I didn’t post yesterday because I was in Boulder attending the first day of a two day workshop with Brene’ Brown, The Power of Vulnerability. Brene’ is recording it to be made into a six cd set that will be released later in the year, and videos to be used in an upcoming class, but she wanted a live audience to talk to, rather than sitting in a sound booth talking to a microphone. It has been an amazing experience to be in the same room with her and other like-hearted people, interested in learning how to be vulnerable, in living and loving wholeheartedly. Brene’ is the best storyteller–wise, grounded, authentic, and so funny.
Just in case you haven’t seen her TED talks, I’m going to include them here. They are worth the time. The first one, along with her book The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are, changed my life.
Brene’ talked yesterday about how we live in a culture of scarcity, constantly feeling “not ___________ enough” (fill in the blank: not good enough, not rich enough, not safe enough, etc.), and that our first thought in the morning is “I didn’t get enough sleep” and our last thought before falling asleep is “I didn’t get enough done.”
She also said that after a decade that included 9/11, war, and a troubled economy, “I think we’re tired of being afraid, of thinking and worrying about what we should fear and who we should blame.” This reminded me of a quote Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche shared last week that I’ve been contemplating:
Perhaps when we are finally fed up with torturing ourselves and others, out of our exhaustion will arise a pause in which we will collectively reflect upon our goodness.
I don’t know about you, kind and gentle reader, but I am certainly fed up with smashing myself to bits, tired of judging and blaming others, sick and tired of the whole thing. And even though Brene’ warned us yesterday that “those of us willing to show up and be seen will get our asses kicked,” I think I’ll take that alternative to being stuck, seemingly safe in my armor, disengaged and numb in my cocoon, and miserable.
Go ahead, life–kick my ass. I’m going to do what Susan Piver suggests, open my heart and show up with confidence, “the willingness to be as ridiculous, luminous, intelligent, and kind as you really are, without embarrassment.”