The 18^th Verse –

Can I jump off the high road, please?

Ending my addiction to ACTING virtuous

When the greatness of the Tao is present,

action arises from one's own heart.

When the greatness of the Tao is absent,

action comes from the rules

of "kindness and justice."

If you need rules to be kind and just,

if you act virtuous,

this is a sure sign that virtue is absent.

Thus we see the great hypocrisy.

When kinship falls into discord,

piety and rites of devotion arise.

When the country falls into chaos,

official loyalists will apear;

patriotism is born.

~ As translated by Dr.Wayne W. Dyer

Enjoy my process, as I try to work through the first 2 of 7 steps towards Delightful Living.

**The remaining 5 steps to come

Step1: Denial

Ms.Sunshine

For me, the slip between acting virtuous and being virtuous is seamless.  I can hardly distinguish the two.  Even when I notice that there is no sincerity (only the nauseating smell of BS) behind my action, I am not bothered to note the difference.  “To what end?” I ask myself.  Doesn’t virtue triumph all in social settings?

I live under the assumption that acting virtuous is the price I pay for living safely within society.  I have to admit, I do not know if men feel the same pressure from society, to play by its niceties.  But, for myself, as a woman, the need to “take the high road” or ACT virtuously is infinitely compelling.

I am addicted to the way it strokes my ego. I also take comfort in the fact that so many others participate in the same show!  Certainly, at times it can be difficult to muster up the false enthusiasm.  And, there is no doubt that it is time consuming.  To remember to bring in little gifts, cards, or baked goods for a birthday, baby, or right-of-passage, is exhausting.  But I LOVE it! I love it because I get paid in compliments.  Compliments fill my need to feel helpful, caring, and thoughtful. 

Step2: Acknowledgement

Ms. Sunshine comes crashing down

Can I really identify myself as helpful, or caring, or thoughtful without external commendations?

The overwhelming desire to feed my good girl image died two years ago when my former boss elaborately demonstrated the negative effect virtue could have on the soul.   It was then that I began to realize the true consequences of the Jackal and Hyde routine.   Perhaps a person’s smile bites when it seethes around the edges? 

 2 Years Ago:

Sitting down for a morning meeting, I complain: “Ugh!  Of course, I let this guy go first at the intersection, and then he proceeds to CRAWL down the street!”

Immediately my boss retorts, “No good deed goes unpunished!”

I frown at him. “Umph.”  And then think to myself, Really?  Is he trying to tell me that being a good person is a waste of time? Come on.  Honestly, I just wanted to bemoan the situation and move on.

“Haven’t you ever hear the expression?”  He eggs.

“No.”  I say, unwilling to concede.  My glass-half-full self doesn’t see the message in the shades of gray.  To me, it’s black and white.  Either you strive to always act nicely or you are an all around bitch. 

“Think about it.  Most of the time, when you do something nice, it turns around to bit you in the A**.”  At which point, my boss smiles wryly, turns a little in his seat, and points at his behind. 

He has me.  He knows that my “Ms. Sunshine” view of the world can’t fathom it.

But, surprising myself, I don’t discard his comment as simple pessimism.  

The morning meeting moves on and I sit slogging through a mountain of honesty.  My sun-shiny nature gets pushed aside, as example after example begins to surface. Looking past the virtuous acts themselves, I see to their end: Utter disappointment or self-punishment.  When the vanity of my swollen pride deflates, I am left haunted with feelings of let down and dissatisfaction.  That is, until I commit another act of virtue.

First Example – Immediately, I can call to mind a half a dozen times where I’ve let a friend pick a restaurant, a movie, or a ‘girl’s night’ activity because I’ve claimed not to mind.  I wanted to be the good friend, easy and agreeable. 

End Result:  Disappointment.  It is not her fault when we end up eating at a place for which I’m not actually in the mood, or seeing a movie for which I have no interest, or being disappointed in our ‘girl’s night’ because we have stayed in, when really, I was dying to go out.  

Truth:  I have not been a friend at all.   

Second Example – Acting virtuous is the reason I don’t ask for help.  I always feel the little virtue angel sitting on my shoulder, saying, 

Don’t inconvenience someone else by asking for help.  That’s rude.   They don’t have the time to help you.  It’s already enough of a strain on you, don’t put the strain on them.    

Even when others ASK to help me, my little virtue angel snubs theirs. 

They don’t really want to help you; they’re just saying that to be nice.

End Result:  Self-punishment.  I often end up frustrated, or physically bruised from trying to move an object far too heavy for myself. 

Truth: I cause my own a no-win situation.   

Third Example – I use virtue as an excuse NOT to speak up for myself. From the seemingly simpler moments when a friend miss-represents me in a story, to the harder moments when I’m asked to take on a huge task in a work meeting, I say nothing.  I do not want to appear “touchy.”  And, at work I am afraid to look incompetent, lazy, or dispassionate.   

End Result:  Disappointment and Self-punishment.  I am disappointed in myself for not speaking up, and I have inflicted waayyyy too much work on myself.

Truth:  My fear and the desire to maintain a dutiful image prevent me from expressing any concerns.

Now, I am on an exploration.  I am discovering:

Step3: Understanding

Step4: Knocking Down Hot Spots

Step5: New Living

Step6: Celebration

Step7: Abundant Support

I would love to hear from you:

• What does the difference between acting virtuous and being virtuous mean to you? 
• Are you exhausted by the high road?  Have you jumped? 
• Do you think it’s possible to get rid of the act for good?

The 17^th Verse –

A Tribute to a Great Leader:

A woman who leads so effortlessly that we hardly recognize it as leadership!

 To get a sense of her great leadership, I take you back to a Tuesday afternoon at White’s Park, in the year 2000… 

“Girls, it’s Tuesday! Workout day.  You know you’re excited!”  Barb sings to us in her happy, heartfelt, and strong voice.

We all half smile at her and cough out consenting gaffes. 

“Come on!” She cokes, “This is an opportunity to improve.  You know you’ve got this!”

This line, ‘an opportunity to improve,’ is Barb’s mantra.  And, she pulls it off like no other adult I’ve met.  There is no condescension in her voice, only power and love.  We believe her because she proves it to be true time and time again. 

“You ladies are already so amazing and talented.  You are such a powerhouse.  In the second mile of Saturday’s race, when your half way up that monstrous hill, you will think back to this workout and say, ‘Heck yeah, I can do this!’ Barb throws her fist in the air. 

Her energy is captivating, and despite the fact that she’s just insinuated we will be doing mile repeats for a workout today, we can’t help but grin at her.  Maybe we are moved by her boundless energy, or perhaps, by her admittance that the Derryfield hill in Saturday’s course is MONSTROUS (it is!), either way, we understand that she’s routing for us. 

Barb doesn’t sugar coat things.  She balances perfectly, between pushing us to do our best, and showing us just how amazingly successful we all are.  Nothing is a failure.  Life is all about learning: Always learning and trying again, even if that means wiping away the tears and trying again.

“Okay girls, go for a 2 mile warm up and meet me in the parking lot at Whites.”  Then she smiles and laughs and jokes with us as we walk to the door. 

We start slow and huddled, the fall wind is cold and biting.   Yet, it isn’t long before Devon breaks into story,

“Oh man, you should have been in history class today….”

We are running, talking and laughing when we see Barb in the parking lot at Whites.  She is already excited.

“Okay Ladies! I’ve calculated your splits based off where I think you should be and your last two race times.  Ember and Rachel, you guys are shooting to hit a 6:15 pace.  Devin, Meridith and Erica I want you right behind them at 6:20 pace.  Molly, Meg and Loey you’re shooting for 6:30-6:32 pace.  That means that at the half mile mark you guys should be coming in at 3:07, 3:10, and 3:15ish.“ 

She pauses then, and smiles at us. 

“Today is about pacing ladies.  Don’t come in early just because you can.  Remember we’re doing three of these and you will only get a one-minute rest in between.  Pace yourselves.  Okay, are we ready?”

In response, we start to limber up.  We shake out our arms, run in place with high knees, and roll our necks in stretching circles.   

As the movement dies away, Barb says, “Alright ladies, to the line.”

Pause.

“Ready, Set, Go.”  “Click,” her stopwatch starts.

Feet pound.  Arms pump.   Gravel crunches loudly beneath our feet.  All signs of the light banter and story telling are gone.  We are running; full and hard.  100 meters up the path, we round the first turn.

Devon calls out, “We’ve got this girls!” 

“Yeah we do!” Meg says confidently back. 

We all relax a little, and despite the burn that is awakening in my legs, I grin.  I can’t help it.  We are flying. 

We all move together, following, leading, guiding and supporting.  At the half-mile mark Barb is there.  She is dancing around, trying to entertain us as we come up the hill and out of the park.  Then in a flash, she is poised and ready, yelling our splits:  

“3 minutes, 3:01, 3:03, 3:04, 3:12, 3:13, SLOW DOWN GIRLS!” She screams.  “Only half a mile left, and it’s all down hill from here.  Pace girls.  It’s all about pace.”

Her voice becomes distant, as the slapping of our shoes against the newly found street pavement gets louder.   With the first half mile behind us, my mind starts to register the physical exhaustion my body is feeling.  Sudden dread hits me as my brain finally catches up…How am I going to get through two more of these?

Then, as if in response, Meg and I hit the downhill.  Automatically, my arms drop and my body leans forward.  It’s a skill that Barb taught us long ago.  Behold the importance of our middle school running games. 

With my arms down and my body pitched forward, I let gravity take me.  A swift current of relief runs down my body and I let go.  My breathing eases:  I feel light and recharged.  I make a mental note.  Here, at this spot, I will get my second wind.   With the start of each mile, I only have to make it this far and I will be okay. 

We round the corner towards a side entrance to the park.  The finish line is in sight.  Barb is running to meet us.  Her arms are flaying.  She has a stopwatch is in one hand, a clipboard in the other and a pen in her mouth.  I wish I could laugh, she looks hilarious, but finishing this mile is taking all of my concentration.  Close to the finish line, Barb drops her clipboard to the ground, squares her feet in the grass, and with knees bent, leans forward over the stopwatch.

Her intensity fuels our intensity.  She’s calling out at us now.  “You got this.  All the way through.” 

Then she’s calling out splits, “6:05, 6:06, 6:10, 6:12, 6:26, 6:27.  Keep moving ladies!  You have a one-minute rest.  Jog over to the starting line.”

Then she’s looking back down at her clipboard, calculating.  At the starting line we can tell Barb is not happy. 

“Girls, this is NOT about getting a fast mile time, this is about pacing yourselves.  You NEED to hit the time I set for you.  I set these times for a reason.  So now, I’m going to have to adjust.  We’ll finish these last two miles based on this first one.  That means new split times.  Molly, I don’t want to see another 3:12 split time or I’ll be bumping you up a group.  You have nothing to prove.  Don’t worry about last week.  I know you are a brilliant runner, so stay with Meg and Loey.  Stay together.  I want you to help pace each other. “ 

She pauses then, and a smile spreads across her face. 

“You girls are amazing.  This workout is about believing in yourself.  Come Saturday, I want you to KNOW you can do this! Not only can you do this, but it’s going to feel like a walk in the park!”  Barb gestures to the grass around us and we all laugh, despite ourselves.

“Alright, line up... Ready, Set, Go!”

We sprint off again.  Fierce determination lines our path.  Our minds beat out the tiredness of our legs.  We all want this for ourselves and for each other.  It is a silent first half-mile.  We are fighting our own mental battles on top of heavy legs and cramping arms. 

