For my entire life I have put most of my energy into other people's dreams. Helping others discover their truth, remember their deepest desires, feel their hearts, their worth and live the life they want with abandon and passion. That is all I ever want for my clients and students. Whether it was in our clinic, the conservatory or on the tennis court. Believing, knowing and being. Seeing life as happening for them. Seeing everything as an opportunity to feel, discover and expand. When I see people it's so easy to see their light, potential and beauty. I love that about my work. Though in doing so, I have gracefully avoided being vulnerable, often fooling myself and even forgotten my own dreams. Out of fear, unworthiness, as a distraction or something else. Underneath it all, I see how I have felt unworthy of my dreams and have, for most of my life, feared sharing my voice. The hypocrisy and irony of it all as I empower others to do it. A cop-out. A gift. A fix. A remembrance. Being good at it made it easy to stay in it. To hide behind myself and keep myself 'safe'. In truth it is there that we so often die forgetting to live from the fire that breaths within us. To allow its flames to stroke us. To fan us and feed us. Inspiring life yet again. Creating fertile land for the heart to root into and foster yet another masterpiece from the soul waiting to be born.
To be experienced.
To be lived. To be shared.
I absolutely love my work and perhaps there is something at play here that I am unable to see as I look through a lens of unworthiness. What if everything I did was perfect for the purpose of my soul's intention in ways I can not currently comprehend? In truth how could it be any different? I do not know what I do not know. Instead of me seeing the perfection of the experience I have often seen failure. Impatience, fear, rashness, confusion and other things I was judging while in truth it was simply an experience. A moment. As are all of those. I have been asking myself all year how is this happening for me? This long line of what I perceive to be complete fuck ups. From where am I choosing that would cause me feel and create this way. If everything is love then how does this work? What is this trying to help me see, feel, understand and embody? There are so many ways to see it. Yet something inside of me has me see myself as a failure. I always found a way to translate it accordingly. Even when we opened our own school.
It was inspiring me and helped me know what it was to build and develop a school. It made me feel alive, though only temporarily. Teaching was my passion fix. A space where I felt safe to be, to share, be heard, inspired, passionate, and co-create with others. I gave and got permission at the same time. A space for students to feel free to express their deepest truth and darkest most beautiful parts of their souls to be seen and celebrated by themselves and one another. It was incredible yet I still played safe.
There has always been this aching part of me that knows my soul is longing for something. Like it has been preparing for it for eons. Waiting for me to catch up to its resonance. To remember and believe in myself again. I thought having the school and the alternative medical clinic were it. I can see now that those were a part stepping stones. A means to reconnect to my own dreams. To myself. A bridge. Secretly avoiding parts of me and opportunities blinded by my own limitations. I longed to work with Bill Esper personally as a student and a teacher though it never crossed my mind because I always thought I couldn't do it and gave myself excuses like money or the school or something else. Meanwhile several opportunities showed up. Thinking they were for others or I couldn't do it for whatever reason, I later realized were actually being offered to me. The universe was talking to me. Spanking me. I just couldn't hear it. Feel it. My lens was adjusted to fear, survival, or something else or perhaps it just knew what it was doing and chose that for a reason. It feels important to me that everyone gets to live their dreams. The thing that I have found most is that people have forgotten what they truly want or even given themselves permission to have it. Though, like all dreams, they never leave us alone. Always quietly working the universe in whatever way they can to bring us home to ourselves. To our inspiration. To live and embody what we always knew was possible inside of us.
About a year ago I had an experience where I believe most of the repressed trauma that was stored in my body from this lifetime and so many others came up to dance all at once. It was the most intense experience I have ever had in my life. Stories I had been unknowingly protecting or fighting for with most of what I was doing in my life. It put me into a tail spin.
Someone said to me today - Be aware when you are being a dream killer to your own dream. When you are fighting for your limitations. Or just want to be proven wrong. It is strange to write in this way. What if everything is perfect? What if this is all perfect? What if we remembered it was? Can it honestly be anything else? So we get to choose. Or do we? Either way.
I was on the Caribbean coast when I got a very clear sign to come to Nosara, Costa Rica after Christmas. A change of plans. The journey here was beautiful, inspiring, and smooth. The countryside here reminds me of California with pieces of Vermont. The land just felt magical. Though ever since I arrived it has been rocky, extremely emotional and challenging as fuck. Nothing like what I thought it would look like. Not even close. I do know what I came here for. I wanted to know who I am, to get clarity on a traumatizing experience that happened a year ago and to re-write my story with Costa Rica. I was asking for clarity and completion so I could have that before I left for the States. I later realized I was setting myself up for disappointment with expectations, possible timelines shifts or even if it was clear why I came here what that resolution is supposed to look like. I have been judging it though allowing it as the stories that have been locked in my body, fears and love come to the surface again to shift and create something new.
