisdom, clarity and self-trust that create a firm foundation for moving forward with quiet confidence. We open ourselves to what is possible rather than locking ourselves into endlessly repeating stories of our failures and shortcomings. We keep becoming more and more of who we truly are.

This is the true power of seeing with new eyes. It is literally a creative act: we're not simply reframing something, we are rewriting it. And again, it isn't about telling exaggerated stories of our talent and bravado; it is about looking deeper and seeing the innocence, the longings, the persistence, the courage and the willingness to learn underneath the surface experience. It is about recognizing that when we fail to live our truth, no one is served. It is about acknowledging the role that fear has played in our lives, and seeing that it isn't a good master - and seeing, too, how we kept going even though we were afraid, or resigned, or doubtful. How we wanted to keep going, how we deeply yearn for the highest and best that we know lives within us.

So be willing to see the highest and best within yourself. Claim your true talents and aspirations and generosity and courage. Treat yourself with dignity and respect.

And dare to rewrite your story.

What the World Needs

There are times when I feel so clear and inspired about the work I do, so committed to helping empower others to honor, trust and follow the longings and wisdom of their souls, that my whole life comes into focus in a particularly joyful way. I feel aligned, energized, on purpose. I buzz with ideas and inspiration and countless ideas for ways to expand my work and my business. I almost burst with gratitude for the opportunities and rewards of doing this sacred work.

And then there are other times. Times when I don't feel like that at all, not even a teeny bit. Times when I question everything, doubt almost everything, and fear pretty much eveything else. Times when I just can't see the point of what I'm doing, especially when there are so many crises in the world that demand our immediate attention. I find myself asking, "What does the world really need with another coach, another spiritual teacher? There are so many out there already, really good and talented and famous people who are already providing these teachings to the world..."

This is an important question. I think we do ourselves, and our world, a great service by asking what the world needs, and seeing how and where our talents and gifts might line up with that. Yet I think we also do ourselves, and our world, a great service by asking what we need. What we truly, deeply need - what we long to create, give or experience. We are, after all, an integral and essential part of the whole, and so what we need counts.

I'm not speaking here of what our ego might think it needs to be liked, to feel safe, to be "special," to be approved. I'm talking about the deepest yearnings of our soul to live a meaningful, passionate and purposeful life, the secret longings we often judge as too big or too hard or too far-fetched. The ones we judge as silly or woo-woo or simply impractical. The ones we think someone else will do, or has already done, far better than we could ever do. The ones we keep ignoring.

It turns out that these longings are the very thing that bring us to life. When we allow ourselves to honor them, to trust them and to follow them, we connect with a vibrant Source of energy that literally enlivens us. We become more open, more present, more engaged than ever before. We become better parents and siblings, friends and co-workers because we sparkle and shine. We experience gratitude for the profound pleasure of being alive with the freedom to follow our hearts. And as we give ourselves to our longings, they begin to grow and evolve, leading us step by step to their highest expression.

I'm reminded of my coach, Tama Kieves, who - despite graduating with honors from Harvard Law School and beginning her career as an attorney on the fast track at a prestigious law firm - wanted to write poetry. Longed to write poetry. That's all she knew, at first. And so she did. She carved time and space into her life to follow her longings. And guess where they led? To a thriving career as a best-selling author, teacher and coach, one whose writing is so lyrical and inspiring and passionate you might be tempted to call it...poetry. She is a poet, and she is so much more. And her writing and teaching are a great gift to all of us.

Which brings us back to what the world needs, and a wonderful quote from Harold Whitman:

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive. Then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

I know this to be true. I've experienced it first-hand and have witnessed it in others. Yet still the doubts come, as they did not too long ago. So I pulled out my journal to have a conversation with myself. I invited my doubts to unload their heavy cargo into the patient and waiting arms of my wiser Self. My doubts whimpered, "What is the point of working so hard to put these teachings out in the world, when Tama Kieves and Deepak Chopra and Marianne Williamson and Eckhart Tolle and so many others have already done so, and brilliantly? Am I just wasting my time? Should I be getting out into the world and helping in some more direct way?"

I paused. I took several deep breaths and intentionally reached for the highest and deepest wisdom I could hold. I picked up the pen and wrote, "Let me remind you that seeking to shift consciousness is the most direct, most powerful way to work toward an enlightened society. Do not be tempted to devalue or abandon the work of your heart which flows so naturally from your longings and gifts; seek instead to elevate and expand its value. And yes, in many ways you and the others are all teaching the same thing. And that is really, really good. You are adding your unique voice to a beautiful chorus, and as the song becomes louder and more vibrant, more people will hear it. Think of it this way: Deepak and Marianne and Tama and the others need and want you to join the chorus! Your energy and passion can only enhance the song and its ability to reach people. You are not in competition with them, you are joining with them to strengthen and expedite the shift in consciousness that is called for."

This is true not just of my work, but of yours. Your soul is longing for ever-greater expressions of creativity, if you will but listen and follow its promptings. Do not be tempted to devalue or abandon the work of your heart which flows so naturally from your longings and gifts; seek instead to elevate and expand its value. Know that even if there are already hundreds or even thousands of other filmmakers, painters or founders of non-profit organizations, you are unique. The message you long to share, which others may indeed already be sharing, flows through you in a distinct way that will resonate with people who have not yet been touched. Or it will touch those who have already been reached in a deeper and more meaningful way. Your voice matters.

So join the chorus of souls who are singing their true song, knowing in their heart of hearts that what the soul longs for is exactly what the world needs. They are one and the same.

Asking the Right Questions

It's a very familiar conversation. I'll be working with a client who currently feels stuck on something, and invariably she will say something like this: "Why do I keep doing this?" (Or its equally popular sister, "Why can't I change this?") She doesn't really say it so much as whine about it. And there's usually an accompanying eye roll, shoulder shrug or perhaps even a large bulging vein in the neck as the question morphs into a demand to know: Why, why, why do I keep doing this??