At the bottom of the hill, just below the half-mile mark, you can hear the exertion of our churning legs.  But, Barb is there.  Cheering.  She knows, as we do, that mile 2 is the hardest.  

“ You got this girls!  Keep it up! You are strong! You’re looking so good! Come on! Push, pump, push, pump.” 

Her words gets into our heads, “Push, pump, push, pump.”  We can’t think of anything else and the pain is momentarily forgotten. 

Then she’s shouting splits, “3:02, 3:03, 3:06, 3:13.  Nice job ladies.  Good going Molly, way to stay with the girls!  The hardest part is over ladies! Keep it up!”

Every part of my body is screaming at me, and I think she must be nuts.  We still have a mile and a half left!  Can I really do another mile?  But then, I’m on the downhill and my body remembers.  Relaxation.  The shear pain of my heavy legs is momentarily lifted.   I shake out my hands and they tingle from the sudden relaxation.

We hit the side entrance to the park. Barb is jumping up and down striking superwoman poses.  I smile. I can’t help it. 

Barb takes her ready stance.  “6:05,6:06, 6:12, 6:26, 6:27.  Much better ladies.  Much better.  Keep moving!  I will meet you at the starting line.  One to go, you’re almost there!”  

As we jog over to the starting line, Meg is the first to speak up, “great job girls.  We rock!” 

“You know it!” Devon calls back.

“Woot. Woot.” Rachel adds. 

One mile to go. The end is in sight.  Pride, perseverance and our love of the race, will carry us through.  

“Alright my wild ponies, you’ve got this!  We’re shooting for the same split times.  Ready, go!”

We’re off.  Barb keeps calling after us. “Go girls.  You look awesome.  Power through!”

“We’ve got this ladies!” Erica chimes in.

“Yeah we do.” I say

Our legs feel like sand bags and our breathing is labored.  We fight to suck in enough oxygen, but our energy and passion are high.  Supporting each other, we dig our way through. The gravel crackles beneath us and pebbles spit behind us.   

Then we hear Barb’s voice, “Looking good ladies. You are so there!  Push it through.  Remember pace.“

 We make a momentary surge to the half-mile mark. 

“3:00, 3:01, 3:05, 3:06, 3:10, 3:11.  Good job girls.  A little fast, but you look fantastic.  Keep your pace.  Move those arms.  Pump. Pump. Pump.  All the way.”

At the downhill, we let gravity take over. Our body’s pick up speed.  It feels like a barrel roll: arms flail, and our legs reach out in every direction.   We are at full exhaustion, and no one worries about apologizing when arms slap arms. 

Barb is at the finish line screaming, “Come on girls! You’re the best! Keep moving.” 

“6:03, 6:04, 6:10, 6:12, 6:25, 6:26.  Great job ladies! Keep moving.  Don’t sit down.  Stay up. Stay moving.” 

Barb moves to her car to put her clipboard down.  She’s back before I’ve even caught my breath.

“You guys did it! You totally rocked this work out. Nice Job!  You should feel really proud of yourselves right now. You are in such great shape for Saturday.” 

“Are we having a pasta dinner this Friday?” Devon asks.   

“Yessss!” Barb says, “We should talk about what everyone’s bringing.  Thanks for reminding me.” Then says, “Okay, finish up with a slow 2-mile cool down back to the school.  Great job ladies! You are like a serious herd of wild horses!”

We all laugh. 

Back at the locker room, the entire team is there: all 35 of us.  Barb is talking with some of the other groups about their workouts.  Then she turns to all of us,

“Nice job ladies. All of you!  You really killed today’s workout.  And it was, most certainly, one of those fabulous opportunities to improve.  You should be proud of yourselves.  Way to go!”  Barb strikes a muscle pose, flexing her arm muscles, and then continues, “And, as an extra treat, I have the weekly tribune for you today!”   

We all laugh and cheer.

“Wahoo!” a few of us call out.  We all love, LOVE the weekly tribune.  It is a personal letter from Barb about the race, wherein she takes a moment to comment on each of our performances.  It feels like a personal conversation and commendation.  Yet better, because we can carry it with us all week, and sleep on it, and thoroughly ingest it.

Two weeks ago my tribune note said,

Molly: WOW!!! You start the season having a sub 22 be a big thing and now a sub 21!!! You are really there…to be under 21 at this point in the season and still have so much more room to improve…you must be ecstatic! I am!!! Your steady progress is the best kind…way to go!

But this past week was not so easy.  I’m nervous about what my note will say.

“Devon, can you pass these out.”   Barb says, “So many of you did so well at last weeks race! Oh my gosh, so many PB’s! I loved it!! As you should too!!” 

As I get my copy, I’m scared.  I didn’t do nearly as well as the rest of the top seven, heck as the rest of the team!  Everyone had a blast on such a fast course, and I bombed!  I was all worked up about my crazy math test.  We are so close to our championship meets, I really REALLY want to make it. 

I look down and start reading:

So….I’m sitting here at my lovely computer…still just utterly flabbergasted at how unreal you all ran…and I do mean all, (even you Molly).  We were SO impressive today…and you all helped those Pinkerton Girls run so well.  I love that coach.  He is so nice.  As we were watching the race unfold he just looked at me…completely incredulous…asking me “Where do you find them?”  I am SO glad that you all found ME!!!  This is by far the best team ever…and, if those of you who are four-year seniors will recall, I say that every year.  We just keep getting better and better!!!!!!!

A smile escapes my lips, but I hold my breath as I look down and read my note,

Molly:  Oooh the tears….and the tight arms…and the sad face…and the math test…just remember, life isn’t made or destroyed in one race or in one math test…you are FINE and will be fine…in the classroom AND on the cross-country course.  Nice going… Chin up girl…

“Whew!” A whoosh of breath escapes my chest!  I am fine, so fine.  I pack up my running cloths and head out with the girls to wait for my ride.  This Saturday is going to ROCK!

The End

A HUGE thank you to Barbara Higgins, my amazing running coach.  She has forever instilled in me an incredible love for running, and a level of perseverance that knows no bounds.  

In writing this tribute, I went back through many old tribunes and was amazed all over again (actually, even more so as an adult, knowing the demands of adult life!) at the effort, energy and pure LOVE Barb puts into everyone she meets.  Even, as teens, when we were completely consumed by our own personal drama, she remained a pillar of love and support.  

She took no credit, in any way, for our successes; yet, we would never have attained the remarkable levels we did without her.  She taught us how success truly comes from within.  

“As we were watching the race unfold he just looked at me…completely incredulous…asking me ‘Where do you find them?’

 I am SO glad that you all found ME!!!”

  Just like the 17^th verse.

With the greatest leader,

People barely know one exists. 

The 17^th Verse

With the greatest leader above them,

People barely know one exists.

Next comes one whom they love and praise.

Next comes one whom they fear.

Next comes one whom they despise and defy.

When a leader trusts no one,

No one trusts him.

The great leader speaks little.

He never speaks carelessly.

He works without self-interest

And leaves no trace.

When all is finished, the people say,

“We did it ourselves.”

~ As translated by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

My Thoughts and Actions:

Ahhh. Leadership!  My body stiffens immediately.  I feel like a cat with its hackles raised.  I sit poised for the first mental onslaught.  Needing no further allowance, my inner judge (my ego) begins its torment.  It yells at my internal self for days.  It chants.  It laughs.  It teases.  

And, with quick response, my inner victim starts firing guilt, inadequacy and horror at my nerve endings.  I am stunned.  

Only a small piece of me seems to survive.  Amidst the blitz of self-punishment, I hear a small, tiny voice.  It calls from somewhere deep inside of me.  It’s muffled and scratchy, but it’s there screaming… screaming back! It says, That’s a lie! A utter and complete LIE!  Yet, the screaming is faint, too faint and too distant.  It does not uproot the judge.  Instead, the judge continues to make me scramble frantically.  I am weighted under what feels like a million, heavy, sentencing words.

How can I write from this place?  There is nothing to say.  Call me a bad leader and were done for the day.  Is that really it? 

No! 

My well-trained perseverance, or perhaps, my deep-rooted self-love, kicks into action.  My tiny voice nudges me from inside.  And, images of the different people in my life, whom have been cast as leaders, whether by my own doing or by outside title, float across my consciousness.  My closest family and friends immediately come to mind.  Each of them inspires me ALL of the time.  

However, what about the rest of my world?  Beyond my inner circle, who do I have to look at as a leader?  Have I ever had a boss I’ve loved and complimented unwaveringly? Has a boss ever let me work so completely on my own, that I didn’t feel the need to continuously check in or ask for permission?  Aside from God/Goddess/Universe/The Devine, what would this ‘greatest’ leader look like?

Being relatively young, I have worked for a surprising number of “bosses.”  (When I first graduated from college, I chose to work a number of part-time jobs instead of settling for one full-time job.)

Ø  2 School Principals

Ø  2 Restaurant Managers (different restaurants)

Ø  An Education Director

Ø  A Dance Studio Owner

Each of them lead in a slightly different way, and each embodied elements of great leadership.  Of all of them, though, I can only name one for whom I speak highly, and from a place of trust.  That person was my first restaurant manager.  He was passionate about his work, concerned with meeting the needs of both his employees and his customers, personable, caring, and trusting.  He also gave the impression that he enjoyed his life outside of work.  I worked for him for only 2 months, as a hostess the summer I graduated college; yet, not once during those 2 months did I question my abilities or success.  He let me lead the inflow of hungry patrons unquestioningly, and only came up to the front on busy nights to offer his support.    Even when he did have ideas, he offered them as suggestions instead of commands.  On those heavy nights, it was clear I was “first string,”and he was playing back up.

The work world was new to me and I didn’t realize how fortunate I was to work for a manager with such leadership skills.  My second hostess job quickly taught me that unfortunate lesson.  I learned just how stress-inducing a boss could be.  This manager lead authoritatively, and I quickly learned to fear him. I often felt like his 12-year-old daughter, instead of an educated employee.  

If I had a strong passion for the restaurant business, I might have found bliss under the direction of my first manager’s zeal and skill.  He was impeccable at running a smooth and happy restaurant for both his customers and his employees.   I am forever grateful for the experience.

However, is that it?  Really it?  I continued to spend this time thinking about the new and old leaders in my life, and mentioned this latest verse to my mother.  In her wise, with-great-leadership kind of way, she stirred my questioning pot further, by asking another question.

“What about your high school running coach, Barb?”

“Yeah?  I don’t know mom, she was never my BOSS.” 

“She was an incredible leader and I think she may have set your bar impossibly high.”

I don’t respond.  My initial reaction is to deny the very idea, but something inside me suggests that I just stay silent. 

A Week or So Later, May 25^th 2010

Preparing for a date

“Okay Molly! You can do this!!” I coach myself. My mirror image gives me a big, excited, too excited, really anxious smile. 

I try again, “Calm down! You look HOTT! Not to mention that it is gorgeous outside and he WILL think your life is amazing!”

I smile, but then see a flash of an earlier conversation where John says,  “I think it’s so admirable that you are a teacher.  You must have a lot of patience.”  The words cause me to cringe.  It happens so quickly that it takes me a few moments to register my reaction.   

Okay, that's not helpful! I think to myself.  So I try again, relaxing my facial features into a day dreamy smile and think to myself, Okay, let’s focus on the best possible outcome, he will only see the beauty in your decision to follow your dreams.  He will not be concerned with your vague future plans. In fact, he will see something totally sexy it; in the way it makes you happy, and he will want to be apart of this journey!

I feel a grin spread across my face.  Okay, so maybe that last part is a bit much, but come on, this is my best possible outcome! Time to go all out! 

I open my eyes and give myself one last fabulous look in the mirror.

