Being of Power

In “Practice #4: Give it Up to Get Empty,” we discussed how we can’t create anything new on top of old stuff. That’s never been more relevant than when we’re talking about the subject of “unfinished business.”

You may be holding on to resentments and indignation about how someone wronged you as a way of punishing that other person. Perhaps you think that bitterness is a useful technique of social control; in reality, it does nothing but give you stomach acid and kills off your light. As the Buddha taught, the one you really hurt with your anger and blame is yourself.

There’s no way around this: if you want to be of authentic power, you need to clean up and accept the wreckage from your past and in the present.

When we start to wake up to the need for a shift in our life’s direction, we can’t help but get excited about the possibilities. And that’s good—it is exciting. Often we rush forward and make sweeping changes, but the old stuff that held us back previously just keeps coming back and taking over. Until we get really complete with all the unfinished business lurking in the shadows, any sense of personal power we experience is a lie. It’s like standing in quicksand: it may look solid, but underneath is actually murky ground.

It always amazes me how much behind-the scenes-conflict goes on within the yoga community. But since it doesn’t look good from a yogic perspective, it gets hidden and covered up with flowery philosophy; empty, feel-good language; and fancy technique. At the Baptiste Yoga Centers in Boston and the affiliate centers worldwide, we work to keep honesty, integrity, and open and authentic connections. If we don’t, the lines of communication get clogged up with resentments, unsaid feelings, and thoughts that can quickly turn into cynicism and judgments. Then people start isolating themselves, gossiping, acting offensively, or going into whatever survival mode they use to keep themselves in the right.

We have a practice among the teaching staff in our centers that we call “go to your brother” or “go to your sister.” Very simply, if we have a problem with anyone, we go directly to that person and get very clear about cleaning stuff up. This is really powerful, because it keeps our energy connected and flowing as a team. Keeping things hidden and talking behind people’s backs creates the exact opposite type of power that we’re committed to generating for each other and our shared vision. Sure, when feeling hurt or wronged we can always get other people to align with our righteousness and build a little faction, but is that true power?

Imagine going to sleep at night full of knots, knowing that your life is a tangle of pretense, lies, resentments, and secrets. Now picture yourself going from that contraction to living in freedom and authentic connections—with nothing to hide and no unresolved issue constricting your mind. Getting real, coming clean, and telling the truth causes our entire world to shift into a new energetic space of peace and possibility.

We put so much energy into having to be right. If you think about it, almost all conflict comes out of human beings needing our point of view to be validated as correct. If we weren’t so invested in this, we wouldn’t get hung up on someone else thinking or behaving in a way that wasn’t in line with our position. Resentments arise from our feeling wronged in some way, and most battles we engage in are really just two (or more) people wrestling for control over whose perspective is “the truth.”

I know what you’re thinking: That means you’re saying that the other person is right, and you’re excusing what he or she said or did. But I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying there’s another way to look at this that might serve you better than the right-wrong game you’ve been playing up until now.

When you know something for sure—as in, you dig your heels in and claim it as a certainty—there’s no room for inquiry. There’s no possibility to see things about yourself that you might not have seen before or to realize that there are alternate opportunities for creation beyond the story that you already know. But if you’re someone who’s up to something bigger, and you get that standing open, undefended, and curious is a chance to keep evolving, then you’re aware of the energetic cost and impact of defending your rightness and how it stops you dead in your tracks.

This brings to mind a student named Adam, who told a story about something that had happened to him at work. One of his co-workers insisted that Adam had gotten an e-mail with certain instructions for a project, but Adam knew for absolute certain that he never received it. This turned into a big drama, because his team wasn’t able to complete the project and meet the hard deadline without that missing piece. Adam stewed about this and vented to his colleagues and wife for nearly a week, all to have them agree with him that he was right.

You know how this story ends, don’t you? Of course, Adam had gotten the message—it was sent to his alternate e-mail address. But his insistence didn’t allow him to even consider that it had gone to the other account or take any action with his colleagues other than to complain and blame. He didn’t have the freedom to step back and contemplate alternative vantage points or plans of action because all his energy had gone into defending his position and feeling victimized.