"This" could be anything from running late to every appointment, to coming close to quitting a job she hates only to talk herself out of it again, to attracting only unavailable men when she's looking for a committed relationship. (As you probably know, there are myriad highly creative ways we can - and do - put up barricades between ourselves and the highest vision we hold for our lives.) Asking why we're doing something that isn't serving us would seem to be a great place to start in taking down that barricade. And it can be - but it usually isn't.

Here's why. First of all, we've asked ourselves that question a million times and usually come up with an exasperated, "I don't know! I just can't figure it out!" But more importantly, the question itself is almost always a veiled form of judgment. Underneath the question is a damning belief that there must be something wrong with us. And so we give up before we even start. After all, if there is something wrong with us, what's the use in trying to change anything? It's clear we don't have what it takes. If we did, this pattern would be gone by now...

But the deeper truth is that, almost always, the patterns in our lives that stand squarely in the way of realizing our souls' longings arise from a vulnerable, fearful place within us. And we must remember that we are more than that place. We have deep-seated fears and habitual ways of covering them up or acting them out, but we aren't those things. We are wiser and stronger and more noble than we can even imagine when we're cramped with fear, and asking the right questions is like throwing the door of that tiny space wide open and walking outside where we can see clearly in the bright light of day. The right questions can give us access to our true wisdom and our deepest motivation for change.

Although I'm  not much of a "formula" person, I have learned that the best questions to ask of ourselves, when we're seeking to shift out of a negative pattern, are the ones that begin with what, when, where, how or who. Questions such as...

...What am I gaining by continuing this pattern?
...What am I avoiding by continuing this pattern?
...What am I afraid will happen if this pattern is no longer in my life?
...When did this pattern begin?
...Who might have taught or shown me this pattern? What might their reasons have been?
...Where and when is it most likely to show up?
...How might I begin to shift it?
...What kind of support might I need to make the shift?
...Who might be able to help me with this?

The list could go on and on, but hopefully you get the drift. And just as important as asking the right questions is asking them the right way. And by that I mean with great compassion and curiosity, reaching in deep to your heart of hearts. Asking and answering these questions is not a mental exercise in "figuring something out," it is a soulful exploration of your most tender places with an intention for discovery and understanding. Imagine how you might hold a small, trembling child who is trying to tell you what frightened her. You would probe gently, listen intently and offer her a new way of looking at things. You would reassure her that she is safe. You would be kind.

We need to be that kind, that caring and that tender with ourselves when seeking to shift a negative pattern. Trying to bulldoze our way through change with willpower simply won't work, at least not over the long term. That's because in simply forcing ourselves to take different action on the surface of our lives, we overlook the deep inner fear that gave rise to the behavior we wish to change. And that fear will assert itself again, just as soon as our willpower fades and our vulnerability is at risk for exposure.

So we serve ourselves well in learning to meet fear with kindness and understanding - and yes, a firm resolve to stop it from running the show. And the best way to cultivate that kindness and understanding is by listening deeply to ourselves...listening deeply to our answers to the kind of questions that open us to greater self-awareness and self-compassion.

Asking the right questions.

And being willing to answer them honestly.

The Law of Distraction

I spoke recently with a prospective client who hoped I could coach her through the process of obtaining a very specific job at a very specific company within a very specific timeframe by using the Law of Attraction (LoA). I suspect all of you reading this blog have at least heard of the LoA, and perhaps have been working actively to develop your own relationship with it, so I won't use this post to explain in any depth what it is. But for the sake of context and clarity, here is a quick overview: the LoA is a spiritual principle which reflects the fact that we're living in an energetic, vibrational universe, and that like vibrations attract each other while unlike vibrations are repellant. Much of the popular LoA material focuses on changing our thoughts, which offer a vibration, to match the vibration of what we want. Techniques such as visualization, affirmation, prayer, journaling and others can be used to focus our beliefs and thoughts in a way that supports the manifestation of our desires.

Or at least, that's the promise. In my coaching practice I have worked with numerous people who have tried these things, only to discover they don't really seem to "work." In my conversation with this particular prospective client, she,too, shared her frustration with having tried these techniques in the past without any real success. She described having put quite a bit of effort into them, thus increasing her frustration because she'd worked so hard for nothing.

Helping people understand why this frustrating dynamic keeps showing up is an ongoing challenge for me as a spiritual coach. If we're spiritual beings whose nature is defined by spirit and consciousness, then why doesn't our adherence to spiritual principles yield more fulfilling lives? This is a question far bigger than I can address in a single blog post, but there is a particular perspective I can share right now that my conversation with this woman brought into clear focus: it is our underlying intention, rather than the techniques themselves or the effort we apply to following them, that governs our results. When we use spiritual principles as mere tools to get what we want, it is fundamentally no different than doing things the old-fashioned way, with elbow grease and a huge helping of willpower.

And here is why: focusing on getting what we want in the material world often (but not always) arises from a fundamentally fear-based place. Although not always conscious, the underlying thought is, "If I don't get this, I won't be okay." In other words, we're still looking to the material world for our happiness and fulfillment, or to set things up in a particular way to avoid unhappiness. We're still referencing ourselves as separate, material beings competing for material advantage. (As a matter of fact, the LoA is often presented as a "secret tool" we can use to assure our competitive advantage. But competition arises only from fear and separation, not from the world of spirit.)

The woman with whom I spoke was almost desperate to get this job. Her underlying intention arose from fear, and in her case it was conscious. She really believed that if she didn't get the particular job, she wouldn't be okay. But she didn't yet understand that a fear-based intention can yield only fear-based results, regardless of how much great stuff she had on her vision board. Her efforts in the past didn't "work" because they, too, arose from that same desperate place.

The spiritual path isn't about getting what we think we need to be okay. It is about understanding, experiencing and celebrating who we are at the depth of our being. It is about acknowledging and cultivating our inherent greatness. It is about recognizing that we are eternal beings. It is about living in alignment with the truth that we are individuated aspects of a great Oneness, distinct yet fully connected. It is about evolving toward ever-greater harmony, beauty and creativity. It is about trusting our innate goodness, listening to our inner guidance, and learning to recognize and disempower the false fears and beliefs that keep us small. It is about learning to live from a sense of deep trust in our "okayness" rather than scrambling to keep ahead of the fear. It is about having the courage to follow our souls' longings, which lead to our greatest fulfillment and highest contribution to the whole.

