Professional Student of Life
Adventures in personal growth
Always be a first rate version of yourself and not a second rate version of someone else. ~ Judy Garland
In January, I often write a post about my goals and intentions for the coming year – I’m a long-time maker of resolutions and 5-year plans. This year I found myself balking, and it’s not because I don’t have plans and hopes. It’s because I’m over the idea that I need to make myself better or different in order to be okay. I’m done trying to make myself something that I’m not.
This year my only intention is to be as radically authentic as possible.
Not that that’s easy either! However great the relief that comes with not trying to change myself, being truly authentic is a muscle that takes time to develop. It’s easier with the traveling lifestyle I’m currently living: since no one knows me, no one has any investment in my showing up a certain way. But even given that, it’s surprisingly difficult to resist the temptation to “fit in.”
For instance, my instincts lean far more to the reclusive than the social. That’s no problem when I’m staying someplace very independent, but when I recently stayed for a week in a BnB with hosts and other guests sharing the space, I had to resist the urge to invent things to do in order to look busier and hipper. They were perfect strangers – why did I care so much?
In reality, I was projecting my own judgments onto them. It’s my own ego that accuses me of being boring and weird, and that’s where I need to spend my efforts this year, in calling out the subtle fears that tell me I’m somehow not okay being who I truly am. (Most likely those other people spared not one tiny thought about what I was doing in my room.)
Even when the social pressure is more overt, it’s my own anxiety that makes me susceptible to it. I met a woman close to my age and spent a day talking about traveling alone as single, middle-aged women. It was wonderful, but it took me two days afterward to feel good again about my decision to let my natural gray hair show.
For the other woman, looking “young” and finding a man was a major priority. My desire to be comfortable and confident in my own skin took a distinct hit, but it wasn’t because I particularly valued this woman’s opinion. It was because my ego took the opportunity to race down old rabbit holes of comparison and shame.
Other people aren’t nearly as influential as our own deep-seated doubts that we are worthy.
Being radically authentic requires constant awareness of the old programs the ego runs that tell us we aren’t good enough the way we are. If we can “out” them and view them clearly but compassionately when the urge to be less than authentic arises, we can make better decisions about what actually feels good and right for ourselves.
And that is my main intention for this year!
If I had the chance I’d ask the world to dance, but I’d be dancing with myself. ~ Billy Idol
The more time I spend with myself, the more I realize that my world is really just a reflection of my own psyche. This crucial realization is usually hidden by the fact that other people seem to be the cause of my experience. But as I watch myself now (when I’m spending most days essentially on my own) I still see that my emotions wax and wane, and I have long conversations in my head about the past, present and future, what should and shouldn’t be happening, and how I should and shouldn’t be feeling about it. Even without a cast of supporting characters, my dance card is full.
The truth is, whether we know it or not, we’re always dancing with ourselves. Even if you’re physically in the presence of others all day long, your real dance partners are your own projections: memories of past hurts, worries about the future, thoughts and guesses about what is happening (and what other people are thinking) right now. It’s impossible to see the other person clearly, let alone have a real relationship with them, when all these other projections are crowding the dance floor.
The only thing we can do about this is to remember that it’s happening. The more aware we are of our own projections, the more we learn to acknowledge them, the more we are able to look past them and begin to see the reality of the other person (or the reality of ourselves that lives behind the projections of the mind). It’s harder to do this when we’re always busy. It’s scary, too – life seems more simple when we can just look outside of ourselves for the cause of our emotions, and blame others, or change something “out there” instead of inside of ourselves.
I often feel the urge to escape from the fear into busy-ness, or company simply for the sake of company. Instead, I try to hold myself here, in this place that vacillates from bliss to panic, and just get to know myself as my own true dance partner. I’m learning that the vacillations are just a part of life, not something that requires a reaction. With other people, it’s all too easy to miss this lesson in the rush to react. I’m learning how much the way I perceive other people is dictated by my own expectations and prior experience. How little clarity I actually have when I view them through this unacknowledged veil. How little I actually know myself when I constantly substitute exterior perception for my own interior reality.
