I also feel small and exhausted myself, having ziplocked all of my emotions inside myself, so that I can show up as my mother’s bright and resourceful daughter, the one who can tap-dance on a pinhead and never stumble or weep. I feel heavy knowing I face a long train ride to Grand Central Terminal, where I will hop a shuttle to JFK airport, and then a plane back across the country to Denver.
Then this: I feel stupidly helpless because I have ninety minutes to wait until I can catch the shuttle. It’s not enough time to see more of New York City, as I’d hoped, or go shopping, as I’d really wanted to do while here. Those ninety minutes feel like some vestiges of yarn. You can’t knit a blanket or even a cap with them, but you don’t want to throw them away. For some stupid reason, those ninety minutes make me feel even more helpless. They represent running out of time again, as well as one more thing I’ll have to figure out in a life that feels as though there are already too many buckets and pans to fill.
The minute I board the Metro-North train and wave good-bye, the tears come. Passing olive green lakes and willow trees outside the window, everything blurs. I cry because I am tired of holding it all in, swallowing a big rubber ball for a week, while watching Law & Order and the evening news with my mother. I cry knowing that my mother is going home alone to eat her microwave dinners, and that so many souls feel alone in this life, and that all of us deal with scary, incomprehensible junctures that make us feel like gauzy leaves in autumn, waiting our turn to be swept up in the astonishing unknown.
Then I do something brilliant. I ask Spirit to be with me, to let me know that I am not forsaken and that none of us really have to ride the train alone. To be honest, it feels like a dry gesture—not a true-hearted invocation, but more of an across-the-board cry or croak for help, any help available anywhere.
When I get off the train, I walk through majestic Grand Central Terminal and out into the street looking for something to do with my “extra yarn.” I am thrilled to see a cluster of street vendors selling leather goods, T-shirts, sunglasses, and other items. I love the street vendors of New York City and feel so grateful that I have at least a few moments of shopping before finding a Starbucks to sit in to pass the time.
But as I walk, I begin to notice that it isn’t just a cluster of vendors on one block, it’s a cluster on every block. With sheer delight, I see that there is no end in sight, that the vendors span for miles with every kind of ethnic food, designer cosmetic, silver jewelry, and leather good, all available for discounted prices.
I ask you, how can you doubt the presence of God amid an infestation of bargains? I mean, come on, I even have my choice of Estée Lauder lipsticks. I am tickled. Almost everything I wanted to experience in New York City is right here at my feet. Fantastic people-watching, endless cheap Italian, Indian, Thai, and halal food, live music, and the Chrysler Building towering and winking at me like some urban genie granting my commercial indulgences. There’s even a slight breeze, in August, and not one ounce of humidity. Everyone is relaxed, as relaxed as New York gets, a summer Sunday afternoon vibe washing over all of us like jazz.
I feel new tears in my eyes, tears of abundance and gratitude, for the grace of this spontaneous experience, and for ninety minutes to enjoy it. I ask a large Italian man selling rock music T-shirts if this street fair takes place in this location every Sunday. “No,” he says. “It’s special today. Only now.” I feel as though one hundred doves burst out of my tight rib cage. He might as well have said, “No, the Beloved did this just for you.”
Yes, I understand that not everyone will look upon this as a miracle. It’s not exactly the presence of the Virgin Mary (though she was for sale at the street fair), or the turning of water into wine. But that’s the thing about having a relationship with the Infinite Friend. The language of spirit is exquisitely personal. It doesn’t have to be religious, filled with dogma, stemming from a specific form of meditation, or even what you think of as “spiritual.” The Sufis say that “God is the Great Beloved who kisses the individual on the inside of the heart.”
I felt known. I recognized a signature feeling. I felt soothed and answered, as though I was walking on rose petals set down just for me, below a soft, bright canopy of all-encompassing generosity.
Suddenly, I felt cherished, even though I still felt sad, and there was still litter on the streets, and time would still march on. But even so, I felt as though I would always be okay, my life would have big love, and that my mother would be okay under her own canopy, and that we’d all be okay, because the Presence was within us and we all find meaning, sweetness, and inexplicable liberation in our own time and way.
“The language of spirit is exquisitely personal. It doesn’t have to be religious, filled with dogma, stemming from a specific form of meditation, or even what you think of as “spiritual.””
Go ahead, play with it. Ask the Sacred Friend or the Beloved One, or your Inner Teacher to join you, guide you, and help you open to the love that surrounds you. If it helps, pretend that you’re held dear and guided, and see what you notice in your experience when you do so. I’ve seen that when I call upon a higher wisdom, I often open to the direction, beauty, and surprises all around me. The legendary spiritual teacher Ram Dass says, “The next message you need is always right where you are.” It’s true. You are never separate from the consciousness or energy that provides your greatest comfort and sense of expanded possibilities.
Dare to live an awakened, irrationally happy life. Dive into your own intimate relationship with the Presence, the spaciousness or tenderness in between the broken moments, the nudges, the coincidences, and uncanny, joyous juxtapositions.
