Your Life on Purpose

Today I’m drinking something unusual which I thought you’d like to know about. It’s a type of mushroom called Chaga. Have you heard of it? Some people at the coffee shop down the street were raving about it, so I decided to give it a try. . Yes, it tastes mushroomy. Yes, it’s totally legal. No, it’s not psychedelic. Why am I drinking it? Because I’m intrigued by the many health benefits it supposedly offers.

I’ll keep you posted on whether or not I grow the ability to shoot fireballs out of my hands, run really fast, or grow taller, but for now I’d like to introduce to you my friend Michael Grimes.

On this episode, let’s take a look at how one guy is following his SOUL and reinventing a brand new public school system that centers on mindfulness.

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When news of Hurricane Katrina’s destruction spread throughout the U.S., Michael knew what he had to do. So, he packed up his belongings and drove to New Orleans to build up a school system in need.

Thousands of displaced students needed quality education and Michael heard his calling to help. He heard The Call to Purpose.

In just ten months time, Michael developed the curriculum needed for three pop-up charter schools and brought much-needed structure to an area flipped upside by Mother Nature.

Was it easy? No. Was it safe? Definitely not. But Michael knew deep down that this was just something he had to do. Transforming the lives of students through education reform is in his DNA.

Why? Because before all of this, a dot occurred in Michael’s life that many, myself included, can’t even begin to emotionally understand. Michael lost his younger brother to suicide.

This unimaginable tragedy could have easily caused Michael to grow deep into depression, which he admits he, understandably, did struggle with at a time, but Michael found the power within him to continue to walk forward down his path.

The world needs a better education system, Michael thought, one that doesn’t just teach to the intellectual needs of students and he was going to help build it.

As he put it, he felt a calling to help students “understand who they are, to connect with their passions and purpose, or to develop the social, emotional, physical, or spiritual aspects of their beings.”

Katrina, his brother’s suicide, a passion for education reform — these dots in Michael’s life connected him to his deep seed of purpose.

They further led him to create the truly audacious goal of a new public charter school system that is designed for the entire individual. Called SOUL — School of Universal Learning — Michael and his team have created a system that teaches “to all parts of the being, mentally, socially, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.”

The first SOUL school is scheduled to begin in 2017 in Southern California.

So, what can we learn from Michael’s journey?

1. Turning Muck Into Opportunity

Like the lotus flower that grows out of the muddy muck in a swamp to blossom into a beautiful flower that rests gently atop the water, we all have our own share of personal tragedies we encounter throughout our lives.

Sometimes it’s these bits of tragedy that direct or re-direct us further down our paths on purpose.

Losing a loved one, facing a chronic illness, or perhaps getting let go from a stable “safe” job — these events reshape our lives. They can build us up or break us down depending on what we choose to focus our mind on.

We may not be in control of the events themselves, but we do have control over our reaction to them.

As John Milton wrote in Paradise Lost: “The mind is its own place, and it itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

Here’s a bit of what Michael had to say about how he stays focus:

1. Believe in Inspiration

Like many others who have followed similar audacious footsteps, Michael trusts in his intuition knowing that when he is living inspired, he is living “in spirit” and that, as Wayne Dyer often suggested, is the compass to guide our spiritual calling.

Here’s a bit of what Michael said when I asked him how he learned to tune into his intuition.

1. Grow an Empowering Community

When I first met Michael in person, he invited me to one of his monthly potluck dinners where he invites friends to bring guests for an evening of food, music, and deep conversation.

It’s events like these that attract the mentors we need in our lives to help us on our own path.

As Joseph Campbell reminds us, the hero’s journey may be a personal journey inside, but it’s not taken alone. Mentors and guides will join us on our journey and we need to decide whether or not we’re going to accept their help.

The question here is then, are you open to receiving help? I know for me, this has been a struggle in the past. Growing up as an adopted child, I thought what most adopted children do: that I didn’t need any help and could thrive on my own. I’ve since learned that independence is great, yes, but we are stronger together.

Together, we can lift all of us a little bit higher.

On today’s episode, I’d like to share with you one lesson I learned while living like a monk. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before on this show, but this last winter I spent a few days at Zen Mountain Monastery in the Catskill mountains living like a monk. During that stay, time slowed down to a caterpillar crawl and days felt like years. In a good way. Why?

Because with the monk life, every second seems to be accounted for and everything seems to focus on the present, working to pull in the tangled ball of yarn that makes up our thoughts.

