I've been thinking a lot about money lately. Not only has the lingering recession kept the subject forefront in my mind - will I be able to expand my client base with everyone so skittish about their finances? - I'm also writing a book about money. The idea for the book evolved with my coaching practice, as time and again clients would declare their dreams off-limits because of money. Either they didn't have enough to do what they wanted to do, or they couldn't make enough money doing what they wanted to do. Or both.
I find it fascinating that, when money becomes our primary consideration or goal, our true goals are often buried or ignored. I think this is because, in separating money as an object to be pursued, obtained and accumulated, we separate it from the very process that confers its value: the process of giving and receiving, creating and sharing. Money's primary purpose is to facilitate the creative process, and its value is inextricably linked to that process. When we see it as an object divorced from our creativity - when we pursue it as a goal - we divorce ourselves from our creativity as well.
When money is not only the primary goal but is also seen as the true measure of our worth and success, more is always seen as better. We choose jobs and careers on the basis of their money-making potential rather than on their fit with our innate strengths and talents, and we hold ourselves back from investing in things that would move us toward the realization of our dreams. We expend lots of energy on finding "deals" that help us spend as little money as possible - just think of all the creative energy that's focused on trying to minimize or avoid taxes, all the time spent researching the absolute lowest cost of a planned purchase and all the hours spent cutting coupons. (I'm not saying we shouldn't be mindful about the cost of things; I'm just saying that our preoccupation with money as the sole basis for making decisions blinds us to so much that is worthwhile and satisfying, including other ways we could be focusing our creative energy and attention.)
In my own life I've fallen prey to the "money is king" mindset. As an accountant and financial analyst I learned all the money rules our culture has laid out, and did my best to follow them. Along the way I became cynical, resigned and unfulfilled. I was making "good money" but wasn't making anything of my life that actually reflected who I am. And so I began the journey of discovering who I am and how my soul wanted to express herself in the world. The journey continues.
And yes, I still want to make good money. It's just that I don't want to make good money at the expense of living an awake, inspired and authentic life. So a big part of this journey is discovering new ways of relating to money that honor its value and importance without making it the reason for our existence. And that's why I decided to write the book. I know many of us want a healthier relationship with money: we don't want money to be our god, but nor do we want to be starving artists. We want to invite money to its rightful place in our lives. I'll be talking more about that in future posts...and in my book, of course!
And speaking of books - as part of the market research for the one I'm currently writing, I've read a lot of books about money and, particularly, about how to make money from a more enlightened, spiritual perspective. Many of them are quite good and helpful, yet several of them are grounded in a certain perspective that, for me, is at once appealing and repellant. They speak of money as a force for good, and in fact exhort readers to want it - lots of it. It's almost as if there is something wrong with you if you don't aspire to be a millionaire, because there is so much good you can do in the world when you make lots of money and you can give lots of it away to charity. These books talk about making money ethically and managing it responsibly and creatively, yet the underlying premise is: make as much money as possible, as fast as you can.
And that's the very premise I think needs to be challenged. I realize there have been, and continue to be, great philanthropists whose gargantuan monetary contributions have laid the foundation for innumerable works of great consequence. I also realize that the smaller contributions each of us make keep our favorite charities alive and able to do their important work. Yet I believe that, if we weren't living in a culture that drives us toward money as the main goal, there would be far less need for charity in the first place. A more natural balance would be restored in the flow of giving and receiving, creating and sharing, in the absence of the relentless push for more. If we focused on the creative process itself and what we're called to give, we would live from our talent and generosity and the world would benefit directly from our gifts. We wouldn't need to "make money" in order to give; we would be naturally giving, and enjoying the benefits of money as a facilitator of the exchange process.
I realize this may seem idealistic or even patently absurd to many, yet surely we can see the obvious distortions that our fear-based, greed-sanctioned culture has spawned. At the very least I think now is the time to take a time-out, to pause and examine all the rules about money that have ruled us for so long. Some may still serve us, some may not. But we disempower ourselves when we allow our quest for money, or our fear of not having enough of it, squelch our creativity and passion.
Let's invite money back to its rightful place in our lives...and let's be the ones who decide what that is.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Giving It Up
When I was a little girl, Lent was a serious, somber time. We were expected to "give something up," to make a sacrifice that symbolized our understanding and appreciation of Christ's ultimate sacrifice for us. We had to choose something that we really, really liked so that it would be really, really hard to give it up. That was a critical aspect of the choice: it had to be a painful one. After all, given the unimaginable, unspeakable pain Christ endured on the cross, this was the least we could do. There was a certain nobility to the gesture, but also more than a whiff of martyrdom. We were meant to give ourselves a small taste of suffering.
As I write this I feel almost stunned: how could we have come to believe that self-inflicted suffering is a path to wholeness and healing? I'm reminded of a recent article I read, which reported that the former Pope, John Paul II, routinely beat himself with a belt and, during lent, would sleep without any blankets or padding on a cold, hard floor. These acts of self-mortification were described as instruments of "Christian perfection" (1-26-10 posting on Time website). I cannot find the words to convey my profound sadness that any thinking, loving person could view self-punishment as a means to elevated spiritual consciousness.
And while giving something up for Lent is hardly as dramatic and painful as beating oneself with a belt, its underlying purpose is still rooted in the intention to create and experience suffering. It's entirely possible, of course, that I've misunderstood the true intention behind this practice, and that I'm misrepresenting it now. Yet even if that is so, I don't think I am alone. I have spoken with many people over the years whose experience of Lent was virtually identical to mine, and who struggle with it to this day. And so I wanted to offer a perspective on "giving something up" that I've adopted as I've walked a path of spirituality and expanded consciousness, one that - for me - makes deep, intuitive sense and provides true guidance for living a love-centered life.
Here it is in a nutshell: I think the most important thing we can give up, during the season of Lent and all year long, is judgment. Judgment in its many forms and guises - criticism, blame, cynicism, righteousness, doubt - and judgment directed both inwardly and outwardly. Judgment of ourselves, our leaders, our experiences, our histories. Judgment of our food choices, our friends' boyfriends, our parents, our children, and even that inexplicably confusing movie we just saw. Let's suspend judgment of everything, and see what happens.