Of course, your “logical” mind will discount this communication. But I urge you to go beyond your safe, rational mind. Try on an alternative source of information. Let go of your smugness or your persistent self-doubt, both of which impair your natural connection.
Dare to experience how loved you are.
TURNING POINTS:
Dare to Experience How Loved You Are
No matter where you start, you can develop an elegant bond with your own mysterious powers.
Find your language and your way. Chase goose bumps, visions, mala beads, or hawk feathers upon the trail. Take a damn chance.
Don’t be so smart; it will make you stupid. This life is bigger than your brain.
The language of spirit is exquisitely personal. It doesn’t have to be religious, filled with dogma, big, erupting from a specific form of meditation, or even what you think of as “spiritual.”
Ask the Sacred Friend or the Beloved One, or your Inner Teacher to join you, guide you, and help you open to the love that surrounds you.
If it helps, pretend that you’re held dear and guided, and see what you notice in your experience when you do so.
Dive into your own intimate relationship with the Presence, the spaciousness or tenderness in between the broken moments, the nudges, the coincidences, and uncanny, joyous juxtapositions.
Let go of your smugness or your persistent self-doubt, both of which impair your natural connection. Dare to experience how loved you are.
YOU ARE BEING GIVEN THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME
I’m making changes in my business and life. “Reinvention” is a lovely term. It sounds like I know what I’m doing. Like some Lexus engineer in a white lab coat, retooling designs based on crash tests, forecasts, and a genius’s scratch pads. I don’t even have scratch pads. I’ve got scratch.
TAMA KIEVES (journal entry)
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.
EDWARD ABBEY
Feeling safe is, sometimes, just about having the right perspective. When we’re in transition, we often lose perspective. Well, to put it mildly—mildly as mashed potatoes. Because if you’re like me, you’re freaking yourself out with thoughts that are not mild, but wild as wasabi.
It’s a bit discouraging to feel like your whole life is up to you, when, really, you’d like to hand it over to someone more capable or maybe even get a refund. Every coach and therapist tells you about self-responsibility, as though this is a good thing. How do you take action when there are so many of them to take? Ants crawling on a pinhead, so many choices and implications, and they all mean so much. And you feel tired, dazed, clearly ill-equipped and unfit to choose.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes I can’t help but feel like a contestant on a game show, where it’s all on the line. Choose the wrong thing and you’re buzzed off the show, kicked from the candy store of what could have been, in front of millions of people who groan about your mortifying and irreversible loss, while eating barbecue potato chips.
Damn, I want to wake up in the nice palace of safety already, where life is handled and Hershey bars are served at four p.m.
Some days, I just don’t want to be a heroine or someone who has to floss her teeth even one more day. I want a butler. I want the life of my cat. I want opiates. I want it to be spring.
I don’t want to find my secret strength, survive an expedition, have an Oprah-worthy moment, kiss the hem of Sir Richard Branson’s garment, or take steps toward enlightenment—even if some people swear it’s better than a spa vacation or retirement. I want to watch reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. I know you know what I’m talking about.
It’s not always easy to be really alive, feeling like your world is foundering no matter how much you prop it up or pay your therapist. Or feeling like you know something meaningful calls you, knowing you can’t hide or just stay where you are, and knowing you don’t always feel up to the assignment of being great or even being in the room.
And as if saving your life isn’t enough, there’s also the constant growing. Believe me, I’ve left certain limitations and several identities in the dust about a thousand years ago. I’ve experienced freedom and establishing myself in a new field of work. I’ve published books, spoken at leadership conferences, appeared on national TV, and even gotten some of my relatives to stop worriedly asking, “But what does she do for a living?”
And I still don’t get a free pass from growth or uncertainty. I sometimes share this in the retreats I lead. I can feel the collective groan, except for the one or two adventure freaks who get all glittery at the idea of new leaps. But it is good news. It means I’m discovering more of my True Self. I am still increasing wingspan.
Real life goes on. All of life, if you’re fully living it, entails growth. You encounter hurdles or resistance through which you uncover hidden capacities. You discover new goals, free yourself of guilt, fear, regret, scarcity, and obstacles at every stage of the game. It’s kind of like a spin class or lifting weights. The workouts don’t end. Maybe you take the weekend off. But it’s not like you’re done. Strength and fluidity require movement. Believe me, it’s not like I came up with these horrible rules. Sure, this can feel tiresome at times. Yet on other days, it’s an electric dance party and you have all the moves.
Because you don’t want to be done. Done is boring. Done is when there is no juice left. You didn’t come here to be static. You came to be ecstatic.
“I know you just want to get through this time. But I want you to woo this time. Don’t rush. . . . Because nothing that is yours is a matter of harried timing.”
One day, seeing as the Grey’s Anatomy life plan was out, I wrote a “letter of perspective” to the frightened part of myself. I wrote it from my future, brilliant, confident self—because I believe we have all of ourselves within us already, and, really, because when you’re anxious, you do what you need to do. I’m going to share it with you. You can think of it as a letter from Divine Presence or Obi-Wan Kenobi or your Aunt Betsy or a Wise Self. Maybe it’s the words you’d say to your three-year-old daughter or best buddy in the world. Except these words are now directed at you.