Who knew non-thinking could cause time to slow down?

I will be short and to the point like the espresso I’m sipping. On this episode, let’s cxplore a bit of zen philosophy to be more present in the moment.

We start with a glass of ice cubes.

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Imagine you’re on a plane and you ask a stewardess for a glass of water. A minute later she comes back with a cup of ice and hands it to you. You have had quite a long day, are tired, and just want some water to cool you down.  Frustrated with the ice cubes, you ask the stewardess:“What am I supposed to do with this!?”

The stewardess replies, “Just wait.”

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Okay…. So, what does all this Yoda talk mean? What’s the point of this story, which I first heard from a zen monk.

When we let the mind go on its own, we can easily go throughout an entire day thinking about the future and reflecting on the past all while ignoring the beauty in the present. So often, we can get carried away in the day-to-day that we lose sight of the now. When we want a glass of water and get ice cubes, the idea of waiting for that ice to melt into water can drive us mad. So we move on looking for water when water was right in front of us the whole time.

Consider watching some ice cubes melt into a glass of water. Many people, including myself, would go mad watching the small drips that melt into liquid.

I have so much to do…I can’t wait for THIS…

Unhappy with the ice cubes, we go off looking for water in other places and forget that we had what we asked for all along. We just needed to let go.

Zen philosophy calls this mindset “Muddy Water”. Like the ice cubes, our mind can be hardened to think a certain way so that we are full to the brim with muddy water or hardened like an ice cube. Our mind thrashes in the water, stirring up the mud from below, when all we need to do to reach clarity is let the mud settle to the bottom. Or let the ice cubes melt into amorphous water. When our mind is like water we are more open to go with the flow and make decisions with a clear open mind.

If we learn to let go of the ice cubes, we’ll always have as much water as we need. Remember, everything you need in this life is either with you now or well on its way.

Thank you so much for listening. I wish you a beautiful day, full of love, light, and adventure.

As a kid, I was obsessed with Monty Python’s The Holy Grail. So much so that the obsession grew from clanking together coconuts as a teenager with my buddy Alan to studying Arthurian legend in my college studies. Even my professor thought I was a bit ridiculous. “You’re that kid in high school who would clank coconuts together, right?” she once asked.  And she was right.

On a random cycling trip to Barcelona, I discovered that one of our routes outside Barcelona took us through the mountains where the grail is now thought to be buried. Did I look for The Holy Grail then? You betcha. And I seriously thought I found it when I came upon a tiny little 10th century chapel in the Pyrenees. But Alas, there was no grail to be found.

I am one of many intrigued by the grail, however. The Holy Grail has been an obsession for questers throughout all of history. The Knights Templar searched high and low for The Holy Grail during The Crusades and Cistercian Monks rifled through ancient texts to search for clues, as well.  

Heck, one man — the 12th Century French poet Chretien De Troyes — ended his story of The Holy Grail mid-sentence (yes, really) while writing the Arthurian legend of Perceval, the legendary knight who saw The Holy Grail while dining with The Fisher King. Legend has it, Chretien De Troyes died while writing because he was about to share a secret too powerful to share with the world.

Seriously, I can’t make this stuff up.

What is “The Holy Grail”? Most literalists say a cup — the cup used by Jesus Christ at The Last Supper — while others say a well like the fountain of youth.

Unfortunately, no cup (or well or fountain) has ever been found. The evil Heinrich Himmler, Hitler’s right-hand henchman, thought he came close to finding it after funneling an absurd amount of Nazi money to search the grail during World War II. Yes, this is a true fact. No, no grail was ever found. Even Indiana Jones, whose story came out of these real-world events, never resurrected the miraculous cup.

So, I pose the question: What if they are all wrong?

What if The Holy Grail is not some chalice or well or any destination, but rather metaphor for our own internal quest for meaning? The quest that begins with the sublime question we begin asking at some point in our lives….Why am I here? ….and then spawns a miraculous journey on purpose.

To begin, splash a bit of honesty on your face and mix it with the dots in your life. But don’t take it from me. Take a look at the journey of just a few of the incredible people I’ve had the honor to meet over the past couple of years:

On the other side of the pond in the UK, Bhavani Esapathi created The Invisible Health Data Project. The project amplifies the many voices that make up the invisible chronic illnesses thousands suffer with each and every day. There are so many illnesses that go unnoticed in the world today and Bhavani helps make sure these people get their voice out to receive the attention they deserve.