“Come on girl! You got this!”  

Then I slip my purse over my arm, throw on my sunglasses, and open the door. 

This is the first guy I’ve dated since I making the decision to leave my teaching job official, on May 3^rd 2010.  Our first date was only 8 days later on May 11th.  While, I would like to say that he was the first to know me as my fully self-employed, fully decision-embraced self, life is always so much more confusing than that.  

Before our first date we had enjoyed many weeks of the light, sweet, getting-to-know-you conversation.  It was in those early conversations that he praised my work as a teacher.  He hardly knew what I taught or if I was any good at it, yet, he made the lovely assumption that I was, without a doubt, fabulous!  I should have immediately felt flattered, yet instead, I felt shockingly labeled: cute girl, endearing profession, patient personality. Check. Check, check.

My reaction surprised me.  Weren't 'endearing and patient' acolades most of us wanted said about ourselves?  Really, who was I to complain?  A good-looking man compliments me and instead of blushing in delight, I immediately feel like a checklist? Take it easy Molly!  

So, instead of following my instinct and immediately rebelling against his label, I said nothing.  Rather, I let myself soak up the praise, and used it as an excuse to tell funny, cute teacher stories all throughout our first date.  I am, after all, still a teacher for another 42 days.  Not to mention the fact that no one likes a Debby-downer.  Who wants to hear about the dramatic shifts in my life on a first date?  I hardly know the guy! First dates are for sharing insignificant details that we pretend mean a lot, like your favorite food or what college you went to.  Leaving my job to follow my dream just doesn’t fit into the neat and tidy first date script. 

However, despite swallowing my intution and sitting pretty on my mound of justifications, I couldn’t help but feel like a liar.  My pretty teaching stories blanketed the turmoil I truly felt about my career with a sweet scented vale.  A vale I would eventually have to lift.

 In my car I open the sunroof and blast music.   I try to practice what I will say…

Hey, you know how I was telling you that I really enjoy writing; well it’s a hobby of mine that I’ve recently re-discovered.  It is something that I LOVE doing and have found so much personal joy.   When teaching is stressful, writing totally re-energizes me.  Honestly, it has filled me in ways I forgot I could feel.  So this may sound surprising, especially after all those fun teaching stories I shared with you last time, but I’ve just recently decided to leave my job at the end of the year.  I’ve already survived the big talk with my administration and am really excited! 

Yup!  It will come out just like that! And then, he will swoon with delight for me. Absolutely!! 

I see him now.  He is seated on a bench at the edge of the river.  His arm is outstretched across the top of the bench and he is gazing towards his left.

I call out, “Hey you! How’s it going?”

“Molly!  Hey!”

He stands up and we embrace.

Looking down at me he continues, “ A walk along the Charles is such a good idea.  It was so hot earlier, but it has really cooled off.” 

“Yeah.  So beautiful.  How was your day?”

“It was really good. I decided to bike to work today, which was fun!  How was yours?  How’s school and the kids?”

“Schools good.”  I say automatically.  And then I take a deep breath thinking, if I don’t get this out now, I won’t… 

 “Well, actually there’s been a lot going on…”

And, I start to launch into my practiced “speech.”  I remind him of my writing.  I tell him about my rediscovery, and about all of the personal joy I experience when writing.  My mouth is dry and I am fidgeting with my bracelet.  Collecting myself for the ultimate reveal, I pause a moment and look at him.  Big mistake.  He is smiling at me with a happy, but somewhat confused face.  I open my mouth to tell him that I’ve made the surprising decision to leave my job, but instead, hear myself say,

“ So, I’m actually thinking about leaving the teaching profession.” 

My body tightens.  And a voice screams at me inside my head, Wait! I didn’t mean that.  I’m not thinking about it. It’s DONE!

But it’s too late.  John asks, “Really?  Why?”  

His tone is not menacing.  It sounds genuinely interested.  Having braced myself for the worst, I immediately relax.  Of course, I realize that I have totally let myself, and him, off the hook.  Leaving your job andTHINKING about leaving your job exist in completely different galaxies.  A lot of people think about leaving their job, that doesn’t mean they ever do it!

However, instead of correcting myself, right then and there, I use my new found relaxation to hope.  I hope that maybe I can bring this conversation around naturally.  Maybe I can show him that this thinking is really doing.  So, I begin to open myself to him and share my whole story.  We talk about when I started writing as a child.  We talk about the essay contest I entered last summer.  And, we talk about my New Year’s resolution to write my way through the 81 Verses of the Tao Te Ching. 

An hour flies by and we both are relaxing into the open, honest way we’ve shared with one another.  While my stories are the catalyst, John has also shared with me his hard high school years and some of the harder decisions he’s made.  In this newly built trust, I forget that I’ve told him I’m only thinking about leaving my job, and I launch into the story about starting my blog.  I prattle on about how I decided to turn my Tao writing into the blog. I explain how my hope was that it would keep me more motivated. 

He interrupts me then, “So does that mean I could find your blog online and read all about it?” 

“yeahhh..”  I say and then immediately trail off.

It hits me then, like getting the wind knocked out of me.  I’m caught.  Caught in my own lie.  Certainly my lie is pretty and white and it doesn’t mean to hurt anyone, but it’s still a lie.  It’s a white lie that has come out of a scared place deep within me.  It’s a lie only meant to make this big transition easier for him to hear, and truly, easier for me to tell. 

Yet, if he finds and reads my blog, he will quickly learn that I have already decided to leave my job.  Not only have I already decided to leave my job, but the decision was made BEFORE our first date! YIKEES!  How did I get into this mess?  I was trying so hard.  I really meant to be truly honest.  Where did I go wrong? 

I quickly look away from him, my face going blush pink. I mumble a quick, “ah,huh” and steer the conversation back toward him.   

I am at a loss now.  My pretty white lies are all tangled up and I can’t see how to neatly salvage this one.  Instead, I just want the date to end.  An hour later we finally make it back to my car.  He gives me along hug and tells me he wants to get together again soon.

I smile and turn to leave.

Getting into my car, all’s I can do is sit.

What happened? I think.

I stare blankly.  My eyes vaguely register all the lit symbols on my dash.  All of the tiny, bright and shinny lights.  Their images soon break through my haze, and force their perfect shapes into recognition.  That’s it! I focus harder on the dashboard symbols, and a huge sense of understanding hits me.  Each symbol on my dash represents a single piece of my car. (okay, wait! Their’s more to this, I promise!)  One symbol may tell me when my windshield wiper fluid is low, another tells me if the oil needs to be changed, and a third for how the engine is doing, or if my air conditioner is on, etc.  They each are incharge of only one aspect of my whole car.   As seen from my dash, my car functions in a compartmentalized world.  Yet, in order for my car to move, each piece has to work together as a whole. (still not hugely profound...give me time!) 

Before I gave my letter of resignation on May 3^rd, I too operated like the dash of my car.  Each piece or part of my life had it’s own compartment, and I deliberately chose not to open the doors between them.  Within each compartment I exemplified a single part of my personality.  Within each compartment I allowed myself to act from a single trait or hobby.  For instance, my profession as a teacher sat in it’s own compartment seperate from my life as a runner, seperate from my life as a ballroom dance instructor, seperate from my night life!  My students and most of my fellow colleagues knew little, to nothing, about my life outside of the school walls. The same thing was true when I was a full-time dancer.  Even my professional dance partner once said, “I would give anything to read Molly’s diary.”  He recognized that there was so much to my life that I kept private.  I was stop-starting between compartments.  I almost never 'ran' like a well oiled car. 

Before May 3rd 2010, I only let a select few people see me as the fast-moving, engine purring car I truly was.  (okay this car anology is really getting weird! We'll leave it at that!)  Only my closest friends and immediate family were prevy to see me, ALL of me.  I shared my truest feelings with them and did not hold back.  It was easy because I knew they loved me unconditionally.  It was safe.  There was no judgement, only freedom of expression. 

Yet, because I had long ago chosen to share only parts of myself with everyone else, I had become an expert at telling white lies. I justified these white lies because I believed they didn’t hurt anyone. What I didn’t realize was that the only person they truly hurt, was myself.  I used my white lies because it felt like they kept things neat and tidy.  Instead of telling a work colleague that I couldn’t go to happy hour drinks because I had a date, I would simply tell them I already had plans with friends.  This way I would avoid any awkward date questions at work.  There was also no confusion between my work persona with my personal one.  These lies helped me to keep my life compartmentalized and safe, or so I saw it.  

But, May 3^rd 2010, (and probably, truly, earlier,) that all changed!  In deciding to embrace my soul-felt profession, I let go of what felt safe.  I let go of the scared, image-controlling side of myself and made the first big step towards sharing my WHOLE self with the world.  I truly recognized, at the time, that I was giving up all of my facades; and this recognition filled me with the most incredible self-confidence and freedom.  To have the courage to take that first step, felt like I was giving the middle finger to my “perfect” image.  I was deciding to live simply as ME.  MOLLY!  

However, what I failed to realize at the meeting with my administration on May 3rd was that it was only the FIRST facade I would have to break, not the ONLY facade.  I had/have, many steps to go.  I will have to break the façade barrier over and over again.  There are a lot of compartment doors to break down!  Apparently, Dating Door, Door #2, was not going so swimmingly.  

On my date with John, I slipped back into my compartmentalizing ways.  I tried to separate my the messiness of my career life from my dating life.  I tried to smooth the transition with pretty white lies.  Fortunately, the Universe just laughed at me! Molly, you set your true and full LIFE into motion, you can’t separate the gas from the engine anymore.  Life is messy, complicated and confusing.  You’ve got to trust that the people who can handle it will stick around or come into your life, and those that can't, can't hurt you anymore. Their judgement is laudible.   Don’t be afraid! Life is messy! Embrace the messiness, that’s what makes living happy! 

Later, back in my apartment, I am re-invigorated.  It is not too late to break down this facade.  Waiting until date 3 just seems cruel.  So, I decide I will put an end to the white lies here and now.  I sit down at my computer and I compose an email to John.  I apologize for giving him a false notion of my future plans and tell him about my actualized decision.    At the end of the email, I officially invite him to read my blog and open the door for him to learn all about my personality – good and bad. No more walls, just ME. 

As I am getting ready for bed, proud to be living in my messiness, I am reminded of my high school running coach.  Her image does not surprise me; rather, it makes me smile.  I recall that one of her best leadership skills is her ability to truly LIVE in her messiness.  As our coach, she never separated her image as 'coach' from her image as a young woman of the world.  She shared her funny moments, her hard moments and her amazing moments.  She didn’t worry about our judgment. And, at times, being young high school students, concerned with our own image, we did judge.  In fact, I remember a friend once exclaiming, 

“Barb can be so inappropriate.  What kind of role model does she think she is, telling us stories like that?”

Her openness is something I have always admired and continue to admire.  Only now, years later, do I actually understand the incredible significance of having a leader like her in my life.  How blessed I feel to be apart of someone's dream life from such a young age.   I should not be surprised at how EASY, FUN and NON-CHALANT her facade-free life is.  When you speak your truth and lay aside the fear of judgement, life is always meaningful.  Judgment, in the end, reflects only the person doing the judging.   

Her leadership truly comes from the heart.  It is a part of her, so interwinted with the rest, that at times, we almost didn't realize she was leading us at all.  Rather, she is and always will be "Barb.” Not "Coach," But Barb! A whole and dream-realized woman of the world. 

----- 

John and I never made it to a 3^rd date and my leadership at school is still tested on a daily basis.  But now, I know that the key to leadership is sharing the open messiness of your own life with others.  Being open in your own messiness teaches others how to wholey embrace themselves.  In my final days as a teacher, I remind myself to live in my whole, open, messy, beautiful self.  It is not always pretty, but it is always me and it is always my truth.  

The 15 Verse

The ancient masters were profound and subtle.

Their wisdom was unfathomable.

There is no way to describe it.

One can only describe them vaguely by their appearance.

Watchful, like men crossing a winter stream.

Alert, like men aware of danger.

Simple as uncarved wood.

Hollow like caves.

Yielding, like ice about to melt.

Amorphous, like muddy water.

But the muddiest water clears

As it is stilled.

And out of that stillness

Life arises.

He who keeps the Tao does not want to be full.

But precisely because he is never full,

He can remain like a hidden sprout

And does not rush to early ripening.

~ As translated by Dr.Wayne W. Dyer

My Thoughts & Actions –

Breaking Through

My eyes sting, 

a sudden increase in moisture.

My lungs fill with breath,

My mouth opens.

My arm rises

My hand moves in circles

The air pushes away.

My mind wills my body to speak

But nothing,

Not a noise gurgles from my lips.

I looked into their eyes,

Searching,

Willing,

Hoping…

See the whole story

The story, dancing violently behind my eyes.

My friends, they gaze back at me,

Intent.

My friends, they gaze back at me,

Love. 

My friends, they gaze back at me,

Open. 

My friends, they gaze back at me,

Trust.

In a small Café, with sun rays reaching in,

And close, happy conversations humming,

Their gaze envelops me,

Full of intent, love, openness, and trust.

I fall in,

And let go.  

~ by Molly Rider  

My body, mind and soul have been engaged in a dance over this very verse for many weeks now.  Almost 2 months.  My mind has been watchful and alert.  My body has been responding to my mind in simple and yielding ways.  My soul has been feeling hollow and amorphous.  My mind, body and soul have danced, waiting for the muddy water to clear! 

At last.  At last.

When I first read this verse, back in February, the message of whole body decision-making really struck me.  I felt like the verse was conveying the message that there are many key elements to be aware of when making any decision, big or small. Not only do you need to be watchful and alert to what is being asked, or offered to you, but you need to be simple and relaxed in your response.  It is okay, in fact best, to take your time, not do anything at first, let your thoughts morph and yield to many considerations.

My two month contemplation has circled endlessly around my career.  I am a Science teacher to 5^th and 8^th grade students.  As I allowed myself the space to contemplate my true feelings many questions came to mind…

How do I feel about teaching?

How do I feel about staying at this school?

How do I feel about applying to others schools?

How do I feel about my current position?

Would I enjoy a different position?

What do I hope next year will look like?

How do I feel about staying in teaching?

Can I see myself doing something else?

I was scared shitless to answer a lot of these questions. I knew I was opening myself up to a lot of unknown.   If I truly gave myself the time to answer these questions honestly, I wondered if I was strong enough to face the reality the answers would leave behind?  I wondered if I was even capable of coming up with a response that would bring me both happiness and peace.  If I couldn’t, would it be better not to ask at all, and stick to the mundane and safe?

However, un-be-known to me, the simple act of thinking these  questions made it impossible for me to sink back into the mundane and safe. 

How do I feel about teaching?  (Like it. Not in love with it.  It takes up A LOT of my time and I am not one to devote myself wholly to this path…not sure what this means.)

How do I feel about staying at this school?  ( Unsure.  There are benefits and draw backs to both.  My initial gut reaction is to leave, but to what?  Another teaching job?  Am I really ready to STARTOVER? Do I really want a “year one” teaching job schedule again?!  I’m not sure I can mentally or physically commit to something like that again so soon!)

How do I feel about applying to other schools? ( The idea is appealing.   The administration that I work with now is my biggest issue…that could change for the better if I worked in a new district.  I could also play around with working in the ‘burbs where hypothetically it would be less work and there would be less discipline issues.  But not sure I’m ready to start over or go through the whole application process again!)

How do I feel about mycurrent position? ( I like teaching 5^thgrade and am excited at the thought of not teaching 8^th grade next year.  Wondering if that will be enough to find true enjoyment/fulfillment?)

Would I enjoy a different position? (I would like to make more $$ next year…somewhat interested in becoming department head, if that would mean more $$.  I see myself making $55,000 this year…but that would mean earning a lot more than I currently do.  Not sure how this is going to happen?)

What do I hope next year will look like? (I hope next year will look more loving to me.  I want more time to love myself, more time to love my students and more time to love the profession.  Right now I feel so overwhelmed with everything that is asked of me, the LOVE is gone.  I’m not sure how or if I can make this happen… do I still foster the same love for the profession I once did?)

How do I feel about staying in teaching in general?  (ummm…. No idea.  I can’t imagine doing this forever unless it totally gets easier! Fine, it will be nice to be on the same scheduleas my hypothetical future children…but if I’m so worn from the day, will that really matter?  I’m tired too of not being able to take vacation when I want to.   My 6 week summer is AWESOME, but not nearly as rewarding as I once dreamed it would be.  And, to be truly honest, I don’t see myself as a teacher forever.  There is so much more I want to do.)

Can I see myself doing something else? (YES! I can see myself becoming an acclaimed author! But, I have no idea what a new 9-5 job would look like for me.  I don’t know if I am cut out for that world! Goodness, how much I have changed since childhood.  I used to be such a work horse and now I am such a bird! Ummm….)

In the beginning, as these questions swirled endlessly around in my head, I was tempted to take quick action.  I immediately started looking at other school districts.  I started to pick out positions I would like to apply to.  I even started asking co-workers to write me letters of recommendation.

But then one day, as I was looking at position descriptions, I broke down.  I started crying.  I was overwhelmed and my confidence was gone.  Excuse after excuse started to pour out of me.  I won’t get hired, I have only taught science for the past 2 years.  I won’t get hired, I am not up to date on the latest math and reading programs.  What if I put all this work in, and I don’t get a single job offer or I don’t like the new school?  Am I really ready to start over? 

This last question is what my Mother heard in all of my sad excuses.  “Hunny, are you really ready to leave?  Maybe staying another year will give you the time to feel more prepared?  Besides, with all of the changes going on at your school right now, you don’t know what kind of position they will offer you.  It may help you accomplish some of these steps.” 

As much as I didn’t want to admit defeat, I heard her wisdom.  She was telling me to be patient.  What I need will come to me.  If I’m feeling unsettled, then maybe I’m pushing when I should just be waiting…waiting in alert relaxation and watchful hollowness.   As Devine as Lao Tzu makes it sound, let me tell you, this position is excruciating!

Nonetheless, I was proud of myself for accepting this much about my position.  I was not ready to make any decisions, so I just needed to wait. 

Fortunately, when given the chance, the Universe will provide.  And it did! 

In the following weeks, I was at a workshop at the Museum of Science.  I love the Museum of Science and get along very well with their Education Department staff.  At the end of the workshop, the woman leading it passed out a flier which discussed their summer teacher work-studies.  She was promoting one that linked science and technology with the state math standards.  Immediately, I wanted to do this work-study.  But then she pointed out that the teachers involved must also teach math.  They needed to be able to test a unit in the classroom.  Despite, the fact that this should have been a crushing realization, my spirits were somehow un-dampen.  ummm...there were possibilities...maybe I can volunteer to teach a unit of math this fall. 

However, I took no further action towards the work-study until a couple of weeks later when the assistant principal called me into her office for a meeting about next year.  In the meeting she discussed with me her new plans for our building next year.  She wanted to turn my 5^thgrade science position into a 5^th grade math and science position!  At first I was a bit overwhelmed, but then quickly I realized that this would allow me to partake in the summer work-study at the Museum! It all felt right.  I could stay at my current place of work, enjoy a position shift that would allow me more focus on the 5^th grade and hopefully find more LOVE. I would also be able to work at the MOS summer study.  The Universe seemed to be conspiring to my advantage!

Unfortunately, this feeling of excitement was short lived.  Despite having everything fall into place the way I thought I wanted it to, I still felt anxious and unsettled.  I still looked at other jobs and I still worried about finding work/life balance.  Was this really what I wanted?  Did I have any other viable options?  These questions floated around in the back of my head, but I felt too frustrated to sort through them.  I didn’t know what to do with them.  I was too afraid to look at what answers may really hide beneath them.

Fortunately my BFF, Cora, suggested a girls weekend!  We hit the road, from our respective cities, to meet in Mystic CT for Saint Patrick’s Day weekend.  My friend Cora is my Soul Sister!  She and I know each other, inside and out.  It is also so easy to spread unconditional love and support back and forth when we get together.  I knew some BFF time would be perfect.  

It was a beautiful weekend, and as I heard her pronounce her dreams and intentions for the future, I felt both tremendously elated and desperately sunk with a knot of loss.  Her faith and spiritual connection to her dreams was inspiring.  I felt so blessed for her. However, at the same time, I felt a rise of rebellion within me.  I heard a voice start to get louder and louder in my head…My Soul started SCREAMING!

ÞWhy are you too afraid to follow your own dreams?

ÞWhy are you wrapped up in this dream of yesterday?

ÞYou are strong enough to accomplish anything you put your mind to, why are you sitting in fear? 

ÞAre you really going to tell yourself that summer vacation and a class or two in writing is enough to say your “following your dreams” right now?

ÞCan you really say that these improvements to next year’s teaching schedule will miraculous change your heart’s desires?

ÞIs teaching your dream or a dream others had FOR you?

Regardless of the screaming, I still couldn’t face it.  Instead, I tried to quell my soul.  I focused on the present and tried to prove I could establish better work/life balance. I spent weeks trying to leave work earlier, go for a run, spend time writing, enjoy time with friends etc.  I even tried to write this blog, focusing on the Universe’s conspiring to put my teaching job and the MOS summer work-study together so perfectly.  But, I couldn’t write it.  And, the more I tried, the more frustrated I became.  I wasn’t enjoying any of it.  It all felt too forced and I couldn’t relax because I always had my eye on the clock. How much time do I have?  Additionally, in subsequent work meetings it because clear that I would be seen as a leader/mentor in the coming year.   I would also be teaching MORE math than science. This meant learning/organizing and teaching a whole new curriculum.  The weights, started to stack upagainst me. 

That is, until this past Sunday morning, 4/18/2010.  Unsurprisingly, I was visiting Cora in NYC.  We went to breakfast with another soul-friend, Briana, and she suggested we play a “game” she had learned.  Briana was in town at a workshop and this was something she wanted to share.  We were of course excited, and willing to play.  The“game” is: 1 Brag, 1 Gratitude and 1 Dream.  Everyone at the table is supposed to share each of these 3 expressions.  I was immediately excited and scared.  I knew this was going to be no surface level conversation.  With these girls, we let it all hangout!! That’s what makes their friendship so incredible.  But at the same time, I was scared at what I might say. 

Thus, I stalled. Cora and Briana shared first.  Yet, by the time they had reached me I still hadn’t come up with anything to say.  I was so overwhelmed, in true Molly fashion, I burst out into tears.

It was not that I couldn’t think of anything.  I could easily think of my gratitude (simply being there) and my dreams (writing, time & financial freedom), but I had no idea what to brag about.   Instead, I sat their gasping sobs, just looking at them.  Finally, I gave up.  I couldn’t hold it back any longer.  My latest frustrations spilled out.   I hoped somewhere in there we’d find something to brag about.

I talked about how I am a teacher and I am very unhappy in my position. Teaching is a profession I was great at growing up. I baby-sat, worked at summer camps, and eventually went to school for teaching. But towards the end of my college years, I began experimenting with the thought that teaching was a dream that other people had FOR me.  The positive compliments of others fueled my belief that this was my "chosen" profession: My life's work. 

