The scene is a familiar one. I’m sitting across from a client as we explore possibilities for getting her dreams out into the world. She tells me, hesitantly and almost dismissively, about an experience or two she had, times when she dared to share her talent and genius with someone else. And the “someone else” was blown away, deeply moved or inspired or in some way helped by my client’s brilliance. But before I can jump into the story with her and ask her to tell me more, to share with me how it felt, to consider where that kind of energy might lead, she stops cold.
And she says something along the lines of, “But that was so long ago.” Or, “I think that was beginner’s luck.” Or, “I just don’t have what it takes to really build something with that.” Or the ever-popular, “But that won’t make me any money.”
Instant possibility-killers.
And that’s not the worst of it. What I’ve come to appreciate, more deeply than ever before, is that our habitual tendency to dismiss our talent - and our longings to share it with others – is just plain selfish. And I don’t mean the “good” kind of selfish that arises from love and reflects a healthy desire to nourish ourselves. I mean the petty, whiny, self-indulgent kind of selfish that arises from fear and reflects the inner admonition to keep ourselves small.
When we hold our talent in, we withhold it from the world. We deprive others of the wisdom and inspiration and beauty and playfulness and knowledge and support and fantasy and warmth and dazzling insights that we have to share, if only we would. And without those things, the world is a dimmer place. It lacks a certain vibrancy. It is in a fundamental sense incomplete, as the very contributions needed from us to make it whole are missing.
And all because we’ve decided we’re somehow not good enough. We think we’re sparing the world our ineptness, when in fact we’re depriving it of our greatness. And we’re depriving ourselves of the immense joy and generosity and aliveness we could feel if we celebrated and surrendered to our innate creative genius.
That’s a lot to deprive ourselves of. That’s a lot to deprive the world of. And that’s why I call it selfish.
I’m not trying to play the guilt card here. But sometimes we need a little shake to wake us up to a deeper truth. And the deeper truth here is that what we most long to create or give is what the world most needs from us. It’s an elegantly designed system that can function beautifully if we all do our part. And our part is to recognize, honor and empower our deepest longings and talents.
I know, I know, you may not know where or how to begin. You may be living such a crazy-busy life that cultivating a talent or two seems overwhelming. You may have convinced yourself that you really can’t make any money at what you love so why bother? I’m telling you, firmly and clearly, to set all of that aside. None of it matters. What matters is that you are fully alive and that you are giving the best of what you have to give to yourself and others.
Here are a couple of things I’ve learned that may help you get started - or stay committed – to living your dreams:
• Joy and passion are their own reasons for being. They do not need to be justified or to create specific results in order to “count.” Every moment you open to the life force of creative energy within you is a moment that counts. Every time you open the laptop and write, or pull out the sketchpad and doodle, or take your children on an adventure that delighted you to plan, or sing out loud because you feel so alive when you sing, or teach a friend how to play bridge, or practice with love and dedication that new piano arrangement you want to learn – every time you immerse yourself in your most cherished talents and longings is a moment fulfilled. Give yourself more of them.
• The real treasure in committing to honoring your dreams is in who you become. You grow into a person of immense courage and integrity and generosity, a person who loves life and loves herself and illuminates for the world what a love-filled life is like. You grow into someone you respect, and someone other people want to be around. You grow into who you were meant to be.
• Don’t make it about money, at least not right away. I’m a huge proponent of challenging our beliefs about what has value and what can be exchanged for money in the marketplace, but if we demand too soon of our talent that it covers all the bills, we strangle that very talent with our rigid expectations and subterranean fears of not having enough. Create space in your life to nurture your talent and let it build its own momentum and direction. Practice appreciating your talent and your self each step of the way, for it is only through loving appreciation that our talent can grow and flourish. And when the time is right to offer our creations and services in the marketplace, we’ll be fortified with the inner certainty that what we’re offering has value.
Okay, I think that's enough for now. Are you with me? I hope so…I love good company! And even if you have to take it on faith, know that you really can do this. Actually, only you can do this…this, that you most want to do. Decide that who you are and what you have to give really matters. (Because it does.) Dare to make your dreams a priority in your life, right now. Lavish your talents with dedication and appreciation. Relish them and look for opportunities to share them with others. Please, do it.