It is, frankly, a huge challenge. But it is the challenge of a lifetime, and the only one that can yield true fulfillment because the world of spirit is the world of wholeness, whereas the world of fear is the world of separateness and not-enough-ness. This doesn't mean that the expression of spirit in the material world is finished and complete; it doesn't mean we shouldn't "want" anything other than what we have. In fact, our souls' longings have a certain tender urgency to them, a creative pulse that continously seeks fulfillment. This pulse is what evolves our species toward higher orders of creativity, harmony and beauty - that is its purpose.

So our task becomes to distinguish our souls' longings from the fear-based desires of the ego, and to honor the first while challenging the second. It's an ongoing query and process; the answers aren't always clear. But our willingness to keep asking opens us to moments of insight and grace, and to a deepening self-awareness that supports us in making better and better choices. And ironically, focusing with great zeal on how to apply a spiritual principle such as the LoA often distracts us from this deeper process - hence the title of this blog post.

If the prospective client I spoke with decides to coach with me, I'll work with her to go more deeply into the reasons why she wants the job she wants, and to identify the parts of her that want that particular job. I'll help her tease out the assumptions and beliefs she may be holding that are narrowing her view of what is possible, and then help her challenge those beliefs. I'll ask her what she would most want to create, give or experience in her life, if she wasn't afraid.

These are the kind of questions that help us shift from ego to soul, from fear to trust. It isn't that I would be trying to convince her she doesn't need a job; of course she needs a job. But I would hope to support her in widening her perspective on what is possible, and also to support her in focusing on her many gifts and talents and how she might best use them in the world. I would hope to support her in opening, relaxing and expanding rather than contracting into rigidity and fear. I would hope to support her in developing humor, perspective and trust in the process of finding or creating work she loves - which may or may not come in the form of that particular job, with that particular company, in that particular timeframe.

It turns out we don't need to "apply" the LoA the way we would apply a new technique to writing a high-impact resume. The LoA simply is, and the more we live from love and trust, the greater the opportunities we have to experience more of the same. We don't need to work it, to manipulate or manhandle it. We need only to trust it, and to hold a firm and clear intention to live from the most expanded and loving version of ourselves that we can.

Which, as we know, is easier said than done. Give me a call if you'd like a little support...!

Sing Your Song

Today is June 1st, which means that in less than a week - 6 days to be precise - I will celebrate my 50th birthday. This one is working me a bit. I remember feeling thrilled at the prospect of turning 40, but 50 doesn't feel quite the same. I remind myself often that many, many people have expanded their creativity and sense of deep fulfillment in their 50s and beyond, and that our true age is measured not by numbers but by our capacity to love and be loved. And 50 is, after all, just a number.

It's a rather big one, though.

So I'm giving myself time this week to reflect on the past decade, reflect on my life, and reflect on the life I long to create. As part of that reflection, I'm rereading one of the journals I kept which, conveniently, covers the period from June 2009 to June 2010. Most of it is my usual stuff - exploring doubts and fear, ideas and inspirations - but one entry called to me from a deeper place. I had a sense of gratitude and "rightness" as I read it, and knew right away I wanted to share it with you. It is very brief.

The journal entry was an exploration of a dream I'd had the night before, in August of last year. I won't describe in detail the many delightful oddities that peppered my dreamscape, but I will say that the dream was quite stirring and evoked in me feelings of trust, appreciation, intrigue, safety and peace. Quite a diverse and satisfying range! Yet I wasn't quite sure of its meaning as I awoke, which prompted me to write about it so I could dig a little deeper.

At one point in the dream a beautiful man, who was riding along with several others in the back seat of my car, leaned his head out of the window and sang an exquisite song. It was breathtaking in its beauty, poignancy and clarity. I was spellbound. When he finished singing, all was quiet. It was as if we knew that any other sound would disrupt the magic his song had cast upon our gathering.

The beautiful singer spoke first. He made some self-deprecating remarks about his singing, referring to something highly technical that made no sense to anyone but him. To us, the song was flawless. So I asked him, in typical coach fashion, "So what did you like about the song?"

And his reply was as profound and moving as the music itself. He said, simply, "I like that I did it."

I am moved again even as I write his words. "I like that I did it."

As I contemplate these words I am reminded of a particular experience I had as a student at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, one that expanded my awareness in an instant and has stayed with me to this day, even if it's often obscured by layers of doubt and disbelief. On that day the whole junior class was in a big room, and the teachers were leading us through an exercise designed to connect us energetically with our souls' deepest longings. We were exploring the technique of toning, finding and expressing a sound that intuitively matched the vibration of our longings. We made beautiful music together, and I was graced with a sense of being completely myself and yet deeply connected to each person in the room.

At one point as I toned, I was struck by a flash of insight: "The longing itself is its own fulfillment." It was as clear as a bell and I knew, at a level far beyond my intellect, exactly what it meant. And in that moment, I was fulfilled. Even though every circumstance of my life was exactly as it had been prior to this exercise - and I was facing many challenging circumstances at the time - I felt fully alive and at peace. The simple act of acknowledging and expressing my longing had brought a sense of completion to me that I find difficult to put into words.

Since that time I've contemplated this insight and have earnestly sought to integrate it into my life. I know it has multiple levels of meaning, not all of which I've discovered at this point. At the simplest level, I think it reminds us that our longings are real and they are deserving of our acknowledgment and recognition. Certainly our longings cannot be fulfilled if we ignore or repress them.

But I think the deeper message is that our longings, in a fundamental way, express who we are. They are what make us unique, and uniquely able to contribute our gifts to Life in a way that blesses and serves us all. The paradoxical aspect of the insight - that the longing is its own fulfillment, and needs nothing more than expression - is a reminder to give our gifts freely, without attachment to specific outcomes. Like the beautiful man in my dream, we are called to sing our song because we want to sing, and for no other reason. The longing itself is the reason.

