I'm a social scientist who helps people break out of the invisible traps and make whole-life changes easily and naturally.
If you really knew me, you’d know I’m feeling a lot of creativity and challenger energy flowing through me these days. My work is learning to work with it and to let it flow — to be in partnership and consciously allow this power to guide me.
What’s coming through clearly is massive desire to slice through my life like a samurai wielding a mighty sword and to cut out everything that no longer serves.
I feel a bit like a toddler wielding this sword. I feel wobbly and awkward and blind; I tire quickly. I am afraid to be unskilled with using it especially when I have so much energy — my story is that I’m not very practiced at focusing and directing that energy consciously.
I am afraid when I remember this inexperience — the careful one in me scares the young samurai with stories that she might hurt people or herself and that she should slow down or reconsider or seek help from an elder.
When the careful one says these things, the energy that was just flowing through the young samurai’s arms, hands and eyes quietly stops.
To observers this stillness looks harmless enough, but the samurai can feel something is not well. The energy, blocked from flowing through her leaks into any crevices it can find. It seeps into her stomach, her teeth and her forehead. It is achey and dull, stagnant and septic.
The samurai asks “Please tell me when I can draw my sword, and show me how to use it safely.” But there is nobody who can help the Samurai because only she knows about this power and what it’s like in her body.
I know that the path to mastery is learning to use my sword and to focus the energy flowing through me as much as it flows. To lead it and also to steward and serve it. To work with it.
I know that if I lose focus the risk is real, the impact is real. And I know that if the risk wasn’t real I could never learn to be a master.