Saturday night, we had a dinner party with some friends. By the end of it, we were talking about the meaning of life, drinking herbal tea, and meditating.
These aren’t my spiritual friends—or at least the ones who overtly do this work or these practices. And this certainly wasn’t my intention when I started the night—which mostly consisted of Garrett’s famous cacao and fig pot roast, some red wine, and maybe a board game or two.
But it’s how the night went.
Years ago, I would have been so embarrassed to reveal that side of myself. I was supposed to be the smart, intellectual one. The one believed in science, who worked in healthcare, who knew all kinds of facts and figures.
It was hard—and downright shameful—to reveal my spiritual side. Certainly to the world at large, but even more so to my personal network. I might have joked that I was a “total hippie” to deflect away from really embracing these parts of myself.
And then something changed. Over the last few years—as my work deepened—I stopped hiding who I am. All different parts of who I am. At family parties or old colleague gatherings or social events. If it felt relevant and came up, who was I to deny leading a big meditation or helping someone think about purpose as I do daily with clients?
And things started to change. Because those who weren’t into it started to fall out of my life. Or I just—quite frankly—didn’t care if others were into it or not. I honor every subjectivity, including my own. To be quite honest, Garrett has pretty limited interest in half of the places my work goes. He’s into it until a certain point and then—over his head. But that doesn’t stop me from fully being myself in any moment with him. If it feels subjectively relevant to share my work, I do.
Because it’s unfettered expression. Just being myself in any given moment. And sharing what I feel called to share. It’s about embodying myself. My whole self. And releasing the shame I have around any parts.
Honestly, if you told me years ago that I’d be guiding friends through an unprompted meditation in the middle of a dinner party, I would have thought that it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. But it wasn’t—it was natural. Because it was me just showing up as myself.
And that’s the greatest gift I can ever give. To others. And to myself.
I used to think that I was too much—too intense, too emotional, too sensitive. That I wanted too much from the world. I was never satisfied. I was bored a lot. And I wanted more richness. I wanted to talk about things that mattered to me.
It’s shocking to think now that everyday, my job is simply to have the most intense conversations—to look at the root of distortions in the world and personal traumas in each of us. To understand the Universe in deeper and deeper ways.
And that I’m surrounded by people in my personal life—friends not even remotely connected to my work—who are interested in that intensity. Who’ve even come forward into the Sacred Circle and wanted to go deeper. Who allow me to be me.
I’ve never been too much. I just places myself in containers that couldn’t hold all of me. I couldn’t all of me.
And now I can.
It’s amazing how quickly life changes when you realize who your own—your own subjectivity—and then begin to use that as an anchor point. Everything shifts. And you learn how to hold true as yourself.
And that level of acceptance and embodiment is shocking. You attract in the most amazing clients, friends, and support around you. People who aren’t afraid to go where you want to go.
You might even have a dinner party where you’re exploring the meaning of life.