Given how conditioned we are to judge everything - how judgment infiltrates virtually every waking moment, often in the guise of suggestions or opinions - this is actually a difficult thing to do. But its difficulty is not meant to cause suffering; paradoxically, it is meant to free us from suffering. Judgment is the original cause of suffering, and so in releasing it we release ourselves from its damning constraints. We free ourselves to see with innocence and trust and an open, loving heart. We begin to perceive the world through a lens of abundance and fresh possibilities. We live and let live.
Thanks to my education at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, I've been trained to think of things in terms of energy. And from that perspective it's easy to see that the energy of judgment is defeating. That's fairly obvious when we're judging ourselves: it feels bad. As we sit in self-judgment we are deflated and depleted; we are paralyzed into numbness, resignation and inactivity. Even if there is a kernel of truth in our concerns, the painful energy of judgment prevents us from addressing it in a whole and loving way. For example, I may want to reach and sustain a healthy weight. And that may translate into the need to lose a few pounds. But if I judge myself as fat or lazy, the chances of my actually losing the weight are far lower, because self-judgment is a form of self-identity: I see myself as incapable. And that self-image will severely limit my thoughts and choices, virtually guaranteeing that I will prove myself right.
Judging others may initially feel good - righteousness is very seductive, masquerading itself as a feeling of power or competence - but if we're very mindful and honest with ourselves, we discover that judging others really doesn't feel good. Often it leads to feeling isolated, misunderstood, defiant or stuck, as a client of mine recently experienced.
She had been in a fender-bender several weeks ago. A young man - a "punk" in her telling of the story - had pulled out from a gas station without having clear visibility, crossing three lanes of traffic and landing in front of her. She hit the brakes, of course, but the roads were wet and she slid into him anyway. There was virtually no damage to her car, but a moderate amount to his. She was, understandably, upset.
Weeks later, she was sitting with me fuming about it. They had agreed not to call the police at the time, and had simply exchanged contact and insurance information. She now felt resentful that he had contacted her insurance company, and her insurance agent had suggested she call the young man directly and speak with him before deciding whether to file any claims. She didn't want to do that because she knew he would ask her for money, and she didn't want to give him any money because she felt the accident was his fault. She saw him as an irresponsible, money-grubbing punk who had caused great inconvenience to her. (Those were her words, not mine.)
What she didn't see, at least initially, was that her judgment of him as irresponsible and money-grubbing was the cause of her distress. As she held those thoughts of him, her stomach tightened into a knot, her breathing became shallow, and her mind kept swirling in the same pattern - "It's his fault!" She was unable to see a path forward because she was stuck in her story about the past, a story built on judgment. The energy of it was confining, chaotic and confusing.
Together we worked on seeing the experience for what it was, without embellishment - two cars collided on a rainy day. As we stripped away the drama, the fault-finding and the name-calling, she was able to see the simplest truth: it happened. The event happened, and her judgment of all the reasons why it shouldn't have happened was simply keeping her stuck. I could literally see her body relax and her face brighten as she released the judgments and sat with the simplicity of truth. She said she felt tingly and alive - and greatly relieved.
From that place she found a willingness to call him, to find out what he truly wanted and to share her perspective with him. Without viewing him as the enemy, she could see him as the person with whom she had this experience, and with whom she must now negotiate to resolve the question of how to pay for the damage to his car. She could also see the possibility of his filing a claim with his own insurance company, something she hadn't even considered in her reactiveness to his apparent "money grubbing."
The need to take steps and resolve the situation did not change, but in releasing judgment she freed herself to take those steps with a calm and peaceful mind. So when I speak of releasing judgment, I am not speaking of ignoring injustices or becoming a doormat for others to walk on. Yet we do ourselves and others a great service when we remember that it is possible to retain discernment and to make wise, healthy choices without smearing on that extra layer of "wrongness" or "badness." It's the difference between saying, "I see things differently and need to act from my own truth," vs. "I am right and he is wrong (or bad...or a punk!) for seeing things his way."
So I say, let's get out of the judgment business. Let's focus on the simplest of truths in any situation - "Just the facts, Ma'am" - and free ourselves from the icky, sticky energy of finding fault and placing blame. Let's recognize that judgment escalates fear, rebellion, defensiveness and reactiveness - it stimulates the very behaviors that give rise to the experiences we are judging! And we cannot heal the painful consequences of judgment with more judgment. We can only heal our suffering with acceptance, curiosity, understanding, willingness and compassion. And we can only release those qualities in ourselves by giving up our fear-based tendency to judge.
So...let's give it up.
As I write this I feel almost stunned: how could we have come to believe that self-inflicted suffering is a path to wholeness and healing? I'm reminded of a recent article I read, which reported that the former Pope, John Paul II, routinely beat himself with a belt and, during lent, would sleep without any blankets or padding on a cold, hard floor. These acts of self-mortification were described as instruments of "Christian perfection" (1-26-10 posting on Time website). I cannot find the words to convey my profound sadness that any thinking, loving person could view self-punishment as a means to elevated spiritual consciousness.
And while giving something up for Lent is hardly as dramatic and painful as beating oneself with a belt, its underlying purpose is still rooted in the intention to create and experience suffering. It's entirely possible, of course, that I've misunderstood the true intention behind this practice, and that I'm misrepresenting it now. Yet even if that is so, I don't think I am alone. I have spoken with many people over the years whose experience of Lent was virtually identical to mine, and who struggle with it to this day. And so I wanted to offer a perspective on "giving something up" that I've adopted as I've walked a path of spirituality and expanded consciousness, one that - for me - makes deep, intuitive sense and provides true guidance for living a love-centered life.
Here it is in a nutshell: I think the most important thing we can give up, during the season of Lent and all year long, is judgment. Judgment in its many forms and guises - criticism, blame, cynicism, righteousness, doubt - and judgment directed both inwardly and outwardly. Judgment of ourselves, our leaders, our experiences, our histories. Judgment of our food choices, our friends' boyfriends, our parents, our children, and even that inexplicably confusing movie we just saw. Let's suspend judgment of everything, and see what happens.
Given how conditioned we are to judge everything - how judgment infiltrates virtually every waking moment, often in the guise of suggestions or opinions - this is actually a difficult thing to do. But its difficulty is not meant to cause suffering; paradoxically, it is meant to free us from suffering. Judgment is the original cause of suffering, and so in releasing it we release ourselves from its damning constraints. We free ourselves to see with innocence and trust and an open, loving heart. We begin to perceive the world through a lens of abundance and fresh possibilities. We live and let live.