I am grateful for this reminder as I head into a new decade. It is a time my fear-based self is tempted to take score, to judge what I have done and what I have not done, and to point out how little time I have to do everything I want to do with my life. Yet this graceful truth holds a different perspective and a different promise. It reminds me that my real work is to connect with my soul's longings, which lead me unfailingly to my highest self. It reminds me to give simply, authentically and fully - and to trust that is enough. It reminds me that, even when following my longings doesn't seem to yield an outcome my rational mind deems successful, the very act of following my longings is success. It summons the life force through me and keeps me alive on every level.

I hope, like me, you'll take this to heart and make a renewed commitment to sing your song. I hope you'll acknowledge, honor and express your deepest longings. And like the beautiful man in my dream, I hope you'll like that you did it.

The Trouble with Boundaries

Most of us on a path of personal growth and transformation have learned our lessons about setting boundaries. We've discovered that, in our misguided attempts to garner appreciation and win others' approval, we've said "yes" to far too many things and have confused or depleted ourselves. Without boundaries, it seems we lose ourselves in the day-to-day demands on our time and attention.

And so we learn, finally, to say No! And we relish the freedom that opens up when we do, recognizing we have possibilities for nourishment, growth and learning that were obscured by all of our Yes's to other people. It's a truly liberating experience.

And yet...what often happens is we associate that liberation with the No rather than with our choice to say No. We want to protect that feeling of freedom and liberation, so we cling staunchly to our No. The No becomes a boundary, and the one thing most of us do with boudaries is we defend them. And defending anything requires energy, so the more rigidly we defend our No, the less energy we have for our Yes.

That's why I have come to see that, as helpful and essential as it is to learn to say No when we mean No, it is not helpful to see that No as a boundary. Boundaries create separation, and separation leads to isolation, misunderstanding and skepticism. Hardly the qualites we want to cultivate on a path of expanding consciousness!

Here is how it might look: a friend asks you, for the umpteenth time, to join her at a meeting sponsored by a multi-level marketing company. She is genuinely enthused about the company's product and her decision to distribute it, and is encouraged by the company to recruit as many customers and distributors as she can. You have absolutely no interest in the product or in becoming a distributor, but you have great love for your friend. You are thrilled that she is so happy - and you have no desire to attend one of the company's meetings.

In your boundary-less past you may have agreed, grudgingly, to attend the meeting with her so as not to hurt her feelings. And you would sit through it impatiently, thinking all the while of the many productive things you could be doing if you weren't wasting your time on that hard folding chair in a drafty hotel ballroom. You would hurry out at the first opportunity, telling your friend you'd call her later. And then of course, you would have to tell her then that you simply weren't interested. You would still have to say No.

Fast-forward to the brave new world of setting boundaries. In this scenario you boldly - almost defiantly - say No right away when your friend invites you to the meeting. But you still feel badly about saying it. There are all kinds of thoughts going on inside, things such as, "I wish she would just quit asking me so I wouldn't have to say No!" or "I hope I'm not letting her down. I wish I could be a better friend." Notice that these kinds of thoughts are judgments, either of her or of yourself. Judgments always feel bad, and they always separate. It is because of the judgment that we think we need the boundary. We are defending ourselves against being taken advantage of, either by the friend (whom we've judged as insensitive) or by ourselves (whom we've judged as a pushover). We draw the line to protect ourselves from unsavory outcomes, and we must defend that line at all costs.

In the absence of judgment, we wouldn't need a boundary. We would simply need to make a choice. We would recognize our friend's earnest desire to share her enthusiasm with us, and we'd also recognize that her path is not our path. And so our choice would be to say No, but we would do so with an open heart.

This "open-hearted No" calls on a simple yet profound shift in orientation: one in which we see the No not as a boundary, but as an expression of our Truth. And that, fundamentally, is why it is so liberating, because truth really does set us free. From this perspective the No is really a Yes - a Yes to honesty and a Yes to self-care. We choose not to participate in the specific activity, but we bless our friend and wish her great success. We hold a clear intention to love our friend and to love ourselves. In the example we've been examining here, the open-hearted No might sound something like, "I am so happy that you love selling this product, yet it's just not something I feel at all called to do. I hope you understand."

Will this guarantee that your friend's feelings won't be hurt? No, it won't. But not speaking your truth will guarantee that intimacy and trust will be diminished between the two of you. So instead of setting - and defending - boundaries, hold an intention to connect with and speak your truth, moment to moment. Sometimes that will be a Yes, sometimes a No. But remember that your freedom arises from the freshness of the choice that reflects your authentic needs, your willingness and your energy. Your liberation lies in your Truth, spoken with kindness and clarity.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

On Thursday evening of this past week I attended an awards dinner hosted by the Delaware Press Association. And I'm delighted to share with you that I won a first-place award, for the second year in row, for my column in Living.Well magazine. (I also discovered I'd won an "honorable mention" award for another piece I'd submitted - happy surprise!) The dinner was lovely, the speaker was truly inspiring, and I had a welcome opportunity to connect with my fellow writers at the magazine. As we were called forward one by one to receive our certificates, the judges' comments about each winning entry were read aloud. I was honored and humbled by their kind and generous words about my writing. As you can imagine, it was a wonderful evening and I floated home on a cloud of contentment.

Once home I opened the envelopes that contained copies of all the entries I'd submitted along with the entry forms on which the judges had recorded their comments. I reread the comments about my first-place column, basking in the glow of appreciation. Then I noticed an envelope I hadn't opened - the one that contained my book, which had not won an award. I pulled the book and judge's comments out of the envelope and began reading. My glow vanished and was quickly replaced by a heavy, dank cloud of anger and shame as I read the damning words. This particular judge - unlike the one who had offered such rich and affirming comments about my column - did not like my writing. At all. Words and phrases such as, "...fails to live up to its potential..."  "...amorphous..."   "...readers will be confused or put off..."   "...New Age jargon..." floated off the page and assaulted me with their acrid smell. The review was lengthy and unkind, and suddenly I had difficulty breathing.