Dancing with myself is a skill that I’m slowly developing. Sometimes it’s easy and joyful, sometimes it feels like a dirge. Sometimes other people take a hand, and I try to remember that they are in their own dances too. And that reality can always (and only) be found on the inside.
It takes the whole of life to learn how to live, and – what will perhaps make you wonder more – it takes the whole of life to learn how to die. ~ Seneca
I am in Mexico for the Day of the Dead celebrations this year. Skeletons are literally everywhere, as well as altars with photos of dead relatives and friends. The mood is festive but also serious: this goes well beyond the Halloween customs we’ve adopted north of the border. It’s a time to remember just how thin the line is between life and death, even if we prefer to look the other way 364 days of the year.
For people who are grieving, or facing a terminal illness, contemplating death is unavoidable. The rest of us run like crazy. But living a conscious life also means remaining conscious that none of us leave here alive, and none of us know the date of our departure. Scarier still, none of us know when our loved ones will leave these bodies. But they will leave them one day.
I think there’s a way to hold that knowledge steadfastly and still live life fully and without fear (for the most part). Many people lean on spiritual beliefs or religious faith for this, but even that foundation isn’t unassailable. I have a pretty strong belief in reincarnation and the afterlife, but the fact remains that I could be wrong. A more reliable support is to consciously live my life in such a way that, if I did die tonight, I would be “ready” for it.
That means different things to different people. For some people, having lots of mourners at their funeral is a sign of a life well-lived. For others, having achieved something significant that will live beyond them in their field of work or knowledge is important. For many, pouring love and effort into caring for children is the ultimate accomplishment. You get to choose what living well means.
What really matters is that you choose consciously, and then live your day-to-day life in a way that prioritizes that. It should be a regular habit (even daily) to evaluate how close your actual path is to the path you most value. In a very real sense, the “Day of Judgment” comes every single day, and we are the only judge. If you live a life in alignment with your true values, while you might not feel ready to go, or that you accomplished everything you wanted to, you can at least look around and say, as the Native Americans did: Today is a good day to die.
And when it comes to our loved ones, especially children, we have to look squarely at the fact that they are on their own path. There’s nothing we can do to guarantee that they will outlive us, which is another thing to consciously acknowledge every day. Just as you do with your life path, evaluate your relationships regularly through the lens of their impermanence: are they what you want them to be? Do they reflect your true values? We’ll never get everything right, and we can’t control the other person, but we can be responsible for our own thoughts, words, and actions.
It’s not about being perfect, it’s about being conscious.
I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures. ~Lao Tzu
I recently ran across this quotation from one of the masters of Taoism and was struck by its truth. Simplicity, to me, means being truly authentic (because we only introduce complication into our lives when we’re trying to be something we’re not). Compassion, for ourselves and others, is the bedrock of a sane life.
But patience!!!! Ahhh, there you’ve got me. I don’t do patience well. And patience is not something this society encourages. We are told, both subtly and unsubtly, to make things happen. That tangible results are the only true indicator of success or failure. And, by the way, get it done yesterday!
But, like it or not, life will eventually teach you patience. The older I get, the more I have to admit that timing is often entirely out of my hands. Right now I’m still waiting for a negative Covid test to allow me to board a plane for the US. I have completed the required isolation after my first pre-flight test turned out positive, but no matter how much I encourage my cells through visualization, the test results still hover stubbornly under the cut-off line. Apparently, I’m not meant to go home just yet.
Accepting that gracefully is the hard part. Of course, there are many other things I’ve wished for fervently over the years that haven’t materialized, such as finding my “soulmate.” Is it just timing? Am I not ready? Am I wishing for the wrong thing? The answers to those questions are also hidden. The challenge is to trust that whatever is happening (or not), it’s meant to be that way.
This is next level from so-called “manifesting.” Manifestation is certainly a huge step up from feeling powerless and completely at the mercy of events, but it’s still a way that the ego tries to impose its agenda on life. The truth is, we can have the best energy in the world and still have seemingly random, negative things happen to us. That’s when we have to step even further back, looking at events from the highest possible perspective. Faith then joins hands with patience, helping us believe in the ultimate good, even in the face of apparent circumstances.
