could really help her and began sobbing as she told me how many approaches she had tried in an effort to find lasting peace. She had tried to keep a positive attitude, and when that failed she had gone into therapy. She had 72
w h y y o u h o l d o n t o y o u r s t o r y been to many personal-growth seminars, read hundreds of self-help books, and listened to countless hours of motivational audio-tapes. She now found herself devastated because after all those years of trying to fix herself she still felt a huge sadness just beneath the surface of her consciousness.
I asked Caroline to close her eyes and describe to me her life’s most painful incident. She told me that when she was five years old her father had come home, picked up her older brother, and then left. Caroline didn’t see either of them again for ten years. I asked her how she had dealt with the pain of that trauma, and she said her mother had told her that she had to think positive and keep a smile on her face. By the time Caroline was fifteen she was in so much pain that she began exploring every approach—from physical exercise to spiritual practices—that might offer some relief.
She kept looking for a quick fix, some bit of motivation or inspiration that she could hold on to for a day or a week. But the relief never lasted long; eventually she would slip back into the hopelessness of her story. I gently suggested to Caroline that she use the weekend to grieve the loss of her brother and her father. She stared at me blankly. “You mean, go into the pain?” she asked.
I drove home that night thinking about all the years each of us spends trying to change our stories, trying to pretend that our traumas or humiliations never happened, and trying to conceal the pain of our past. I reflected on the massive amount of energy we each expend trying to change the way we feel, the way we think, and the way we behave—all in the hope that one day, with enough work, our lives will transform themselves and we will finally be happy.
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T h e S e c r e t o f t h e S h a d o w Every time I lead a seminar, I have the privilege of sitting in front of a group of some of the most extraordinary people on the planet. These are people who have worked hard at their lives.
Some have studied with the greatest spiritual masters of our time; others have worked with therapists and other wise teachers to heal their pasts and make a contribution to the world. Yet still they are left with the feeling that there is more for them to know, more wisdom to be attained, before they will be whole. Their lives are driven by an internal struggle that continually keeps them searching for a better, ultimately more meaningful, life. For years I questioned why none of us can seem to find whatever it is we are looking for. Why, with all this knowledge, with all this wisdom, are we still on the hunt for something more? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is continuous joy so unattainable? Why do our dreams always seem to be one step ahead of us? Some of us have even driven ourselves deeply into debt looking for the answers to why our lives are the way they are.
In one of my trainings we listed all the methods, techniques, and approaches we had used to try to fix ourselves and our stories.
The list was huge. We had visited acupuncturists, past-life regres-sionists, and, for most of us, more than our fair share of therapists.
We had worked on our anger, our inner child, and our inner critic, and when that failed we had tried ecstatic dance. We had tried visualizing, affirming, chanting, and meditating our way out of our pain. We had sought the advice of nutritionists, trainers, life coaches, yoga teachers, and gurus, and when those didn’t work we had sought out our internists for a prescription of Prozac. We had cleansed our chakras, sniffed essential oils, and lit scented candles 74
w h y y o u h o l d o n t o y o u r s t o r y to calm our minds. Some of us had soaked in