I stared in numb disbelief at the comments. After an initial puff of anger and disdain I fell headlong into self-doubt. My God, maybe my book is just terrible and I should stop promoting it immediately! I'm probably embarrassing myself personally and professionally and queering any chance I might have of successfully publishing my second book! In a blinding instant I went from feeling affirmed and confident in my work to believing that I was a certain failure. I would have to rethink everything, it seemed, since clearly I couldn't succeed on this path.

A little current of energy zapped me out of my paralzying malaise - anger again, tinged with a familiar self-righteousness. I began an inner debate with the judge, defending my skill and my choices and proving how wrong he was, how obtuse! I challenged his comments one by one, trying to satisfy myself that they were completely without merit. I didn't quite succeed.

Throughout this personal drama a part of me remained apart, watching. She is the wise one, and she knew that my reactions were coming from ego. She let me rant and rave and call home for a little comfort, but then she gently reminded me that I had some work to do. I had to find the learning and the healing in this situation, and she was ready to guide me through it. I decided to let her take charge.

She asked me gently to remind myself what I know is true about all painful situations. I took several deep breaths and said what I've said countless times to my clients: "This is an opportunity to love yourself more deeply." The wise me knows that hurt can only be felt when we turn away from love, and so I vowed to turn toward love. And with just that simple inner choice I began to feel more at peace. But there was more to do.

From this new perspective I read the comments again. In all honesty they baffled me. They just didn't make sense. Which is not to say that I believe there is no room for improvement in my book - there is plenty. I've got a laundry list of inner criticisms about it, but none of the judge's comments mirrored my own. They seemed illogical to me, and I realized that my writing seemed that way to him. We simply didn't understand each other.

As I sat with the comments a bit longer, I was able to experience them as a whole. When I stopped challenging each statement one by one, what emerged was a complete picture of his confusion, especially with the book's title. The book is called, 10 Ways to Find Peace Rather Than Panic (When the World Has Gone a Little Crazy), and I realized that he'd been expecting a how-to guide, a step-by-step instruction manual that leads one from panic to peace. But the book I wrote doesn't offer that; it offers ten perspectives we can hold as we navigate the unknown, which are intended to suggest different ways of relating to our fear and different priorities for making choices as we move through transitions in life. It is not so much a how-to book as a how-not-to-book: a book about how not to cave into fear.

And so I found the merit in his comments, a possible source of his confusion and an important consideration as I develop titles for future books and articles. (Coming up with great titles has always been a challenge for me!) That may not be the merit he wanted me to find - he may have wanted me to agree that I'm a terrible writer. But I have a choice about what I take from this situation, and this is where the opportunity to love myself more deeply comes sharply into focus. Am I going to let another person's opinion of my writing distract me from my soul's longings to teach and write? Or am I going to let them strengthen my commitment instead?

I choose the latter. I realize I have a long way to go before I master the art of writing, yet it is the journey itself that enlivens me. And the only way I can develop mastery of writing is...to write! So I will continue to write, to practice, to sharpen my skills. I will continue to blog! And I will continue working on my next book. And I hope you'll continue reading.

It's funny, as I was contemplating this post the phrase "thick skin" came to mind. We are often told that in order to be successful, we need to develop a thick skin so that others' criticisms don't derail us. And while I can understand how that perspective originated, I think it's misguided. We don't need thick skin, for thick skin is a barrier to connection and engagement. What we need is a greater depth of compassion for ourselves and others, a willingness to see our work - and their criticism - in the highest light. And to know that criticism can never degrade the true brilliance of our soul.

What About Money?

I've been thinking a lot about money lately. Not only has the lingering recession kept the subject forefront in my mind - will I be able to expand my client base with everyone so skittish about their finances? - I'm also writing a book about money. The idea for the book evolved with my coaching practice, as time and again clients would declare their dreams off-limits because of money. Either they didn't have enough to do what they wanted to do, or they couldn't make enough money doing what they wanted to do. Or both.

I find it fascinating that, when money becomes our primary consideration or goal, our true goals are often buried or ignored. I think this is because, in separating money as an object to be pursued, obtained and accumulated, we separate it from the very process that confers its value: the process of giving and receiving, creating and sharing. Money's primary purpose is to facilitate the creative process, and its value is inextricably linked to that process. When we see it as an object divorced from our creativity - when we pursue it as a goal - we divorce ourselves from our creativity as well.

When money is not only the primary goal but is also seen as the true measure of our worth and success, more is always seen as better. We choose jobs and careers on the basis of their money-making potential rather than on their fit with our innate strengths and talents, and we hold ourselves back from investing in things that would move us toward the realization of our dreams. We expend lots of energy on finding "deals" that help us spend as little money as possible - just think of all the creative energy that's focused on trying to minimize or avoid taxes, all the time spent researching the absolute lowest cost of a planned purchase and all the hours spent cutting coupons. (I'm not saying we shouldn't be mindful about the cost of things; I'm just saying that our preoccupation with money as the sole basis for making decisions blinds us to so much that is worthwhile and satisfying, including other ways we could be focusing our creative energy and attention.)

In my own life I've fallen prey to the "money is king" mindset. As an accountant and financial analyst I learned all the money rules our culture has laid out, and did my best to follow them. Along the way I became cynical, resigned and unfulfilled. I was making "good money" but wasn't making anything of my life that actually reflected who I am. And so I began the journey of discovering who I am and how my soul wanted to express herself in the world. The journey continues.

And yes, I still want to make good money. It's just that I don't want to make good money at the expense of living an awake, inspired and authentic life. So a big part of this journey is discovering new ways of relating to money that honor its value and importance without making it the reason for our existence. And that's why I decided to write the book. I know many of us want a healthier relationship with money: we don't want money to be our god, but nor do we want to be starving artists. We want to invite money to its rightful place in our lives. I'll be talking more about that in future posts...and in my book, of course!