I slept a couple nights at a hostel, a couple on the beach and then at a house that had a couple rooms and a tent. While I was there a small group of people got in an extensive conversation about politics, different cultures, and the state of the world. Mostly opinion based. As they were talking I could hear my channel the entire time translating everything in to a new paradigm of being. Neither better or worse. Just different. It was like listening to 2-3 people at the same thing happened at the Yoga retreat. I got so overwhelmed that I had to step out. When I did I just started typing and realized how full my cup had gotten and that I needed to type. There was just too much in my head and no more room for anything else. So I decided to find a place I could just stop and write. And write. And write. That is where the inspiration started with a passionate desire to empty my vessel on to paper where it could be seen, shared as I haven't before. Where I could be vulnerable.
The universe is magical. It is.
Dreams are there to inspire. It is the language of the universe. In the form of poetic and powerful dragons that relentlessly pull us through every and any obstacle that could ever be in our way with fire, flight and fierce love. Ideas that move our hearts to remember ourselves again as we expand beyond what we thought possible and bask in the dance of our journey into co-creation.
The language of our dreams is inspiration. Inspiration that begins with an idea, gifted to us from source, that is the beginning and, at times, middle and end of a story. A story that pulls our hearts and bodies through an extraordinary external and internal adventure into the unknown and creation
So what would happen if everything we did was from a space of inspiration and curiosity? What if we waited until something inspired us? Until something awoke inside of us and created from there? Moved us. From there. Spoke to and through us from there? A cup of coffee? A meal? A pen? A walk? An idea? A phone call? A sign? A paintbrush? A voice? A partner? A job? A child? A piece of sporting equipment? What if that was the language of choice of the universe? What if it was our language of choice? What if it was the resonance of pleasure? Of curiosity. Of Flow. To live a life of inspired action. It can cause one to define what is inspiration. Perhaps excitement, clarity, passion, adoration, curiosity, a fuck yes, a 10 out of a 10. What is it?
So for the past fifteen days or so all I have really done is write, drink coffee, and occasionally go to a coffee shop to drink more coffee (and get a chocolate donut) or walk to the beach for a moment and then discover I didn't want to go to the beach. Every time I do something that I don't want to do or force myself to do it because other people or I think I should do it, I have regretted it. Going there, getting there and quickly discovering I'm not there. Instead I'm still writing. My mind and body just wanting to type. To get this out of my body. To show me something and when I listen to it - it feels fucking amazing. In the past two weeks I have written over 57 different posts, now 58 on a variety of websites that have included the beginnings of a novel, LifeShift client stories, personal poetry and journal entries, stories about human-kind, past life stories, inner child writings, my dreams, free writings, and soon teachings that my channel has shared with me over the years on a variety of subjects. I have also begun developing my online shop so that I can better share the extraordinary technologies I have been fortunate enough to use. I am beginning to feel spaciousness and understand how much I have been keeping inside of myself. This time I am going to trust it. It feels like my system has been waiting a long time to share most of this with me and even longer for me to share it publicly in any way. My heart bleeding through my hands as they type long into the nights revealing to me their secrets at a time when the world is most quiet and my stories and all that wants to be heard through creation is most alive. This is the feeling of inspiration.
Up until the last two mornings, I have been waking up with panic attacks, anxiety and terror. Energy that I can now see is just trying to get me to feel it. To hear it. To love it and see it as long as I have the presence to be in it while it writes through my hands sharing its gifts and a part of my heart I locked away because I deemed it too much. I kept judging my intuition and myself thinking I missed something or just made a mistake (even though there are no mistakes). Then I realized that was just one of the pieces that was coming up to dance. As I have seen my bank account dwindle down and my fears and anxiety dwindle up. As I get close to a tipping point my system has been going through a variety of emotional experiences inviting me to react. To run. To jump. Instead I've just stayed put allowing the feelings and the stories to be felt, seen, heard and honored trusting that things are working out for me. That there is so much I can not see and that source loves me deeply and dearly as it does everyone and everything. Seeing an opportunity to just stop, allow what was coming up to come up and just allow, feel and listen while I continue to write for hours into the nights. Just allow, feel, listen and write.
And then with presence, curiosity and gratitude watch what happens. What happens if we only move from that space of inspiration?