Both Cora and Briana knew that since college life has been full of wonderful explorations outside of teaching, but that I had ultimately gone back to the teaching profession to decide for myself. 

Two years later, here I am, and I think I’m realizing that teaching in a traditional classroom does NOT represent my Devine path. There are sooo many other parts of me that I wish to cultivate and as much as I try, classroom teaching does not align with the rest.  I can’t get it all to fit in this nice neat package.   I've tried so many times to strike a balance between teaching and the other parts of myself, but to no avail.

As I sat there shaking and overheated from the tears, it became humorously obvious that I was truly unhappy.  I couldn’t placate my emotions any longer.  The realization shuddered through me.   It is time to shut the door on my "plan" and open myself to my Devine path.  Let it take shape. Since that moment I have felt such wonderful peace and joy. I smile randomly and giggle to myself.  I have energy and serenity I didn’t think I would gain for a long time.  Certainly, there are MANY UNKNOWNS.  But, I’ve opened the door for the Universe and I know the Universe will conspire with me. I can feel it...it is my time to live OUT LOUD and let the Universe show me the way! As exciting and nerve-racking as it all feels, it feels RIGHT!

1Brag – I have completed my first blog entry since entering this land of watchful hollowness.  My 2 months of silence are over and I can’t wait to see what will come!

1Gratitude – I am so grateful for the positive power of the Universe.  I am so grateful for the loving support of my family and friends.  I am so grateful to feel such harmony. 

1Dream - I am joyfully embracing my love of writing and channeling this skill to become an acclaimed author: sharing stories of female growth with the world. I envision that this new career path will bring financial freedom and open the doors to many future dreams!

The 14^th Verse

That which cannot be seen is called invisible.

That which cannot be heard is called inaudible.

That which cannot be held is called intangible.

These three cannot be defined;

Therefore, they are merged as one.

Each of these three is subtle for description.

By intuition you can see it,

Hear it,

And feel it.

Then the unseen,

Unheard,

And untouched

Are present as one.

Its rising brings no dawn,

Its setting no darkness;

It goes on and on, unnamable,

Returning into nothingness.

Approach it and there is no beginning;

Follow it and there is no end.

You cannot know it, but you can be it,

At ease in your own life.

Discovering how things have always been

Brings one into harmony with the Way.

-       as translated by Dr.Wayne W. Dyer

 “Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still.” – Lao-tzu

 My Thoughts and Actions -

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”  - Mary Engelbreit

My Mother loves the artist Mary Engelbreit, or ME, and we used to give her ME calendars every year.  When I was young, she would often decorate the kitchen walls and cupboards with old ME calendar pictures.  My favorite was a picture with the above quote.  The picture was of a little girl looking at a flower. Only it wasn’t just the flower that drew her rapt attention, it was the invisible radiance with which the flower shown.  When I looked at that picture, I felt like I noticed the unnoticeable too, and I sent invisible love back…back to the flower, the moon, the stars, the trees, the wind…whatever was around me. 

In this verse I feel truly blessed.  Growing up as a child, the invisible, inaudible, and intangible essence of the natural world captivated me.  I felt it in the flowers my mother planted around the house.  I felt it in the wind.  Many times the wind and I would dance together.  I even brought the invisible, inaudible and intangible essence into the house.  Like many children, I gave my stuffed animals a life of their own. Each of my stuffed animals had emotion, they had understanding, and they had a previous life of their own. For instance, I believed my stuffed bear (who was all white with a blue winter hat on his head) was from the North Pole where he had long wondered the frozen tundra and hunted for fish. I couldn’t bring myself to think he hunted for seals; I had a stuffed seal that was just too cute to be eaten!  However, more importantly I believe my stuffed bear was wise and old and loving.  I truly felt I could see his loving nature in the set of his charcoal black eyes.  Okay, so maybe I wasn’t like every other child, but for many years my stuffed animals were creatures I could hug close and share my wildest fears. They would simply listen and smile, loving me regardless. 

This is not to say that I couldn’t have gone to my parents.  I know they would have listened and smiled and loved me regardless, but growing up I developed a sense of self-perception early on.  Thus, I constantly worried about what others thought of me or how they might react.  I distinctly remember wondering at different points in my life if the topic I wanted to ask someone about was a normal topic, or a taboo topic, or God forbid, something I was the only one freakish enough to have or do. My fear of the later caused me often to turn to my stuffed animals.  They listened, never judged and often I felt better having simply expressed my concern out loud.

In part, my captivation with the invisible, inaudible, and intangible essence of life was my own surmising, but much of it, I believe, comes from the religious experience my parents shared with me as a child.  Before I continue, I do want to clarify that the topic of religion has always been a struggle for me.  I see so much beauty in religion, and yet, at the same time there is so much pain in religion.  I have seen both sides first hand, and it confuses me to see something so hopeful also be so restrictive or hateful.  Thus, over the years my belief has come to center around a Devine spirit and the eternal energy within all objects.  I do not believe that you have to be apart of an organized religion to be religious or spiritual.  I only hope that someday we will all become more accepting of one another.  Therefore, what I am about to share with you is simply my personal journey with religion and how it has allowed me to find the Way (the harmony between the invisible, inaudible and intangible as stated in the 14^thverse).

My parents, my mother especially, did not believe in the restrictions and limitations often found within religion.  My father had been raised in a devoutly Catholic home.  My mother too, had grown up with religion.  Her family had been Protestant Congregational.  But, by the time my parents met, neither was in regular attendance of a church. 

My Father had grown up in Buffalo NY, where he also attended college. However upon graduating, he decided to join a friend living in New Hampshire.  My Mother grew up in Dayton Ohio, but moved to Boston for college where she attended Northeastern University.  Post graduation she too moved to New Hampshire.  While the story of my parent’s courtship was romantic and funny, the point is that they had both moved away from home, away from their founding religions, and after marrying, they decided to raise their family in NH. 

While my mother had moved away from her family religion, she explored other religions during her time at Northeastern.  It was during this exploration that she came across a relatively young religion: Unitarian Universalism. 

Unitarian Universalism is a liberal religioustradition that was formed from the merger of two different religions:Unitarianism and Universalism. Both began in Europe hundreds of years ago. In America, the Universalist Church of America was founded in 1793, and the American Unitarian Association in 1825. In 1961, these denominations merged to form a new religion, Unitarian Universalism through the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA). http://www.uua.org/

While both Universalism and Unitarianism grew out of Christianity, they each rejected the limitations of the Christian faith. And, as the two faiths joined, they became united under a common belief in Universal salvation for all. The UU faith also developed and now stands upon 7 principles that “affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” (uua.org)

My mother quickly gained respect for this religion that did not believe in Hell or original sin.  She did not want her children growing up with religious guilt, Catholic or otherwise. Rather she wanted her children growing up with respect for the earth, all of earth's creatures, and an understanding of the religious world.  Thus, in our youth, my parents decided to raise my brothers and I in the arms of the Unitarian Universalist faith. 

I loved attending Church when I was a child.  I remember the sun cast so much light into the sanctuary that it was a place within which you couldn’t help but be happy.  We also attended Sunday school, where we were introduced to the 7 principles of the UU faith and where I was first introduced to the 14 verse of the Tao Te Ching.

I don’t remember someone specifically telling me that our lesson would be about the 14 verse of the Tao Te Ching or that the theme of the spring Sunday school session would be centered around Lau-Tzu’s beliefs.  But, looking back now, I can pin point my resounding belief of the 14^th verse to this spring Sunday school session.  

It must have been around the time I was in the 3^rd or 4^thgrade and that session's project was to look at the spirits within animals. The teacher had us describe the characteristics of many different animals.  For example, a lion is strong, fast, exacting, protective of it’s young, and a leader of a pride. A lion holds the spirit of a courageous leader. We then examined many other animals before being asked to choose an animal spirit for ourselves.  What animal spirit did we harbor?  Or what animal spirit did we wish to gain?  Having chosen an animal, we were then given poster board to make ourselves an animal mask.  The animal mask would portray the image of the animal and include its spiritual elements. 

I chose an animal that could run like the wind.  It could traverse almost any terrain, although some better than others.  It was honored in many societies, lived in herds and weaved between the lines of domestication and wild freedom. It was an animal that had helped humanity in immeasurable and un-thanked ways, and yet, this animal still maintained its ability to act independently, to love and to dance with the wind.  I chose the horse.  The horse is a companion and a guide.

At the time, I'm quite certain I did not give my choice that much thought.  I was, in general, entranced by horses.  Their bodies seemed so powerful and yet they were so gentle and loving.  I had also read Black Beauty more than once and had cried my eyes out when Ginger died.  This connection, obsession, drove me to pick the horse as my spirit.  And, to this day, I will never forget making the horse mask. In fact, I wonder now if this event solidified forever my bond with horses?  Nonetheless, the mask that I made was large.  It included the horses head and mane.  I chose to keep my horse a white horse (the color of the poster board) and painted on a black mane.  I also remember tying in braided yarn with beads to embellish the mane and gluing a seashell of two to the horses neck.  Not that I thought horses came with shells, but more that wild horses could roam wherever they most enjoyed, and certainly as a child, I already enjoyed the ocean. Lastly, I cut one eye hole to look through.

Weeks later, when we had all finished our masks, we had an animal spirit ceremony. Our teacher, with our parents, took us out behind our church where there is a hill and a wooded area.  We went up the hill into the woods and each of us pronounced our animal spirits to the world. We each held our masks up high and exclaimed our connection to the animal spirit.  My horse spirit! (Did I mention I grew up in NH ) 

For a long time after that, my horse mask hung on the stairwell wall leading down into the basement and our kid ‘playarea.’  It stuck out as rather eccentric, but I remember it to this day with pride.

These days I am often reminded of the spirit or the magic behind the tangible. I think it is part of the reason I love taking walks or going for a run.  It is a chance for me to commune with the spirits of nature everyday.  It is a great reminder that the world is huge and there is so much profound mystery within, that the best we can do is love and accept it all right back!

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The 13th Verse

Favor and disgrace seem alarming. 

High status greatly afflicts your person.

Why are favor and disgrace alarming?

Seeking favor is degrading:

alarming when it is gotten, 

alarming when it is lost. 

Why does high status greatly afflict your person?

The reason we have a lot of trouble 

is that we have selves. 

If we had no selves, what trouble would we have?

Man's true self is eternal, 

yet he thinks, I am this body and will soon die.

If we have no body, what calamities can we have?

One who sees himself as everything 

is fit to be guardian of the world. 

One who loves himself as everyone

is fit to be teacher of the world. 

- as translated by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

My Hands

Be honest with myself.

My fate is not in the hands of someone else.

My inner voice is the one with the pen.

Free my inner voice.

Free to write.

Write my own destiny.

Destiny, in my own true voice.

My greatest gift.

-ME

This verse has saved me time and time again.  In Western society, it is hard not to define yourself by the work you do in your paid profession.  Your paycheck is the ace in your back pocket.  Make big money, become well-known, highly accomplished, or daringly risky in triumphant ways, and you have done right in Western society. You have become all that you can become.  You are the envy of every entry-level job slave. Your profession and professional status are the two most frequently asked questions in our society.  And while, I guess I can’t quote that for certain, I can say it certainly feels that way. 

When was the last time a new acquaintance asked you about your hobbies or your dreams?  Maybe on your last “first date?”  Sadly, there have been times in my life where it has been months before I find out that a co-worker I'm close to, shares a hobby with me.  And often times, it is because we've stumbled upon the connection by accident.  A third party mentions an aspect of your weekend,  and all of a sudden your co-worker realizes you both love the same band, or to run, or photography.  