There’s no such thing as Miracle-Gro for the soul. We learn from “living the questions” – as Rainer Maria Rilke put it – one day, one month, one year at a time. Patience is letting time do its work to slowly transform us from the inside out, rather than trying to force a change from the outside in. It’s not easy, but our only real choice is whether or not to participate willingly in the process.
The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself. ~Maya Angelou
I just returned from a silent retreat. For some reason, the theme that kept repeating in my meditations and thoughts over those two weeks was the idea of worthiness. Maybe it’s because, without the words we normally use to establish our worthiness in others’ eyes – our place in the social pecking order – I was feeling a little lost. We get a sense of who we are from how other people react to us.
When we drop words, we drop a lot of our shields and talismans. Nobody knows our names, where we come from, what we do, who we are. We don’t have the trappings of ego to proclaim our worth, our right to take up space. We just are, neither better nor worse than any other body there.
Words are also a shield we use to protect us from ourselves. Establishing and maintaining social connections normally takes up a lot of our time and energy. It can be a little scary to be thrown entirely on our own resources. What do we think about all day when we don’t have the distractions of everyday life and social interactions? Who are we really, when we aren’t what other people think of us?
During a guided meditation one day, we were asked to think of something we wanted to give in exchange for our deepest desires. A phrase floated into my mind that I’ve never consciously thought of before: self-devotion. I felt so surprised by it – I’m normally one of those people who thinks in terms of showing devotion to others, not myself.
As I meditated more on it, I realized that my sense of worthiness is contingent, not inherent. I feel worthy if I devote myself to others, but not worthy of self-devotion. That was a big concept to swallow. What would it mean to truly be worthy, in and of myself? How would I regard myself, and how would I treat myself, if I were truly devoted to me?
We talk a lot about self-love, but devotion seems to go much further than that watered–down concept. If you are devoted to someone, you truly see that person, know them on an intimate level, and passionately want what is best for them. They are inherently worthy in your eyes. Could I feel that way about myself? Could I somehow unhook my own sense of worth from the way other people view me?
It’s not something that happens overnight, but I’m watching myself, now that I’m aware. I’m making a conscious decision to see myself as inherently worthy – even worthy of my own devotion.
A man who has committed a mistake and doesn’t correct it is committing another mistake. ~Confucius
The ego hates mistakes, especially ones that cost money or time. But the thing about life is, we can only make decisions based on what we know now, and so we often turn out to be wrong. And that’s when we have to be willing to change direction, even if it means losing time or money (or worse, inconveniencing or even hurting ourselves or others).
We just didn’t know.
Sometimes it’s a small loss or inconvenience. Now that I’m traveling and constantly having to make decisions about places I’ve never been, I’m also making tons of mistakes. It’s frustrating, but I’d rather acknowledge the mistake (for instance, about a place to stay), move on, and chalk it up to experience, even when I lose the money I’ve paid. Doubling down on a bad decision is not a good idea. The willingness to change course, even when the ego screams, is essential in travel.
It’s even more essential when the consequences are greater. When you’re set to marry someone your heart has serious misgivings about. When you’re two classes away from graduating with a degree you no longer love. When you put all your money into a business that’s failing. It’s painful and scary to admit these kinds of mistakes, but doubling down on them will only lead to more pain in the future, for you and everyone else involved.
Admitting mistakes feels shameful, but we need to reframe this. They are growth opportunities that often lead to much better experiences, once we’re willing to make the necessary course corrections. I walked away from a place I had already paid a month’s rent on, but ended up in one that delights me every day. I could have stayed in the other place, but a month of being uncomfortable was too high of a price to pay in order to maintain the illusion of being right. Many people spend years, or even lifetimes, doggedly living out their mistakes rather than admitting that they long for something different.