Because to do anything less is just plain selfish.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Putting Our Souls in Charge of Our Commitments
I had the pleasure last weekend of meeting a local author whose book, The Practicing Mind, is one of the top sellers on Amazon.com. Tom Sterner was the featured speaker at a local spiritual center where I was promoting an upcoming workshop. I loved his talk and so hurried to buy his book after the service.
Having just finished reading it, I feel confident in recommending The Practicing Mind as a powerful manifesto for developing focus and discipline as a path to inner peace. Tom’s writing is clear and thoughtful and his guidance is eminently practical. As synchronicity would have it, the timing of the book showing up in my life is quite perfect, as I’ve committed to increasing my own levels of focus and discipline this year in the areas that really matter to me.
And I got another surprising benefit from Tom’s book – the impulse to write this blog post, inspired by a story he shares in an early chapter. He tells us about the decision he made at a certain point in his life to take up golf. He chose to honor and support this newfound commitment with golf lessons, which he approached with great dedication. It was immediately clear that the students in the class who practiced regularly made significantly more progress than those who did not.
One of the students whose skill did not progress was a woman who had signed up for golf lessons because she was in the corporate world and felt that playing a decent game of golf would further her career; she would be able to participate in the strategic planning conversations and spontaneous brainstorming meetings that arose regularly on the golf course. Now let me be clear about the fact that I have no idea who this woman was, or anything at all about her inner life. But Tom’s description of her reminded me of many people I’d met in my own corporate career who pursued golf for just that reason. And I remembered the pressure I’d felt to do the same.
While Tom made the valid point that committed practice would have yielded better results for her (and the also valid point that most of us don’t really know how to approach practice as anything other than a chore, thereby depriving ourselves of an opportunity to surrender to the process and the moment), I saw something else in the story. I was reminded of how essential it is to choose our commitments based on what we are truly called to do – not because we’ll possibly advance our career, but because the very doing of it expresses, in some fundamental way, who we are.
I’ve seen time and again that what creates true fulfillment in life is what we create, give and experience that arises from our strengths and passions. We naturally serve others in bringing forth the brilliance within us. But so often we make commitments based on what we think we should do to get ahead, leaving our deeply held longings in the dust of our hurried race to the future.
I can remember thinking years ago, with heavy resignation, that I should learn to play golf. Everyone who was at the highest levels of the company played golf; it seemed to be a requirement for making it to the top. Yet golf had no inherent appeal to me, and the one time I tried it I was miserable. I’m sure if I was skilled at it – a skill requiring committed practice – I would have enjoyed it more. But without the inner desire to experience myself as a golfer, I had no willingness at all to practice. None. I could have tried forcing myself to just do it, but I did not.
Thank God. Because that would have been a complete waste of my talents and skills and natural desire to help others through my teaching and writing. Learning to play golf in a misguided attempt to further my career would have been a choice arising from my ego’s need to fit in and prove that I was a team player worthy of greater titles and benefits. It would have been false, soul-denying and inherently depleting. I might have become an adequate golfer, but I wouldn’t have become who I am deeply called to be.
I agree wholeheartedly with Tom that a devotion to practice is essential for living a rich and fulfilled life, whether we’re practicing golf or meditation or writing or changing how we think about things. But we need to choose what we’re practicing wisely. And that’s why learning to recognize the inner voice of our soul is so important, because the soul’s longings point us unfailingly toward our highest potential and deepest satisfaction. That’s their purpose. Our authentic longings are deep and penetrating. They’re an ever-renewing energy source that powers our ongoing devotion to practicing whatever we need to practice to become our highest and best selves.
My soul's longings to teach and write and discover the deepeset truth of who I am keep me focused in a way that merely deciding to do something does not. They are patient and yet lovingly relentless, reminding me again and again to reorder my priorities to align with them. And when I do, I experience myself as clear and powerful and worthy. Life becomes lighter and yet more purposeful at the same time. Our longings are the gateway to our genius, calling us to try, to explore, to cultivate, to practice. And practice becomes the path of inevitable growth and expansion into the person we wish to become.