Thanks to my education at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, I've been trained to think of things in terms of energy. And from that perspective it's easy to see that the energy of judgment is defeating. That's fairly obvious when we're judging ourselves: it feels bad. As we sit in self-judgment we are deflated and depleted; we are paralyzed into numbness, resignation and inactivity. Even if there is a kernel of truth in our concerns, the painful energy of judgment prevents us from addressing it in a whole and loving way. For example, I may want to reach and sustain a healthy weight. And that may translate into the need to lose a few pounds. But if I judge myself as fat or lazy, the chances of my actually losing the weight are far lower, because self-judgment is a form of self-identity: I see myself as incapable. And that self-image will severely limit my thoughts and choices, virtually guaranteeing that I will prove myself right.
Judging others may initially feel good - righteousness is very seductive, masquerading itself as a feeling of power or competence - but if we're very mindful and honest with ourselves, we discover that judging others really doesn't feel good. Often it leads to feeling isolated, misunderstood, defiant or stuck, as a client of mine recently experienced.
She had been in a fender-bender several weeks ago. A young man - a "punk" in her telling of the story - had pulled out from a gas station without having clear visibility, crossing three lanes of traffic and landing in front of her. She hit the brakes, of course, but the roads were wet and she slid into him anyway. There was virtually no damage to her car, but a moderate amount to his. She was, understandably, upset.
Weeks later, she was sitting with me fuming about it. They had agreed not to call the police at the time, and had simply exchanged contact and insurance information. She now felt resentful that he had contacted her insurance company, and her insurance agent had suggested she call the young man directly and speak with him before deciding whether to file any claims. She didn't want to do that because she knew he would ask her for money, and she didn't want to give him any money because she felt the accident was his fault. She saw him as an irresponsible, money-grubbing punk who had caused great inconvenience to her. (Those were her words, not mine.)
What she didn't see, at least initially, was that her judgment of him as irresponsible and money-grubbing was the cause of her distress. As she held those thoughts of him, her stomach tightened into a knot, her breathing became shallow, and her mind kept swirling in the same pattern - "It's his fault!" She was unable to see a path forward because she was stuck in her story about the past, a story built on judgment. The energy of it was confining, chaotic and confusing.
Together we worked on seeing the experience for what it was, without embellishment - two cars collided on a rainy day. As we stripped away the drama, the fault-finding and the name-calling, she was able to see the simplest truth: it happened. The event happened, and her judgment of all the reasons why it shouldn't have happened was simply keeping her stuck. I could literally see her body relax and her face brighten as she released the judgments and sat with the simplicity of truth. She said she felt tingly and alive - and greatly relieved.
From that place she found a willingness to call him, to find out what he truly wanted and to share her perspective with him. Without viewing him as the enemy, she could see him as the person with whom she had this experience, and with whom she must now negotiate to resolve the question of how to pay for the damage to his car. She could also see the possibility of his filing a claim with his own insurance company, something she hadn't even considered in her reactiveness to his apparent "money grubbing."
The need to take steps and resolve the situation did not change, but in releasing judgment she freed herself to take those steps with a calm and peaceful mind. So when I speak of releasing judgment, I am not speaking of ignoring injustices or becoming a doormat for others to walk on. Yet we do ourselves and others a great service when we remember that it is possible to retain discernment and to make wise, healthy choices without smearing on that extra layer of "wrongness" or "badness." It's the difference between saying, "I see things differently and need to act from my own truth," vs. "I am right and he is wrong (or bad...or a punk!) for seeing things his way."
So I say, let's get out of the judgment business. Let's focus on the simplest of truths in any situation - "Just the facts, Ma'am" - and free ourselves from the icky, sticky energy of finding fault and placing blame. Let's recognize that judgment escalates fear, rebellion, defensiveness and reactiveness - it stimulates the very behaviors that give rise to the experiences we are judging! And we cannot heal the painful consequences of judgment with more judgment. We can only heal our suffering with acceptance, curiosity, understanding, willingness and compassion. And we can only release those qualities in ourselves by giving up our fear-based tendency to judge.
So...let's give it up.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Intelligence of Life
Once again all my plans are suspended as the second blizzard in less than a week visits the East Coast. The breathtaking beauty of the all-white landscape is at odds with the messy turmoil of my thoughts - thoughts about lost business, thoughts about wading through thigh-high, wet and very cold snow to get to my heat pumps and shovel them out, thoughts about how to "be productive" during this enforced time-out, thoughts about the treacherous conditions of the city streets for days to come, which means even more lost business...
Deep breath. I reach for my journal - the special one, the one in which I practice writing about my life and myself in the most compassionate, loving way I can. I start with the obvious: on the life pulse of creation - stasis, expansion, stasis, contraction - I am in the contraction phase. Everything is slowing down or stopping, and my job is not to judge or resist that movement, but to allow it, to honor it and harvest its riches. I write in my journal, "This is a time of gathering and consolidating, especially consolidating my energy around the vision I hold for my life rather than letting it dissipate into the ethers of doubt and anxiety. It is a time for quiet focus and for taking small, deliberate steps. It is a time to surrender more fully to my longings."
I glance through my journal and my eyes land on an affirmation I created several days ago: "I allow the intelligence of Life itself to guide my life." I look outside at the falling snow, at the intelligence of Life itself in motion. It is stunning in its richness, clarity and generosity, and I want nothing more than to drink it in with all my senses. I have a sudden impulse to write a poem. And even though I am not a poet, I pick up my pen and write.
Snow Wisdom
The quiet benediction of the snow
settles the anxious hum of my thoughts.
Gentle, inexorable, soft
Inevitable.
A tender dance of stillness and movement
revealing the paradox and perfection of Being:
We are the many and the One.
Be still, the snow says.
And I am still.
Deep breath. I reach for my journal - the special one, the one in which I practice writing about my life and myself in the most compassionate, loving way I can. I start with the obvious: on the life pulse of creation - stasis, expansion, stasis, contraction - I am in the contraction phase. Everything is slowing down or stopping, and my job is not to judge or resist that movement, but to allow it, to honor it and harvest its riches. I write in my journal, "This is a time of gathering and consolidating, especially consolidating my energy around the vision I hold for my life rather than letting it dissipate into the ethers of doubt and anxiety. It is a time for quiet focus and for taking small, deliberate steps. It is a time to surrender more fully to my longings."
