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About six months ago, I made a conscious choice to drastically change what I was doing and how I was doing it. Having been born into a society that values constant action, having been in personal and professional relationships where it was necessary to “look busy,” and after years of seeming to hit my head against a wall, I was burnt out. I tended to go from working really hard, to having some solid successes, to relaxing a bit, to finding myself back in a crisis, to working really hard again out of desperation.
Many of the “success gurus” emphasized making lots of phone calls, and sending lots of emails—with some mindset work thrown in for good measure. I did all of that and had results, but I had this distinct feeling that there must be another way. After all, I didn’t believe I could physically, or mentally, continue down that same path. The truth is, I didn’t want to do it like that.
I pulled back. I took a social media break. At the suggestion of some very talented coaches I work with, I started taking 24-hours of silence for myself, which has since become one of my favorite things to do for myself. Once a month, I fast: I don’t speak, I do not use electronics of any kind, and I do whatever I feel called to do for a full 24 hours. Sometimes this looks like meditating several times a day, sometimes it is walking on the beach or sitting in the park, sometimes it is just sitting on the couch or any combination. While I am doing these things, I get really clear on whatever it is that comes up.
One time, I spent several hours cycling through my previous relationships in my head and seeing all the nuances of unworkability that I had stepped over. Another time, I saw that a business partnership that I was considering was not for me. I have understood more about my kids, my past, and how I process my own emotions, all by just doing this one thing every month.
It was when I began this practice that memory from my childhood started showing up: “Birth is a beginning and death, a destination.” This is the opening sentence of a passage read every year during the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur—the Day of Atonement. As a child, I took it to simply mean that we are born, and then we die, and then we live everything else in between. However, as I descended further into my day of silence, I realized something much deeper: the author, Rabbi Alvin Fine, distinctly said that death is “a” destination, and not “the” destination. Relationships are born and may die, careers are born and may die, as was said in the movie, “The Matrix: Revolutions“: “Everything that has a beginning, has an end.” I then understood that I have died a hundred deaths in this lifetime.
A clarity emerged as I gave up the stories and beliefs that I had failed in some way because relationships and careers didn’t “work out.” In fact, I saw that they did work out—they worked out in the ways that I needed them to, to get me to where I am today. At first glance, it would make no sense that I am doing what I am doing today. I did not finish college, I went straight into the music business, I found myself making a living as an actor, I somehow began writing and directing award-winning films and through my own personal development journey, I acquired the skills and passion for coaching and having done all the things I have done, and experienced all the people that I have in my life, I developed an understanding that lead to me writing books, writing this column, teaching courses and seminars, and facilitating conversations for universities and corporations that wish to transform their culture and community.
My marriage had to end for me to get the lessons and experiences I needed in order to move forward into deeper personal development, the relationships that followed served very specific purposes in knowing myself and being able to support clients who are going through similar experiences that I had to overcome. And frankly, the “nice-guy” had to die enough deaths for me to powerfully harness the force and intention necessary to do this kind of work.
“Birth is a beginning and death, a destination. And life is a journey…”
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