NYC native Gabriela Pereira is the instigator and purveyor of purpose behind the DIY MFA. When the rest of the world obsesses over science and tech, Gabriela shows creative writers how they can turn their art into a profitable and philanthropic tool to elevate all of humanity.

Physical therapist turned entrepreneur, when Ashley Jacob learned of her mother’s diagnosis, she took her pain and anguish and turned it into her quest to find answers. Her questions morphed into the beautiful long-form podcast, Tsuris, which features interviews from the many vantage points that make up a serious health prognosis.

And lastly, after high school, a starry eyed teen named Tyson Adams went out to vagabond around the world. Little did he know that his travel would lead to a cathartic and philanthropic journey. His work now creates schools and wells in Laos for children in need through selling coffee and coconut oil to adults in need.

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The Holy Grail, I believe, is not a cup or chalice at all. Rather, it is one’s personal soul-shaping quest that goes beyond the self and transcends to benefit others.

It’s truly a beautiful journey, a hero’s journey, that I invite you to join me on.

What about you? What is your “Holy Grail”?

I write this episode as the rain pelts the airport tarmac outside as I sit here ready to board my plane home from a weekend trip in Charlotte. Before I do that, I’d like to share a few thoughts on being authentic in our speech and living the art of truthfulness.

Grab your cup of coffee and join me.

And oh yeah….quick note… be careful with flying with a hand coffee grinder. You should have seen the look on the TSA employee’s face when, after checking my bag, she pulls out the grinder with a quizzical look, opens it, and then smelled the delicious fresh coffee beans inside. I offered to make her a cup, but alas...she had work to do.

But, I digress...

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Have you ever found yourself biting your lip, holding back what you really wanted to say, but held back for one reason or another?

Telling the truth and being honest in our communication can be as difficult as holding sand in our hands. Squeeze the hand too hard and it hurts. Too light and sand falls swiftly through the fingers.

Like riding a rollercoaster, we’re often raised to keep the limbs of truth inside the ride of life at all times to keep safe from offending family, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances.

What are a few examples of when I’ve held back from speaking what I’ve honestly thought?

--- When a family member continues to eat foods that harm her even after being diagnosed with diabetes brought on from obesity and eating too much of these foods

--- When a coworker talks badly about another at the proverbial water cooler

--- When a loved one says a prejudicial slur at the holiday dinner table

And these are just a few times at which I’ve bitten my lip. The practice of telling the truth is something that I continue to work on because so many ancient texts encourage us to speak the truth -- both to ourselves and to others -- throughout our lives.

The yogic texts call this practice of truthfulness, Satya. As Patanjali put it, “To one established in truthfulness, actions and their results will be become subservient.”

In the Abrahamic texts, Jesus of Nazareth said we should speak and live truthfully. In the Book of Ephesians, he is said to say, “each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body.”

Popular culture also teaches us this as well between the lines of a movie or book, even back to good ol’ Will Shakespeare. Polonius tells his son Laertes in the play Hamlet before he goes off to college: “Give thy thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportion’d thought his act.” Of course, for anyone who knows the play well, Polonius needs to listen to a bit of his own advice.

So, how do we speak the truth, live honestly, and be authentic without being ostracized by those we love? (I have no desire to don a robe and live in a cave in the Himalayas and I think you’d prefer not to, as well. It’s a beautiful world we live in and I intend to be an active part of it.)

And to tell you the truth, as a writer I know there’s tremendous value in bending the truth, at least when it comes to helping one to feel the truth. Why? Tim O’ Brien, author of the brilliant metaphysical war story The Things They Carried, perhaps puts it best: “That's what fiction is for. It's for getting at the truth when the truth isn't sufficient for the truth.”

On this episode, I’d like to thank the squirrels outside my window for reminding me of a little old gent who built a shanty and pissed off the government back in the 1800s.

Yes, I’m talking about Henry David Thoreau who spent his days sitting in his little cabin in the woods on Walden Pond. And yes, that guy seriously loved squirrels. I precisely remember reading his book Walden ( which is a fantastic read by the way that you should check out) and for two whole pages the dude talks about squirrels scampering across the snow.

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But you can also look at it from another point of view. Thoreau focused on the minutia and the beauty of the small things in front of us. And that my friends is what I’d like to talk about.

Let’s talk about the 1 sign you’re creating work that matters...

