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When Will I Learn


Snapped this pic as I was leaving for Buti yoga at Rooted Tribe...and 10 minutes later I was crying on my mat. Before class even started! The back story: I have been working So. Hard. On the re-release of Banishing Burnout. I wanted it out in early August. Then I wanted it out before the wedding. Now I want it out before the end of summer. I'm staying focused, putting in the time, taking powerful action. But everywhere I turn, I run into a new obstacle. Like an episode of Sesame Street, I'm going over, under, around, and through that shit. What's today's issue? Solved! Tomorrow I can make progress. No? Another unforeseen challenge? OK, I got this. And that. And this one, too. I keep taking action, and even though I know it represents progress, I don't have any "product" to show for it. I've been working on creating videos for over a month. As of this morning, I have one. With sketchy audio. I keep taking action...but the frustration is mounting. Last night I did a meditation, imagining New Year's day, 2023, looking back on this year. My program has met my first goal for enrollment. The whole process--ads, enrollment, delivery, coaching, retention--is working flawlessly. I am so full of pride and joy. I imagine this future as though it has already happened, while chanting ek ong kar sat gur prasad: the creator and the creation are one.

I see a vision of a beautiful field of flowers. I am standing in the center, flowers as far as I can see. I am spinning in a circle, arms out, head back, radiating joy. I am laughing. The vision rewinds. The field is empty, the soil dry. I break it apart, I add nutrients. I plant seeds, nurturing the soil further as I wait for them to grow. I watch over them as they sprout, celebrating their tiny beginnings. I stay with them as they unfold, reaching for the sun. I am the sun. I am the rain, the soil, the nourishment. This is what created the field of flowers...me. My effort, my attention, my careful cultivation. Following my meditation, I channel in my journal. My guides remind me that nothing springs from untended soil. The process is just that, a process. You're not supposed to get it right the first time, they write through me. Allow the mistakes, the trial and error. This is you, working the field. This is how you get the flowers to grow. This is the path to the vision, the full-grown field in which you will dance. The harvest is coming. But first, the toil. It is the natural way of things. Carry on. They remind me that I am an exceptionally good student. I am immensely skilled at learning. That's all I'm doing, learning. I already know how to do that, so I can rely with grace and ease on my natural skills. It has been seeming like I have to gain a whole pile of new skills, but in reality I just need to trust the ones I already have. They will carry me through. This feels so good and right and true. I go to bed and sleep for 9 hours. I wake this morning full of confidence and excitement. I have only one hour of coaching today. I am a consummate learner. I have used my skill at learning to gather all that I need to tend my field today. I will get so much done! I sit down at my computer to quickly duplicate a Facebook ad. I can have this done before my coaching call. And then I will have four hours to work on editing videos. I am feeling focused and powerful! I am sure last night's meditation has set me right again, that my focus and the new realization that the process is natural and necessary are leading me to my harvest. Today flowers will grow; today I will create progress I can see and feel. And then... My ad won't publish. I get an error message that doesn't make sense. I spend some time trying to Google the answer, to no avail. After wrapping up coaching, I message Facebook help...

Two and a half hours later, my chat has ended. My problem is not solved. I will have to wait for a ticket to be created and a representative to get back to me. I have done zero video editing, nor anything else that I had dreamed of getting done today. I switch gears and (very) quickly and efficiently knock out some tasks for Queenpins, my women's entrepreneur group. I set a tentative schedule for the FEnomenon retreat, contact some sponsors, tidy up some things with a few presenters. I meet with an arborist, check my after-wedding to do list, and some pressing items to my list for the rest of the week. Then I bust out a Brussels sprout salad for dinner, so I can catch Buti at 7:00.

I've gotten a lot done, in a short amount of time. And I feel it. Not in the good way. In the fight or flight, I've been rushing, hello darkness my old friend, forceaholic kind of way. I feel jittery, like I'm running from something that is bound to catch me at any moment.


Still, reprieve is ahead. I know Buti is the perfect choice. Though I've never been, the website describes " [a] beat blended movement [that] forces you out of your head and INTO YOUR BODY. It is in this magical place that you integrate your human experience instead of escape it. All formats incorporate elements of shaking and vibration to help release stored trauma and stimulate cellular reorganization." Hmmm...yes, please. That feels like exactly what I need today--to be shaken out of my head and back into my body, to release, to integrate.


I snap a quick photo in the car so I can shout out the studio, take a short drive, then check in and hit my mat. I practice some 4-7-8 breathing in child's pose, resetting my nervous system before class. There is music playing. A new song begins. The guitar reminds me a bit of Jack Johnson, which in turn always reminds me of sunshine. I feel myself relaxing.


And then the lyrics* begin:


"I guess I forget that I've got all the answers

And I forget that I've got all I need.

Guess I forget that the path isn't easy

And what I seek is already in me."


Cue the tears. Guess I forgot. But how very quickly I was reminded. How very quickly my spiritual A Team swooped in to rescue me from myself. How very quickly I went from feeling all wrong to feeling alright, back to being enveloped in all wrong, and right back to feeling perfectly right.


Buti is an Indian Marathi word, meaning the cure to something hidden, or kept secret. The cure that is hidden inside. The cure that is within you, within me. That thing that I was seeking...that was already in me.


It is an energetic practice, and Rooted Tribe is a hot yoga studio. After an hour of flexing and shaking, sweating and stretching, shavasana found me sobbing and laughing at the same time. I was ready to release the frustration, the forcing, the doubt and desire to control, while at the same time ready to embrace my body and the entirety of my human experience. I was exhausted and energized, empty and full of grace.


"When will I learn that I've got this?

When will I learn to trust the process?

When will I learn that I've got all I need?

When will I learn that I'm already free?"


When will I learn? I'm thinking, right about now.


*Lyrics from When Will I Learn, by Rob Riccardo

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