The truth is that it takes tremendous courage to be vulnerable.  To be yourself, to feel your feelings, to speak your truths and to know that no matter how the rest of the world reacts to that, you will survive it. Ironically, except for the most heinous sociopaths out there, people embrace those who are authentic, real, vulnerable, and feel strong and positive connections to them.

Shame, she says, is “the gremlin that says ‘you’re not good enough’” to achieve whatever it is you long to achieve, and should you happen to achieve those things, it’s the nagging voice that asks, “who do you think you are?!”

We all have a choice. We can continue our quest to be bulletproof and perfect—to “outsmart” our vulnerability—or to allow ourselves to deepen our connection to others by being honest about our imperfections, fears, and yearnings.  We can shop, drink, eat or medicate our way around exposing our true, imperfect, tender selves.  Or we can embrace the vulnerability that that makes us beautiful, makes us willing to do something important without any guarantees, and makes us breathe through the terrifying moments of awareness that an event or a piece of bad news might very possibly end our lives as we’ve known them, in the very next moment.

Dr. Brown says that wholehearted living requires us to be who we are, not who we think we should be, with the courage to be imperfect, the compassion to be kind to ourselves first, and the ability to connect by living our lives with authenticity.

See?  I told you.  Mind blowing.

Watch Brené Brown’s TED talk on vulnerability here, and on shame here.  Then feel free to continue the conversation below.

I didn’t know until I checked in that it was the spa’s first-ever ‘Spirituality Week,’ with a schedule full of interesting talks and workshops designed to explore the connections between spirituality and physical health and well-being.  It was one of those magical coincidences of which I crave mass quantities, but because I’m always looking around for them, I sometimes miss them.  (More on this phenomenon some other time.)  Lucky for me, I was paying attention and embraced its significance by quitting my job upon returning home.  (More on this phenomenon, too, at another time.)

I signed up for a class about balance, peace and clarity in daily living, where the instructor taught me something I’ve returned to again and again.  He said that in Buddhist tradition, when you judge someone else, you must always end the sentence with, “And I am that, too.”  It took me a while to take this in, but it’s such a wonderful way to remind ourselves of our connection to all other human beings, and a gentle reminder of our humility.

Now go ahead.  Let your inner brat out for a moment.  Who would you like to judge?  And for what offense?  Judge them as harshly as you want, as long as you finish the thought: “And I am that, too.”  Somewhere, at some point in your life, you have possessed those same qualities.  This phenomenon is also known as “you spot it, you got it,” or as we learned in elementary school, “it takes one to know one!”

So to all the snarky bitches, raging a**holes, spastic morons, small-minded jerks, crappy drivers and otherwise defective sorry f*ckers out there, I just want you to know:  I am that, too.

I’d like to believe that this simple phrase that connects all of us will work for positive judgments as well, a gentle reminder of our magnificence.  Therefore, I want all the warrior-goddesses, warm and wonderful healers, brilliant thinkers, super-model-gorgeous women, talented athletes, and hilariously funny, perceptive and ground-breaking
writers to know:  I am that, too.

Banyan at Waikiki Beach

Sunrise in Oahu isn’t just a gradual brightening in the eastern sky over a placid ocean, accompanied by the obligatory breathtaking pink-gold clouds.  It’s also a deep gray mass obscuring the top of a nearby volcanic mountain, shedding buckets of rain, and the twinkling lights of the streets and houses on a distant hillside, as the town awakens and prepares for work on this Monday morning.

Like my life, this sunrise not just one thing at a time, but a whole host of weather systems swirling around at once.  The quality of the light changes, based on which direction I focus my gaze.

The one theme that is carried throughout is the beauty of the disparate microclimates, reminding me that even when the darkness and the rain are present, there’s something uplifting in it for me, if I’m willing to treat it like the view from my balcony in Waikiki.

For me, a trip like this—a stroke of immense good fortune by any measure, filled with a sense of gratitude and an acknowledgement of its blessings—is always accompanied by a small, unsettled voice like the dark cloud that surrounds yonder mountaintop.  The voice prophesies some impending doom, some price that will have to be paid, some shoe that will inevitably drop.

I manufacture worry, even as I sit overlooking Paradise, drinking the strong local coffee, relaxed, healthy and whole.  “Can we really afford this?” I lament, fully cognizant that the airline tickets were free.    “Shouldn’t I be creating my next workshop?” I fret, knowing that everything has been unfolding with a joyful sense of ease that I couldn’t have imagined.

Today, I resolve, I will treat my worry like the clouds I see to the North—as something to marvel at, as natural as the rain, which may pass in time, or be a permanent part of the landscape.  I can’t deny its existence, but I can allow it to be.

The abundant beauty of the natural features is broken by stacked and crowded high-rise apartments and resort hotels.  Christmas lights adorn one balcony, an anachronistic reminder that time isn’t as linear as we might like to think.  I can focus on the vaguely pink and vaguely ugly concrete and glass rectangles, or notice the reflections of the sky they contain.  I can bemoan my lack of a clear view of the beach, or see the palms and banyans that occupy every inch of space not covered in concrete.