After attending Harvard in the 1800s, Thoreau did the exact opposite of what one was supposed to do. While other educated men followed the well-trodden path of medical school or law studies, Thoreau grabbed a hammer, some nails, a few blocks of wood, and went to write in the woods just 19 miles outside of Boston.

Did his work save lives? Plenty. Did his work shape law? Big time.

All criticism aside, Thoreau went on to pen two key books that continue to inspire many today to practice the art of awareness, to look at the meandering veins on a fallen leaf, and to consider that our life’s work is to develop something that transcends the physical.

Just as soon as his work began to inspire many, it was just as soon followed with criticism: the #1 helpful sign that you're walking your own path and creating work that matters.

What do the critics say?

Some call Thoreau a phony since he didn’t really live off the land and would often walk two miles to his parents’ home for a hot meal… he’d often frequent the local pub for a cold brew… and many say he wasn’t as hardcore as John Muir (the other famous nature-lover that inspired Teddy Roosevelt to create the U.S. National Park system... And the list goes on.

So, here’s a serious question. Why do we  criticize people? Modern psychology would say that criticism is often reflected in one’s own frustration and insecurity to walk their own path. Makes sense since carving your own path is a heck of a lot harder than walking the well-trodden trail.

Criticism can be a helpful sign, however. Contemporary business strategist, Dorie Clark, framed it like this when we sat down for a chat. She said, “criticism helps us know when we’re on to something worth working for.”

Ah, there’s the rub.

Criticism, however, can cut way deeper than a stick or stone or the thorns that cover the road less traveled by.

Criticism sucks, plain and simple.

It can even stop us dead in our tracks of creating work that matters.

The thing is, when we conform to what others consider normal to avoid criticism, we stray away from what inspires us. We veer away from the greatest version of ourselves. Like Abraham Maslow said, we all have a unique genius to offer the world — art that the world needs, as Seth Godin often puts it — and committing to our inspiration will lead to being criticized. The only way to escape criticism is to do nothing and say nothing like the old saying goes.

The truth is, the world needs your work:

-- That memoir you’ve written, but haven’t pitched to an editor for fear of being criticized for being too real and too vulnerable, needs to be read by those who will relate to your story and will no longer feel alone.

-- That newsletter you’ve been writing on your own, but haven’t shared with the world, needs to be read by the young yogis who want to build a bridge between body and spirit.

-- That start-up you’ve been longing to build? Yes, the world needs that too.

But, how do you start?  

Footstep by footstep.  

You’re listening to Your Life on Purpose:  the podcast that helps  you feel less like a cog in a machine by connecting the dots between life, your passions, and what the world needs, all in under ten minutes.  

Music

I’m your host Mark Guay and welcome my friends to season 2 of Your Life on Purpose. On this episode, I’d like to share with you a story that happened in my life when I went to college. It wasn’t a major event back then, yet now I realize that this small dot in my life significantly altered my way of looking at living my life.

Let me take you back:

On one blistery fall night, the trees had shed their motley colored leaves and, as chilled air blew throughout the college campus, I walked the two miles back to my dorm room to go to sleep.

Before that, however, I did what one shouldn’t do before bed: I checked my digital messages.

And as I waited for the archaic clunky desktop computer to boot up Windows XP, I had no idea what would happen next.

It was fall semester my sophomore year and I had died.

The computer booted up, I checked my AOL Instant Messenger (remember that?), and messages flooded my screen like some type of dystopian novel:

“Please tell me NO!.”

“Mark, you will be missed. I remember when… ”

‘Mark, please call me as soon as you can.”

And on and on and on.

I then signed on to this new app called Facebook and quickly learned the reason for all of these messages.

An old high school friend who thought he’d play a prank had posted: “RIP Mark Guay”.

What ensued next surprised my old friend like a monster under his childhood bed. The message began to get shared and shared and shared well before the world even had a “share” button or a timeline. Facebook, at that time, wasn’t even open to the public: only college registered students with a university email.

The message took on the telephone effect where one person told another who told another who then embellished the story to tell another.

When the telephone at my mother’s house rang, she woke up from a deep sleep to hear the news no parent ever wants to hear: her son was dead.

Meanwhile, at the time my mother heard the news I, on the other hand, was enjoying the fall sky and the smell of pumpkin spice in the air as I enjoyed an evening walk. My legs worked perfectly, my heart pumped oxygen to my blood, and a smile crept on my face every time a gust of wind would blow a vortex of leaves in the air.