And speaking of books - as part of the market research for the one I'm currently writing, I've read a lot of books about money and, particularly, about how to make money from a more enlightened, spiritual perspective. Many of them are quite good and helpful, yet several of them are grounded in a certain perspective that, for me, is at once appealing and repellant. They speak of money as a force for good, and in fact exhort readers to want it - lots of it. It's almost as if there is something wrong with you if you don't aspire to be a millionaire, because there is so much good you can do in the world when you make lots of money and you can give lots of it away to charity. These books talk about making money ethically and managing it responsibly and creatively, yet the underlying premise is: make as much money as possible, as fast as you can.

And that's the very premise I think needs to be challenged. I realize there have been, and continue to be, great philanthropists whose gargantuan monetary contributions have laid the foundation for innumerable works of great consequence. I also realize that the smaller contributions each of us make keep our favorite charities alive and able to do their important work. Yet I believe that, if we weren't living in a culture that drives us toward money as the main goal, there would be far less need for charity in the first place. A more natural balance would be restored in the flow of giving and receiving, creating and sharing, in the absence of the relentless push for more. If we focused on the creative process itself and what we're called to give, we would live from our talent and generosity and the world would benefit directly from our gifts. We wouldn't need to "make money" in order to give; we would be naturally giving, and enjoying the benefits of money as a facilitator of the exchange process.

I realize this may seem idealistic or even patently absurd to many, yet surely we can see the obvious distortions that our fear-based, greed-sanctioned culture has spawned. At the very least I think now is the time to take a time-out, to pause and examine all the rules about money that have ruled us for so long. Some may still serve us, some may not. But we disempower ourselves when we allow our quest for money, or our fear of not having enough of it, squelch our creativity and passion.

Let's invite money back to its rightful place in our lives...and let's be the ones who decide what that is.

Giving It Up

When I was a little girl, Lent was a serious, somber time. We were expected to "give something up," to make a sacrifice that symbolized our understanding and appreciation of Christ's ultimate sacrifice for us. We had to choose something that we really, really liked so that it would be really, really hard to give it up. That was a critical aspect of the choice: it had to be a painful one. After all, given the unimaginable, unspeakable pain Christ endured on the cross, this was the least we could do. There was a certain nobility to the gesture, but also more than a whiff of martyrdom. We were meant to give ourselves a small taste of suffering.

As I write this I feel almost stunned: how could we have come to believe that self-inflicted suffering is a path to wholeness and healing? I'm reminded of a recent article I read, which reported that the former Pope, John Paul II, routinely beat himself with a belt and, during lent, would sleep without any blankets or padding on a cold, hard floor. These acts of self-mortification were described as instruments of "Christian perfection" (1-26-10 posting on Time website). I cannot find the words to convey my profound sadness that any thinking, loving person could view self-punishment as a means to elevated spiritual consciousness.

And while giving something up for Lent is hardly as dramatic and painful as beating oneself with a belt, its underlying purpose is still rooted in the intention to create and experience suffering. It's entirely possible, of course, that I've misunderstood the true intention behind this practice, and that I'm misrepresenting it now. Yet even if that is so, I don't think I am alone. I have spoken with many people over the years whose experience of Lent was virtually identical to mine, and who struggle with it to this day. And so I wanted to offer a perspective on "giving something up" that I've adopted as I've walked a path of spirituality and expanded consciousness, one that - for me - makes deep, intuitive sense and provides true guidance for living a love-centered life.

Here it is in a nutshell: I think the most important thing we can give up, during the season of Lent and all year long, is judgment. Judgment in its many forms and guises - criticism, blame, cynicism, righteousness, doubt - and judgment directed both inwardly and outwardly. Judgment of ourselves, our leaders, our experiences, our histories. Judgment of our food choices, our friends' boyfriends, our parents, our children, and even that inexplicably confusing movie we just saw. Let's suspend judgment of everything, and see what happens.

Given how conditioned we are to judge everything - how judgment infiltrates virtually every waking moment, often in the guise of suggestions or opinions - this is actually a difficult thing to do. But its difficulty is not meant to cause suffering; paradoxically, it is meant to free us from suffering. Judgment is the original cause of suffering, and so in releasing it we release ourselves from its damning constraints. We free ourselves to see with innocence and trust and an open, loving heart. We begin to perceive the world through a lens of abundance and fresh possibilities. We live and let live.

Thanks to my education at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, I've been trained to think of things in terms of energy. And from that perspective it's easy to see that the energy of judgment is defeating. That's fairly obvious when we're judging ourselves: it feels bad. As we sit in self-judgment we are deflated and depleted; we are paralyzed into numbness, resignation and inactivity. Even if there is a kernel of truth in our concerns, the painful energy of judgment prevents us from addressing it in a whole and loving way. For example, I may want to reach and sustain a healthy weight. And that may translate into the need to lose a few pounds. But if I judge myself as fat or lazy, the chances of my actually losing the weight are far lower, because self-judgment is a form of self-identity: I see myself as incapable. And that self-image will severely limit my thoughts and choices, virtually guaranteeing that I will prove myself right.

Judging others may initially feel good - righteousness is very seductive, masquerading itself as a feeling of power or competence - but if we're very mindful and honest with ourselves, we discover that judging others really doesn't feel good. Often it leads to feeling isolated, misunderstood, defiant or stuck, as a client of mine recently experienced.

She had been in a fender-bender several weeks ago. A young man - a "punk" in her telling of the story - had pulled out from a gas station without having clear visibility, crossing three lanes of traffic and landing in front of her. She hit the brakes, of course, but the roads were wet and she slid into him anyway. There was virtually no damage to her car, but a moderate amount to his. She was, understandably, upset.

Weeks later, she was sitting with me fuming about it. They had agreed not to call the police at the time, and had simply exchanged contact and insurance information. She now felt resentful that he had contacted her insurance company, and her insurance agent had suggested she call the young man directly and speak with him before deciding whether to file any claims. She didn't want to do that because she knew he would ask her for money, and she didn't want to give him any money because she felt the accident was his fault. She saw him as an irresponsible, money-grubbing punk who had caused great inconvenience to her. (Those were her words, not mine.)

