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.