It was a rare peaceful moment.  All the day’s work was neatly stacked on my desk and in my mind.  The driving was over. Although dinner was in front of me and my daughter and a friend were madly baking in the kitchen, I found myself sitting on my bed, chatting with a friend behind a closed door.

Our conversation veered from decisions and stresses to emotions and desires. Then Jenna said, “I just want to live a life with peace for my family and for me.”  

Yes.  The sentence sunk in and settled deep.

There is so much buzz about happiness right now: choosing it, raising it, hardwiring it; but I’m voting for peace. Peace has a different quality about it.  It’s a bit more weighty.  I imagine grounding in peace, like lying on the expanse of sand at Ocean Beach.  

We continued to toss around the complexity of our lives and it became apparent to both of us that you cannot chase peace.  The very act of pushing your way towards it removes the prize.

The times when we most intensely seek peace is often when there is an underlying change that needs to happen.  The focus of my decade of corporate change management work was always to move people and organizations through a change as fast as possible with minimal disruption.

But the more I focus on personal change, I understand that sitting in the space of disruption is meaningful time spent, as unpeaceful as it feels.  

This week I spoke with author Dr. Susan Plummer about her new book Deep Change.  She outlines a fascinating seven-stage process on the journey of deep personal change. Right smack in the middle of the journey is the shift of The Stilling:

“Where we arrive at the threshold between our known selves and world and what can feel like nothingness, with no new horizon in sight, suspended between two ways of being. In this state we wait, with our imaginations stilled, open to the unknown yet unaware of what is to come in the future.”

I breathed a sigh of relief while reading these words that put shape to a nebulous unsettling space.  Peace percolates from within our place of deep knowing. You can’t race to or push through or chase after it. Connecting to your powerful inner rudder requires stillness.

And then with your compass in hand, peace can mean action: big, bold, uncomfortable, risky action . . . that embraces the change that's been brewing and brings you that freedom known as peace.

Have you ever had an intense seeking inside of you that you can’t put into words?  A restlessness that makes your mind grasp for answers? Even your body holds anticipation?  Sometimes we know exactly what we are seeking in life . . . a new this or a change in that. However,  I’m talking about a deeper query, one without a clear and focused path.  It feels like more of a wave that you just have to ride.

Last month I found myself "surfing the Mavericks".  It’s been an intense journey of seeking that came unexpectedly and was hard to navigate.  It’s over now.  I am catching my breath and seeing my ride with clarity that wasn’t there for me when just my nose was above the water.

I wonder if you might be riding the same wave.  Are you seeking answers that aren’t ready to take shape?

I asked for help to calm the swell within my mind, body and spirit, calling on my beautiful circle of wisdom.  You know the combination:  doctors, healers, coaches, friends, family, teachers, mentors.  Ultimately the greatest clarity came from the Universe delivering two blessings.

The first blessing came to me while driving to the airport.  I love the belief of animal totems. They bring us messages of what we need and help us connect with our innate beings.   I have always felt a connection to hawks and have many stories of hawks visiting me.  While I was driving, a hawk flew up out of the field carrying a large two-foot snake in its talons. I knew this was a powerful message I needed to receive but I didn’t understand its meaning until I returned from my trip.

I had received an invitation to take the last seat on a plane and fly down to San Diego to hear and meet Ekhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer.  It felt like a high end pilgrimage to hear three modern day Western disciples.  

Ekhart’s words pierced through my seeking, “The need to understand your life is a mental construct. If you are looking for enlightenment like something that will arrive, you will never receive it, because it cannot be grasped. Let go and find a sense of not knowing.  This is your awakening . . .”

I realized my deep seeking has actually been a shedding.  Instead of grasping for something in front of me  I was actually letting go of a part of myself that no longer served a purpose.   And what has emerged is still taking shape. It feels wonderful.

Shedding may feel like a combination of yearning, heaviness, agitation, overwhelm, inspiration, or confusion.  It may be an unexplained push towards change. It may have an undertow of a lack of trust or intuition.  Shedding can penetrate your thoughts, emotions, spirit and physical condition.

Shedding is the work of change. It’s hard work work but holds a different energy. It’s an energy of letting go of a part of yourself versus trying to effort through “self develop”.  If I would have recognized my seeking as shedding from the start,   it would have lightened my journey.

My daughter just came home from school this week with a gift for me she made in ceramics.  “I don’t really like it Mom but you can have it if you want it.”  How did she know?

Are you seeking clarity using your old lens?  Maybe it’s time to shed some of your beliefs or thought patterns.  Maybe it’s time to shed the need for clarity. The skin I shed may not be yours.  The next time you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, try letting it go.

She is 97.  With a beautiful heart, failing legs, and a mind that some would say is failing too.

I see it a little differently.  I see a mind that has loosened its grip in a way we all desire.  Letting go of anxiety, to do lists, the need for comparison, planning for the future, regret.

She’s my grandmother and she has dementia.  It’s a condition caused by the gradual death of brain cells.

The space that has emerged is filled with humor, freedom, candidness, peace, pointed wisdom at times and an innate ability to be in the present.

There is also confusion, the sense of something not being quite right, and a loss of memories.  For those who love her, there's a sadness when they aren't recognized. Yet we always have an intimate visit with my grandmother’s inner soul.

And in her moments of clarity, her most authentic self steps forward loving and appreciating this world.   She now relaxes into daily gratitude. She trusts.  She feels.  She sleeps soundly.  She accepts.

At this point, dementia has removed layers of the mind in my grandmother that bury the soul in all of us.  Layers of thought, personality, memories that become our story, fear of the future.

It’s too early to say it’s a gift, but for sure it’s a lesson in what is pure . . . how beautiful an untethered heart and soul can be.  And, no matter the age, when a soul bares itself, we must hold and love it with the same compassion we hold a child.

Today, maybe we try loosening the grip of our own mind. Let’s relax into the present, allow our emotions to surface freely, let go of self judgement, and rest in a space of trust.

Last night I stayed up until one a.m. figuring out a problem.  At first, I forced a quick answer and moved on.  But I had been carrying a heavy uncomfortable feeling inside.  I knew I needed to go back and try again.  I needed to take the time to get it right.

When I eventually crawled into bed, feeling lighter . . . aligned, I remembered the advice from one of my most respected guides. 

It was the morning of her fifth birthday party.  The backyard was set up for a day of play and the sky was set up for a day of rain. I said to my daughter, “Oh I hope the rain comes soon so it’s nice for your party.”

Aria replied, “Mommy, don’t rush the sky! How would you feel if all the grass died, if all the leaves on the trees were crunchy, if all the flower petals fell off?"

It can be so hard to let life unfold at its natural pace.  Our current societal race invites us to push through decisions, emotions, moments of not knowing, so we don’t fall further behind. But often life’s unfolding takes sitting with it, circling back, waiting for the clouds to pass.

When we try to “Rush the Sky”, we often ~

~ miss cues
~ misinterpret barriers as something to push harder against
~ live with an incessant circle of mental analysis
~ feel off balance or ungrounded
~ use up our energy faster than we can restore it

There is a sense of stillness in a clear sky, even though we know it’s in constant motion. When life feels clear and sunny, there is greater opportunity to focus on your pace and create space for your inner compass.

When life rains upon you, it’s a bit more unnatural to slow down and be in it. The first reaction is to run for cover.  But, I invite you to try mindfully getting wet.  Know that your roots are growing stronger and that by drinking it in drop by drop, you will blossom.


My Teacher ~  A Lesson in Mindfully Getting Wet: