In the past few days, I decided to recommit myself to a pretty simple practice. A quick note about simple practices: what I mean when I say “simple” is that it requires one or two steps, like sitting meditation, or washing my dishes within 24 hours. The joy with simple practices, of course, is that they hold my entire world in their exercise. If we take on that the way we do one thing is the way we do all things, simple is just an optical illusion. The stuff we’re working on is going to show up whether we’re orchestrating a complex, multi-million business model, or in “chop wood, carry water.” So in a way, “simple practice” is more of a reassurance to my resistance. Don’t worry; I tell myself, it’s a simple practice! Then it’s harder to talk myself out of it (though it seems my ego can wiggle its way out of anything) and it feels more manageable. It’s all just talk though, after all, since the big results are the same present moments strung together as small results, but it’s helpful talk.

That being said, my practice has been not fudging with time. I have a habit of saying, “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” when there’s really very little chance I could get there in less than fifteen. I’m usually fudging five or ten minutes, and most often this happens with friends, not with work or professional relationships. I noticed this habit and didn’t like where it landed me: rushed, contracted, and lying. For me, this is more work on wise speech - “fudging” is easier to allow myself than “lying”, but they’re the same thing. Fudging is only different from lying in the amount I’ve deemed it acceptable to not be in line with the truth. Well, I’m playing the big game here, so I know that if something is off, even just a little, that’s where my current path is to more freedom. (That’s what I love so much about things being off-center -- I have a beautiful treasure map of the place I’m getting to dig in and grow.)

Being human is a unique kind of joy, a unique kind of sadness, and pain, and ecstasy.  An old woman sat at my bar the other day, and told me she was having a bad day.  She said, "Not all days can be good days, you know."  As short as my life has been, I know this as well.  Not all days are happy days.  Some days are full of anxiety, others brim with sadness, and some seem dark but are laced with hope.  On days like these, I sometimes have trouble accepting my life as it is.  I think "If only they didn't have to go," "If only I hadn't been that way," or "Why is this happening to me?"

At times like these, I try to pay attention to the opportunity that I have.  I chose to have a human experience, and that means that I will find many challenges in my life: separation, death, and parts of myself and others that I do not like.  The tremendous opportunity that I have is to love it all, especially these things that I do not like, and to remember that each of these is a gift from the universe to make my life even more amazing.  Rumi (a 13th century Muslim Mystic and poet), muses on this in his poem Guest House:

This weekend I had the awesome opportunity to attend Terces and Matthew's workshop, Sacred Commerce.  We met in the cozy inviting "living room" of the Central Kitchen in San Francisco, which was once their home before they moved to their Be Love Farm.  About 40 of us attended and an incredible conversation between mostly strangers took place.  Matthew and Terces sat at the front of the room with their notes but mostly just spoke from their hearts, giving examples of their own lives and experiences to show us all what's possible when you create a safe place for emotion and sharing to show up.  

What I love most about this work is how authentically everyone around me in Cafe Gratitude shares.  It is in this honesty and transparency that we can truly connect to those around us.  Terces and Matthew both shared their vulnerable selves, showing us where they've gotten stopped, where they've been (or are) resistant to circumstances.

Through their honest sharing I felt the room open up and felt truly open to sharing my own concerns and triumphs, which then further opened the space for others to do the same.  Remaining safely quiet and reserved is a breakdown in human connection.  Sharing my own experiences and being honest is not only an invitation for others to be open with me, but is a powerful stand for my own self worth.  When I speak up I declare that I matter, that my voice matters, that I am a contribution.   When I speak up I take responsibility for my thoughts and I reach out for connection to others.  Whether I am asking for support or sharing something that I've learned... I declare the legitimacy of my feelings and invite others into having a conversation that goes below the surface.  These are the conversations that shake the ground and transform the world.  It's because of this that I believe the first step to world wide revolution and consciousness is being honest and speaking up.