I’m taking it all in.  My field of view from the balcony, as from my life, is as broad as I allow it to be, and filled with contrast, irony, and moments to be deeply pondered or steadfastly ignored.  As the sun crests the dozen-storied building that blocks the horizon, warming my face, I reconnect with my essential nature, which doesn’t have a care in the world.  There’s another chair here on the balcony.  Care to join me?

There was a moment before the workshop when I wondered if my contributions could make a difference in the face of the overwhelming pain in the room–much of it the kind of pain that comes from making up a story about what being unemployed might mean about them.  I knew I could tell them my story of career confusion and my path to honoring my essential self.  The fear and disorientation that comes from letting go of ego’s attachment to career identities, the difficulty hearing my own still, small voice, and the courage required to take one leap of faith after another.  But would they believe me when I told them they can do it too?  That they can pass through this period of their lives having learned something valuable about themselves?  That there’s opportunity here to do a gut-check on whether this is really how they’re meant to serve the world?  That what’s happening to them is neither bad nor good, and the experience is shaped solely by their own thoughts and beliefs?

The answer is no.  They won’t, they can’t believe me.  They can only hear what I’m saying if there’s a chink in their own social armor–a small crack through which they hear their own still, small voice, and see the glow of their inner light.  The words just happen to be coming out of my mouth, but they resonate only because somewhere inside, their most essential self is trying to communicate one of its own truths.  Otherwise, it’s woo-woo gibberish garbage.

Especially the part where I tell them that their focus on running out of money isn’t getting them a job any faster.

As a coach, I’m learning every day what it means to be a conduit for others, and to hold a safe space for them to more fully realize who they are at their core.  I am more aware of my own role, a sort of hearing aid for those who are partially deaf to their soul’s calling.

When they hear something I’ve said, they’re really not listening to me at all.  What they’re hearing is the whisper of their own wisdom.  Truth is, I have never told a client something they didn’t already know.  I guess I never will.

Whenever I get a little obsessive about something, I’m only able to relax and release after some inspiration or intuition graces me with its presence.  This happened recently while swimming at the county pool.

Instead of counting laps, I focused only on my breathing.  Every fifth stroke, I’d pull in enough air to last until the next in-breath, and spend five strokes releasing that breath in a stream of bubbles.  I found that between the focus on my breath and the otherworldly sound of the water as I blew out, I achieved a deeper meditative state.  Time passed quickly–a good sign that I was in my own zone of contentment.

Toward the end of my 45-minute swim, a little voice in my head said, “You know, you can just call it all in to you–everything you need and want–just call it to you.”  Since I had just finished reading Martha Beck’s latest book on the technologies of magic that are used by shamanic healers of all cultures (inspiration), I choose to believe that my little voice was right–I could just ask for what I need and want, even if I wasn’t sure exactly what those things might be (intuition).

When I returned home, the phone rang.  The business reporter for the local paper was on the line asking if she could come by on Thursday with a photographer to do a story on my journey “from finance to self-discovery.“  Hmmm.

Full disclosure–she didn’t call out of the blue.  I did have some contact with her weeks earlier, but I had mostly forgotten about it because I was so engaged in working on programs for 2012.  (She did tell me she’d follow up, and I was able to let go of my inner sales manager, who would have loved it if I called her relentlessly until I closed the deal.)

I have known, on some intellectual level, that letting go of outcome and just asking the Universe/God/Spirit Mother/Great Veiled Bear or whatever forces exist out there to support me, heal me, guard me and keep me safely on my path, is all I ever need to do.  Actually achieving that state on a reasonably consistent basis will take practice, and in the meantime, I’m thrilled to my core whenever I get a glimpse of the magical peace and connectedness I feel when I do get there.

The tricky part is to return to that state whenever fear or ego returns to jolt me out of that place.  It’s like catching air on my snowboard, where I’m in a state of pure grace until I realize how high and how fast I’m traveling, then try to stop myself before I’ve fully executed the jump, out of fear that I’ll crash.  If I allow myself to fly, I complete the process and solidly land it.  If I contract with fear, I inevitably become a train wreck of twisted body parts and clanging helmet.

I’m just learning how it feels to call home all the good things, without worrying about what will or won’t happen, or whether I even deserve the goodness.  It’s not easy to rewire my thinking in this way, but I’ve got unlimited long distance, so I guess I’ll keep making the call.  If nothing answers, I’ll try again tomorrow.

Why?  Here’s a radical notion: I am really truly a fine human being.  Intrinsically.  Just fine.  There’s nothing wrong with me.

I don’t need a resolution to become a better human being. What I do need is a way to set an intention for what I really want in this world.