What about a cell phone, you ask?

The minimalist in me at the time left my archaic flip phone in the dorm. Text messaging was too expensive, so I didn’t have that either.

As soon as I realized what had happened, I called my mother to tell her I was okay and proceeded to reply back to the many messages that filled my screen. Some perhaps thought my spirit had typed the messages, but alas it was just the peach-fuzz faced college me trying to let the world known I was alive and well.

Reflecting back on this dot in my life, I realize now how lucky I am that this happened. I had the opportunity to experience something that many often wonder about: What would people say about my life if I died?

Perhaps you’ve even thought of this before.

A part of me wishes I had the foresight to save the kind messages people wrote, but without a camera or a screenshot feature, I didn’t even have that option. Perhaps one day, Facebook will bring them back to me. But for now, I continue to think of this question.

Asking myself what would people say about me if I were to die tomorrow continues to push me to be a more loving, kind, and thoughtful change-maker of a man. It continues to fuel my desire to (teetering on the cliche here) be the change I want to see in the world.

It continues to allow me to see my imperfections as tools to learn more through the human experience.

When I first wrote the Empowered Life template that many continue to use to manifest their greatest self, this was the first question I had asked readers to think about.

It’s a grave image, yes, (see what I did there?) but thinking of what people will say about you at your funeral allows you to reverse engineer and now build this vision into present reality. It pushes you to live in the now and be that which you want to be remembered for.

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Try this one-minute exercise:

Take in three full and complete breaths with a 4-6 count inhale and 4-6 count exhale. Gently close your eyes, smile, and lengthen through the spine to broaden through your chest. Continue to breathe with this power posture as you begin to imagine one person in your life you love. Imagine them speaking to you and saying the things they will always remember about you. Imagine them hugging you, filling you with their love, and thanking you for the many kind words and loving deeds you shared.

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In my life, I’ve found this simple visualization technique to push me to be a better person in my life. Am I perfect? Ha, absolutely not — that’s the beauty of living — but am I growing more and more into the person I love to be? Absolutely.

Now, why does this visualization work?

Social Psychologist Amy Cuddy taught us in her popular TED Talk that the simple act of putting our bodies into a power posture changes the hormonal structure in our body. Our body releases more happy hormones that boost our confidence and literally trick our body into feeling that which we wanted to feel. In other words, Cuddy took the old idiom “fake it till you make it” and gave it scientific backing. If you want to feel more confident, says Cuddy, putting yourself in a power posture and breathing complete steady breaths will literally get you to feel more confident. Pretty cool, right?

Cuddy’s research furthers my belief that we are capable of far more than we often give ourselves credit for. Perhaps like how Einstein showed us the universe continues to expand and expand beyond the limits of our understanding, we too as individuals can continue to expand and expand and expand.

Perhaps we truly can become anything we intend to be.

Well, that’s my story for today. Thank you so much for joining me and I wish you a life full of love, light, and adventure.

Want to say hello and share your thoughts?  Just head over to yourlop.com..

Now, without further ado, let’s dance.

On this episode, I’d like to talk about life’s greatest dance and how you can join this tango.

Because I see this all the time….

High School degree? Check.

Bachelor’s degree? Check.

Enrolled in Master’s degree program? If I can’t get a job first, check.

Enter the dance and keeping optimism alive.

For many, leaving college can be a bit of a downer. It’s easy to lose the optimism that’s the aura of a college campus. Why? For many people -- regardless of age and including myself -- it’s difficult to shift from the safety net of academia to produce work that will get criticized by someone other than a professor. It’s easier to keep our life’s work trapped inside. Because you know… life happens: Raising children, taking care of elderly parents, persevering through an illness -- and then that whole silly trap of  keepin’ up with the Joneses thing.

It’s just as easy, fortunately, to maintain this optimism and continue progress with your life’s work. Here’s how.

1. The Need For Unlearning

Understand first that you have all that you need to deliver great and meaningful work to the world. You don’t need another certificate to validate your merit regardless of how many advertisements tell you different. It’s too easy to get lost in the hamster wheel of needing more and more certificates to prove your worth.

In 2015, more than twenty million students were enrolled in a college degree-granting program in the U.S. alone. That’s an increase of 25% since the turn of the millennium in 2000 (Source). While that’s beautiful, it’s also alarming.

