During the apex of summer, the season that celebrates the most life, I’ve been thinking a lot about death. The reality that we die: that I will die. That those I love and am close to will pass away. That, for some, this is a reality fast approaching. And, in sitting in relationship to death, comes this heightened sense of questioning:
“What do I want this life to be about?”
“What makes my life meaningful?”
I knew a lot of people who suffered from concussions this winter. Their lives were turned upside down. Mine too. It was a tough winter. At the moment of leaving my part-time job for my coaching practice, there was a pause in my stream of clients. Old clients wrapped up their coaching programs. An abyss stared me in the face. The thing I ran toward seemed to have been a brick wall. In hindsight, it was a short-lived pause, but at the time, I was faced with nothing. Darkness. A void. Questions that came up during that time:
What faith do I have in myself?
Is this what I really want?
What am I willing to risk?
Our culture ignores death, brushes over it. It ignores where we are all ultimately moving toward because our culture wants us to think we can be spared from our own suffering, and, ultimately, our own death if we simply get behind some cultural beliefs that will spare us such as:
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- Hard work equals success (at unsatisfying or unfulfilling work which somehow makes putting off self-fulfillment “worthwhile”)
- Being liked by others will save you from suffering and keep you safe (so best to comply despite defying your own truth)
- Money will provide security (rather than your own self-trust, ability, and competence)
Success programs often use external actions and behaviours as bait without spelling out the internal work required. When really our internal confidence, inner wealth, and self-love are necessary to create a relationship with the external that is (if aligned with our internal beliefs) successful on the world’s terms.
This summer I feel a sense of urgency – maybe because of chaotic and difficult experiences over the winter (not limited to career but that also involving family conflict and health issues in the lives of loved ones). A sense that I want to to make my life more beautiful – live my life more beautifully – and savour the beauty of life available to me more often.
And in reaching for this – this preciousness of light – I question the energy pulling me toward my mundane and worldly wants. For example, my craving for a home in the unattainable Vancouver real estate market which remains – despite my pining and obsessing – beyond my reach.
***How do I stay in a state of appreciation, joy, and love of the world amidst my relentless wants?
***How do I stay inspired enough by life so that I am connected to the deeper call of my spirit – and access the clarity of direction about what is a beautiful and fulfilling life for me, versus the noise of my wants?
*** How do I deeply find myself beyond my social conditioning and toward the me who – beneath the flashy wants – has some legitimate needs that – if listened to – would relieve me from the underlying suffering – that constant state of “ not quite there yet” that keeps me from the higher states of love, joy, and peace that in quiet moments I recognize that I crave?
Beyond the house in Vancouver
The better job
The more $
The perfect relationship
The ideal community
The conflict free family
Connecting with my inner voice and compass isn’t a static “solution” to my longing for home-ownership nor my need to live in nature. But it is a muscle. A way of being. A navigational skill that I can rely on to navigate the pulls I experience with the reality of what is truly needed. It is a guide back to myself as the inner compass of my life. It is what Australian Aboriginals call wayfinding.
And I’ve chosen to invest in my ability to self-trust over success schemes or programs that detail the ingredients for success. Because I’ve tried that. And it doesn’t work. And, ultimately, when the chips are down – it is me who I have to rely on to navigate the waters of life. And I want to be on my side. And be my own best friend.
Self-trust and reliance is something you can take with you. Not reliance on the world: its people, places, and things. It’s sovereignty: a sense of self-authority and dominion over one’s self. Authority over my own life. Sovereignty over my own land and Queendom – at centre of my own life and authoring my life on my own terms.
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