Does she have an Inner Nag?

Over and over, I’ve been asked the same thing about my recent trip to Africa: what was the best part, the most important thing I learned, my biggest “aha”?  The people, the animals, the landscape, the country, and the African STAR workshop enriched my life in so many ways.  Did one thing stand out?

I puzzled over this, and then it hit me.

The biggest lesson for me was this–I went.  I didn’t take the advice of the whiney chorus of nagging, nay-saying voices in my head intoning “NO-O-O-O. Don’t go.  You shouldn’t do this,” somber as a criminal court judge handing down a life sentence without possibility of parole.

“You don’t have the time,” the clockwatcher crisply noted.  “You don’t have the money,” begged the voice of lack, convinced it’s the only thing between me and a life spent living under a bridge with my worldly belongings in a shopping cart.  “You didn’t plan this far enough in advance,” clucked the practical one as she studied the lists on her clipboard. “The long plane ride will wipe you out,” implored the hand-wringer that thinks danger and injury lurk around every corner.  “Everyone will think it’s foolish/be jealous/won’t like you,” pleaded the approval-junkie that desperately wants to get along well with others.

Is she looking for approval?

I’d heard them all before, cautioning me not to seize other opportunities in my life.  I’ve listened to their advice many times.  This time, I realized they were just the voices of limiting thoughts that weren’t true.   So I thanked them for their efforts.  And I ignored them.

Oh my stomach still did loops when I gave the airline agent my credit card information.  But I knew my feelings were coming from thoughts fueled by my Inner Nags.  So I bought the ticket.

And I had a fantastic trip with absolutely no regrets.  I was enchanted.  I learned.  I grew.  I shared amazing sights and transformative insights with fabulous people.  I had an adventure.  It felt light and airy and magical and free.  And it still does.

He doesn't seem to be worried about his future.

The Buddha taught that you can always know the sea because it always tastes of salt and you can always know enlightenment because it always tastes like freedom.

I can recall so many adventures that I’ve passed up because I chose to believe that chorus of hyper-cautious, sensible voices.  This time I listened to the deeper, wiser voice inside me.  “Go,” it whispered.  “This is an opportunity of a lifetime.  Don’t pass it up.  Go.”

Recognizing and listening to that still, quiet voice of truth is the greatest lesson I learned.   And it’s delicious.  It tastes like freedom.

Here’s my list:

The Tao te Ching (unless there is electricity, then my Kindle, but that seems like cheating)
Paper
Pens
A watercolor kit with paint and brushes
A camera—I know, the electricity thing again, but we won’t be super-strict with the rules.

As I thought about this, I realized I could have fun and stay really absorbed.  And that alone is a happy thought.  I’d keep a journal, of course, and then write all the things I never get around to, teach myself to paint, and take lots of interesting pictures.  My island, as I imagine it, has interesting shells and rocks and birds and plants and driftwood for creative inspiration.

Through it all, I’d read the Tao to keep inspired.  Maybe I’d understand it better at the end of the year.

After doing this little exercise, these questions came to mind:

What possessions really add to our happiness?
What do we really need for entertainment, for inner growth, for self-expression?
What would we be willing to give up if resources were really limited?

What would you bring along with you?  And how would it be to be alone with yourself?  Post your answers in the comments section.

It was a big outdoor party.  A group of drummers were pounding Caribbean rhythms and blowing horns as they stood in line, a woman on stilts danced to the drums, volunteers (affiliation unknown) handed free water bottles to waiting voters.   A truck from a church unloaded folding chairs for whomever wanted one. I chatted with old friends and people I didn’t know.  It was fun.

Everywhere I go, people are asking each other, very respectfully, whether they have voted.  My friend Lise, who lived in Haiti under Baby Doc’s governance and is now a proud US citizen, laughs and says she will only vote on election day.  She’s superstitious about having her vote count.  My postal carrier smiled and told me she will take off Thursday to vote.  I’ve heard that an 80% turnout is expected here.

My strongest desire today is to continue this heightened sense of connection and to be of service.  What can I do after the election is over, to continue this exciting feeling?