From a behavioral perspective, we’re now spending twenty years (or more) sitting in the classroom. This conditions us to be the receiver of knowledge instead of a creator. It’s why we feel safe in beta-mode or prototyping behind the walls of the classroom, yet terrified to share our work with the world to critique.

1.   Just Dance

It’s a whole lot easier to critique a movie than it is to make one.

Or judge the quality of one’s singing than it is to sing your own song.

Or splash red ink to edit someone’s novel draft than it is to write one true sentence of your own.

Or sit in the stands of a game or build a fantasy team than to be in the arena.

Just dance. Every dance starts with  one step. And if you trip, you trip. Even Swayze tripped once in a while.

1. Entering the Arena of Purpose

Now, the real work begins.

As Sri Swami Satchidananda puts it: “We can hear things, study, form our own opinions, use our imagination, but nothing can equal experience." I take this as meaning we can dive deep into learning and get lost in research without actually doing any work on our own.

When you’re in the Arena of Purpose, you will get criticized, reviewed, and perhaps be the subject of popular opinion. And yes, when criticism comes our way, it’s so easy to go back into hiding. But realize, as Steven Pressfield puts it in The War of Art, “It’s better to be in the arena, getting stomped by the bull, than to be up in the stands or out in the parking lot.”

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There’s a picture sitting on my nightstand of me and my wife in our senior year of college that I look at before going to bed. It’s spring and I had just walked down from the stage after performing in my college rock a cappella group. (Yes, I was that cool.) I’m wearing bright red polyester pants and clearly need a haircut and Kaitlyn has a smile on her face that would brighten the sun.

I look at this picture and it reminds me that life’s a dance: a beautiful tango where we dip and lift through our greatest performance and when we fall, we rise again and move on to the next step.

I talk a lot about the power of writing on this show and a lot of you have asked me to dive a bit deeper into how to write, specifically, how we can use writing as a tool to discover the self.

Because as Joseph Campbell reminds us:

It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.

So, that’s what today’s episode is all about.

Fifty or so of us sat around the room, ready to begin a group meditation which would be followed by a group writing session. Artists, vagabonds, spiritual warriors of all types, from all over the world, sat around me. Gongs, singing bowls, shamanistic feathers filled the room.

The bell chimed, I closed my eyes and up our chakras we climbed as we dove inward to sit with the soul and hold hands with the inner self.

Thirty minutes later, the meditation came to a close and from there the writing session began. Those around me scribbled their thoughts on the page in haste. I sat still: frozen by my inner critic.

As soon as I would start to scribe a sentence in my notebook, I’d feel the eyes of all those behind me: judging me, criticizing me, evaluating my sanity and sense of worth. I felt ashamed to write one authentic sentence and remained clothed in my insecurity.

I didn’t know then, but now I have a closer understanding of what F. Scott Fitzgerald meant when he wrote: “What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.” We are all full of stories that shed light on the human condition and can help empower another.

Which brings me to my own insecurity as I come closer to experiencing my actualized self. Perhaps by opening up, my story may lead you to your own discoveries.  I’ve always felt a bit insecure when it comes to my own personal writing. To create anything original, writing or otherwise, I’ve always had to lock myself in a room or nuzzle into a nook in the library to be safe to write.

This is normal, of course. I see it all the time in my students who, when it comes time to write down their memoir, they lean forward in their seats as they write to make sure no one can read their prose.  That’s part of the process and even the greats like Stephen King have confessed tremendous trepidation in transferring any kind of writing to the reader: fiction, nonfiction, or personal narrative.

Why?

Because writing is an extension of the soul that leaves us bare and exposed. But it’s also a tool for discovery and communicating those discoveries with others.

Personal writing has often been looked at as the writing to keep to ourselves. What I’d like us to consider is that when we share our personal narratives, we empower others to lift the masks we are so often coerced to wear. By sharing authenticity, we spawn authenticity.  

Writing roots you in deep and it’s in this connection that we better study the self. Yogis call this study of the self Swadhyaya. It’s the practice to answer the question: “Who Am I?” This study breaks through the masks we have come to wear and connects us all on a deeper level. Specifically, writing binds us together in a grand narrative. It’s the connective quality that makes social media addictive before the world uttered a tweet.

How I Write to Answer “Who Am I?”

Stage One

I stare at a blank page, tune in, and write. I erase half of it and hoard whatever is left, offering it up to a salvage yard to discover it’s perceived value.