I glance through my journal and my eyes land on an affirmation I created several days ago: "I allow the intelligence of Life itself to guide my life." I look outside at the falling snow, at the intelligence of Life itself in motion. It is stunning in its richness, clarity and generosity, and I want nothing more than to drink it in with all my senses. I have a sudden impulse to write a poem. And even though I am not a poet, I pick up my pen and write.
Snow Wisdom
The quiet benediction of the snow
settles the anxious hum of my thoughts.
Gentle, inexorable, soft
Inevitable.
A tender dance of stillness and movement
revealing the paradox and perfection of Being:
We are the many and the One.
Be still, the snow says.
And I am still.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Breaking a Few Rules
I just finished reading a column in the most recent issue of More magazine titled, "How to Afford Your Next Chapter" (February 2010). The article offers several suggestions for financing a career transition in midlife. Its advice is thorough, logical, practical - and deadening. Don't get me wrong - I know the author wrote it thoughtfully and with every intention of offering support to those who want to pursue more satisfying careers. And yet, coming as it does from a certain worldview that elevates so-called "financial security" above virtually everything else, it inadvertently reinforces the very fears and beliefs that hold us hostage in unsatisfactory jobs to begin with.
One element of this commonly held worldview is that a job, or even a career, is primarily something we pursue to make money. Which, at one level, it is. Yet when we remain focused on that level only, we miss the greater truth that our work is really an expression of ourselves, an opportunity to create something of value and to participate in the giving and receiving of the creative process. From that level, we see that money is a flexible medium of exchange that greatly facilitates giving and receiving in diverse and personalized forms. It supports our creativity, but has no value outside its role in the creative process itself.
And this ultimate creative process of creating work we love is not just about finding a less stressful job or experiencing greater satisfaction in our lives - although it certainly offers both of those things - it is a courageous healing path to our truest Self. It is a spiritual journey.
I've come to understand that what we most long to create is what the world most needs from us, yet too often we are told that our longings are impractical; in fear and resignation we take on work that pays the bills but leaves our souls completely unnourished. We think we are being "responsible," but our true responsibility is to the great spirit within us that is bursting with talent and aliveness and a genuine desire to be of service in the world. When we continually ignore that spirit, we are not being true to ourselves. We are compromising our integrity and our ability to live authentic, passionate lives.
The choice to create work we love requires that we revisit all the fears and false beliefs that led us away from out truth in the first place - to challenge our worldview. That is why it is a courageous choice. Facing fear and dismantling limiting beliefs is not easy work! But it is the work we must do in order to live what I call an awake and inspired life. What makes it particularly challenging is that we are inundated on every level and in every moment with the rigid, fear-based rules of our culture that seduced us into ignoring our hearts in the first place.They are very, very convincing, and of course they "work" within a worldview that says we are separate beings competing for scarce resources, that the future is separate from the present, and that money is a separate object that must be pursued, obtained and accumulated.
The true nature of our universe is one of unity and connectedness, aliveness and endless creativity. From quantum physicists to the great spiritual masters, we learn that a divinely intelligent, unified field or matrix gives rise to, and supports, all life in the universe. It is omnipresent, eternal, endless - as are the possibilities for creation that it engenders. We are connected through and by this eternal field of consciousness, and our creativity is limited only by our imagination. Far from being separate beings competing for scarce resources, we are glorious, individuated expressions of a magnificent and abundant whole - and it is our very uniqueness that defines our essential contribution to the whole.
Both science and spiritual traditions tell us that our minds - our intentions, beliefs and thoughts - have fundamental creative power. And so when we believe in separateness and scarcity, that is the world we create. That is the world we have created. Yet when we dare to challenge those beliefs, when we dare to live from the trusting heart instead of from fear, we can change our world.
Which brings me back to the More column. It suggests, among other things, that anyone considering a new career have at least twelve months of living expenses tucked away in a savings account - but "do not even think about robbing your retirement accounts" - and that you have an exit strategy in case of failure. I recognize these are sound recommendations when preserving financial capital is the main goal. But when the intention is to be fully alive, to live your best and truest life and unleash your passion, rules such as this may stand squarely in the way. Preservation of capital arises clearly from a worldview of scarcity; living your passion does not.
Interestingly, in the same magazine five women were profiled who had successfully transitioned into new fields of work they absolutely loved, work that fed their souls and gave meaning to their lives. Almost all of them had broken at least one of the rules. One had raided her retirement account, another had used high-interest credit cards to gain access to funds. The latter was a woman who is now the owner of an award-winning vineyard. She said, "Everyone thought we were nuts. If we'd had a business plan, we never would have bought the property." In other words, if they'd had - and followed - a sensible plan, they would not be growing a thriving business and living their dreams.
I'm not saying that we should break the rules just for the sake of breaking rules - far from it. Often the rules can protect us from diving headlong into something that is not an expression of our truth, or they help us move at a pace that is comfortable and doesn't plunge us into paralyzing fear. But just as often, the rules become rigid prescriptions for how things are supposed to be done, creating fear-encrusted obstacles to following our true path.
Yet breaking the rules is an artful process.The one thing that stands out in the profiles of those women profiled in More, in my own life and in the lives of clients I have coached, is that a choice to break some rules comes not from rebellion, but from a deep-seated inner knowing of "rightness." I refer to this as inner guidance, and I believe it comes directly from that divinely intelligent, unifed field of consciousness I mentioned earlier. This guidance has access to a kind of wisdom that transcends our linear projections and materially-based assumptions. It understands paradox and flow and the interconnectedness of all things, and will guide us to the choices that honor our wholeness - present and future.
I'll be the first to admit that learning to identify, listen to, trust and act on that guidance is challenging; it is a skill that has atrophied in many of us and needs to be cultivated. In the absence of clear inner guidance, following the rules makes all the sense in the world. But when your heart is holding a vision for your life and that still, small voice within is quietly encouraging you to step forward into that vision, don't let our culture's man-made rules stand in the way. Be willing to challenge them. Be willing to turn away from outside experts and listen to the only real expert on how to live the life you came here to live: You.
One element of this commonly held worldview is that a job, or even a career, is primarily something we pursue to make money. Which, at one level, it is. Yet when we remain focused on that level only, we miss the greater truth that our work is really an expression of ourselves, an opportunity to create something of value and to participate in the giving and receiving of the creative process. From that level, we see that money is a flexible medium of exchange that greatly facilitates giving and receiving in diverse and personalized forms. It supports our creativity, but has no value outside its role in the creative process itself.
