Truth is hard sometimes (in a good way).

For two weeks, I’ve been wrestling with some ‘truths’ about myself and my life. Truths that don’t feel light or bright or shot through with stars. At certain moments, I feel as if I’ve painted myself into a corner – as if I have to now be this spiritual teacher who is perfect and completely enlightened and therefore, flawless. Other times, I feel as if I’m shattering.

Both of these experiences are evidence that I am on the path – and right now the path just sucks.

All the issues that I’ve pushed to the back of the closet are UP and burning through my life for clearing. And though I knew this would happen when I was getting the front of that closet sorted out, it still sucks – and hurts and triggers all of my projections, all of my escape clauses; all of my stories.

  • The story that I ‘should’ be younger, thinner, prettier.
  • The story that I should live in a different house, a different neighborhood, a different country.
  • The story that I should be married to a different man, someone more perfect (like me)(ha!)
  • The story that I should have more education by now; that EVERYONE else has a Ph.d.
  • The story that I shouldn’t be the ‘only one’ helping my aging parents move through these excruciating last years of their lives – where hospital visits are so frequent and so familiar that I know the routes, the parking attendants, the nursing staff, the cafeteria hours by heart.
  • The story that I should have saved, invested, managed and otherwise controlled the money that has flowed through my hands leaving nothing but a pile of restaurant receipts behind.
  • The story that all of this would have been possible if only I’d been born rich, had the nose job, worn my retainer, done my homework, gone to the gym more, studied with the right teachers, and you know, organized my office.
And of course all of my stories are set against the great big huge story that’s unfolding in the world right now:
  • The story of an economy falling apart.
  • The story of a world that seems to be catching on fire.
  • And the terror that triggers in me.
  • And the feeling that this is all my fault – that if only I’d done my part, this wouldn’t have happened. That we’d all be sitting on marshmallows, sipping honey laced lavender tea if only I’d managed to get up earlier, work harder – if only I’d, you know, saved the world.

Of course, I also know that this is the portrait of a person standing at the edge of her power. A person (me) who is both terrified and also, incredibly ready, thrilled and unbelievably blessed.

I have started a class and it is filling with the most gorgeous and beautiful and brilliant and precious human beings and I want to be of service to them – real service, deep, meaningful cell-tissue service

The kind of service that creates a platform/foundation off of which they can launch into their full gorgeous-ity.

And there, while I am standing at the edge of this breathtaking journey, the ego-self sidles up, whispering about money and power and ‘getting on Oprah!’ The ego self is manipulative, persuasive and distracting. And as she is  whispering things like, ‘Put on some makeup; lose a few pounds; keep that secret to yourself; don’t show them THAT part of your life!”  I feel all the joy juice go streaming out through the bottom of my feet.

The ego self is trying to convince me to pretend to be something I’m not: perfect, infinitely wise, unflinchingly positive – as if who I really am would frighten you away.

But I can’t be that person.

a) It won’t work. I’ve tried it – and I know that that path leads (ironically, amazingly) right back to this edge.

b) I don’t want to be that person any more.

If I’ve learned anything from this journey it’s this: You like me the way that I like me: comfortable, open, real. Just like you.

My real ‘fans’  are friends; my real ‘followers’  aren’t so much students as colleagues, walking not behind me but beside me.

So, I put my work out there – I show you what I’ve got and life comes at me.

It’s perfect.

A wave of money flows through my life. It washes all the old crapola to the surface – debt, stupid mistakes, overdue bills.

A wave of attention flows into my life and that washes all my garbage about power and worthiness and being good enough out into the light.

A wave of enlightenment pours into my joy cup and whoosh, the very next moment, there is this trickster in my chat stream reminding me what a true teacher is – and is not.

Perfection.

As the waves recede, the flash of fame, the spiritual spark, and the money recede too, but now there is space, room to breathe, new freedom.

So this is what clearing looks like, feels like! I lean into it. I watch a new wave arrive, let it wash through my life, healing, clearing, making room for light.

I sit in my imperfect house, in my messy office, closets wide open and burning, surrounded by the objects I love, the people who matter to me – the sun rises over the treetops, my imperfect (remarkable) husband shuffles by in bare feet and pajamas, yawning. I am home.

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Showing 18 comments
  • Dawn Waldron
    Reply

    Hooray! Flawed is the new perfect. I love this post. And Amy I thank you for reminding me of this today.