So let’s dare to put our souls in charge of our commitments. And then let’s really commit, full out, with the loving devotion our souls dearly deserve.
Having just finished reading it, I feel confident in recommending The Practicing Mind as a powerful manifesto for developing focus and discipline as a path to inner peace. Tom’s writing is clear and thoughtful and his guidance is eminently practical. As synchronicity would have it, the timing of the book showing up in my life is quite perfect, as I’ve committed to increasing my own levels of focus and discipline this year in the areas that really matter to me.
And I got another surprising benefit from Tom’s book – the impulse to write this blog post, inspired by a story he shares in an early chapter. He tells us about the decision he made at a certain point in his life to take up golf. He chose to honor and support this newfound commitment with golf lessons, which he approached with great dedication. It was immediately clear that the students in the class who practiced regularly made significantly more progress than those who did not.
One of the students whose skill did not progress was a woman who had signed up for golf lessons because she was in the corporate world and felt that playing a decent game of golf would further her career; she would be able to participate in the strategic planning conversations and spontaneous brainstorming meetings that arose regularly on the golf course. Now let me be clear about the fact that I have no idea who this woman was, or anything at all about her inner life. But Tom’s description of her reminded me of many people I’d met in my own corporate career who pursued golf for just that reason. And I remembered the pressure I’d felt to do the same.
While Tom made the valid point that committed practice would have yielded better results for her (and the also valid point that most of us don’t really know how to approach practice as anything other than a chore, thereby depriving ourselves of an opportunity to surrender to the process and the moment), I saw something else in the story. I was reminded of how essential it is to choose our commitments based on what we are truly called to do – not because we’ll possibly advance our career, but because the very doing of it expresses, in some fundamental way, who we are.
I’ve seen time and again that what creates true fulfillment in life is what we create, give and experience that arises from our strengths and passions. We naturally serve others in bringing forth the brilliance within us. But so often we make commitments based on what we think we should do to get ahead, leaving our deeply held longings in the dust of our hurried race to the future.
I can remember thinking years ago, with heavy resignation, that I should learn to play golf. Everyone who was at the highest levels of the company played golf; it seemed to be a requirement for making it to the top. Yet golf had no inherent appeal to me, and the one time I tried it I was miserable. I’m sure if I was skilled at it – a skill requiring committed practice – I would have enjoyed it more. But without the inner desire to experience myself as a golfer, I had no willingness at all to practice. None. I could have tried forcing myself to just do it, but I did not.
Thank God. Because that would have been a complete waste of my talents and skills and natural desire to help others through my teaching and writing. Learning to play golf in a misguided attempt to further my career would have been a choice arising from my ego’s need to fit in and prove that I was a team player worthy of greater titles and benefits. It would have been false, soul-denying and inherently depleting. I might have become an adequate golfer, but I wouldn’t have become who I am deeply called to be.
I agree wholeheartedly with Tom that a devotion to practice is essential for living a rich and fulfilled life, whether we’re practicing golf or meditation or writing or changing how we think about things. But we need to choose what we’re practicing wisely. And that’s why learning to recognize the inner voice of our soul is so important, because the soul’s longings point us unfailingly toward our highest potential and deepest satisfaction. That’s their purpose. Our authentic longings are deep and penetrating. They’re an ever-renewing energy source that powers our ongoing devotion to practicing whatever we need to practice to become our highest and best selves.
My soul's longings to teach and write and discover the deepeset truth of who I am keep me focused in a way that merely deciding to do something does not. They are patient and yet lovingly relentless, reminding me again and again to reorder my priorities to align with them. And when I do, I experience myself as clear and powerful and worthy. Life becomes lighter and yet more purposeful at the same time. Our longings are the gateway to our genius, calling us to try, to explore, to cultivate, to practice. And practice becomes the path of inevitable growth and expansion into the person we wish to become.
So let’s dare to put our souls in charge of our commitments. And then let’s really commit, full out, with the loving devotion our souls dearly deserve.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 4, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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…
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…
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