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For much of my life, I’ve been one of the shiny things in most social situations. Classrooms, trainings, workplace environments, parties, teams. In all of these settings, I gain early acceptance, credibility, and position. It’s not something I have tried to do. It just happens. There have been a few exceptions, but even in those settings, I eventually find myself with a seat at the tables of influence.

After the bonks to the head that kicked me off of the speeding train of a successful life in 2015, I feared that I would disappear. 

And, to a large extent, I did. 

I was no longer shiny or useful or the “me” that almost instantly attracted people, earned their trust, and had a place in their viewfinder. 

I found myself alone. No table. No place.

Now that I am steadily advancing with my easing-into-vocational-life plan, I am finding interesting fears showing up here and there. 

For example, I am teaching a Yoga Nidra class at an upstart yoga studio. It’s at 7 p.m. on Monday evenings. I’ve been at it for a month and attendance is super spotty. Hmmm… Every once in awhile I find myself asking, “Is there something I’m missing? Is it me?” I love doing what I get to do there, but I’m feeling my insecurities.

During the early months of this past winter, I partnered with a group to create what we thought was a spectacular event for this summer. It didn’t gain nearly enough registrations to become reality. I find myself asking, “Why? Was it me? Was I the weak link?” Again, the failure to launch and accompanying fears flushed out some of my insecurities.

Now that classes at BSU have finished for the Spring semester and final grades are in, I am noticing that a part of my identity is also coming to a close until next Fall. The classes I teach there fill up within the first minutes of priority registration. They have waiting lists. They are highly regarded by students and often described as some of the best classes they have ever taken at the university or anywhere, for that matter.  

Strangely, I don’t find myself asking, “Why? Was it me? Was I the reason?” 

I just love what I get to do and who I get to be while I’m doing it. The doing is an extension of being.

I get to show up, be present, set the table, and watch a group of hungry human beings feast on food that helps them wake up and live well.

Surprisingly, the flushing out of my insecurities in the first two examples is the most important of these examples. It isn’t what I enjoy most. But it’s what I value most.

Seeing my insecurities and feeling them deeply has served to remind me of who I really am and of the deep interior work that happened through 8 years of concussion recovery.

I am reminded of who I found out I am when I seemingly disappeared from most people’s lives and they disappeared from mine. When I disappeared from the identity of my vocational life. When I disappeared from most roles that gave me a sense of identity.

I am reminded that I still get trapped in trying to become someone, something, somebody to prove my worth and value to myself and others. 

And, as these situations flush out these insecurities, I remember words that brought light into the darkest times of my life.

Words like,

“I am liberated from all becoming and live in the power of being that I am.”

Nothing to prove. Noone to become. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do.

Liberated.

Liberated from trying to be-come someone to prove something to someone. 

Free from that bondage.

Free from that illusion.

Free from the illusion that my classes at BSU make me any more who I am than the failures do.

Liberated from all be-coming. 

Living in the power of being that I am.

Living present to my self and the world. 

Living as I already am, not trying to become someone by doing something. 

And I am so thankful for these seeming failures that bring up fears.

I get to meet the fears with welcoming, loving presence. I get to love on them like I love on my kids when they are scared and want to be seen, heard, held, and feel like they belong. 

Rather than being compelled by fear to try to be something else or prove something, the fear reminds me to return home to who I am.

I am liberated from all becoming and free to live in the power of being that I am.

Liberated to keep trying, to keep failing, and to keep loving what arises.

Liberated from being defined by success. 

Liberated from being defined by failure. 

Liberated from being defined. 

Liberated to be.

I am that.

That I am.

Peace