A short reflection on my days in Italy.Read More
Lately my world has been inundated with all kinds of energy regarding authenticity. Experience brings a deeper understanding of my own work. Sometimes it's really shocking, because I strive to be true to myself. And then I find I've been doing the opposite, albeit unwittingly. I've allowed myself to get caught up in someone else's energy and then masquerade it around as if it's my own. At some point, my awareness kicks in (normally through some kind of eye-opening event) and I have a chance to bring myself back to my own center. When I manage to do this, I am equally shocked to find out how much I've learned from the process.
It's continuous, the shift toward authenticity.
Sometimes, we sell ourselves a bill of goods. We see our authentic selves as a static state of being. We should find ourselves, we should know ourselves, we should be ourselves, end of story.
But it's not like that. Authenticity is like trying on clothes at your favorite store. Some things feel right immediately. But sometimes, we convince ourselves that something works. We buy it, we take it home, we convince ourselves to wear it, but then find we just don't feel that great in it. It doesn't work for us. Sometimes we get stubborn and keep wearing it. But if we're smart, we give it to someone for whom it works, and make space in our closet only for things we love.
That's a bit how authenticity is. We try something, we put it on, we decide how we feel with it. If it works for us, we take it into our spiritual inventory. If not, we're better off letting it go.
This shifting and trying is all part of change and growth. It keeps us from being judgmental and stagnant. It makes us pliable and keeps us in touch with our own vulnerability and inner strength.
You may know that I have been, for quite a long time now, preparing to teach a course called I Am Resilient for an intuitive online learning concept called Woo School, created by a woman named Tracey.
Last week, for reasons of her own, Tracey chose to pull the plug on the entire project.
Tracey asked me to become part of the project last spring, when I was recovering from the tumultuous events of the prior winter. I felt an entire energetic world open up; she had faith in my ability to be part of what I saw as a beautiful concept. As she gathered smart, intuitive women to be part of the process, I moved my life from one country to another, continuing a phase of seemingly endless transition, knowing in the back of my mind I would at some point be coming back to creating, and knowing that there would be a format for me to create into. It was a good feeling.
The months flew by and eventually the group was formed; lovely women from different time zones and perspectives, all brought into the flow by Tracey. She worked endless hours and invested so much of herself into creating something absolutely stellar-level beautiful. I felt so fortunate to be part of the entire concept. Deeply grateful and fortunate.
I saw the potential of something beautiful and decided that I would dedicate something big to the school. In December, I blocked out the entire month of January to create a course called I Am Resilient - combining science, psychology and spirit to help people who had undergone change and trauma understand how they could best move forward with new information, energy, and realities.
In creating the course I interviewed experts, read several books on different aspects of the subject, and meditated. I learned about my own process while doing the research, and found it incredibly interesting.
While this was happening, there were indications that the actual process of Woo School itself were not going so smoothly. In my need to be part of the group and to create my way forward, I ignored these signs.
I know better than to ignore signs. I am, after all, a soul caller.
Instead, I got bullish on the project, doubled down and worked twice as hard. This is a bit of a pattern for me. If I just trudge forward, everything will work out. It really hasn't worked well for me in the past, and this time would be no different
Around the beginning of February, I started to have backaches almost every day. I tried to walk the pain off. The only thing that helped, temporarily, was going into my pottery studio without any Internet devices. I felt such a level of inner spiritual disturbance that I could not identify.
I tried to communicate about what I saw as issues with the marketing of the concept. I should have known, when I couldn't get my message across, to stop investing my own energy in a concept that wasn't mine to begin with.
My back pain continued to grow. The energy was so off. I was drowning in something I did not understand. All I wanted to do, in good conscience, was produce a beautiful product. To collaborate with other women. To have a vehicle for my work. To give something to a person, a lovely person, who had given me a chance that I treasured.
I didn't see it falling apart until it fell apart. When the plug got pulled, it released the disappointment of what I actually already knew: that Woo School was over even though I had given it my all. I was a combination of angry and hurt and tired. Angry at myself that I had invested so much, albeit it on my own. Sad that the plug had been pulled before it had ever been given a chance. Tired because beyond the creation of the course, the whirling confusing energy that came before the pulling of the plug was terribly draining.
I expressed my anger and hurt and exhaustion. We had a confrontation of words, the only one we had ever had.
We seemed, in my mind, to leave the conversation in a friendly and conciliatory way.
The next day, I woke to find that Tracey blocked me on Facebook, cut me off from communicating with a Woo School associated Facebook group to which my private friends and clients had been invited, and seemed determined to forget about my existence.
I've chosen to meet this with love. It's the only way for me to make sense out of it. Love and gratitude for having had an experience to teach such deep, soulful lessons.
All weekend, I pondered the irony of having to call on my own resilience skills that I gathered during creating the course. About accepting this new normal. About moving on in a different way. Maybe this was the lesson of the whole thing? Quite possibly. The story of Woo School itself has become a case study in resilience.
In the wild ride of emotions over the past few days, my back pain has all but disappeared. I feel the burden is lifted. There were other energies at work that had nothing to do with me. I chose to work so hard at creating content because I was so thrilled to have been asked. Now that I don't have to bear the burden of trying to hold up "my end of the deal" anymore, I feel lighter.
I've learned a wildly important lesson about being aligned energetically and professionally before starting any kind of collaborative work. That lesson alone has been worth the price of this experience.
You know, woo is a funny word. I suppose that people use it to describe things that are not of this world and energies that are spiritual in nature. We each have our own idea about things like woo. At this point, I'm distancing myself from the word and refocusing on my very pragmatic approach to spirituality. The one where compassion and forgiveness top the list.
That, I must say, has always worked well for me.
I am letting the entire story go with compassion and forgiveness. I will always be grateful to Tracey for including me in her group of wonderful women.
As far as my course goes, I am repackaging it. It's way too good to let it crash and burn! In fact, I am adding to it and making it even more definitive than it was as a WS offering. It will be available here on my website and through selected friends' websites - people that I know and have strong personal relationships with.
I've renamed the course. It's now Resilience: The Art of Moving On. It will cost you a third less than its original incarnation! It starts on April 27th. If you are interested and need more information, just shoot me an email.
And with that, I'm moving on, unencumbered and with a spring in my step, letting my own resilience lead the way.