Today’s ideas: volunteer in a library reading to kids, volunteer to do something in the schools having to do with civics or the law, continue to speak with strangers after the election as if there was still a good reason to do so, collect supplies for a school in Jamaica, raise money to renovate a school in Jamaica.

The idea that gets my attention today is to continue to speak with strangers, even after the election, as if I  had a good reason to do so.  And I do have a good reason, actually.  It’s called connection and joy.

As we let our struggles go, we discover they are optional.  We learn that we can create struggles, and that we can let them go, for a few moments, for the length of a yoga class, and in many instances, for as long as we choose.

My creative exploration continues.  My list contains Barcelona, Ischia, Italy, the Scottish Highlands, Jamaica, South Africa.  Why?  Barcelona for the beauty of the Gaudi architecture, Ischia to discover my great-grandmother’s home, the Highlands to connect with my mother’s forebears, Jamaica to be of service, Paris because its there.

Then I realized I could probably take my coaching practice to Paris or Barcelona, and stay there for an extended time.  I know a writing coach who is in Paris for six months, and is still working with her US clients.  She speaks with them on Skype, which is a free service.  I could get an apartment in Europe, and stay as long as I wanted. Now that’s an idea that is really exciting.  It seems really far-fetched and scary, too, until I realize that what makes it far-fetched and scary is the way I’m thinking about it.

The writing coach in Paris righ now obviously didn’t think it was such a crazy idea. For now, I’ll take Natalie’s advice, and let go of my struggles.  I’ll just enjoy the excitement of this idea.

Later, I when I noticed that I was calm, I realized that this was totally out of character for me. I used to cringe if I stepped out of my habitual reticence to speak up about what I wanted. My usual, safer pattern would be to say nothing at all, which would have brought prompted scolding myself for not speaking up.  Lose-lose, no matter what I did. (And, last time I volunteered to be an event photographer, I freaked out.  I wrote about it here.)

But this is different.  I feel completely free.  Liberated.  Joyful.  I spoke up and it feels fantastic.  No matter what else happens–the outcome is not the important part.

This is desire way beyond yearning for the creative act of photography.  I want to speak up when I’m moved and to ask for something that I really want.  And to have no regrets, no matter how it’s received.

Today, that’s what happened.

I examined my desire about wanting to get all of the wisdom of my books into me, without spending the time to read them. This idea didn’t inspire or excite me.  In fact, it exhausted me.  It was based on a (false) story that I don’t know enough, so I need to read more, train more, take more classes, etc. It feels good to scratch this one off my desire list.

Next, I explored my yearning to spend more time on artistic, creative endeavors. When I imagine sitting with a brush in my hand, totally absorbed in the colors of paint going onto paper, I feel excited, joyful, alive.  I’m onto something with this one!

In fact, the more I imagine myself painting, with a brush full of vibrant, jewel-toned colors, the more certain I am that I want this in my life, and that it is going to happen for me.  I’ll open to possibilities, messages, and straightforward as well as unusual methods of having more artistic expression into my life.  This feels good, and I am smiling as I write this.

So give it a try.  Sit (or walk) and smile for a while. Notice how the simple act of smiling makes you feel.  Do you feel a shift inside?  Now find something from your list of desires that makes you smile even more.  What is it?

Here’s a reminder to appreciate this wondrous place within us:  Our hearts work tirelessly, without stopping for 70 or 80 or even 100 or more years, never taking a vacation.  It beats about 100,000 times a day, 40 million times a year.  It pumps 2 gallons of blood each minute, over 100 gallons per hour, through a network of veins and arteries that is about 60,000 miles in length, which is more than twice the circumference of the earth.

As for me, the clearest message from my heart today is to find new ways to help my clients with their stressful reactions to the current economic situation.  That is the clearest message of desire and longing I’m having.  Meanwhile, I’m going to appreciate this amazing place within me—it pumps my blood without rest, and sends me messages—messages that will be the key to my joy.

My fascination with the current elections (and my desire to stop spending time reading about it) gets closer to real, honest, meaningful desire, felt in my heart.  Taking a closer look, my interest is really a reflection of wanting a better world, of caring for the future, of concern for children, including my own.  My desire is to stop reading and start doing.