What she didn't see, at least initially, was that her judgment of him as irresponsible and money-grubbing was the cause of her distress. As she held those thoughts of him, her stomach tightened into a knot, her breathing became shallow, and her mind kept swirling in the same pattern - "It's his fault!" She was unable to see a path forward because she was stuck in her story about the past, a story built on judgment. The energy of it was confining, chaotic and confusing.

Together we worked on seeing the experience for what it was, without embellishment - two cars collided on a rainy day. As we stripped away the drama, the fault-finding and the name-calling, she was able to see the simplest truth: it happened. The event happened, and her judgment of all the reasons why it shouldn't have happened was simply keeping her stuck. I could literally see her body relax and her face brighten as she released the judgments and sat with the simplicity of truth. She said she felt tingly and alive - and greatly relieved.

From that place she found a willingness to call him, to find out what he truly wanted and to share her perspective with him. Without viewing him as the enemy, she could see him as the person with whom she had this experience, and with whom she must now negotiate to resolve the question of how to pay for the damage to his car. She could also see the possibility of his filing a claim with his own insurance company, something she hadn't even considered in her reactiveness to his apparent "money grubbing."

The need to take steps and resolve the situation did not change, but in releasing judgment she freed herself to take those steps with a calm and peaceful mind. So when I speak of releasing judgment, I am not speaking of ignoring injustices or becoming a doormat for others to walk on. Yet we do ourselves and others a great service when we remember that it is possible to retain discernment and to make wise, healthy choices without smearing on that extra layer of "wrongness" or "badness." It's the difference between saying, "I see things differently and need to act from my own truth," vs. "I am right and he is wrong (or bad...or a punk!) for seeing things his way."

So I say, let's get out of the judgment business. Let's focus on the simplest of truths in any situation - "Just the facts, Ma'am" - and free ourselves from the icky, sticky energy of finding fault and placing blame. Let's recognize that judgment escalates fear, rebellion, defensiveness and reactiveness - it stimulates the very behaviors that give rise to the experiences we are judging! And we cannot heal the painful consequences of judgment with more judgment. We can only heal our suffering with acceptance, curiosity, understanding, willingness and compassion. And we can only release those qualities in ourselves by giving up our fear-based tendency to judge.

So...let's give it up.

The Intelligence of Life

Once again all my plans are suspended as the second blizzard in less than a week visits the East Coast. The breathtaking beauty of the all-white landscape is at odds with the messy turmoil of my thoughts - thoughts about lost business, thoughts about wading through thigh-high, wet and very cold snow to get to my heat pumps and shovel them out, thoughts about how to "be productive" during this enforced time-out, thoughts about the treacherous conditions of the city streets for days to come, which means even more lost business...

Deep breath. I reach for my journal - the special one, the one in which I practice writing about my life and myself in the most compassionate, loving way I can. I start with the obvious: on the life pulse of creation - stasis, expansion, stasis, contraction - I am in the contraction phase. Everything is slowing down or stopping, and my job is not to judge or resist that movement, but to allow it, to honor it and harvest its riches. I write in my journal, "This is a time of gathering and consolidating, especially consolidating my energy around the vision I hold for my life rather than letting it dissipate into the ethers of doubt and anxiety. It is a time for quiet focus and for taking small, deliberate steps. It is a time to surrender more fully to my longings."

I glance through my journal and my eyes land on an affirmation I created several days ago: "I allow the intelligence of Life itself to guide my life." I look outside at the falling snow, at the intelligence of Life itself in motion. It is stunning in its richness, clarity and generosity, and I want nothing more than to drink it in with all my senses. I have a sudden impulse to write a poem. And even though I am not a poet, I pick up my pen and write.

Snow Wisdom

The quiet benediction of the snow
     settles the anxious hum of my thoughts.

Gentle, inexorable, soft

     Inevitable.

A tender dance of stillness and movement
     revealing the paradox and perfection of Being:

We are the many and the One.

Be still, the snow says.

And I am still.

Breaking a Few Rules

I just finished reading a column in the most recent issue of More magazine titled, "How to Afford Your Next Chapter" (February 2010). The article offers several suggestions for financing a career transition in midlife. Its advice is thorough, logical, practical - and deadening. Don't get me wrong - I know the author wrote it thoughtfully and with every intention of offering support to those who want to pursue more satisfying careers. And yet, coming as it does from a certain worldview that elevates so-called "financial security" above virtually everything else, it inadvertently reinforces the very fears and beliefs that hold us hostage in unsatisfactory jobs to begin with.

One element of this commonly held worldview is that a job, or even a career, is primarily something we pursue to make money. Which, at one level, it is. Yet when we remain focused on that level only, we miss the greater truth that our work is really an expression of ourselves, an opportunity to create something of value and to participate in the giving and receiving of the creative process. From that level, we see that money is a flexible medium of exchange that greatly facilitates giving and receiving in diverse and personalized forms. It supports our creativity, but has no value outside its role in the creative process itself.

And this ultimate creative process of creating work we love is not just about finding a less stressful job or experiencing greater satisfaction in our lives - although it certainly offers both of those things -  it is a courageous healing path to our truest Self. It is a spiritual journey.

I've come to understand that what we most long to create is what the world most needs from us, yet too often we are told that our longings are impractical; in fear and resignation we take on work that pays the bills but leaves our souls completely unnourished. We think we are being "responsible," but our true responsibility is to the great spirit within us that is bursting with talent and aliveness and a genuine desire to be of service in the world. When we continually ignore that spirit, we are not being true to ourselves. We are compromising our integrity and our ability to live authentic, passionate lives.

The choice to create work we love requires that we revisit all the fears and false beliefs that led us away from out truth in the first place - to challenge our worldview. That is why it is a courageous choice. Facing fear and dismantling limiting beliefs is not easy work! But it is the work we must do in order to live what I call an awake and inspired life. What makes it particularly challenging is that we are inundated on every level and in every moment with the rigid, fear-based rules of our culture that seduced us into ignoring our hearts in the first place.They are very, very convincing, and of course they "work" within a worldview that says we are separate beings competing for scarce resources, that the future is separate from the present, and that money is a separate object that must be pursued, obtained and accumulated.