And this ultimate creative process of creating work we love is not just about finding a less stressful job or experiencing greater satisfaction in our lives - although it certainly offers both of those things - it is a courageous healing path to our truest Self. It is a spiritual journey.
I've come to understand that what we most long to create is what the world most needs from us, yet too often we are told that our longings are impractical; in fear and resignation we take on work that pays the bills but leaves our souls completely unnourished. We think we are being "responsible," but our true responsibility is to the great spirit within us that is bursting with talent and aliveness and a genuine desire to be of service in the world. When we continually ignore that spirit, we are not being true to ourselves. We are compromising our integrity and our ability to live authentic, passionate lives.
The choice to create work we love requires that we revisit all the fears and false beliefs that led us away from out truth in the first place - to challenge our worldview. That is why it is a courageous choice. Facing fear and dismantling limiting beliefs is not easy work! But it is the work we must do in order to live what I call an awake and inspired life. What makes it particularly challenging is that we are inundated on every level and in every moment with the rigid, fear-based rules of our culture that seduced us into ignoring our hearts in the first place.They are very, very convincing, and of course they "work" within a worldview that says we are separate beings competing for scarce resources, that the future is separate from the present, and that money is a separate object that must be pursued, obtained and accumulated.
The true nature of our universe is one of unity and connectedness, aliveness and endless creativity. From quantum physicists to the great spiritual masters, we learn that a divinely intelligent, unified field or matrix gives rise to, and supports, all life in the universe. It is omnipresent, eternal, endless - as are the possibilities for creation that it engenders. We are connected through and by this eternal field of consciousness, and our creativity is limited only by our imagination. Far from being separate beings competing for scarce resources, we are glorious, individuated expressions of a magnificent and abundant whole - and it is our very uniqueness that defines our essential contribution to the whole.
Both science and spiritual traditions tell us that our minds - our intentions, beliefs and thoughts - have fundamental creative power. And so when we believe in separateness and scarcity, that is the world we create. That is the world we have created. Yet when we dare to challenge those beliefs, when we dare to live from the trusting heart instead of from fear, we can change our world.
Which brings me back to the More column. It suggests, among other things, that anyone considering a new career have at least twelve months of living expenses tucked away in a savings account - but "do not even think about robbing your retirement accounts" - and that you have an exit strategy in case of failure. I recognize these are sound recommendations when preserving financial capital is the main goal. But when the intention is to be fully alive, to live your best and truest life and unleash your passion, rules such as this may stand squarely in the way. Preservation of capital arises clearly from a worldview of scarcity; living your passion does not.
Interestingly, in the same magazine five women were profiled who had successfully transitioned into new fields of work they absolutely loved, work that fed their souls and gave meaning to their lives. Almost all of them had broken at least one of the rules. One had raided her retirement account, another had used high-interest credit cards to gain access to funds. The latter was a woman who is now the owner of an award-winning vineyard. She said, "Everyone thought we were nuts. If we'd had a business plan, we never would have bought the property." In other words, if they'd had - and followed - a sensible plan, they would not be growing a thriving business and living their dreams.
I'm not saying that we should break the rules just for the sake of breaking rules - far from it. Often the rules can protect us from diving headlong into something that is not an expression of our truth, or they help us move at a pace that is comfortable and doesn't plunge us into paralyzing fear. But just as often, the rules become rigid prescriptions for how things are supposed to be done, creating fear-encrusted obstacles to following our true path.
Yet breaking the rules is an artful process.The one thing that stands out in the profiles of those women profiled in More, in my own life and in the lives of clients I have coached, is that a choice to break some rules comes not from rebellion, but from a deep-seated inner knowing of "rightness." I refer to this as inner guidance, and I believe it comes directly from that divinely intelligent, unifed field of consciousness I mentioned earlier. This guidance has access to a kind of wisdom that transcends our linear projections and materially-based assumptions. It understands paradox and flow and the interconnectedness of all things, and will guide us to the choices that honor our wholeness - present and future.
I'll be the first to admit that learning to identify, listen to, trust and act on that guidance is challenging; it is a skill that has atrophied in many of us and needs to be cultivated. In the absence of clear inner guidance, following the rules makes all the sense in the world. But when your heart is holding a vision for your life and that still, small voice within is quietly encouraging you to step forward into that vision, don't let our culture's man-made rules stand in the way. Be willing to challenge them. Be willing to turn away from outside experts and listen to the only real expert on how to live the life you came here to live: You.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Moments of Grace
I've been thinking about the well-worn phrase, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I don't think it's used as commonly today as it was in the past, yet the sentiment is still expressed, especially during times of great crisis such as that being faced by the people of Haiti.
It's meant, I believe, to remind us to be grateful for the blessings in our life - and gratitude for blessings is something I wholeheartedly endorse! - yet there is something about it that bothers me. Maybe not the phrase itself, but the faint aroma of pity that often accompanies it. It's as if the person going through a challenge or crisis is somehow outside of God's grace, and we can only stand back and watch in horror, thankful that we're not walking in their shoes - and thankful that we are the beneficiaries of God's grace, even though others are not. Whew, we dodged that bullet! Now if only we can make it to the end of our lives without having to experience anything like that... We hope we'll continue to be lucky, since grace appears to be rather capricious.
I'll be the first to admit that an experience of grace is something we cannot plan, force or expect; it comes as a great gift from realms beyond our human understanding - a mysterious, unspeakably tender yet powerful revelation of the divine mind and sacred heart within us. It is, paradoxically, both humbling and expansive - and it is also, much to our confusion and frustration, as brief and swift as lightning. We cannot control it, and we cannot hold onto it. We can only be open to receive it.
And we are all, each and every one of us, worthy of receiving grace. It is not bestowed only on the lucky few who have proven themselves in some way, because inherent worth has no need of proof. Grace cannot be earned or bargained for. It is not a reward for good behavior, and its apparent absence is not a punishment for wrongdoing.
I've come to believe that grace is both a reflection of, and a catalyst for, our awakening to the greater truth of our innate divinity and worth. It shakes loose the grip of our conditioned, fear-based view of the world and reveals something wondrous, magnificent and yet inexplicably simple. It lightens our load. Grace opens us to healing and forgiveness in a way we didn't even know we needed.
And grace has many faces; it can be experienced in moments that are silent and still, and also in moments of great chaos and confusion. It shows up in the very form and timing that uniquely serve our growth. It is intensely personal, which means we are not equipped to discern moments of grace for others; we can only be open to recognizing grace-filled moments in our own lives.