Even though this is a really simple example, there are tons of ways that being right shows up in our lives in ways big and small. Many of us have been hurt, emotionally and sometimes even physically, and we feel justified in condemning the character of the person who wronged us. I’m not suggesting that the awful thing that was done to us didn’t actually happen, nor would I ever minimize its impact. At the same time, we’re here to realize a new kind of power in ourselves and with others, and those layers of “It’s my fault,” “They’re to blame,” and justified resentments are standing squarely in our way, keeping us emotionally fragile.

Judging other people and situations as wrong in and of itself isn’t a bad thing. It is what it is. However, it does come at a price. When we get stuck in a right-versus-wrong paradigm, there’s nowhere to go except toward more tension, stress, anxiety, unhappiness, and so on. Typically, when we look closely at the cost, we realize that whatever the payoff to our ego is, the cost outweighs it.

We don’t surrender our rightness by giving in and declaring ourselves wrong; that’s just another way we’d be right about being wrong. We don’t let the other person off the hook or validate what they did (being right is a really juicy morsel to give up, isn’t it?). We let go of our rightness simply by our willingness to ask ourselves, “What is being right costing me?” Often the answer to that question is connection, peace of mind, love, real power, our sense of freedom, and our authenticity. We get the satisfaction of feeling right and justified in our position, but really, so what? What does that ultimately do for us?

I saw in my own life how, for a long time, I was operating out of so much righteousness and resentment toward my parents. It was covered up in “Oh, I love them so much,” and while that was true, it was a glossing over of this other unspoken issue I had about how they’d wronged me growing up. I eventually had to get myself present to what a self-centered jerk I’d been—I was filled with all this judgment, resentment, and false entitlement—and what that was costing me. Love, connection, intimacy, my energy, my creativity … all of these things were being drained from me because I was operating out of “I’m right; they’re wrong.” When I finally let go of mentally punishing them, gave up the payoff of being the victim, and took complete responsibility for my life, I was freed. My whole life was altered. I came out from hiding and discovered my authenticity; it was a breakthrough into a far brighter, happier existence.

In my experience, rightness is a very powerful brick to give up. To this day, it still rears its head for me. Whenever it does, I can acknowledge its presence and give it up. I keep doing so, again and again, and then create a new way of relating differently out of choice rather than reactivity. From that I can write whatever story I want as the author of my life.

The need to be right can really limit you. Let’s say that someone is giving you feedback, corrections, or coaching advice. What do you do? Most individuals move immediately to defend themselves. If the criticism is heard through your “not good enough” filter, then you take it as negative: “I just can’t do anything right,” “I blew it,” or “I screwed up.” Then you probably spin it to make the other guy wrong, explain why you didn’t do something as well as you usually do, come up with excuses, or even go on the offensive and attack. If you’re angry, you might slam doors. Maybe you stay polite and smile, but inside you’re boiling. You internalize it and feel bad about yourself (in which case you still get to be right about how “not enough” you believe you are), get passive-aggressive, or simply believe that the other person is confused and doesn’t know what he or she is talking about.

Everyone does this differently. Think about it for a moment: what do you do when you feel attacked? What are the automatic responses that come up?

Fear is behind all of this. When we get feedback, our critical reaction is going to pop up. We feel threatened, so we defend ourselves however we know how. It’s pretty simple, actually. Being right is a kind of power born out of fear. We hold on to the rightness, embrace our fear, and take ourselves out. Unfortunately, there’s zero power in this behavior.

The reason that this is so important is because you’re getting feedback from the world all the time. The question is: How are you holding it? Do you get empowered by it and see it as a chance to grow, or does it take you out? When you’re someone who’s about being of power and transformation, you start to see how this is a choice. You don’t have to accept the feedback as true or right, or reject it as wrong or bad. You can simply hold it as an inquiry in your space and see what comes out of it. Either it will fall away as something you don’t feel is useful in your growth, or more people will offer you the same assessment and you will see that maybe there’s something to it.

The word ahimsa is tossed around a lot in the yoga world. It translates loosely to “not doing harm.” It’s great as a global catchphrase to put on a bumper sticker or a Post-it on the fridge, but it doesn’t mean anything until it’s put into practice.

Ahimsa begins with the people closest to us. It makes sense, doesn’t it? If you want peace on the planet, it needs to start right in your space. For a moment, forget about the White House. What’s going on at your house? You can scream and yell about wars in the Middle East or Africa, but if you’re holding on to resentments and anger, you’re doing energetic violence right here—you’re contributing to war on the planet by fueling the wars in your own heart and life.