The true nature of our universe is one of unity and connectedness, aliveness and endless creativity. From quantum physicists to the great spiritual masters, we learn that a divinely intelligent, unified field or matrix gives rise to, and supports, all life in the universe. It is omnipresent, eternal, endless - as are the possibilities for creation that it engenders. We are connected through and by this eternal field of consciousness, and our creativity is limited only by our imagination. Far from being separate beings competing for scarce resources, we are glorious, individuated expressions of a magnificent and abundant whole - and it is our very uniqueness that defines our essential contribution to the whole.

Both science and spiritual traditions tell us that our minds - our intentions, beliefs and thoughts - have fundamental creative power. And so when we believe in separateness and scarcity, that is the world we create. That is the world we have created. Yet when we dare to challenge those beliefs, when we dare to live from the trusting heart instead of from fear, we can change our world.

Which brings me back to the More column. It suggests, among other things, that anyone considering a new career have at least twelve months of living expenses tucked away in a savings account - but "do not even think about robbing your retirement accounts" - and that you have an exit strategy in case of failure. I recognize these are sound recommendations when preserving financial capital is the main goal. But when the intention is to be fully alive, to live your best and truest life and unleash your passion, rules such as this may stand squarely in the way. Preservation of capital arises clearly from a worldview of scarcity; living your passion does not.

Interestingly, in the same magazine five women were profiled who had successfully transitioned into new fields of work they absolutely loved, work that fed their souls and gave meaning to their lives. Almost all of them had broken at least one of the rules. One had raided her retirement account, another had used high-interest credit cards to gain access to funds. The latter was a woman who is now the owner of an award-winning vineyard. She said, "Everyone thought we were nuts. If we'd had a business plan, we never would have bought the property." In other words, if they'd had - and followed - a sensible plan, they would not be growing a thriving business and living their dreams.

I'm not saying that we should break the rules just for the sake of breaking rules - far from it. Often the rules can protect us from diving headlong into something that is not an expression of our truth, or they help us move at a pace that is comfortable and doesn't plunge us into paralyzing fear. But just as often, the rules become rigid prescriptions for how things are supposed to be done, creating fear-encrusted obstacles to following our true path.

Yet breaking the rules is an artful process.The one thing that stands out in the profiles of those women profiled in More, in my own life and in the lives of clients I have coached, is that a choice to break some rules comes not from rebellion, but from a deep-seated inner knowing of "rightness." I refer to this as inner guidance, and I believe it comes directly from that divinely intelligent, unifed field of consciousness I mentioned earlier. This guidance has access to a kind of wisdom that transcends our linear projections and materially-based assumptions. It understands paradox and flow and the interconnectedness of all things, and will guide us to the choices that honor our wholeness - present and future.

I'll be the first to admit that learning to identify, listen to, trust and act on that guidance is challenging; it is a skill that has atrophied in many of us and needs to be cultivated. In the absence of clear inner guidance, following the rules makes all the sense in the world. But when your heart is holding a vision for your life and that still, small voice within is quietly encouraging you to step forward into that vision, don't let our culture's man-made rules stand in the way. Be willing to challenge them. Be willing to turn away from outside experts and listen to the only real expert on how to live the life you came here to live: You.

Moments of Grace

I've been thinking about the well-worn phrase, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I don't think it's used as commonly today as it was in the past, yet the sentiment is still expressed, especially during times of great crisis such as that being faced by the people of Haiti.

It's meant, I believe, to remind us to be grateful for the blessings in our life - and gratitude for blessings is something I wholeheartedly endorse! - yet there is something about it that bothers me. Maybe not the phrase itself, but the faint aroma of pity that often accompanies it. It's as if the person going through a challenge or crisis is somehow outside of God's grace, and we can only stand back and watch in horror, thankful that we're not walking in their shoes - and thankful that we are the beneficiaries of God's grace, even though others are not. Whew, we dodged that bullet! Now if only we can make it to the end of our lives without having to experience anything like that... We hope we'll continue to be lucky, since grace appears to be rather capricious.

I'll be the first to admit that an experience of grace is something we cannot plan, force or expect; it comes as a great gift from realms beyond our human understanding - a mysterious, unspeakably tender yet powerful revelation of the divine mind and sacred heart within us. It is, paradoxically, both humbling and expansive - and it is also, much to our confusion and frustration, as brief and swift as lightning. We cannot control it, and we cannot hold onto it. We can only be open to receive it.

And we are all, each and every one of us, worthy of receiving grace. It is not bestowed only on the lucky few who have proven themselves in some way, because inherent worth has no need of proof. Grace cannot be earned or bargained for. It is not a reward for good behavior, and its apparent absence is not a punishment for wrongdoing.

I've come to believe that grace is both a reflection of, and a catalyst for, our awakening to the greater truth of our innate divinity and worth. It shakes loose the grip of our conditioned, fear-based view of the world and reveals something wondrous, magnificent and yet inexplicably simple. It lightens our load. Grace opens us to healing and forgiveness in a way we didn't even know we needed.

And grace has many faces; it can be experienced in moments that are silent and still, and also in moments of great chaos and confusion. It shows up in the very form and timing that uniquely serve our growth. It is intensely personal, which means we are not equipped to discern moments of grace for others; we can only be open to recognizing grace-filled moments in our own lives.

Which brings me back to, "There, but for the grace of God..." When we see others who are going through times of great struggle, I think we honor them not by assuming they have somehow fallen outside of God's grace, but by remembering that they, like we, are already worthy of grace - and that grace may indeed be present in the situation, even if we can't see it. We honor them by ackowledging not just their fear and pain, but also their nobility and courage. And of course we honor them by helping them in whatever way we are called.

And we honor grace itself by recognizing it in our lives, however brief or infrequent it appears to be. In those moments we can say, "Here I am, in the grace of God." And we can be very grateful - not because grace chose us over someone else, but because grace exists.