Which brings me back to, "There, but for the grace of God..." When we see others who are going through times of great struggle, I think we honor them not by assuming they have somehow fallen outside of God's grace, but by remembering that they, like we, are already worthy of grace - and that grace may indeed be present in the situation, even if we can't see it. We honor them by ackowledging not just their fear and pain, but also their nobility and courage. And of course we honor them by helping them in whatever way we are called.
And we honor grace itself by recognizing it in our lives, however brief or infrequent it appears to be. In those moments we can say, "Here I am, in the grace of God." And we can be very grateful - not because grace chose us over someone else, but because grace exists.
It's meant, I believe, to remind us to be grateful for the blessings in our life - and gratitude for blessings is something I wholeheartedly endorse! - yet there is something about it that bothers me. Maybe not the phrase itself, but the faint aroma of pity that often accompanies it. It's as if the person going through a challenge or crisis is somehow outside of God's grace, and we can only stand back and watch in horror, thankful that we're not walking in their shoes - and thankful that we are the beneficiaries of God's grace, even though others are not. Whew, we dodged that bullet! Now if only we can make it to the end of our lives without having to experience anything like that... We hope we'll continue to be lucky, since grace appears to be rather capricious.
I'll be the first to admit that an experience of grace is something we cannot plan, force or expect; it comes as a great gift from realms beyond our human understanding - a mysterious, unspeakably tender yet powerful revelation of the divine mind and sacred heart within us. It is, paradoxically, both humbling and expansive - and it is also, much to our confusion and frustration, as brief and swift as lightning. We cannot control it, and we cannot hold onto it. We can only be open to receive it.
And we are all, each and every one of us, worthy of receiving grace. It is not bestowed only on the lucky few who have proven themselves in some way, because inherent worth has no need of proof. Grace cannot be earned or bargained for. It is not a reward for good behavior, and its apparent absence is not a punishment for wrongdoing.
I've come to believe that grace is both a reflection of, and a catalyst for, our awakening to the greater truth of our innate divinity and worth. It shakes loose the grip of our conditioned, fear-based view of the world and reveals something wondrous, magnificent and yet inexplicably simple. It lightens our load. Grace opens us to healing and forgiveness in a way we didn't even know we needed.
And grace has many faces; it can be experienced in moments that are silent and still, and also in moments of great chaos and confusion. It shows up in the very form and timing that uniquely serve our growth. It is intensely personal, which means we are not equipped to discern moments of grace for others; we can only be open to recognizing grace-filled moments in our own lives.
Which brings me back to, "There, but for the grace of God..." When we see others who are going through times of great struggle, I think we honor them not by assuming they have somehow fallen outside of God's grace, but by remembering that they, like we, are already worthy of grace - and that grace may indeed be present in the situation, even if we can't see it. We honor them by ackowledging not just their fear and pain, but also their nobility and courage. And of course we honor them by helping them in whatever way we are called.
And we honor grace itself by recognizing it in our lives, however brief or infrequent it appears to be. In those moments we can say, "Here I am, in the grace of God." And we can be very grateful - not because grace chose us over someone else, but because grace exists.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Igniting Inspiration
In the past few days I've had several conversations with friends in which they lamented a lack of focus, energy and inspiration in their lives. Here they are, at the start of a fresh new year - new decade! - feeling drifty and lackluster and perhaps a wee bit apathetic. Or maybe feeling grumpy and overwhelmed. Or just plain tired. Not the best way to feel, it seems, at a time when most of us are ready to commit to some kind of positive change in our lives. We want to feel clear, energized and ready for action.
Like my friends, I don't feel particularly clear, energized or ready for action right now. And like them, that bothers me a little - especially since I'm a transformational life coach, someone who supposedly knows a thing or two about staying focused and inspired. So what do I do at a time like this? I stop. Which, paradoxically, is the quickest way to get started again.
And here is what I stop: I stop thinking I should feel anything other than the way I feel right now. I stop the spiral of thoughts that starts with, "I don't feel inspired" and ends up with, "I just don't have what it takes to succeed in this work!" I stop trying to figure out why I'm not inspired. I stop forcing myself to just do something, already. I stop heaping judgmental labels on myself, and I stop fussing over my to-do list.
I just stop for a moment, and breathe. And breathe some more. And maybe a little more.
I invite a little humor and perspective into the situation: after all, my temporary lack of inspiration and focus is not likely to result in world devastation or complete personal failure. I remind myself of the many times I've been in this place, and the many times I've found my way back to a clear and inspired path. I challenge myself - gently, of course, since I don't have a whole lot of energy - to see how this time might be serving me. Maybe I do need to rest, or maybe I simply need to practice a deeper level of self-acceptance. Maybe I'm procrastinating because I'm afraid of something, and that fear is now ready to be faced and healed. Maybe now is a good time to write in my journal, pray or call a dear friend. Or all three.
I decide to see my seeming lack of inspiration not as a problem, but as an opportunity to slow down and look more deeply inside. And from there I gently check in with myself: "What do I have the authentic impulse, the energy and the willingness to do right now?" And I keep my answer very, very simple. Just one small step, then check in again. And repeat.
I also pause to acknowledge myself warmly for accomplishing each tiny step - look, I'm regaining my footing! That may seem a bit ridiculous from the outside looking in, but from the inside looking out it feels kind and supportive, which is exactly the environment that's needed for reigniting our inspired life force energy. As we learn to replace self-judgment with self-compassion, we increase our capacity for inspiration, creativity and joy.
So if, like my friends and me, you're treading a little water right now and wondering how to move forward, just stop for a moment. Breathe deeply and invite your mind to clear. Set aside, just for now, all the thoughts you have about what needs to be done and why you need to kick yourself into gear and do it. Create a little space to check in with yourself. Look for the baby steps, the ones you're willing to take right now even if they aren't the big important ones on your to-do list. Don't expect yourself to feel inspired right away, just love yourself as you are and coax yourself gently into the next thing that feels right. Honor yourself for taking each step.
Or take a short nap, or a long vacation. Then start again.
Like my friends, I don't feel particularly clear, energized or ready for action right now. And like them, that bothers me a little - especially since I'm a transformational life coach, someone who supposedly knows a thing or two about staying focused and inspired. So what do I do at a time like this? I stop. Which, paradoxically, is the quickest way to get started again.
