“Che, you fucking hippy.”
I have heard the above so many times, usually in regard to some claim I’m making that we should all be a little less shitty and a little more loving in a given situation. Comments as such are annoying for many reasons, the greatest of which being that is touches into the fact that I’ve always been a little embarrassed about how much I care. I fear seeming like some naïve little dope smokin’ west coast kid who seriously lacks clear seeing and discerning thought, dancing in butterflies and sunshine.
With enthusiasm and optimism and views of bright horizons of change, I have repeatedly smashed into cynicism, ‘realism’ and patronizing pats on the head. ‘There there, little girl, this is the real world.’
I know this is the real world folks. And it’s a bit of a mess. And also stunningly beautiful. We each have our own unique ways of being within this world. This world needs us in all our quirks and glory. My way has been to throw myself with little caution into the maelstrom with my giant bleeding heart and to sort out how to serve in the midst of it.
This past week, for the first time, I sat as a Certification Committee Member, certifying new Integral Coaches® for Integral Coaching Canada. One of the students, just after completion said “It feels really good to be amongst people where I can say I am committed to alleviating suffering and not feel like that’s weird.”
It’s scary to really give a shit. It takes something to move past uncertainty and self-consciousness to let yourself shine. Laying it all on the line and giving our lives over in our own partial ways for what uniquely matters to us is risky. My own way has repeatedly left me feeling silly or stupid, has led me to blunders and excruciating heart break. But it’s also touched people deeply, served in great ways and I now have enough of a spine to know that my way is the only way I’m going to be able to actually make something of the fire I’ve got in here.
As I read through the Brics of this week, I was touched seeing each writer’s unique way of bringing themselves into their pieces. I could feel my own self-consciousness saying ‘you should be more like that…write more like this…bring forward something like that!’
But that’s not my way. That’s their way. It’s painful to feel like I should be a little less me and a little more someone else. But this here…this is my way. A bit contemplative and a bit achy and a little bit on my knees begging for everyone to lay their hearts out for the world to feast. What’s your way?