The idea of never being finished with my work bugged me when I first embarked on a path of self-discovery. I wanted to accomplish the shit out of enlightenment.

Releasing the need to arrive at a destination is the most liberating thing I’ve done in the last year. Well, that is not counting the many days I’ve gone braless.

A destination? There isn’t one.

I will never “arrive.” Not in this lifetime.

I wanted my journey to have an end game. A moment where I would have it all figured out.  A moment where I would be doing insane forearm balances and sitting in meditation for hou. I wanted my journey to have an end game so bad. An Eckart Tolle moment where I would sit on a bench in Central Park, see God, and change all my ways in one fell swoop. A moment where I would be yoga skinny. A moment in which I would amass all the treasure and dive into the money bin from Ducktales. You know the one. If not, I’ll just put this here.

The idea of reaching an end game is a construct of how I used to operate when I was ignoring my truth and following the rules of others. It wasn’t until the last few months that I connected the dots in this self-sabotage pattern.

I spent a great deal of my life playing the game. Early on, I despised having to do things I didn’t like so I found loopholes and shortcuts and made it my mission to accomplish any task rapidly. “Half-assed” as some might say. Regarding matters in which I don’t give a shit, I’d rather be half-assed than full-assed.  Even with my life hacks and systems of appearing busy, I hated the game and the rules therein. From being told I had to repetitively write sentences in first grade (which I pretended to do, but didn’t) to my inner-speak that told me I had to keep my corporate job for the health insurance (which is an outright lie of lack).  I’m happy to report that I  have great handwriting even though did eighty percent less sentence writing than my peers and contrary to all I was taught growing up in the Midwest, I have comprehensive health insurance sans a traditional career.

Back to the topic of “the game.” I exerted a truckload of energy doing, rushing, faking my enjoyment, and keeping up appearances that I shut off my connection to the moment. When you’re traveling through life at max velocity, you miss out on your bliss.

Reconnecting and recalibrating takes time. Especially after years of living in a routine of thought patterns that do not serve you. It takes practice to flip the switch of awareness. When you’re used to doing what you’ve been told to do and following a cookie cutter version of your life, it’s easier to blindly take comfort over growth. But what if you want more than what’s in your comfort zone? Practice. Compassion. With Awareness.

Practice Compassionate Awareness. Because we are works in progress. Ever-evolving.

It’s been nearly a year since I left my corporate job. I am still relearning how to live. I am still reconstructing my life. I am still addressing my thought patterns around work, relationships, money, food, my body, love. I will always be learning. < Which is delightful irony because that is nearly identical to the tagline of my former company. And it is true! I will always be learning.

My procrastination caught up to me yesterday when I was slapped with a $200 parking ticket for not displaying a residential parking permit.  I gathered a bunch of docs, after some forgiveness work, blessed the fact that this procrastination cost me nearly $400, and walked a half mile to the closest business that sells city stickers. Wait for it. The lady at the counter informed me I was missing a document. I had to walk back home to retrieve additional documents. On my walk back, I started to fight back tears. You big baby. Don’t cry about something so silly. Just get the bill of sale and go back and it is all taken care of.

I noticed I was irritated, but instead of pausing—I rushed around the house finding any and all documents related to my car, rushed out the door again—walked back to the Western Union and took care of business. Done and done. On the second walk back home, I proceeded to think about all the items I needed to accomplish. As I was musing about my writing adventures for the day, I received a text message from Chase. It turned out, swiping my card at a place that also offers title loans was a red flag for fraud. A few alerts later, my debit card was shut off. I fought. I struggled. In a fit of life not working exactly the way I wanted it, I snapped at Todd when he told me that my repeated pressing of zeros in Chase’s automated system wasn’t working.

I rewound the tape in my brain. I stopped the tape on my first walk back when I clearly remembered blocking and shaming myself from feeling.  Why didn’t I let myself cry on my walk? Because I fear what people think of me.  Because sometimes I’m afraid of the truth.

I forget about the magic that hides within my feelings. I try to avoid them. Emotions are rudders leading us to our truth. 

My fear is that I won’t be perfect enough, polished enough, right enough. I fear that I won’t be enough. Practicing compassionate awareness here—even though it was thirty minutes later— cultivated the gentle approach I needed. If I focus too much on awareness without compassion, I am a horse bucking. I rebel. I find ways to hide. Enlightenment deserves a gentle approach  to questioning my own motives—a blend of compassion and accountability.

Compassionate practice of awareness to me looks like: easing in to projects. Skipping ashtanga class for yoga nidra. Drinking lots of water. Stepping back in my business and asking tough questions about my values. Taking my time. Letting myself cry in public. Picking the thing that lights me up on the inside over the thing that years of conditioning says I should do. Being honest about my priorities. Saying ‘no’ just for fun. Allowing uncertainty to be my constant. Saying ‘to hell’ with expectations of completing a power routine in the morning that will only work if I rise at 7am. I’d much rather stay up late with my guy and watch the late show with Seth Meyers and wake up at 10am or so.

It takes courage to be aware. Awareness sits side-by-side with truth. To be aware, we have to quit bullshitting ourselves about the harm we cause to our own hearts.

What does practicing compassionate awareness look like to you?

To me, it is a gentle exploration of Goldilocks nurturing—that sweet spot between self nurturing—where I am not coddling myself and believing victim stories— and holding myself accountable.  Most of this points back to allowing myself to feel what I feel when I feel it. Not numbing out with whatever external stimuli I can find.

Often, I fall. I forget to breathe or I forget to take care of myself. That’s why I call this a practice. Failures will happen. Setbacks occur. Compassion says, Okay, you fell. Now get up and let’s start again. Falling is natural.  Feel the failure. Learn as much as you can. So you fell? No big deal. There is a time for everything. Now, it’s time to dust off your shoulders, get your ass up, and get back in the ring again.

Each time I rise, I walk away from limiting thoughts. I begin anew. Easy does it. Rinse and repeat.

That’s what enlightenment is to me. My journey is a series of epiphanies. I come to a new realization, paradigm, and/or perspective. I let myself feel. I allow any changes to take place. I settle in. Soak in the moment. Rinse it off. Repeat.

Allow each epiphany—every moment— to be an invitation to delve deeper into who you truly are.

Receive enlightenment in all moments. Easy does it. Rinse and Repeat.