Wars are fought over righteousness. How many people do you know who haven’t talked to family members in years because they know they are right and the other person is wrong? When you hold that kind of anger, you really do need to ask yourself who you’re hurting. It’s like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

As someone who is of power, you’ll want to practice ahimsa right in your own front yard. Embody it by not being willing to engage in the locked-horns game of right and wrong. There is another way, and it’s actually astonishingly simple: if you want to win the game, then just stop playing. Sidestep it entirely by embodying the way of being you wish to create in your relationship. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “What you are comes to you.” If you want to create peace, then be of peace. If you want to create compassion, then be of compassion. If you want to create joy, then be of joy.

In the yoga world we call this taking your seat, which means getting fully grounded in your space. I’ve always been so inspired by Gandhi as such a powerful model for this. He didn’t “win” his fight by making his oppressors wrong; he simply stood open and undefended for his vision and wasn’t engaged in the right-wrong game. He took his seat of self-worth and remained squarely in his intention—his possibility for a new way—and thus transformed the world.

One of my students, a man named Stewart, shared a story with us that I think perfectly exemplifies this practice in everyday life. He and his wife had gone through a painful divorce, and they were both filled with blame and resentment and fought constantly. It was a never-ending battle of wills over who was right about every single thing, from finances to whether their teenage daughter’s curfew should be 10:00 or 10:30.

While this was all going on, Stewart came to a bootcamp and had a breakthrough around what his righteousness was costing him and his family, and how futile their struggles were. What was he gaining by fighting to prove his ex-wife wrong all the time? Absolutely nothing. What was lost? A happier life for his daughter and peace of mind for himself.

From that empowered state, Stewart chose to come into the dynamic from a whole other way of being. He gave up his complaints, blame, and need to make his ex-wife wrong. Instead, he started to practice total acceptance of embracing exactly who she is and who she isn’t and not getting stuck on any position. He stayed malleable, responding to her in the spirit of the collaborative relationship he wanted to create with her. He treated her with respect and appreciation, and even tried to help her out now and then. If she launched into one their familiar arguments that would typically trigger him, he would successfully practice being open and calm and respond with the suggestion of a compromise that was in the best interest of their child. Stewart did this again and again—as many times as it took to make it real. He was a pitbull for a positive, new vision. Eventually, she got on board with the shift, and a collective, harmonious relationship emerged as a result of his giving up his rightness. He was now able to relate to his ex-wife from a new, creative freedom rather than the resistance-filled realm of “make her wrong.”

It’s always our choice to be of power, regardless of whether someone else shares that mind-set at the time or not. It’s never about what another person does or says; it’s about keeping your eyes on the prize of a new possibility for yourself, others, and the connection that can bring about transformation.

You want to start calling yourself out every time you notice fault and blame come up. It’s a brick that you can bring into view, as in, “Oh, yeah, there it is again.” Each time you see it, give it up. Again and again, let it go … on the other side is the opportunity to take full responsibility for your choices in how you react.

The question is never who is right; you automatically lose the minute you start that game. The true question is, “What is being right costing me?” and then, “What am I up to in my life, and how can I stand in a new way of being that fulfills me?”

Like Gandhi, be what you want to see. Stand firmly in whatever new way of being you are looking to create in your relationships, and very quickly you’ll see your reality line up with your intentions in every way.

It can be difficult to rise above the right-wrong game if you feel betrayed, the way Michael did. He owned two thriving Baptiste affiliate studios in Texas, when one of his head teachers left and opened her own studio only a few blocks away, taking a big chunk of his community (and business) with her. Needless to say, this was a huge blow. Here’s how Michael described it:

“I was infuriated! I responded by insisting that my studio manager ask this teacher not to practice at our studios anymore. I went into a blame and anger spiral. I became very caught up in being right and making her wrong. I even told folks how I saw this coming and that she was never really on our team. After all, I was her teacher. I trained her. Is this what I get after giving her so much? I felt betrayed.”

The resentment festered for a long time, until Michael came to ask me for some coaching on how to relieve the situation. I told him that I knew him to be a powerful teacher and a leader in his community, and that he wasn’t coming from that authentic space when relating to his former employee. I gently asked him, “What do you need to give up?” and suggested that he already knew what he had to do: drop the brick of judgment and clean up the mess between them. I explained that without getting complete in this issue, his valuable energy would always be tangled up in it.

