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.