And how could you have known? No one sets out to make the “wrong” choice. We do the best we can, given the knowledge and abilities we have at the time. Only the ego expects us to be flawless in predicting the future! I often remind my daughter of this when she asks for advice with important decisions. You can only know what you know right now. Things might change. You might change. And if that happens, you might have to change direction somewhere down the line.
There is no shame in that.
The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join in the dance. ~ Alan Watts
I was talking with a dear friend who lost her husband unexpectedly a few months ago. The waves of fear and sadness she described reminded me of the months after my unexpected and very difficult divorce – and even a bit of the way I’m feeling as I pack up my life in the US and prepare to travel indefinitely.
Wanted or not, positive or negative, major life transitions send our whole bodies into a kind of shock. It’s ironic and a bit disorienting to feel that way when you’re fulfilling a lifelong dream, as I am, but I’m really not surprised. Our bodies crave the familiar, just as our minds crave the known. Sadness at what we’re leaving behind, as well as trepidation about what we’re heading into, are the unavoidable byproducts of any major life transition.
It doesn’t help to try to “talk yourself out of it.” The only way to deal with these waves of emotion is to let them work their way through your body. When they hit, try to physically stop, if you can. Just acknowledge what you’re feeling, and allow it to be there, without judgment. Keep breathing. Let yourself be an empty container, not resisting, just holding. Within a few minutes, the sensations will lessen – for now.
Obviously, for my friend they will keep coming back for a long time, sometimes stronger, sometimes just a whisper. It’s not linear, and there’s no way to know when they’ll hit. There’s no ironclad timeline for grieving. It just is what it is, like everything else in life. Not resisting just means not adding any extra pain on top.
For me, it means allowing myself to be scared and sad, even if I don’t think the situation “warrants” it! It doesn’t mean I’m making a mistake, or being a drama queen, or anything other than that I’m human, and change (even wanted change) is hard. There are glimpses of joy and excitement there, just as my friend feels glimpses of peace, and even laughter, occasionally surfacing.
This practice spans all of life – it’s just much more noticeable during the big transitions. We have smaller mood swings during each day, with plenty of opportunity to notice what’s happening in our bodies and hold space for it without judgment or resistance.
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. ~ Henry David Thoreau
As a coach, I’ve learned to listen closely to any advice I give, because it often turns out to be exactly the advice I need myself! Recently this quote (above) came up in a conversation, so I paid attention.
For me, putting the foundation under my air castle is about actually writing the book I’ve been talking about for so long. Now that I’m off on my grand adventure I have plenty of time to write, but I’m having a hard time getting going on it. I toggle back and forth between the truth that I don’t have to do anything at all in order to be worthy, and the equal truth that we humans have an intrinsic need to be creatively involved in life.
That was the subject of a different coaching conversation, also pertinent to my own situation: We want to do something, but how do we tap into the passion that inspires action? I know that I want to write; why is it so hard to do it?
The book The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin may hold a clue. She outlines four different ways that people typically respond to inner and outer expectations (things that we ask of ourselves, and things that others ask of us). Here is a quiz you can take to find your own tendency.
Upholders typically meet both their own expectations and those of others.
Obligers are able to meet others’ expectations, but struggle to meet their own.
Questioners meet their own expectations, but will question outer expectations and only meet them if they make sense or seem reasonable to them.
Rebels don’t like to meet any form of expectation, inner or outer. They like to do what they want!
Alas, I am a rebel, and I suspect that the latter client is as well. Knowing your tendency can help you find strategies that will motivate you (although Upholders don’t really need strategies to motivate them – they need to learn how to let themselves off the hook!).
For Obligers, having someone else hold them accountable often does the trick. For Questioners, doing research and convincing themselves of the soundness of a course of action is what works. For rebels: who knows???
Actually, I have found that, as a rebel, I often respond to altruism (but only if I can choose the who, what, when, where, and how myself). Once I framed writing my book as an act of service, I made a good start. Rebels are hard to get going, but when they feel inspired they can move mountains!
As always, knowing yourself is the key. What's your tendency?