This verse reminds me that how you spend your leisure time says more about you, than how you spend your working time.  We are those quiet moments.  A Saturday morning as you just wake up, stretching through its infinite possibilities: How to spend the morning or the day?  Being able to relax into the moment.  This is bliss: pure, unfettered happiness. 

As in all of the verses, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer prompts the reader to Do The Tao Now.  In the13^th verse he asks you to ask yourself, 

 “What is my own nature if I have no outside forces telling me who or what I should be?”  

The answer to this question comes to me with such ease it is surprising. In a society that stresses work, hard work, damn hard work, easy answers feel foreign.  Almost too easy.  Perhaps wrong?  We’ll if easy is wrong, I’ll take it any day of the week cause easy feels damn good! 

Easy spills out of me…

My own nature is to be a writer.

My own nature is to be a runner.
My own nature is to be a giver.
My own nature is to be a celebrator (of others and myself).
My own nature is to be an explorer.
My own nature is to be a reader.
My own nature is to be a lover.
My own nature is to be a caretaker.
My own nature is to be happy.  (Sorry no er, not trying to win the happiest award! Hehe)

And, while yes, many of the elements of myself shine in my profession, my profession does NOT show the breathe of my nature.  My profession puts my nature into a high stress environment and says, “here you go! Have fun! Look it’s everything you love, aren’t you happy?”  ummm…sometimes, maybe?!?!

When I decided to move to Boston, I also decided I was ready for a career change.  Previously I had been working full time as a Ballroom Dance Instructor and part time as an Educator at a Children’s Museum.  I enjoyed both jobs, but I had taken them originally to give myself a chance to step outside of the teaching world.  Beginning in childhood, teaching had been a huge focus in my life.   My first jobs were babysitting gigs where the mom never actually left the house.  I was so young, they would simply hire me to entertain their children while they cleaned the house, got some laundry done etc.  To be honest, I definitely think I got the better end of the deal! However, I was looking for new life experiences to draw from.  I wanted to see how else I could turn hobbies into professions.   

As a result, I happened upon the Ballroom Dancing and Museum Educator positions. Truly, I happened upon them, as I had never ballroom danced before in my life.  However, I feel that story is for another time!  Nontheless, the two positions became a best-of-both-worlds scenario.  They were both delightfully intriguing and challenging.  The learning curve during those years was mountainous.  Not only did I become endrenched with knowledge about each profession, but I learned so much about being a working professional. aka. The Real World!    Most incredibly, neither learning curve tops the confidence and self-awareness I found within myself during that time. 

What started out as a one year adventure to "let lose," became a three year journey.  I knew in my heart of hearts I needed the time to become my own independent, confident, open, express out-loud woman.  With each year, I felt myself peeling away masks and anxieties that had, in the past, always held me back.  For this invaluable growth, I will forever be in debited to both professions.  

At the time, I was not sure if either of these professions would become a bigger part of my life's work.  I frequently pondered my new journey and how it would impact my life's profession.  In those first 2 years, I felt no desire to go back into the classroom teaching world.  I also thought a lot about the possibility of future, long-lasting careers within either ballroom dancing or a museum.  Both jobs had a number of aspects I LOVED! 

However, in my 3rd year, having finally reached a place where I felt confident, assertive and highly self aware, I admitted to myself that I wasn't ready to call either profession my life's ambition.  I began to notice this when people would ask me about my work.  As I described to them the work of a ballroom dancer, I would often get the question "Wow.  That's awesome.  Do you think you will be a dance instructor for a long time?"  It was a polite way of asking me if there was any "real" future in dance.  I became good at rattling off the higher paid positions, "well, theirs always the opportunity to own a studio or I could become a traveling dance coach!" But, the more I began to give this line, the more I started to recognize it was only a line. There was no elevated emotion behind my voice: no enthusiasm or true desire.  I didn't really want either opportunity.  But in the moment, I was so caught up in my work and personal life that I didn't stop to internalize this realization. I just sort of let it float out their, acknowledged only by my subconscious.  I wasn't ready for the reality of what that might mean. 

That all changed one weekend in March 2008 when I was attending a Ballroom Dance Business Conference.  The speaker that weekend was a woman who owned a number of very successful franchises in the South.  She had been asked to share her wisdom and experience with us success hungry young ones’.  Before going, I had been warned against this speaker.  A few of my co-workers found her to be a conceded control freak and others thought her wisdom unoriginal.  I had been told that she  was the cliché of all southern clichés.  In her teen years she went down the proverbial “wrong road” and the, after finding God, became an excellent dance specialist and later an incredibly successful franchise owner. Leave it to us Yankee Northerners to find a Southern bible woman to be ignorant.  And, I do have to admit, I was not stronger than this gossip.  I started the weekend with a skeptical eye.  My relationship, at that point, with the Devine and God was luke warm at best.  However, at some point during the second day I realized that this Southern woman was not just sharing good business strategies, she was also sharing good life strategies! 

She managed to quiet my inner critic and passed on wisdom that, to this day, I will never forget.  She spoke about dreams, saying, “You have to have a dream for yourself.  If you do not have a dream for yourself someone else will dream for you!   Someone else will decide what your dream is and you won’t even know it’s happening. You’ll wake up 10, 15, 25 years down the road and think, how did I get here?  Who am I?”  She went on to say that if you don’t repeat your dream to yourself every day, someone else will be there to whisper a dream into your ear.  It will be a dream that they want you to accomplish.  They may not do it literally, but they will quietly set their own goals for you, wrapped so ever neatly inside a compliment.  “You are so great with the students, I know you can sell $100,000 worth of dance lessons this quarter.”  “You really have a knack for this business, you should think about becoming a franchisee.”  This is all GREAT, if it’s YOUR dream to be a franchisee.  That kind of support is wonderful.  But make sure it is your dream.  Make sure it’s what you REALLY WANT.  Make sure it is not just what someone else thinks you’re good at.  To adults, compliments can make you feel like a kid in a candy store! AWW! Glory!  Compliments can cause you to let your dreams be changed.  For instance, "well, my boss says I'm really good at being an instructor.  I think I'll keep this position.  I'm good at it." 

She then gave us a moment to write down our own personal, huge dreams. She wanted to give us our own voice.  So commendable. I picked up my pen to write. Top Dance Specialist, Counselor, Franchise Owner, Professional Dancer, highly paid and sought after Dance Coach… The titles raced through my head.  But, not a single one leapt out at me in excitement.  No fireworks went off inside.  No involuntary smile spread across my lips. I didn’t look like I was having a fantasy daydream.  I sat there looking blank, feeling blank, staring at a blank page.  Despite having inclinings of this, I still found myself shocked and embarrassed. 

I became even more shocked as dreams that had nothing to do with the Dance Profession swept into my mind, hitting me with great force.   I saw the dreams: my own family, living close to my parents and the ocean, dancing recreationally with my husband, find happiness in my profession.   But I didn’t dare write them down.  My dreams were not what she was expecting.  Instead, as this Southern Guru asked instructor upon instructor to exclaim their dreams aloud into the microphone, I played with my note pad, doodled on the page, and kept my eyes down. 

When the waves of shock and embarrassment subsided, my brain went into overdrive. What did this mean?  Why wasen't the dance world where I wanted to be?  How could I find joy in my work, yet not want this life forever?  I sifted through memory after memory and found astonishing patterns. Patterns that an outsider might have picked up on immediately, but to which I had been blind.  I saw that found incredible joy in teaching, hosting events, and improving my own dancing.  But beyond that, my biggest motivation was fear.  I was afraid that I that I was not good at my job.  I was afraid that I was not devoted enough to the profession.  I was most afraid that my boss might see these qualities in me.  Thus, I over committed myself to the job.  I always pushed myself to do more and chided myself when I did not go in early to do book keeping work, or practice my dancing. However, it didn't hit me that I was afraid to look un-committed because, deep down inside, I didn't want to devote myself to the ballroom dancing world.  Deep down inside I recoiled at the idea of my identity being so wrapped up in one facet of my life.  I didn't want to eat, breath, and sleep DANCE.  No, I was blind to all of this as raced around proving just how damn committed I was. So caught up in pleasing my boss, I pushed myself to accomplish the goals he set. Rarely did these goals bring me personal satisfaction.  Instead, I was letting him set my dreams.  Whoa, Really?! Me?! When had I EVER let anyone tell me what to do? 

Thus, there I sat, deep in self-realization not sure what to do with myself.  I would love to tell you that I quit that very day and sought out work/life balance, but that would be a lie.  It took most of the next year to decide it was time to say goodbye.  I did find the power and passion to leave, but these days I wonder if I've only moved on to another passion for which to show dedication.  

Regardless, this conference set into motion my move to Boston.  The location alone hit two of my dreams: to live close to family and the ocean.   I also thought I was ready to enter the classroom teaching world. I found a job as a middle school science teacher.  From the lesson planning to the teaching, I knew I could get lost in the work without realizing how long I had been at it.  A profession I could devote myself to without any "show."  Moreover, I thought I had finally realized the profound difference between hobbies and passions.  Hobbies are fun for a time, but passions are the things to which you can devote yourself.  Today, I am not so sure...  

As the move became a reality and I completed my first year teaching, life began to feel a little easier.  That is until the start of my second year when a co-worker asked me to car pool.   Not such a big deal I thought.  He lived down the street from me, and we were both going to the same place.  So, without hesitation, I said yes. Fortunately and unfortunately, this guy was a talker.  The car rides turned out to be no exception.  He would ask me all sorts of questions and would even try to debate with me on different topics.  Truthfully, it began to feel a bit abrasive, and I tried a minimalist approach with my answers.   However, fortunately and unknowingly, my co-worker asked me to answer a question out loud that I had not been able to answer to myself internally.  

“Where do you see yourself?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

“You know, in teaching 10 years from now?” 

My heart rate picked up and I was at a loss for words.  I realized that this didn't seem like a hard question.  Maybe it was a little personal, but not unusual in our society.  My flushed face and bumbling nature came rather from the fact that I felt like I was back at the dance conference.  How could this be?  I thought I had discovered my passion, the career to which I wanted to devote myself!  So why again could I see no deep and meaningful future?  

To be honest, in the moment, I could not make head nor tale of my emotions.  Instead, the best answer I could come up with was that I would love to someday be a Professor of Education at a University or College.  This, fortunately, was not a lie. It was and is a dream of mine.  I'm just not sure it's a dream I want to pursue.  Yet, while driving home that day, it was the best I could do.  

** Today, I am slowly beginning to understand my confusing emotions.  The 13th verse puts a piece of the puzzle together that before had not even existed...

Passions are beautiful, but perhaps it is degrading to become devoted to them.  

Okay, I realize that's a strong statement, and perhaps future life experience will change my mind, but hear me out!  I too once believe that finding your life's passion was all it took to be happy in your profession.  However, I'm realizing that my life experience thus far, has shown that becoming devoted to one singular passion results in the loss of your identity as a whole.  When you focus so exclusively on one activity or profession, there is no room to cultivate other pieces of yourself. Pretty soon the only thing you can talk about is your one, devout passion.  

I can feel this exclusiveness happening to me within the teaching world.  I do have a huge passion for teaching.  I easily spend 10-12-14 hours a day at my work without questioning why.  I have fully, and willingly accepted the life commitment that accompanies teaching.  Teaching, by nature, is a profession that requires devotion in order to survive.  