And here is what I stop: I stop thinking I should feel anything other than the way I feel right now. I stop the spiral of thoughts that starts with, "I don't feel inspired" and ends up with, "I just don't have what it takes to succeed in this work!" I stop trying to figure out why I'm not inspired. I stop forcing myself to just do something, already. I stop heaping judgmental labels on myself, and I stop fussing over my to-do list.
I just stop for a moment, and breathe. And breathe some more. And maybe a little more.
I invite a little humor and perspective into the situation: after all, my temporary lack of inspiration and focus is not likely to result in world devastation or complete personal failure. I remind myself of the many times I've been in this place, and the many times I've found my way back to a clear and inspired path. I challenge myself - gently, of course, since I don't have a whole lot of energy - to see how this time might be serving me. Maybe I do need to rest, or maybe I simply need to practice a deeper level of self-acceptance. Maybe I'm procrastinating because I'm afraid of something, and that fear is now ready to be faced and healed. Maybe now is a good time to write in my journal, pray or call a dear friend. Or all three.
I decide to see my seeming lack of inspiration not as a problem, but as an opportunity to slow down and look more deeply inside. And from there I gently check in with myself: "What do I have the authentic impulse, the energy and the willingness to do right now?" And I keep my answer very, very simple. Just one small step, then check in again. And repeat.
I also pause to acknowledge myself warmly for accomplishing each tiny step - look, I'm regaining my footing! That may seem a bit ridiculous from the outside looking in, but from the inside looking out it feels kind and supportive, which is exactly the environment that's needed for reigniting our inspired life force energy. As we learn to replace self-judgment with self-compassion, we increase our capacity for inspiration, creativity and joy.
So if, like my friends and me, you're treading a little water right now and wondering how to move forward, just stop for a moment. Breathe deeply and invite your mind to clear. Set aside, just for now, all the thoughts you have about what needs to be done and why you need to kick yourself into gear and do it. Create a little space to check in with yourself. Look for the baby steps, the ones you're willing to take right now even if they aren't the big important ones on your to-do list. Don't expect yourself to feel inspired right away, just love yourself as you are and coax yourself gently into the next thing that feels right. Honor yourself for taking each step.
Or take a short nap, or a long vacation. Then start again.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Everyday Enlightenment
It is now day 4 of the new year and as a responsible blogger I feel almost obligated to write something about fresh starts, setting intentions or making resolutions. And perhaps in a future post I will, because - regardless of whether you start on 1/1 or any other day of the year - taking the time to reflect deeply on who you are and what you long to create or experience is essential to living a conscious, meaningful and fulfilling life.
But today I want to write about something else. Today I want to share an experience with you that affirmed, for me, the immense value of committing to a spiritual path, a path of wisdom and enlightenment. I know "enlightenment" is a big word with lots of baggage, which is why this experience was so helpful. It reminded me that enlightenment is not a singular mind-blowing mystical experience or a far-off goal to be reached. It can be known as a sense of joy and lightness in the seemingly small events of our lives. It is about enlightening ourselves with the truth of the moment.
Recently I've been exploring the spiritual principle of, "That which we perceive to be lacking is what we have in abundance to give." It's a challenging one, frankly, and it's easy to get tangled up in overly-specific and very tangible descriptions of what we perceive is lacking. In order to reap the rewards of this principle, we must be willing to consider the intangible essence of things - which is where all the juice is, anyway.
So here is what happened. A very good friend of mine (whom I'll call Natalie) invited me to join her and another friend of hers (whom I'll call Jean) for an outing to the movies. I had met Jean once or twice before, and she'd expressed to Natalie an interest in getting to know me better. I, too, had felt a certain kinship in those early connections with her, and so I was very much looking forward to spending time with her. I was also very much looking forward to going to the movies! So my initial response was an enthusiastic, "Yes!" All we had to do was agree on a specific date and movie time.
The next day, as I was looking over my commitments and early-new-year deadlines, I realized I wasn't as far along on my to-do list as I needed to be, and that enjoying a few hours at the movies probably wasn't the best way for me to spend my time. Still, it was possible that - if I was unsually focused and productive - I could get things done quickly and feel good about taking some time for fun. I called Natalie to let her know I probably wouldn't be able to join them, and suggested she and Jean choose the time that worked best for them and just let me know what they'd chosen. And if I was in a position to join them at that time, I would.
There was an additional flurry of calls and messages I won't bore you with, having to do with the possibility of seeing a different movie. Suffice it to say that nothing was definitively resolved other than an agreement that the movie date would be on Saturday. Mid-morning that day I received a call from Natalie, who wanted to know if I would be joining them. I realized I would need the entire day to get done what I wanted to get done, so I called her back and said that I wouldn't. Natalie was very gracious, as always, yet in that conversastion she revealed more than a little frustration at the tangled-up mess we'd made of trying to coordinate a movie date, only to have it "not work out." She even compared me to another friend of hers who repeatedly backed out of commitments. My ego was more than a little ruffled at that.
After that call I felt out of sorts, replaying the conversastion in my mind. My ego was adamant that it wasn't my fault, crafting a version of the experience that clearly justified my position - and helpfully pointing out how Natalie had failed to communicate clearly in several instances. I called her back to calmly explain my choice again, certain that with a better explanation she would see the light and realize I was nothing like that other friend of hers. (In that conversation I - my ego - also decided to do Natalie a favor by explaining the part she had played in messing things up.) Despite my calm demeanor and crystal-clear explanation, Natalie did not seem particularly helped. I hung up feeling out of sorts yet again.
I had nowhere else to turn but inward. I knew this whole thing wasn't about Natalie, it was about me and my inability to see clearly through the righteous and defensive lens of my ego. I asked myself, "What do I perceive is missing here?" and the answer was immediate: understanding. I felt misunderstood. Deep breath. That meant that "understanding" was what I had in abundance to give to heal the situation.
I thought back to our earlier conversation, in which Natalie had said several times that she hated being "in the middle." At the time my response had been to challenge what being "in the middle" really meant. I could certainly understand the discomfort that arises when someone tries to mediate a dispute between two friends, but that wasn't the case here. She was merely coordinating a movie date! I cringed inwardly as I recognized with simple clarity how I had invalidated her perception rather than seeking to understand it. I also saw that my agreement with her definition of "in the middle" was completely irrelevant. My only job was to be present, listen, understand and respond.