Hmmm–is this what Martha Beck calls a “beauty-queen desire?”  Something politically correct and safe?  Interesting that this one caught my attention so quickly.

Well, I’ve always worked in a service-oriented capacity, and even as a lawyer I did a lot of work for causes I believed in, issues I thought would change the world for the better.  But maybe that begs the question, because I also have a long history of repressing my heart’s desires.  This idea of changing the world is something I’ll have to feel around inside to get at–where is that wanting and caring coming from?  Is it my head, which surely wants me to be a “good” person, or my heart, which may simply yearn for a really cool red bag?

What do I want right now?  What does my heart desire?

I want to take a trip to someplace exotic, all by myself.  And to feel comfortable and enjoy myself, even though I am alone.
I want to do creative art projects, like watercolors and photography, regularly.
I want to read all of the fabulous books piled on the floor by my bed.  Well, what I really want is all of the knowledge and inspiration in those books, instantly.  Like wisdom in a pill.
I want to give up the time I spend reading the political news every day.
But not until after the elections.
I want to take a hot bath.
I want to create a brilliant, inspiring telecourse to address the fears people are feeling about the economy and money.
I want the amazing red leather purse I saw in a shop last week.
I want to remain calm and be a good role model when my daughter speaks with upset in her voice.
I want to find a hairstyle that always looks good without spending any time styling it.
I want to never eat past satiety again, no matter how delicious the food is.
I want to go to New York in November for my son’s birthday.
I want to swim in warm, crystal clear water and snorkel with tiny iridescent blue fish and eat fresh lobster from the sea.
I want life to feel easy all the time, like I’m floating on a bamboo raft down a stream in Jamaica, eating a ripe mango in the warm sun.

What do you want?

When I attended the School as a participant last October, I was so curious about the staff. Who were these amazing, dedicated people and how did they get to do this? I felt like a first grader on the first day of school, watching the confident, sophisticated sixth graders.

Working quietly behind the scenes and in the classroom with Katie, there were coordinators and runners and techies and guides and leaders and hander-outers and facilitators. You name it, and there was a gentle, smiling staff member all over it. I shyly asked a few of them questions, and learned that by having attended The School, I, too, could apply to be on the staff.

I immediately knew what I’d want to do if I ever was on the staff: photographer. I am an amateur photographer and I thought that would be the coolest thing in the world—quietly recording the emotional highlights of people in the profound work of confronting their deepest truths.

One of my favorite experiences at the School was the taking of our group photograph. It took exactly ten minutes from start to finish for 320 of us to enter the room, stand, sit and kneel as instructed by the efficient photo crew, have our picture taken, and leave the room. I was flabbergasted. No one stressed-out or even raised their voice to direct us all into a tiny space to be photographed. We were laid-back and happy as we compliantly squished together, held still, and smiled. Everyone was in a good mood. Amazing, I thought.

Last week, I submitted my job preferences and put number 1 by the position of Assistant Photographer. I just knew it would never happen though. It seemed way too good to be true. (Is that true?)

My friends and I have been speculating about the jobs we want and the jobs we’ll get. No one wants an office job, in the back room, away from Katie, and away from all the action. Some part of me was convinced that that’s where I’d land.

Two days ago, I got an email from the School Director asking me to be the Assistant Photographer. I was elated and in complete disbelief as I quickly emailed my acceptance.

Then my thoughts intervened. What was I thinking? I looked at the photos of the School on Katie’s website, www.thework.com/school.aspI. Those pictures are awesome. I can’t do that. I’ve never done indoor photography. I don’t have the right equipment. I’m not good enough.

I figured I had better come clean. I’d better give them a chance to give the position to someone who was really qualified. It’s the honest thing to do. I sent an apologetic email to the director, confessing to my limitations. I sighed as I realized that my proper place was in the back room, entering data. I knew I could do that well.

A few minutes later I received this one line response: “I am sure it will work fine. We are all good and we are all amateurs!”

So, I’m off for a new adventure, with a new mantra: we are all good and we are all amateurs.  And that feels just right.