“Assistant Lisa”
I can’t tell you how good it feels to be up before the sun, nestled under a blanket, coffee at hand, and fingers to computer keys. Underneath the sleepiness and the nervous stomach, there is a faint glow pulsating. It’s been such a long time since I’ve come here to write…I’m feeling rusty, yet hopeful. I’ve been so busy over the last 9 months with trainings and workshops and work and kids and practice and transitions and maintaining and future-tripping…and this moment, this space, feels like rest, it feels like arrival. Ahhhhhh.
Right as studying for my 200 hour yoga teacher final ramped up, I began another training course to become a holistic life coach. These two programs have proved to be more than I bargained for when it comes to my own internal work. The content of the trainings aside, just doing something new and stepping into another unknown, this type of real-world learning has been a precious byproduct.
Old patterns in thoughts and behaviors, ones I thought I had put soundly to rest, have risen from some deep hibernation, and I’ve had a terrible time seeing them through. But this week I got some clarity, some major clarity, and although I’m still feeling some of the aftermath in my nervous stomach and tight chest…this clarity and peace is fucking priceless.
Let me explain.
So, holistic life coaching…I think it might be one of my things, one of the things I might really love doing. Sitting with someone, fully present, intently curious about how they see and experience life, validating that experience, and doing my best to help them see themselves, their desires, and their situation a little more clearly so they can move forward in confidence and peace…What a precious gift. I’m so very grateful to have uncovered it.
And this all sounds so beautiful, but the element that has been tripping me up, is that it is vastly different than any role I have ever played in my life. Since forever I have been an assistant, from a little girl, all the way to today; supporting, making space, working for everything to run smoothly for everyone else. Because I’ve done this for so long, it is second nature to me. I can do it in my sleep. I’m really good at it and can do it with very little stress. So much so, I’ve told people, more times than I can count, that I would be completely content to be an assistant for the rest of my life. Which has been true, and could still be true. Except now, I’ve once again seen what I cannot unsee. I would have to be intentional in ignoring the invitations I’ve felt stirring. It’s like I’ve looked through the View Master, and noticed the space between the 7 overplayed scenes. I’ve been paying attention to the jolt, the in-between, from one scene to the next, seeing there is something more than the static order of episodes. And lately, I’ve been noticing the energy I have to muster to even bring the viewer to my eyes, because there are parts of me that have laid down the View Master completely, and experienced the brilliant, dynamic, ever-changing and expanding world that exists outside of the predestined. And if I’ve seen it in other areas of my life, if I’ve walked this path in a previous form, if I’ve laid down other preconceived ideas and identifications and found freedom, I can’t help but believe that this can be true here. These tremors and agitations are recognizable.
And now, as the potential for something more is partially being realized, I’ve been falling apart, as slight as a mudslide. Literally, there are parts of “me” that are falling off. I’m in the process of releasing a part of my egoic identification as assistant and stepping out of the projected safety of being behind the scenes. Loosening these layers of protection – false as they may be – leave me feeling vulnerable.
There are areas in our lives that are easier to lay down when they present themselves ripe for changing. Some labels and identifications slough off as readily as the first weakening leaf primed for autumn, falling effortlessly. Yet, some are engrained so deeply, they feel as painful and significant as losing a part of the trunk. In transition is a tricky place to be. When you get a taste of the promised land but are not in it, it is easy to wish it nearer and lose yourself in the potential of what could be, forgetting the gifts and importance of the surrounding now. It arouses the tension of not yet and brings with it criticism of what is. It prods at deeply seeded fears in us that we project on to the people around us. We want to jump forward, and that jumping forward can often lead to tumultuous wakes, rather than the gentle ripples of centered flow. The flow that comes with understanding that the work to get us where we will be resides in us, here and now.
One thing I am learning in this process is the importance of patience and loving-kindness towards myself and others.
Do not waste your life waiting. Resist the urge to wish forward. Love every part of this process. Love who you’ve been. Love who you are right now, in this moment, even if it’s just for the sake of its impermanence. Love where you’re going, even though you have no idea where that is. For me, in this moment, it is not about rejecting myself as assistant. It’s loving the little girl who assisted and all she learned in that role to survive, and how that gift translated into a professional career that has provided resources, wonderful relationships, confidence, and skills. It’s loving the woman I am today, the woman who still kind of loves assisting and being in the background, and the delicate and mighty dance that is happening as she is finding her awakening when she speaks, writes, teaches, leads. It’s about believing I am more than the limits and constraints of any title and loving every delicious moment between the awakening and the realizing of that journey. It’s trusting that the goodness I foresee in my future, not in detail but in feeling, exists now.