But, perhaps devotion is not what I want.  I can already feel other pieces of myself pulling away from my new profession, because they feel so malnourished. Whew! I can't tell you how much better this realization makes me feel.  I was beginning to think that each of my passions only had a shelf life of 2-3 years!  Especially since there have been a few instances this year when I've felt overcome with distress from work related events.  Amazingly though, during two of these said moments, this book and this verse have found me.  The verse almost always calms me down.  And, I believe it is here to serve as a reminder. It reminds me that I alone have control over how I act and react.  My devotion to teaching and by extension to the school, administration, other teachers, students and parents does not have to control my life.  I do not need to worry about seeking or maintaining their favor.  I need only to worry about nourishing my soul because I know my soul is inherently positive and loving.  

This verse has given me new ideas to mull over... Do I take this passion and try to find a balance with my other interests, and personality traits?  Or, do I look to balance the characteristics of my inner nature, spreading time between each element and enjoying many professions?  

While I hope to enjoy teaching for a long time to come, I am not sure in what capacity this will be.  I feel myself drawn towards idea 2.  The idea alone fills me with so much happiness, peace, and harmony.  It is an idea for which I feel the butterflies of excitement. 

I’m not sure where the future will take me, but this verse reminds me that when you follow all of the pieces of your inner nature, the people in your life who love both your inner nature and their own will stay with you, no matter what! 

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TheTwelfth Verse

The five colors blind the eye.

The five tones deafen the ear.

The five flavors dull the taste.

The chase and the hunt craze people’s minds.

Wasting energy to obtain rare objects

Only impedes one’s growth.

The master observes the world

But trusts his inner vision.

He allows things to come and go.

He prefers what is within to what is without.

-       Translated by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

My Thoughts & Actions -

This verse knocks me over every time I read it.  I feel like the kid in the candy store who has been caught with her hand down a jar, and you can clearly see she’s clenching a fistful of gummy worms. I look up innocently, trying to pretend it’s not me, while my face goes beet red with guilt, giving me away.  

This verse hurts.  This verse shines a spotlight on the biggest, brightest, strongest part of my ego.  Dyer continues to spell it out for me as he suggests that,

 Lao –Tzu reminds us that far too much attention is given to the pleasures and 

experiences of the senses at the expense of our inner vision.  Focusing exclusively

on sensory data creates a world of appearances, which are ultimately illusions…

If you’re locked into a belief that the pursuit of sensory satisfactions is the focus 

of life, you’ll be consumed by what Lao-tzu calls “the chase.”  (57)

To give myself some credit, my life’s pursuit is not that of general sensory satisfaction.  I do not get consumed with the idea of chasing down any and all sensorial experiences. For example, I have no desire to bungee jump for the exultation of it, or otherwise.  I do not see mountain climbers, rock climbers, scuba divers, or surfers and feel deep longing to be one of them: feeling the rush of the view or the wave!  Sensory satisfaction of any and all extremes is not my chase. 

However, I am guilty of regarding with high esteem the sensory experience.  I love to give friends sensory gifts when holidays and birthdays come around.  I love going with them to a concert, or trying a new restaurant, or comedy show. I enjoy exploring different walking trails, getting lost in a new city,or sharing a relaxing afternoon of mani’s and pedi’s.  I cherish these sensory experiences because this is my way of sharing love with my family and friends. And, quite frankly, I do hope that I am gaining more out of these experiences than just the emotional thrill. During these times, I do not think I lose my inner vision.  In fact, I often gain a much better understanding of it, because I get to spend time with wonderful, loving company.  So much of our time together is spent sharing stories, asking questions, relaying deep emotional frustrations or joys, that the sensory experience is really the excuse for which to have an inner vision conversation.

While I might be able to keep a more worldly perspective during sensory experiences, the noted chase is the candy jar of my ego.  And sadly, I hardly realized it until I started reading this book and similar works by other authors and other publications of Dr. Wayne Dyer.  This became appallingly clear back in verse 1 when I sat down to think about my obsessive relationship with party planning. 

I loved party planning for “the chase” aspect of the event.  The desire to really figure out another person’s likes, dislikes, and visions. I had an obsessive desire to turn these likes and visions into sensorial and tactical experiences.  I would become engrossed in the creation. The vision of awe on a guest's face, the majesty of the room, the laughter and the fun everyone would feel. These visions would dance in my head for months, weeks and days.  So much so, that I would lose myself.  “We cannot know the creator if we’re focused exclusively on what’s being created” (57) Thus, when these events ended, or sometimes even during the event itself, I would fall apart.  I would fall apart because suddenly it would hit me: I was by myself again. The external force driving my every thought and excitement was OVER!  I was left with just myself, my soul; the very thing that I had stopped cultivating for months.  And, it hurt.  I often wept physical tears to well the hole and to acknowledge the loss.  Although, at the time, I didn’t know truly what loss I had lost. 

I remember my parents came down for one such event.  They wanted to help out and join in the celebration.  Afterward, they found me bawling in the parking lot and they were so confused.  I looked back at them with the same eyes of confusion.  I didn’t know then where the tears had come from. My body was registering pain, but I couldn’t understand from where.  I remember thinking it felt like such a serial experience.

Now I know, my soul was crying. Crying maybe for the depth of the hole that was now visible.  Crying maybe for the time that we had been apart.  Crying maybe because I had finally returned to my inner, invisible essence.

While you may think, “great! She’s learned her lesson.  It sounds easy enough. Simply avoid more externally driven adventures.” I beg to differ!  This is a lesson my ego is good at having me learn over and over again.  Sometimes knowingly and sometimes it sneaks up on me. 

1.  Knowingly, I feel myself heavily chasing two things:

a.     Money

Money is a tough one to admit because in the past I have been so good about living within my means and really working hard to make sure I brought in enough money.  In the past, it was always about enough money.  I did not worrying about making tons money.  But, in affect, I was working so hard that I hardly had time to enjoy myself or spend my money.  Now I am working less, making a little more, and spending even more because I have the time to enjoy it.  This means that recently I’ve felt the money crunch.  The bills are coming in and I’m scraping the bottom of the pot to make sure I can keep it all covered. So far I’ve kept myself out of the red, but I can feel that something’s got to change or I’m in for a rude awakening. I’m still at a loss as to what that change is going to be.  If I could let go of the chase, things might get easier! Ha. So far that’s still wishful thinking!

b.     Happiness in my current 9-5 career

I am a teacher and I find great joy in creating lesson plans, teaching students and tracking their progress. However, I struggle internally with the intensity of the job.  I strongly and firmly believe in a work/life balance.  Often the needs of the school and the students are waved as red flags that should trump any other activities in your life. While I respect the urgency and dedication required of teaching, I am not ready to give up my other inner visions.  I also love writing, and my family, and my dear friends.  They deserve as much attention, love and commitment as teaching.  Only a whole human being can help another human being.  Does it pay to help students at school when your own children are suffering from your lack of attention?  I’m not saying I have children, but I hold my family and friends to the same level of attention. So in sum, I'm chasing the happy medium. 

2.  Unknowingly, I chased a sports car this fall. 

This chase took me completely by surprise and it took me weeks to forgive myself.  At the end of October my 2005 Toyota Corolla died.  It had 94,000 miles on it and I fully expected it to last for at least another 94,000.  However, in the middle of October it started acting funny. Then the check engine light came on and when I took it into my local garage, I learned that it was going to need $2500 worth of work. Not only that, but due to my car’s age and mileage, there was about a 30% chance that my car would burn oil after the work was done.

I did what I typically do in these overwhelming moments: I broke down crying and then called home. 

My parents were super supportive telling me not to worry, we would figure out what to do and if it meant buying a new car, well then, we would figure that out too.  This gave me about a week’s worth of blind ignorance to the seriousness of the situation.  The following weekend I went home to NH and we decided it was best if I bought a new car.  At first, I was excited.  YES! I get to test drive new cars. I get to pick out my own car for the very first time! My own new car!        

However, 3 test-drive’s later and the excitement had vanished as quickly as it had arrived.  It hit me that this was going to be complicated. I had a serious budget and a budget meant that my long list of “car must-haves” was going to have to shrink.  I wanted a MANUAL, spacious car, with a good sized trunk, comfy seats (both back and front), fun get-up-and-go horsepower, good gas mileage, quiet engine on the road, and easy to use amenities on the front dash.  Not to mention all of the normal things like good visibility, turning radius etc.  All for under $18,000.  RIGHT!  (To pause here for a moment, the hardest one of these ‘’musthaves’ to find was the comfy back seat. So many cars these days skimp out on a decent back seat with leg room.  I have had to sit scrunched up on too many hard back seats for this not to be a problem!)

To add to the stress, the end of the month was only a week away.  Often dealerships will give extra incentives to meet their quota by the end of the month.  Sadly, I knew that my car wouldn’t make it to the end of NEXT month, so I had to act fast. 

During the following week I had some extra time so I decided to check out a couple of dealerships closer to me on my own.  My intention was simply to test drive a couple of different cars and see what kind of pricing quotes they would give me.  Yup, good old intention.  I think it has become the modern word for curiosity. My intentions and my reality went in completely opposite directions. 

My intention was to check out the Mazda 3 first and then go to the Toyota dealership and test drive their Scions.  Instead, at the last minute I changed my mind and decided to test drive the Scions first.  My logic behind this, I will never know. But some how I found myself test driving a Scion XD, liking it, and in the salesman’s office crunching numbers. Even though my intention was NOT TO BUY THAT DAY.  I somehow said yes, that if things worked out, I would like to walk away with my brand new car. Even though my intention was to leave and test drive the Mazda’s, I never left Toyota that day. Instead, I drove home in a new Scion XD.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

All along the way I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing.  I was getting a good deal.  I had handled the situation on my own. I was getting a stick shift. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting hit with sales tax later because I was buying in state.  The car was in my price range.  It has spacious back seat and a fun dashboard.  But, as I drove it home I felt sick to my stomach. The front seat of this car leaned me forward in an awkward position.  This car’s windows didn’t defrost as fast as I’d expect them too. And, worst of all, by the time I got home, my back was so twisted out of position I was in severe pain. 

The next morning I cried all the way to work.  I tried to convince myself that I was over reacting, but I couldn’t shake this terrible feeling that I’d just signed a 5 year contract for something I could hardly ride in for 5 minutes! So by 8:30am I had called the dealership and told them that I was completely unhappy.  I couldn’t have this car and that I was coming in this afternoon. 

To the dealerships credit, they were very calm and understanding.  Unfortunately, I was already a storm of emotion.  My mom, bless her soul, met me at the dealership for support. I was really hoping they would put a big X through the whole thing and let me walk away with my old junkie car in tow.  I really wanted to go over to the Mazda dealership and take home my Mazda 3. (At that point I had test driven it) and, of course, in the heat of things, had dubbed it my perfect car. Who knows really, it could have been any car. All’s I knew was that I was so completely emotionally done with Toyota.

Fortunately and unfortunately, they would not put a big X through the contract.  They couldn’t.  But, they were willing to exchange the Scion for the current Toyota Corolla: my old car in the newest model.  I should have jumped for joy at this exchange.  I should have waved the white flag of agreement and taken the exchange.  It was a good deal. I already knew the corolla inside and out.  I also already knew the incredible comfort-ability of the seats. But I couldn’t do it.

As soon as I sat down in the car to test drive it, I started bawling.  I was crying so hard my mother made me pull over and collect myself.  My ego had been so utterly bruised by yesterday’s purchase, that taking home the same exact car I started with felt like a slap in the face.  Egotistical questions hammered away at me: In the 5 years that I’d owned my previous Corolla had I made no monitary advances?  I was going to have to drive the same car for another 5-10 years?  Not only that, but I was going to have to drive an AUTOMATIC! It felt like I was being demoted.  It felt like I was a failure. 

