The American Indian’s say that the longest journey a person will embark on is the journey from their head to their heart.
We all play a role and that role depends on how we interpret what stage of life we are at. For the better part of my life, I have been playing the role of a High Performance Coach, pushing myself and others outside the proverbial ‘comfort zone’. To many of you, this role and this space isn’t too alien. If you read books or listened to motivational talks with the words ‘mastery, peak performance, greatness, impact, hustle, and so on’, then you would understand my world all too well.
But recently, something started to shift. I was feeling less connected to the words associated with performance and more connected to the feelings associated with flow. I started to feel this innate need to pause my overactive mind — to stop the need to rationalize everything. Rationalization is the by-product of hustling — chasing that dream — that no one tells you about. You live your life rationalizing every piece of information, every move, every decision — and somewhere in all this, your body and mind forgets what it feels like to flow easily and effortlessly. This epiphany didn’t just fall into my lap from the Universe whilst I was sipping Pina Coladas on the beach or sitting blissfully in meditation. It came to me at the tipping point of physical exhaustion — that moment just before that final thread gave way. I asked myself one question: Why does success have to feel like a struggle? What am I pushing against? What am I resisting? Is this entire journey sustainable? This was the moment that lead me down the path to understand the process of surrender.
Why do we all need to learn how to surrender?
Let me ask you a question. What are the things in your life that feel like a struggle? Draw your awarness to the slightest amount of friction that maybe present. You may not be able to recognise the friction but if you pause for a moment, you will intuitively sense its presence.
I asked myself this question because by the Laws of Physics, if friction is present, it is slowing down the movement. And if friction is present, it will cause the object to come to rest because that is what friction does. Knowing this, I had to ask myself an important question. Is there any friction present in the aspects of my life that I did not want to slow down or stop? What are those aspects and if I intuitively felt an element of friction present, what could I do to remove it — so that one day I could live that aspect with an ease and effortlessness that truly honours it.
I held that thought in my mind for some time and eventually put down a list of the things that I would love to flow through me frictionlessly. I realised: I want to be able to learn and unlearn without the friction of my ego. I want to love without friction and be able to forgive with ease. I want to operate more from my heart and less from my head. I want to trust effortlessly and hold space with conviction for those who need it. I want to feel what true devotional love for God feel likes — not the type of love that is transactional but the the type of love that radiates from every cell of your being with the sound of His Name. This was my new journey.
Every new journey requires a new teacher.
This was my new journey but I needed a new teacher. I needed a teacher who would show me the way from my head to my heart. And instinctively, I knew it could not be anyone one of the teachers who writings I deeply admired. It had to be a teacher who lives instinctively from it’s innate intuitive intelligence. It had be a teacher who had an infinite amount of patience. And I had to trust that if I held the space between us mindfully, all the learnings that my heart desires would eventually rise to the surface.
So this series of writings is the collective consciousness of that journey. My unfiltered observations and learnings from the space I hold and trust between myself my little house plant (Scindapus).
