Lessons of My Own
Does it always necessitate a crisis to get me to step back and take a good look at my life? No, and yet, when I don't do it regularly, things brew up into a froth until they finally get my attention. Then I stop long enough to realize it's time to take stock and see what needs to change. Phases. Life has so many phases. I hear people talk about their body-building phase, their vegetarian phase, their mustache phase, meditation, home-improvement, dog training, vintage cars, motor cycling, the list is endless. All of these practices and hobbies tell a deeper story about our own growth and advancement as individuals, and the challenges we face with surrender and change. James Baldwin writes,
"Any real change implies the breakup of the world as one has always known it, the loss of all that gave one identity, and the end of safety...It is only when one is able...to surrender a dream long cherished, or a privilege long possessed, that one has set oneself free for higher dreams, for greater privileges."
His quote touches on what makes us hesitate on doing the deep inner work of listening to a new calling. It's the letting go of what is familiar, what gives us identity and a sense of safety that we shrink from, and yet it is an essential step to achieve the progress we crave.
I'm newly emerging from responding to a new beckoning and the inner work it required. On May 1st, I took a day and drove up to the mountains to activate what Susan Scott talks about in her book, Fierce Conversations, the writing of one's own personal stump speech. Its purpose is to 'revisit, reclarify, and recommit to what the soul desires.' The idea is to get away and create a personal retreat.
I chose climbing in the mountains, and it was an exquisite day for hiking. The air was crisp, the sun was shining brightly from a cloudless sky, and the sounds of Spring were ubiquitously ardent. I donned a light backpack, filled it with fruit and water and a few odds and ends like sunscreen and extra clothing, and I set off. My plan was to focus first on quieting the chatter in my mind so I could connect deeply with the wisdom of my heart.
Once I reached a state of calm coherence, I addressed the questions suggested by Scott with a bit of my own tweaking: What do I want and where do I want to go? What purpose will be fulfilled in going there? Who is going with me? How will I get there? While I planted the seeds of these questions, I made a point of not analyzing any of them. I stayed clear that my purpose was simply to:
- pose the questions,
- open myself up to 'the New,' and
- let things percolate in the coherent environment of my heart.
I reminded myself from time to time that I wasn't there to answer the questions, rather just to pose them for now. This cue allowed me to enjoy the scenery, listen to unusual calls of birds I couldn't identify, and experience the awe and wonder of being in the mountains. I had forgotten the impact that being in the arms of the mountains has on me. I felt myriads of emotions welling up inside me, relaxing me, lifting my spirits, and setting the stage for inspired decisions and creative solutions. It was just what I needed!
Before I left the mountains, I drove to another incredible spot, faced into a forested area, and wrote free-flowingly in my journal, unedited and unbound by realism at this point. Rather, I took advantage of the ideas that were forming and the radiant wisdom that was emanating from my heart. I left the mountains feeling relieved, rejuvenated, and ready to share ideas with friends and colleagues as I shaped my new journey.
Once I returned to my routine, I didn't hold back on sharing insights and ideas with whomever was willing to listen and participate in my process. The choice to be open with what I was experiencing enriched and solidified each decision I made and helped me stay on track to generate the dream I wanted. Along the way, however, I most definitely felt fear. I had to let go of my professional identity, at least temporarily, which felt like I was losing a big part of me. I referred to it as my own 'dark night of the soul,' and I knew that I was at a precipice of change that required me to 'take the empty-handed leap into the void.'
Before the 'New' can manifest in our lives, we must first let go of the 'Old.' And there is a period of time in between the old and the new that is empty—a state of nothingness. This is what I feared—and simultaneously knew I had to embrace in order to set up the new. And slowly, depending upon my own inner resources and the encouragement and serene listening from friends, I made it through. The 'New' continues to unfold, but there is enough substance now for me to see the course opening up and feel the connections that I was previously missing.
My business has most assuredly taken a new shape. I am collaborating in joint ventures, participating in another's newly launched coaching business, and repositioning AuthentiCore with leaner, more focused products and services. As I appreciate the excitement and vitality of each day, a perspective that indeed makes it easier to recognize, I am reminded once again of the magnificent truth ~