And so I decided to alter my response in a way that demonstrated my willingness to offer understanding. After our second call Natalie had agreed to explain to Jean why I wouldn't be joining them, and suggest to her that she call me herself if she wanted to spend time with me. A rational and helpful response, but one that put Natalie squarely in the middle, at least for that conversation. Which was what she didn't want. I saw how simple it would be for me to call Jean directly and do my own explaining.
I called Jean, explained that I wouldn't be able to join them for the movie, and suggested we meet for lunch. She was understanding and very enthusiastic about scheduling a lunch date, which we did with great ease. I then called Natalie to let her know I'd spoken with Jean and that she didn't have to speak to her for me. Her relief was almost palpable, even over the phone. I could hear in her voice and words the tremendous energy we experience when a load has been lifted, and she thanked me numerous times.
When I hung up the phone from that third call with Natalie, I felt humbled and yet expanded and blessed at the same time. I experienced such a sense of spaciousness and freedom within me that I actually felt physically lighter. I could see with sparkling clarity the great gift of Natalie's friendship and the privilege of being introduced to another kindred soul on the path. I was awakened to the abundance of kindness and nourishing connections in my life - and also to the reactiveness of my ego that almost prevented me from appreciating them. I recognized the profound wisdom of offering that which I perceived to be lacking, a paradoxical choice that connected me with kindness and generosity in a way that served us all.
I was, in that moment, enlightened.
But today I want to write about something else. Today I want to share an experience with you that affirmed, for me, the immense value of committing to a spiritual path, a path of wisdom and enlightenment. I know "enlightenment" is a big word with lots of baggage, which is why this experience was so helpful. It reminded me that enlightenment is not a singular mind-blowing mystical experience or a far-off goal to be reached. It can be known as a sense of joy and lightness in the seemingly small events of our lives. It is about enlightening ourselves with the truth of the moment.
Recently I've been exploring the spiritual principle of, "That which we perceive to be lacking is what we have in abundance to give." It's a challenging one, frankly, and it's easy to get tangled up in overly-specific and very tangible descriptions of what we perceive is lacking. In order to reap the rewards of this principle, we must be willing to consider the intangible essence of things - which is where all the juice is, anyway.
So here is what happened. A very good friend of mine (whom I'll call Natalie) invited me to join her and another friend of hers (whom I'll call Jean) for an outing to the movies. I had met Jean once or twice before, and she'd expressed to Natalie an interest in getting to know me better. I, too, had felt a certain kinship in those early connections with her, and so I was very much looking forward to spending time with her. I was also very much looking forward to going to the movies! So my initial response was an enthusiastic, "Yes!" All we had to do was agree on a specific date and movie time.
The next day, as I was looking over my commitments and early-new-year deadlines, I realized I wasn't as far along on my to-do list as I needed to be, and that enjoying a few hours at the movies probably wasn't the best way for me to spend my time. Still, it was possible that - if I was unsually focused and productive - I could get things done quickly and feel good about taking some time for fun. I called Natalie to let her know I probably wouldn't be able to join them, and suggested she and Jean choose the time that worked best for them and just let me know what they'd chosen. And if I was in a position to join them at that time, I would.
There was an additional flurry of calls and messages I won't bore you with, having to do with the possibility of seeing a different movie. Suffice it to say that nothing was definitively resolved other than an agreement that the movie date would be on Saturday. Mid-morning that day I received a call from Natalie, who wanted to know if I would be joining them. I realized I would need the entire day to get done what I wanted to get done, so I called her back and said that I wouldn't. Natalie was very gracious, as always, yet in that conversastion she revealed more than a little frustration at the tangled-up mess we'd made of trying to coordinate a movie date, only to have it "not work out." She even compared me to another friend of hers who repeatedly backed out of commitments. My ego was more than a little ruffled at that.
After that call I felt out of sorts, replaying the conversastion in my mind. My ego was adamant that it wasn't my fault, crafting a version of the experience that clearly justified my position - and helpfully pointing out how Natalie had failed to communicate clearly in several instances. I called her back to calmly explain my choice again, certain that with a better explanation she would see the light and realize I was nothing like that other friend of hers. (In that conversation I - my ego - also decided to do Natalie a favor by explaining the part she had played in messing things up.) Despite my calm demeanor and crystal-clear explanation, Natalie did not seem particularly helped. I hung up feeling out of sorts yet again.
I had nowhere else to turn but inward. I knew this whole thing wasn't about Natalie, it was about me and my inability to see clearly through the righteous and defensive lens of my ego. I asked myself, "What do I perceive is missing here?" and the answer was immediate: understanding. I felt misunderstood. Deep breath. That meant that "understanding" was what I had in abundance to give to heal the situation.
I thought back to our earlier conversation, in which Natalie had said several times that she hated being "in the middle." At the time my response had been to challenge what being "in the middle" really meant. I could certainly understand the discomfort that arises when someone tries to mediate a dispute between two friends, but that wasn't the case here. She was merely coordinating a movie date! I cringed inwardly as I recognized with simple clarity how I had invalidated her perception rather than seeking to understand it. I also saw that my agreement with her definition of "in the middle" was completely irrelevant. My only job was to be present, listen, understand and respond.
And so I decided to alter my response in a way that demonstrated my willingness to offer understanding. After our second call Natalie had agreed to explain to Jean why I wouldn't be joining them, and suggest to her that she call me herself if she wanted to spend time with me. A rational and helpful response, but one that put Natalie squarely in the middle, at least for that conversation. Which was what she didn't want. I saw how simple it would be for me to call Jean directly and do my own explaining.
I called Jean, explained that I wouldn't be able to join them for the movie, and suggested we meet for lunch. She was understanding and very enthusiastic about scheduling a lunch date, which we did with great ease. I then called Natalie to let her know I'd spoken with Jean and that she didn't have to speak to her for me. Her relief was almost palpable, even over the phone. I could hear in her voice and words the tremendous energy we experience when a load has been lifted, and she thanked me numerous times.
When I hung up the phone from that third call with Natalie, I felt humbled and yet expanded and blessed at the same time. I experienced such a sense of spaciousness and freedom within me that I actually felt physically lighter. I could see with sparkling clarity the great gift of Natalie's friendship and the privilege of being introduced to another kindred soul on the path. I was awakened to the abundance of kindness and nourishing connections in my life - and also to the reactiveness of my ego that almost prevented me from appreciating them. I recognized the profound wisdom of offering that which I perceived to be lacking, a paradoxical choice that connected me with kindness and generosity in a way that served us all.
I was, in that moment, enlightened.
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