Stage Two

I dig into what other respected authors have said and imagine them as my posse — ready to back me up in a literary showdown should anyone call me out to a duel.

Stage Three

I write and edit. Write and edit. Write and edit. Persuade my wife to edit my work by making her Star Wars pancakes. Edit again.

Then I click publish and my work is out there.

Stage Four

I no longer own my work. What I intended through my words, the relationship I create with my words, is now up to the reader to decide on his/her own.

Now, the text lives on its own.

Stage Five

A reader stumbles upon my writing (perhaps because you were so kind to share it with them) and then creates a relationship with it. The reader interprets the text on his/her own — often in a way that it far different than I intended.

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Not too long ago, my writing took a grand shift. I shifted from the safety of writing about what I knew academically to writing about my own journey and discovery. My source shifted from APA format to DNA.

It’s delectably terrifying: searching out truth through the self.

Why?

Because as I continue to unwrap my authentic self through means like meditation, yoga, right-brain sporadic prose and dream journaling, I keep finding that all that I thought I had known as my self — my tectonic foundations — actually shift like currents in an ocean.

Words, however, remain fossilized through clicking “publish”. I will continue to evolve throughout my life, but the words I once penned on the Internet will remain concrete and still when in actually they were just ripples through the tide.

Writing is the window into my heart and yes, of course, I fear the critic.

Such is the essence of what Pema Chodron may have meant when she said, “If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher.”

A personal story I’ve written about, a personal discovery I’ve shared…they are the skin I shed and not the skin I wear today. And tomorrow will bring about a new shedding. And so on. And so on.

Such is the nature of my work. I write about the discovery of the self. That’s my journey on purpose.

Writing helps one discover the authentic self, but I’ve learned that it’s the relationship I build with others through my writing that leads to my greatest discoveries.

I'm about to venture out to Breakneck mountain to meet with an old friend whom I haven't seen in ten years. I'll be off in the woods for the day, but promise to come back tonight to read your emails.

Before I walk into the wild, I want to share with you what I learned from my recent trip back home. I learned the art of direct compassion.

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I sat across from my father, stared into his eyes for an entire minute and said three words he hadn't heard a lot while growing up in a dilapidated mobile home park in Buffalo, NY.

His eyes teared up and so did mine. I said, “I love you.”

A rush of energy flooded through me and my father. Energy that brought the two of us closer together. Energy that helped us both reach deeper into ourselves.

You see…. a blue-collar man raised in the smoke of the railroad industry, my father grew up like many men. He learned that in order to get the job done, one must hold in his emotions. Life is hard and thick skin is what gets you through the hardships of life.

True perhaps to some degree, but as Joseph Campbell reminds us, “The fundamental human experience is that of compassion.” Compassion — showing love for others and love for ourselves— drives us all further down our own hero’s journey. Because remember, the hero’s journey isn’t Frodo searching for a ring nor is it Luke Skywalker mastering his Jedi skills to overthrow an evil empire.

These are just metaphor for the hero’s journey told through a compelling story.

The hero’s journey is a journey inside. As Campbell himself put it: “The hero journey is inside of you;  tear off the veils and open the mystery of the self.” To move further down the inner hero’s journey, Campbell reminds us that we need to practice direct compassion for our self just as much as we do for others.

My inner journey took a turn this past weekend and began with a six hour drive to my hometown Buffalo, NY. Instead of meeting up with a bunch of people and getting my whole family together, I did something different.

I met with each of them for 1:1 quality time and did something I haven’t done before. I looked them each in the eye and told them I loved them and explained why I do.

Each of them teared up. And I did too.

See, here’s the thing:

Direct communication is compassion for the soul.

When’s the last time you looked someone in the eyes, held their hand, and told them how you honestly feel?

It’s easier to go throughout our lives by avoiding eye contact and avoiding honest communication out of fear of argument. Why else are children often told to avoid topics of politics and religion at the dinner table?

Consider, however, that by being honest in our communication we practice compassion for ourselves. Through this, we gain confidence in our own voice.

Honest communication to others and ourselves is hard work. It’s a lot easier to politely agree or nod your head with someone instead of disagreeing with them. It’s a lot easier to avoid direct eye contact instead of telling someone they hurt you. It’s quite awkward at first to look at someone other than your spouse directly in the eyes and tell them you love them.

This type of communication moves the energy in our relationships and all parties involved grow because of it.