  • Celeste Rousseau
    Reply

    Yes, your story is my story . . . your thoughts are my thoughts; your failings, your victories . . . sounds like we are in a parallel universe 🙂

    Thank you so much for sharing your REAL self; it is cleansing, uplifting, comforting and it makes me feel connected !

    Blessings 🙂

  • Ingrid
    Reply

    Bless you! I could have written this same post myself- it speaks to so many hesitations and truths in my life. Thanks, sister!

  • Alana
    Reply

    Oh my. Reading this felt like reading the story of my own inner/outer life right.this.moment. Big. Beautiful. Lost. Terrifying. Perfect. It’s all coming up – all the ancient yuck – to be cleared and while I know it needs to, know that it’s because I’m also a person standing at the edge of her power, it is bringing me to my knees.

    I’m a person, too, whose stuff includes feeling less than/smaller than/invisible to people doing the work on a larger stage (like you Amy). At the same time, when I sit with those feelings, the fears the incredible stories I’ve created, I know there’s room enough for all of us. More than that, there’s a need for all of us. To quote a beautiful real-live angel of mine, I am so glad you’re doing what you’re doing because you’ve got it covered, so the rest of us don’t have to. We get to shine our lights, live our truths, step into our unique power and find our place.

    With great love and admiration for who you are and what you do,
    Alana

  • CJ
    Reply

    This is so beautiful…

    “closets wide open and burning”

    If we have the courage to shine light on our truth, others may open to their own.

    Thank you for this post.

  • Luzia
    Reply

    Beautifully written … feels so familiar … imperfect perfection … being on the edge of the wonderful … scared crazy!
    Thank you !
    Blessings,
    Luzia

  • judy
    Reply

    Hey Amy,

    We must be related. (smile)
    Fortunately, tomorrow is a new day. Fly little butterfly fly.

  • Peggie
    Reply

    Dearest Amy. Thank you for the brilliance of this post. This path is full of that snarky ego closet disorganizer. Knowing that I’m not alone (not just in THEORY but in reality) is so refreshing. I will always be a fan of your words and your way — because it’s so obvious that you are so truly and wonderfully the best version of YOU.

  • Jane Stewart
    Reply

    Hello Amy,
    Thankyou! It felt like terror to me also.

    ‘ I watch a new wave arrive, let it wash through my life, healing, clearing, making room for light. ‘

    I’m glad you’re here Amy!

    A warm embrace your way, Love,
    Jane

  • Marjory
    Reply

    “…but now there is space, room to breathe, freedom.” Yes! What a beautiful journey Amy. Bless you dear.

  • Ronna
    Reply

    Beautiful, aching, and yes, true.

    Being vulnerable is both un-doing and empowering, isn’t it? And even when the latter feels absent, it is complete gift to those of us who have opportunity to bear witness.

    Gorgeous-ity all over the place.

    Thank you for being a truth-teller. Stunning.

    • Amy
      Reply

      Thank you, my friend. You know what is most remarkable at all, in the middle of the hurricane of deciding whether or not to reveal all of this imperfection, it doesn’t feel like vulnerability, it feels like terror. I can only see that from the other side – after holding my breath and daring to make the jump.

  • Lisa Robbin Young
    Reply

    Um, yes. This, exactly. 🙂

    We are facing so man shifts in our society right now – not the least of which is a desire for what is truly real. In a world of “virtual” this and that, we want us some reality.

    We crave knowing that we’re not the only “imperfect” ones on this rock. That there are other people journeying right along side us.

    In reality, we are all perfect in our imperfection, but we can’t embrace that until we see it bear out in others. I think that’s why God (or insert your favorite appellation for Universal Love here) designed us to be interdependent beings.

    The only way to know we’re not the only ones, is to be looking for someone else.

    So glad I found you, Amy. 🙂

    • Amy
      Reply

      I am so very glad that you found me, too. And it’s been my honor, recently, to ‘find’ you right back. 🙂

  • Andrea Maurer
    Reply

    Oh, Amy, this is why I love you so. Your truth is everybody’s truth. We all have closets full of burning issues and egos full of lies and manipulations. Thank you for speaking your truth so that the rest of us don’t feel so alone and broken.

    Oh and by the way, you HAVE been of service to us – real service, deep, meaningful cell-tissue service. Please do not doubt that. XO

    • Amy
      Reply

      Thank you. 🙂 I am working on it… with your help, for which I am so grateful.

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