So Michael went to this woman and asked if they could talk. Here’s how the rest of the story goes, directly from him:

I asked for her forgiveness for being judgmental and righteous, and for gossiping about her. I explained that this is not who I am. I told her that I’m a leader in the yoga community (as well as her teacher), and I wanted to work with her in building our community to greatness, not destroying it. My thoughts, feelings, and actions of being right were destroying the possibility of creating anything abundant—for her and for me. She asked for my forgiveness as well. I felt so free and full of love after our conversation. I felt a big weight lift, as if this huge vacuum of negativity and anger in my body disappeared, and joy and light came streaming in.

A few weeks later, I attended her yoga studio’s grand opening. It was one of the most challenging things I’d done in my life as I walked solo toward the entrance of her new studio. A lot of people stared at me, wondering why I was there. It was in that moment I realized that this is what it means to be a leader in my community beyond my studio walls—to show up with courage and strength for others, not just for myself. In that moment, something that Baron always says struck me: “You are either an example or a warning.” I want to be an example.

A question for when any of us needs to transform a judgment or negative thought into a more empowered view is, “What do I need to take my attention off of, and what do I need to put my attention on?” Michael freed himself from the right-wrong game that was killing his energy by shifting his vision toward the bigger picture of what he is up to in his life, which is being a leader who empowers others in his community.

Often people don’t understand what’s involved in the act of forgiving. It’s common to believe that if we absolve someone who did something wrong, hurt us, or deceived us, it’s as if we’re saying that we’re okay with what he or she did … but just that once. The unsaid condition is, “But they’d better not do it again!” This kind of forgiveness doesn’t free us from the past, because we’re still holding on to fault and blame. We may in fact have been victimized, hurt, and harmed—and we absolutely don’t want to condone that—but if we keep blame alive inside us, we revictimize ourselves internally and energetically, over and over. And, as we know, that comes at a cost.

There’s a story of two vets from the Korean War who were in a prison camp together where they were tortured. They met at a dinner many years later, not having seen each other since the war. One of the men asked the other, “Have you forgiven our captors?”

The other answered, “Absolutely not. I will never forgive them for what they did to me.”

It’s kind of like that. Even though stuff may have happened to us a long time ago, something has to shift inside, and we need to fully let it go. Otherwise, we’re still held captive to it. True forgiveness involves making space inside ourselves that enables us to rise above the past and leave it behind.

While of course the circumstances of that last story were very real, what’s interesting is that a lot of resentments are unfounded and ungrounded in reality. When you get present and really look at what happened, you may notice that the person you’re upset with didn’t actually do what you thought he or she did. Your belief might be an interpretation you created in your own mind—a story you made up about it. Maybe it reminded you of something from your past, you felt scared, or you were threatened. In Michael’s case, for example, his former employee may not have set out to take away his students and be divisive within their community. It’s very possible that she was just looking to spread her wings as a teacher, leader, and entrepreneur and happened to have the financial circumstances to make that happen. It’s also possible that she didn’t act in total integrity while all this was happening.

What I’m getting to here is that we may be convinced that our viewpoint is right—that it’s the truth—but there may be more to consider than what we’re seeing (remember Adam, who was certain he did not receive that wayward e-mail?).

I do an exercise with my students that can help you open up your thinking about this. I call this the Voice of God exercise, because it shows us how we hold our point of view as the absolute truth when, in fact, there might be more to consider:

— Choose one person in your life whom you have some kind of conflict or unsettled energy with. It can be anyone. (I’m guessing you probably didn’t have to think too hard to come up with someone.)

— Take out a piece of paper and write every-thing that isn’t okay about this individual. What’s wrong with him? Where is she incorrect in her thinking? How has he wronged you? Refrain from using any enlightened viewpoints or spiritual spiels, and instead just write as if you were letting it rip to someone you’re really close to. Just shoot straight about what you think the person needs to change about him/herself.

— Next, write your justifications for keeping your point of view alive about this person. You must have good reasons for not giving it up, so get them all down.

— Now write, I don’t know the whole truth about this person. Then just see what comes out of that. We live as though we know the whole truth, but consider that it’s possible that you can’t honestly and accurately describe anything or anyone, because it’s always subjective. All you have is a description—just a story about something that happened in the past or is going on in the present.

If you come from “I don’t know the truth about this person,” as in you really acknowledge that you don’t know the whole truth, then what might be possible with that individual? What kind of healing, clearing, and new opportunities could be available?

