I've been a sort of self-help junkie since I was about 15. I've always been asking big questions like why am I here, what is the best thing I can do to meet my unique set of gifts and skills, and how does everything work. This curiosity, this need to understand myself in a larger context, has been the engine strapped onto the scooter of my life. Nearly everywhere I've been in my journey traces back to this idea.
Along the way, I've experimented with philosophies and religions, studied anthropology to see how other people in other times and places have answered these questions, waded through the rich patterns of abstract algebra, and asked friends and acquaintances probing personal questions to try to collect a wide set of answers. I've watched the titles change on the NY Times bestsellers list to tap into the collective curiosity and watch its currents. And I've read more books than anyone I know, at times devouring 60 or more titles a year, mostly non-fiction.
I've also participated in study groups, attending services at a wide range of religious organizations, attended workshops, listened to audio tapes of even more workshops, and even conducted workshops. I've traveled to 35 of the 48 contiguous states by car, stopping to experience the landscapes, the sacred places, the places of natural beauty, the local cultures and accents--always curious about what was around the next bend or over the next hill.
I've joined gyms, taken classes in aerobics and pilates, learned how to lift weights, and studied more nutritional programs than I can count. I've had a series of workout regimines and used several types of trainers. For a time, I walked 2.5 miles a day, and tracked my total distance which nearly reached to Los Angeles on the map.
I've embraced my inner child, done hypnosis, participated in sweat lodges, and reviewed my relationships with everything from transactional analysis to ennegrames to Myers-Briggs. I've explored archetypes, swam in the collective unconscious, read fairy tales, and written my life story as a mythological tale. I've collected images from rock art, ancient cultures, various scientific disciplines, and crop circles. I've listened to trace channelers, had my horoscope drawn, been to Tarot readers, and been in the presence of people with true psychic gifts.
I've been through a life-threatening illness that shattered my ideas about health and well-being, and have rebuilt myself and my sense of invincibility with the understanding that death is waiting for me. I've supported a family member through an extended fatal illness, worked through my own grief, and supported my family through theirs as well. I've arrived on the other side with a richer appreciation for love, and greater willingness to fling open my heart, knowing that loss is woven into the fabric of love.
All of these things have contributed to where I stand today. I've collected nuggets of wisdom from these things and from my reactions to them. I've incorporated many disparate elements into my personal world view, and stand today on the bedrock of these experiences. And when I look out today on my life, what seems important surprises me.
I woke up this morning before sunrise for the first time in a few weeks. It's the time of day I love for waking up, and it felt good to be back to it. What I love about the early morning is how easy it is for me to wake up and start my day thinking about myself and my core values. I find that if I wake up and light shines into my eyes, it seems to jump start my brain, which resumes thinking about the work problem I left on my desk the night before. My day starts off with a sprint. But if I wake up gently, before the light, I can stay inside my heart. I can move about in candlelight, do my yoga and meditation with my eyes closed, and set my intentions for the day before my brain begins to get engaged. I can feed my soul at that hour without any distractions of the mundane life that awaits me. I arrive that those responsibilities fresh, nurtured, and eager to begin. It's a wonderful way to start the day.
This morning, as I enjoyed my softly lit world and interacted with my heart, I enjoyed every nuance of that time. As the sun came up, I found myself reflecting on a thought that has been arising in my mind for several weeks, triggered by different events and observations throughout this time. The thought is this: I've come to the place in my life where I trust myself, and that makes all of the difference.
I still have big questions and still seek big answers. But what drives me now is a more pure curiosity than ever before. Before, it was mixed with some worry about am I weird (the answer was usually yes), or why isn't my life working, or why does my life look so different from other people? Why can't I just accept what other people seem to accept, why do I have to have my own answers and my own experiences? The strange thing to me is that I can't answer any of those questions now, but the pain of not having the answers is gone. I understand today that I'm doing the best that I can in each moment and really know that is true. It's all I can ask of myself, to show up and be present in my life. The rest is just details. Finding myself, finding this trust, was hard work, but worthwhile.
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