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.