Granted, I was in a very emotional state.  But, I couldn’t stop my ego from persevering.  I couldn’t focus on the simple fact that I had the means to actually buy a NEW car. I couldn’t see that I was getting what most consider to be an up grade: an AUTOMATIC. Instead, all’s I could see was a big, red failure sign above my head.

As a result, when my Mom and I made it back to the dealership, I did not accept the exchange.  Instead I asked to test drive the Corolla Sport, an upgraded version of my Corolla.  Instantly, this was the car I wanted.  It fed my ego just enough that the failure sign momentarily went away.  Of course, it also meant a lot more money.  Money I didn’t have. Money, in the end, my parents provided. 

As soon as it was done, I knew I would still feel regret.  I had just let my parents pay for part of my new car.  Um, where was that advanced adult I thought I would feel after buying a better car?  Still hiding behind Mom and Dad?! I was mad at myself. I couldn’t help but re-live the whole experience every time I was in my new car. I couldn’t seem to let it go. 

To be honest, a part of me didn’t want to let go of the pain.  Funny enough, as much as my ego wanted to look like a winner in this situation, it was also perfectly content with wallowing in my own self pity. I punished myself for weeks.  In the name of saving money and re-paying my parents, I wouldn’t go out on the weekends and hid in my apartment.

Finally, over Thanksgiving, I had a really good conversation with my best friend.  I opened up to her and told her all about my dark insides and how I was feeling like a terrible person.  She listened and didn’t say, “Wow Molls, you are a selfish B****." Instead, she loved me.  She is currently in grad school and she shared with me a saying one of her professors taught her: “I forgive myself for buying into the misunderstanding that it was wrong of me to buy my sports car.” (you can fill in the blank with anything at the end!)

Suddenly, saying that line to myself, I felt awash with relief. Maybe it was the line itself.  Maybe it was the fact that I needed to tell my horrible story to someone and know that they would still love me.  Maybe it was because my weeks of self-inflicted torture we ebbing.  But, for whichever, or all of those reasons, this line and this conversation freed me of my ego’s one-man show. I could think clearly and honestly about what had happened and what I wanted to do next. 

Today, I don’t relieve my car buy experience every time I drive.  In fact, I even now feel that my Corolla Sport is the best car I could have bought at that moment. It truly meets all of my requirements. (okay, well it’s not a manual, and it doesn’t get near the gas mileage of my old car, but it has EVERYTHING else, and more.) I have also started to pay my parents back and no longer let this event take away from my focus on my inner vision.

If anything, it has taught me that the desire of my senses is strong,and not a force to be taken lightly or alone! Simply knowing I am a soul having a human experience does not mean that the human experiences won’t be overwhelming.  That is why we souls are given friends and family.  They are the ones who love both our souls and our human tendencies. They are the ones who show us how to love both our own souls and our own human tendencies.   It is in their souls that I am remind of my own inner essence and vision.  It is because of unconditional love that the chase eventually seems pointless.

Thank you to everyone who helps me fully embrace myself, loving my desire to chase and my desire to trust what is within.

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The 11^th Verse

Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub;

It is on the hole in the center that

The use of the cart hinges.

Shape clay into a vessel;

It is the space within that makes it useful.

Carve fine doors and windows,

But the room is useful in it’s emptiness.

The usefulness of what is

Depends on what is not.

- Translated by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

“The difference between saints and the rest of us isn’t that they have loving, pure beliefs and we don’t; rather, they function solely from their essence, where the way of the Tao flows invisibly through their physical being…invite your essence to reveal itself and allow you to live in the void.” (55) 

My thoughts & actions:

I am sorry that it has been so long since I have written, I began to get sick last weekend and so different were the symptoms that I was at a loss as to how to best support my body.  Thus, it wasn’t until Wednesday afternoon, when my symptoms had severally multiplied,that I really began to take action against my now serious illness.  Finally yesterday, Saturday, I felt the tides shift for the healthier. I am so glad to be back writing.  How beautiful and profound of a verse to which to come back. 

Right away I smile. The Tao Te Ching knows that this is what I have missed all week.  I hate it when I become sick.  When I become so sick that I can’t move, eat, or breath, anger begins to boil in my veins.   Ask anyone close to me, especially and most specifically my mother, and you will learn that I am the worst kind of patient.  I yell.  I cry: gushing, hot, angry tears.  I swing my arms in frustration. I call out to the Gods, begging them to just strike me down. 

Thank goodness this kind of illness does not over come me often.  I have, in the past, realized this about myself and for the most part I do everything I can to stay healthy: vitamins, good sleep, exercise.  However, I’ve never really understood why I feel so angry and upset. I have always taken my feelings at face value.  Getting sick doesn’t feel good.  Getting sick hurts. Getting sick interrupts my daily activities.  Getting sick means that my ego can’t be the super star. 

I did not understand the why behind it all, until this weekend when I finally sat down to read the next verse.  All of a sudden, in the midst of healing from this treacherous illness, I realized what I really lose when I get sick.  I lose; I let go of, my soul, my invisible essence.  It is, in fact, the first thing I box up and put on a shelf.  I become solely the tangible.  I convince myself that the tangible is what needs attention, sorting and even healing.  I convince myself that the soul will simply have to wait to come out and play. I convince myself that soul activities are extra.  They are the icing-on-the-cake kind of stuff, and right now I need to reserve, and preserve my energies.  I can’t spend my energies on the frivolous, fluffy stuff of life.

Looking back over my week of illness, it is painfully clear why it has taken a full week to heal. Only in the sporadic, unannounced moments of soul energy did my body feel happiness, peace, joy: health.  

Sunday February 7^th: I woke up feeling lousy. 

My stomach was upset and the thought of eating made it churn.  I naively thought it might have been all of the hard alcohol I drank at the party the night before.  It had been a long time since I’d drank so much and who knows how strong the mixed drinks were. Ekk.  In my mind, It seemed to be a viable justification. 

However, as the day continued, I continued to feel tired, gross and lethargic.  I had tried to start so many different projects, only to end up taking a nap half way through.  As the afternoon slipped by, a strong desire to watch the super bowl leapt through me. Not only did I want to watch it, I began to ache for the warm, fun-loving company of my family.  My soul kicked in.  I knew my parents, brother and family friends would be gathering to watch. I longed for their love and support.  Maybe the merriment would shoo my icky feelings away.  At the very least I hoped I could forget about my achiness and give myself a happy memory with which to get me through the week. 

And, to a certain extent it worked. Unfortunately, by the time I decided to go it was already 4:30pm.  I didn’t get on the road until 5:45 and I didn’t make it home until 7pm. I did watch the game for 2 hours and I did enjoy my time while I was there.  But by 9pm I had to go to bed.  Exhausted, and knowing that I would have to get up at 4:30am to drive back to Boston, I couldn’t stay up any later.

I do think that going helped support me through my Monday.  I was much calmer at work.  I even chose not to stress myself out by fitting a million tasks into a short amount of time.

Monday February 8^th: Boxed up andshipped out

But, my health continued to decline and Monday night I put my soul in a box and hid it on the shelf.  I had a lot of lessons to plan and work to get done. I couldn’t pamper my body and soul.  I couldn’t give myself little indulgences like reading in bed or writing in my journal.  I would have to make do with drinking lots of tea, skipping the gym, and plugging away at my computer for hours.  I ignored my illness by playing a movie while planning lessons.  This way my brain didn’t have a moment to register any feeling, personal thought, or emotion.  I entered autopilot: get done what has to be done and hold yourself together as best as possible.

Tuesday February 9^th:  Wilted

Working late Monday night, coupled with a long workday Tuesday, I was done.  My energy was spent.  My body was broken.  My head was a cloudy haze.  My Mom called that night to try to show support and I could do nothing but yell at her about how hateful I felt.  How upset I was that I was so sick.   I cried and then stuffed myself with bread, insanely hoping that I could block out all feeling and pain. 

Wednesday February 10^th: Reunited

I should have taken off from work.  But because of an impending snowstorm, we were given a half day and I decided I could push through.  I only had to make it until noon.  Then I could come home and relax, sleep, indulge. The idea seemed to make sense in my cloudy, mixed up perception of balancing work and health.

Fortunately,work was easy Wednesday. Many students were absent leaving smaller, more intimate groups. It made for a pleasant change. I also came home and went right to bed.  Reading and catching up with a few friends.  For a time, I took my soul back off the shelf.  I listened to how my body was feeling.  I recognized my symptoms and realized the severity with which they had manifested.  While I can’t say that I was much more pleasant to my Mom on the phone,  I did at least listen.  I took her advice and supplied my body with necessary vitamins.  I stayed home from work Thursday and I made an appointment with my doctor. 

Thursday February 11^th:  My soul did a little dance!

Called in sick.  Sent in sub plans.  Made an 11am appointment with the doctor and went back to bed. 

Later in the morning, feeling rested, I wrote valentines cards and smiled for the first time in days.  At the doctor’s office, I began a book I’d been wanting to read for a long time.  At CVS, where I picked up the cough suppressant the Doctor prescribed, funny pez dispensers caught my eye.  Immediately, I was reminded of a good friend’s mother whom collects pez dispensers and gives them to her students as a gift each Xmas.  It has become a wonderful tradition and the students love it.  I bought 2. 

I was still sick as a dog, but something inside of me felt lighter.  My soul, my invisible essence was talking and I was finally listening. These acts alone brought on so much healing; I could feel the pain ebbing. 

Friday February 12^th: Short lived

Unfortunately,Thursday night I fell apart.  Every fiber in my soul knew I needed to take Friday off from work, but I was caught in a bind.  Any workday preceding or following a holiday (given day off) all teachers must attended or they will be docked a day’s pay.  Considering my current finances, I can’t afford to lose a day’s pay.  I had to go to work. Not only did I have to go to work, I had to teach 6 out of 7 periods of the day.  I felt the rage bubble over inside of me.  Despite knowing there were better ways to handle the disappointment, I couldn’t help but let the physical take over.  I wallowed in how painful, how regressive, how exhausting my day was going to be.  I forced my soul to stop dancing.  I put the music away and cried. 

Friday was as long and exhausting as I made it. 

Saturday February 13^th:  Let the party begin

Knowing that I now had a much time as I needed to get well, the healing started quickly.  I gave myself permission to do whatever whimsy came to mind and instantly I began to feel better.  As I picked up pieces of my physical environment, my emotional essence grew more confident.  My voice came back and I called home to apologize for being such a prate. I could feel myself turning the corner.  I could feel my soul swelling.  My invisible essence was showing me, me again. I smiled and laughed and met up with friends that I hadn’t spoken to for days. 

Thinking back on it all now, more listening, more listening to the empty space within me, would have shown me better what to do. Instead of getting caught up in have to’s, should’s, won’t get done without me’s… listening would have shown me otherwise.  Listening might have shown me how to let myself heal during the first half of the week.  Listening might have shown me more happy moments from which to build strength.  Listening might have transformed this from an angry, hateful moment to a moment of spread love.  Just like the Valentine’s notes I was able to send on Thursday, and the Pez dispensers I packaged up Saturday, listening would have turned the illness into healthiness.

I will do well in the future to remember to let my invisible “essence reveal itself and allow me to live in the void.”

Last night, to give me back my icing-on-the-cake, I even burned with desire to write again.   My invisible soul was so happy that I couldn’t stop my physical body from doing a little dance. 

I am not yet close to being 100% healthy, but I feel far closer because my essence radiates with the warmth of happiness, peace, joy and love.