It was Day One of my most recent course, The Joy of Being.
We were in a hotel room in a resort on the Puget Sound. A willow tree gently swayed its long branches outside, across a green, wide expanse of lawn, leading to the Sound.
The room was like all hotel meeting rooms everywhere. We made it special with orchids and a beautiful statue of Quan Yin up front, the female Buddha form of Compassion.
I always like leading courses with Quan Yin behind me.
On the table behind me were many books, amongst which were Mark Nepo’s Book of Awakening, David Whyte’s Crossing the Unknown Sea, the Zanders’ Art of Possibility, John O’Donohue’s To Bless the Space Between Us. Like that.
The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, this being an intimate retreat.
People came into the course from various professions, and in various states. Some were exhausted, some were confused, some were impatient, and some were no longer nourished by their work.
All shared how happy they were to be there. It takes quite a commitment, financially, and with time, to come across states to enter into such a deep conversation.
Everyone came in, out to make a threshold crossing for themselves, from wherever they were at in life, to creating and then living a well-lived life, a meaningful life, a life worth living.
This is Tresa’s story.
As we began to speak, honestly, authentically, from our hearts, in a safe space of no judgment, of appreciation, and caring, where people were deeply listened to by the others, it was clear that Tresa, as was everyone, was on for transforming her life.
She said, early on, as people declared what they were up to, that she wanted to leave her legacy, and that she wanted to lead a life of joy. She was deeply at stake for a breakthrough.
Part of the way through the first day, she shared with us that she had led her whole life around needing approval. Approval from her parents, approval from her peers, approval from everyone.
I noticed that every time she shared, or inquired, or contributed her wisdom to the group, she made a difference to each and every person there. She was wise and very tuned.
People acknowledged her for her contribution to them. She avoided hearing their words and their appreciation and dismissed what they said to her. At one point, she said, “That’s a nice compliment.”
Well.
That caught my attention because people were authentically acknowledging her, deeply, for the difference she was making from their hearts.
Complimenting and profound acknowledging live in two different worlds.
I said to her “That was no compliment. People are not complimenting you.”
She didn’t get it. She batted it away from her, what I said, like what I might do with a pesky insect.
On Day three, the third day of our three days together, when I saw an opening, I went in to work with her on it. I am a coach. Coaches can see where people have one foot “nailed to the floor.” (Horrible image, I know, but it does communicate!)
You go around in circles if you have a foot nailed to the floor and don’t know it. A good coach points out the nails. A good coach won't take out the nails for you but will point out to you where the nails are in a way that you can see them, if you are interested. I mean really interested. It’s YOUR job to take them out.
And, as I have already mentioned to you, Tresa had a lot at stake. She had leading a joyful life at stake.
You have to put something at stake. For, if it weren’t for the longing, and the desire, the having skin in the game, we listen casually. When we have something meaningful at stake, like our lives, or our joy in living, or our exuberance, or our wholeheartedness, or, like living a life meaning, we go to work. We see patterns that we ourselves have created, that we have hung on to, for survival’s sake, and yet keep us stuck. When we are really at stake, we’re willing to give up those patterns.
We are even willing to give up who we have been being in favor of creating new territory for ourselves, even in favor of creating a new Self.
And that is what Tresa did.
We talked. She shared with me, and the other participants, about how she had spent her life not letting people in, keeping them at a distance, to protect herself from being hurt. We talked about her own feelings of unworthiness that she has had her whole life.
Isn’t that the case for so many of us?
With all the inner looking, and communicating, and letting in the coaching, she realized she herself had put together the need for approval.
Her heart softened, then opened.
She started crying, then weeping.
I asked her when she could speak again, what had happened, what she had seen.
She said, “I realized that I am already loved. I don’t need the approval of others when I am already loved.”
There was a long silence in the room.
From that moment on, she shifted. Whenever she shared her own wisdom around something, she let others’ acknowledgment in, accepted their appreciation and love for her.
On Day 4, three weeks later, she shared in what new ways she stepped out into the world.
The other “pilgrims” in that room, all at a profound level of readiness for transformation crossed their personal thresholds as well.
And transform they did:
From exhaustion to wholeheartedness.
From resignation to choosing, as a break for freedom.
From resentment to compassion.
From spiritual deadness to spiritual awakening.
If you are interested in further exploring The Heart of Leadership, my foundational transformational program, or in contributing to others through that work, if you, yourself, have participated in it, please check it out here.
The following poem that came to me the morning after Day Three of that course, about each of the participants, including Tresa, who had entered into that conversation. It’s called “Alchemy.”
Alchemy
You came in as an asking, a particular longing for, a blessing invoked, a prayer. There was no casual about it. You knew you needed to save your life. You, in particular, needed this, wanted this, wanted more than anything, this conversation with your heart. For many months you waited for the symphony to begin, while all the while you gathered the instruments, the unique sounds of your own song not your mother’s or your father’s but yours. You created the notes, the chords, the themes that would carry you through the passage. Your soul was thirsty, and you drank, as you created courage, and told the truth. Kept telling the truth, into the well of safety. Reached down, even, to where you were shy of telling the truth. Reached out, beyond yourself, each time, and found that you were still loved. Magically, alchemically, the pure waters of your deep well within met your blessing, as the other orchestral voices joined your song. Together, and as one, you swirled and swirled, round and round, in those loving, listening waters, transforming, and transforming once again who you were, who you are to be in this life. Finally, Finally, you became a burning torch and could walk out of the dark forest of dreariness from which you came. A light, now, stepping out into your new world, free, healed, married to your soul.
Here is a prompt question for you to engage:
What is at stake for you in your life?
What are you asking for, longing for?
What is your next threshold crossing?
I am so thrilled, Jo. One of my intentions with these postings is for people to be inspired to write themselves. I write each morning first thing. Before I read my email, or sit down at my desk, or even drink my "green drink." Before I do anything else. Writing hooks us up with our own inner wisdom, our inner guide or guides. That morning practice opens me into my day.
I have a friend, Cheryl Eckl, an award - winning author, who has written a "Wise Inner Counselor" series -- her books provide openings for people to connect in that way. And I also just bought another book, "Living the Artist's Way," by Julia Cameron, which is another opening. And, my own book, "Crossing Thresholds, Island Reflections," as YOU know, was virtually written by my Muse, who awoke when I needed to create a threshold crossing for myself. As I was on a remote island in Lake Superior at the time, Nature itself became the guiding light, as my Muse fed me poetry each day (and night) to guide me across my threshold.
So, YES! Journaling can provide us with light to see with -- much needed light in these dark times. And that you started today when you have not written in a couple of years, is HUGE. I invite you, with all my heart, to establish a practice.
Thank you, James. It was quite a moment. There were many such moments, with others, as well, in those four days.
And, yes, I was very grateful to Tresa for saying "yes" to my request.