For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. ~ The Bible
I’m about to take off on a grand adventure, something that I’ve basically wanted to do my whole life: to travel around the world, indefinitely. To make travel my life. I wish it could have happened earlier, but apparently that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
One of the hardest things in life is to wait, but unfortunately we can’t force the timing we want through sheer will and longing. As Byron Katie says, when we argue with reality, we lose…. but only 100% of the time.
I see this for my daughter right now too. She’s looking for a new job, and it’s scary not knowing if it will be one month or six, or longer, before she finds one. There’s a popular saying: Leap, and the net will appear. I believe this is true, but you never know how long the free fall is going to be before it does.
Not knowing: the ego hates that.
Not having control: even worse.
But this is what life demands of us. It’s keeping the dream alive, doing what we can to forward it, but still living the life we are actually given, with grace and gratitude, no matter how different it looks from what we want.
And now that my dream is about to come true, it’s actually a bit terrifying! But that is also something life demands – there’s no moving forward without loss of some kind. Loss of what is comfortable and familiar. Relationships that change form. Even loss of our illusions about the dream, because it’s never exactly the way we imagined it.
And ironically, the not knowing and not having control continue, even with the dream. There’s never a time when it’s all sewn up in a tidy bundle with no loose strings. At least, not until we die, I guess!
So I’m going to head off, first to Hawaii and Bali, then to Mexico and Central America, and lots more places after that. It will be scary and lonely and exhilarating, and probably far different from what I dreamed of all those years. Maybe I will even hate it – who knows? I am a very different person now, at 58, than I was at 28. But I’ve learned a lot about dealing with not knowing and not having control, so I think I’ll be okay. It’s my time now.
“I think a servant of the Enemy would look fairer and feel fouler.” ~ Frodo Baggins describing Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
I sometimes wonder if life is like one of those Indonesian puppet shows, where the action that enthralls the audience is really just a series of shadows thrown on a screen. It seems like we often get so caught up in our stories, in events and plans and action and things, that we lose our connection to the reality behind the story.
It’s as if there is a double life going on all the time.
On one side, we have our stories, complete with heroes and villains, sidekicks, plot twists, and changes of scenery. I call this “form.” It’s all the things that show up in our physical world: our bodies, our jobs, our relationships, our possessions, etc.
And on the other side, the part of us that is eternal, that – yes – lives this life, but also lives beyond and past this particular life, these particular forms. I think of this as “energy,” but you could also say “spirit.”
The problem is that usually “form” gets almost all of our attention, and “energy” very little, when it should be the other way around. I often say this to people I coach (and to myself) because it seems so counter-intuitive. Form is the thing that seems solid and real and worthy of our attention.
But that’s just because we’ve formed the habit of looking at and valuing form over energy. In reality, energy is the only thing that matters, which you can easily prove to yourself. We all know people who have everything going for them in the way of form – money, success, beauty, youth – who are nevertheless unhappy. And also people with almost nothing, as far as form goes, who are radiantly happy. (Watch the documentary Happy for some striking examples of this.)
Form by itself has no ability to impart happiness, but energy certainly does.
The great thing is that once you start concentrating on (becoming aware of and valuing) your energy, you’ll find that it’s every bit as real and tangible and easy to track as form is. More, even, because form changes and passes away, while energy (as we learned in 5th grade science) can be transformed but never destroyed.
So how do you learn to do it? First, just start putting your attention there. Remind yourself that forms don’t really matter that much (even if society says they do). Instead, ask yourself how you feel. Ask it about everything and everyone in your life. Ask it about yourself, and about everything you do. What does it feel like?
And then steer by those feelings. Value and prioritize the things and people that feel good, not the ones that just look good (sometimes they’re the same, but that’s just gravy). The next level is to really start identifying yourself, and everyone else, as an energetic body. That’s what we actually are: just a bunch of electrons, protons and neutrons surrounded by a whole lot of space. Your electrons even switch places with the electrons in your chair – did you know that???
Energy is what the world of form is actually made up of, so let’s just skip right to the stuff that matters.
Join the family!