I invite you to try this:

Choose someone in your life that you appreciate, love platonically, or love romantically that perhaps you haven’t told before or in a while. Or perhaps you haven’t been direct in your communication of how you feel. Spend just one minute and look directly in their eyes and continue to tell them throughout this time why you appreciate them.

That’s it.

Sounds too simple, yes. I thought so too. Thing is, many people (myself included) are not used to direct communication, so don’t be surprised if this moves the person you speak with.

Chances are you’ll feel moved too because this directness opens doors to the self. Why? Because by doing so, you’re showing compassion for your greatest self.

As I continue to connect the dots in my life and grow into a more actualized being, I’m learning that compassion for the self moves one further down the hero’s journey. If we disagree with someone, if we feel hurt, or if we love someone and haven’t deeply shared it, we’re not being honest with ourselves. We’re not showing compassion to ourselves. We’re holding ourselves back from truly learning from the experience.

And perhaps it’s these lessons that we sometimes need to open a door to the next stage in our journey.

What about you? Let me know what you think and share YOUR story with me. Reach out to me at yourlop.com.

Well, that’s my story for today. Thank you so much for joining me and I wish you a life full of love, light, and adventure.

Want to say hello and share your thoughts?  Just head over to yourlop.com..

Today, I’d like to talk about love. No, not the kind of love you’re thinking about. I’m talking about platonic love for the self and others and I learned it while on a yoga and meditation retreat at Blue Spirit in Costa Rica.

I just came in from practicing headstand and have poured my second cup of java. Thanks for joining me today.

The howler monkeys screamed outside and the humid air hugged my skin like a warm blanket. I sat down and faced a woman who I barely knew and placed my hand on her chest to feel her heartbeat. She did the same and we stared deeply into each other’s eyes for five intense minutes.

Sweat began to pour down my face, stinging my eyes and, as my heartbeat grew in intensity, I thought about my wife back home. This is definitely not appropriate, I thought to myself, as intense guilt began to flood my mind.

But what followed next surprised me like a rainbow that appears without a cloud in the sky. Such is the nature of a mindfulness retreat in the jungle.

I felt intense love for this woman. Not the love I feel for my wife or the love I feel for my family. A very different kind of love. A platonic love. A love, as Plato would call it, where two people help the other further see down one’s spiritual path.

As I stared deep into this woman’s eyes I felt her soul, and I felt her peering into my soul-self. All the masks that both of us wear during our day-to-day were stripped away, leaving us bare and exposed. I saw her struggles and she saw mine. It felt both liberating and terrifying in a way that I struggle to explain as I type this sentence.

I felt connected and experienced the concept shared by many of the world’s beautiful religions — oneness. I more viscerally felt something I’ve known intellectually for quite some time — that we all have a connected soul beneath the physical existence.

Perhaps you’ve experienced a connection on this level before, as well? Whether with a friend, a mentor, or anyone who has helped you out.

In his dialogues, Plato reminds us that we should be seeking more of this love because it brings us closer to the soul. There is then a union with the soul, much like I’ve discovered through my own yoga practice.

Did Plato perhaps stretch in downward dog before beginning philosophy class? Did he and Patanjali hang in the ancient days of lore?

This connection with the soul-self is rooted in the etymology of yoga, as “yoga” in Sanskrit translates as “union.” Yes, yoga is far more than what Americans have come to understand. It’s not just physical posture and stretchy pants, though I would never dismiss the benefits of both. A strong physique is great and stretchy pants should become the new business casual. But I digress.

As I navigate my own path, I work to maintain this level of loving awareness and connection, though this comes with its own struggles. This is where I often open up a good book to find some wisdom to grow my spirits. Rumi is very often a first choice. So, what does Rumi say to do? Let go to love and experience the source that unites. About a thousand years ago, I imagine him sitting under one of the pomegranate trees that populate the Persian soil as he wrote,

“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”

As you go throughout the rest of your day today, consider, as I am, embracing eye contact and connecting with the souls of those you meet. At the next networking event, consider not talking about “what do you do?” and paper-pushing job-speak. Instead, ask about their journey on purpose and have a conversation about their passions. When sitting down for a meal with the family, look at your loved ones with the same heightened level of love as you will the homeless man on the street. It’s a beautiful world out there and each of us has a story worth hearing.

Well, that’s my story for today. Thank you so much for joining me and I wish you a life full of love, light, and adventure.