I wrote it to my own fearful self—and to all our fearful selves. I wrote it because I am committed to living my full potential. Likewise, I want you to run your race. And while you’re running this race, I want you to not just “get through it.” But maybe to let this appointed time move through you. Don’t miss the chance to absorb and integrate the nutrients of this healing recalibration.
Dear Alive One,
I know you just want to get through this time. But I want you to woo this time. Don’t rush. Take your time, because nothing that is yours is a matter of harried timing. It’s going to work out. It always does in its own inexplicable way. And everything occurs in its own right hour; you simply can’t breach the laws of reality.
I am proud of you. You will make all the decisions that are right for you. And you will make new ones on the spot with new information. As you create this life, you will have a thousand chances. This isn’t a multiple-choice exam in which you can fail. Take your time. Slog through whatever you need to go through in order to grow, even if it feels like cement. You are being given this chance. And it is a worthy one, followed by nothing but more avenues for your good. There is no scarcity of opportunity.
Step out of linear time into inspired time. Let padlocks burst off ancient doors, dried rivers flow again, and payments, contracts, healing, relationships, creative ideas, and sudden shifts in your favor come in ways you can’t imagine—and know that anything is possible for you and for all of us. Discover this path you can’t possibly foresee by following your desire, even if that desire is faint or seems as likely as a chocolate factory or maybe the Easter Bunny himself in the middle of the desert. It’s real. It’s there for a reason. Use desire as a compass.
Stay as close to your true desire as you can, and do not concern yourself with how it could ever happen. If you really want to grow and experience all that life can offer you, let go of calculation. This is a path of revelation. It’s the journey of becoming who you did not know you could become.
The censoring voice that tells you that you only have one chance to get this right is a voice of smallness and powerlessness. It’s got sour dinosaur breath—it’s of the old regime. It’s the voice of limitation, asking you to die to your birthright of choice and possibility. It only has one agenda, the agenda to make you wrong. Really, do you think any voice is protecting you by shaming and threatening you? Any advice that limits your spirit is not advice. It’s damnation.
I am here to tell you that you are made of astonishment. You are finding your way, even when you are losing it. You may feel as though you’re struggling or lost. You may ache for resolution, because it’s human nature to want to skip steps and watch Netflix. But here’s what I want you to know. It is working out right now. That’s the nature of life. It works out. A spiritual journey happens when we open our eyes to see it this way, no matter what.
Your Essential Self—not your smaller, demanding, insecure self—will prevail. You will always end up where you belong. It’s in your soul’s DNA and the programming of every particle of life dust. It’s not about the facts of your situation. It’s about how these facts serve as the catalyst for your transformation.
You are learning to tune in to the signal that will take you all the way; you are learning to listen to nothing in this life but that which strengthens you.
So will you—right now—thank yourself for everything, everything, everything, and I mean everything, past, present, and to come, no matter what? Now, that’s a viable prayer. You can decide right now how you will view this time of uncertainty. You may not be able to choose different circumstances. But you can choose to thrive in every circumstance. This isn’t positive thinking. This is positive incarnation. It’s your minutes on earth. It’s your melody. And it’s your choice how you play the song.
Besides, there are an exponential number of outcomes that will help you thrive. There is no outcome that will not gift you. You bring the light with you. You’re the homecoming queen or king thinking you need to win the
school’s election. You’ve already won. You’re already chosen. It’s already done. The whole world is simply waiting for you to choose yourself and the perspective that most sets you free. It will wait forever with baited breath. You are that valuable and necessary. We all are.
No matter where you find yourself, you can always choose again. As long as you have breath, you can start over. There is no complexity except in the mind. There is only this simple moment. There is no promise in the distance. The promise is here. It’s everywhere. If you are feeling lack, it is because you are not appreciating yourself and your journey. You are not forgiving yourself for things you imagine you should have done or been.
Choose to be here. Know that this moment in your life has a purpose and this purpose is essential to your deepest happiness. This is a choice of mental focus that activates the power of the mystery. You’re not thwarted or in a maze. You will be in amazement when you realize your freedom to choose and how extraordinary you truly are.
Do take in the privilege of being alive and having choices, drama, and desires. There are those who are dying right now. They would give anything to be where you are.
And there are others who would give anything to have your “problems.” They ache to have the chance you have right now. And there are others, still, who are fondly looking back on times in their lives when they stood where you stand right now. The times you are trying to run from, some say were the best in all their lives.
Acknowledge your courage. It is not easy to be born strong and to crave higher ground. You may feel as though you’re lacking. But truly, it’s because you’re burning to be who you really are. You have a bird of passage within you. You are made of quester fabric. You would never be happy at the end of your days having played it bulletproof safe, never knowing where your expression could have gone—especially because you do know deep down where the power of love is meant to take you.
Thriving Through Uncertainty Page 9