I advise my clients not to set any goal that doesn’t make their hearts want to fly out of their chests on little wings.  So this year, why not try something different?  Instead of a resolution, let yourself dream.  Want to create an arts community in a seaside town?  Inspire and entertain groups of people, telling stories and singing songs about your latest travel adventures? Earn a living by spending your time with artists and philosophers?  Cast off your money worries and find joy in every moment with your husband and son?  Leave the corporate world and use your gifts to heal the world?  Those are resolutions worthy of you.

In the new millenium, those who are true to their Original Medicine will navigate the changing landscape with more joy, more love and more connection to their tribe.  If you focus on allowing your authentic self to shine, your tribe will be drawn to that inner light.  You’ll be spending your days with people who “get” you, who appreciate your gifts and your unique genius, and who want you to be part of their journey as well.

This is my wish for all of you, for the New Year, the New Millenium, and whatever is beyond.

Self portrait, taken at TYOL retreat

The December 3rd “Through Your Own Lens” retreat was a festival of learning for everyone, including myself.  Especially myself.  A group of smart, accomplished women came together to find common ground, look inward, and document the day in photos (more to be published on this website soon).  From what I can gather, we’re all still processing the events and discussions of the day–a good sign, I think.

My own post-retreat experience has been a series of revelations, following a period of exhaustion and confusion and an afternoon of lying on the couch watching airline-quality movies (the only thing I could find at mid-day on a Tuesday).

The exhaustion, understandably, came from running a day-long retreat.  I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I have to admit I felt a little disappointment that I wasn’t more ENERGIZED by a day of deeply meaningful conversations, tears, laughter, and awesome photographs.  The truth is, I was energized all day, and I earned that exhaustion, but there was a way that I honestly thought I should have continued at that level of energy for days afterward.  (Impossible bar-heights are my specialty.)

The confusion part of the aftermath was around expectations for the retreat–my own, and the expectations of the other participants and our photography coach.  Did I meet or exceed everyone’s expectations?  Did everyone get enough helpful coaching tidbits?  Did I fulfill the promises made in the description of the day?  Was anyone’s world busted wide open?

True to my pattern, the idea that I had to create some measurable value crept into my thinking.  If I didn’t, it meant that I was:

a) a lousy coach
b) a fraud
c) an icky person
d) all of the above, plus some other bad stuff

My personal lesson, which keeps coming to me in different guises (imagine that…): just being present, creating a safe space for self-exploration and creativity, and lovingly and joyfully guiding that lovely group of achingly honest, curious women through the day, was enough.  There’s a sweet irony in the fact that I was running a retreat about self-acceptance, and struggled to accept myself, my current level of expertise, and my ability to stay in the moment to allow the day to unfold.

I realize now that I don’t have to define the retreat in terms of ‘success’ or ‘failure,’ mostly because it is impossible to fail when you release attachment to outcome and participate fully in the process.  And if failure wasn’t possible, perhaps neither was success, and that’s ok, too.

I’m grateful for the lesson, again, that just being present is far more important than getting it “right.”  And as a special bonus, it’s a whole lot easier than pursuing perfection.

“Gobsmacked!” comes to mind.  Speechless, wordless.  But given that this is a blog, there’s a certain expectation that I at least try to explain the inexplicable.

Two stories will illustrate what I mean.

1. Over the last several days, I’ve had several people call, inquiring about what coaching might do for them, as they considered whether or not to engage in coaching with me.  One client had a few roadblocks that stood in her way of signing up–she’d hired people to help her with various things over the years, but had always ended up disappointed at best, and ripped off at worst.  I understood her hesitancy and while I truly wanted to work with this extremely bright and motivated woman, I knew I had to let it be her decision and not let her hesitancy mean anything about me, my coaching, or my ability to make a living.  I didn’t have to change my process to accomodate her fears, but rather “meet her where she was,” and allow our session to succeed, or fail, without any energy or attention to whether or not she became a client.  As it turned out, since I wasn’t worried about her hiring me, or about getting any particular result, the session was amazing for both of us.  Her string of giggling for the last few minutes of the call was the greatest reward EVER, especially considering the heavy burden she brought to the call.

She showed up fully, and I showed up fully.  Not surprisingly, the magic showed up fully as well.  I looked at the sky and cried after we hung up, filled with gratitude for what she had taught me.

2.  I’ve been collaborating on a number of projects, and one of my collaborators was feeling fearful of the risk involved in creating something first, and getting paid for it later, if at all.  Somehow, I was able to release my attachment to getting paid at all and (this surprised me and made me curious) offer my collaborator a set fee, regardless of any profit we might make on the project, which means that I will potentially come away with no money at all.  How is it that I could go from fear of living under the overpass to giving away a substantial sum of money without feeling any fear at all?

These are enormous shifts for me.  And I realize that my job is to help my clients realize similar shifts of their own.   I also realize that there’s no way to explain these things in words–I’ve been hearing about them and writing about them, but there comes a moment when our essential, fully connected selves rise to the occasion in stunning, spectacular style. And that’s when we “get it.”

For all of my coaching and writing, the truth is: I can’t explain it.  You’ll know it when you feel it.  It will have a life of its own.