A last word here about the practice of forgiveness: you want to give up the assumption that just because you’re doing your part in forgiving, your friend, co-worker, or family member should, too. It’s nice when that happens, sure, but sometimes the person may need to just sit with it or see you demonstrate your new way of being for a while. This is an act of generosity that you’re ultimately doing for yourself, so you can have a more authentic life. If any part of this is a strategy to get someone to apologize to you or accept blame, please know that typically doesn’t turn out so well.

Nothing anyone does can ever earn our mercy; nothing someone says or does can make up for whatever it is we’re holding against them. Pure and simple, as with anything we give with an open heart, the gifts of forgiveness will come back to us tenfold.

It’s especially difficult to give up being right when we see loved ones harming themselves the way Andrea did. She shared, “I love my mom … I admire her and am inspired by her. But she works way too hard and has been doing so for 40 years. She’s starting to have health issues that I don’t think she’s acknowledging. Her body is falling apart, and she just won’t do anything about it. I keep telling her, ‘Oh, you should live a more balanced life,’ and we have this ongoing tension because she’s more committed to her work than her health. It’s a huge battle between us. I know I’m right, because taking care of herself is important, and I’m not going to let go of being right here, because her well-being is at stake.”

I think pretty much everyone can relate to this in one way or another. Maybe you know of certain individuals who are harming themselves, who would be better off if they would just listen to you … and maybe you’re right. But what you want to look at is the energy that’s coming up here; it’s all about resistance, control, winning, or losing. You’re locking horns, and in turn creating a dead end. It’s beautiful that Andrea is so concerned about her mother’s health. At the same time, her approach in coming from rightness isn’t getting her the results she wants or empowering her mom. Unfortunately, they’re both left feeling diminished.

I suggested to Andrea that she give up her expectation of what her mother should be doing and stop making her wrong. We all want peace, and the way we get it is by taking out the idea that something is wrong here—that something needs to be fixed. What if Andrea just accepted her mother exactly as she is and as she isn’t and approached the relationship with only love and total acceptance? And then, from that softened perspective of acceptance, Andrea might start to see new opportunities to empower her mom.

When you give up the hard stance that you’re sure you’re right, suddenly a panoramic view opens up. It’s like seeing 360 degrees instead of just through a telescope.

Andrea tried this and noticed a difference almost immediately. By taking her seat in her intention of loving and accepting her mother, she saw how she could take care of herself more visibly when she was around her mom—and by putting out that energy, inspire her mom to do the same. She stopped yelling at her mother that she should go to the gym, and instead they got together two mornings each week to go for a long walk.

When you come from a place of inspiration and sharing rather than judgment and control, people won’t feel invalidated or the need to defend and resist and will in turn be more likely to be open to hearing what you’re saying. With this one small brick removed, you can radically transform the energy in your relationships.

At some point in my 20s, I woke up and realized that my life was messed up. I was lost and confused, and I had all this pain and anxiety I was dragging around with me. I went through a lot of self-examination and eventually came to what I thought was the truth about how I’d become this way: it was because of my childhood, how my parents had neglected me, and so on. I felt very sure that clearing the air between us was critical, so I went home to San Francisco bearing the truth as if it were some kind of torch that was going to light up our relationship. I went to forgive my parents for all the ways they had screwed me up.

Needless to say, my mom and dad didn’t feel that they had done anything wrong, so my arriving on their doorstep with a grand proclamation about how I was forgiving them for all their transgressions didn’t fall on welcome ears. They felt that they’d always done their best, and suddenly I was appearing telling them how awful they had been … but that I forgave them. At the time, I couldn’t see why this didn’t work or make me feel any better.

Essentially, my parents and I didn’t talk for two years after that. I went away and did more work on myself, expanding my understanding of what had gone wrong there, and eventually I realized, Oh, I didn’t take responsibility. I was taking responsibility for my anger, but still putting the blame on them for causing it in the first place. The clearing that needed to happen here was not in my forgiving them, but in their releasing me for having held them in such judgment for all these years.

I went back a second time, two years later, and simply thanked them for giving me life. In a genuine way, I gave them credit for everything good that I have. I’ve received so many great things from my parents, but prior to showing them my gratitude, I couldn’t recognize or appreciate any of it. All I could see is what they’d done wrong, all the stuff I didn’t like, and the things I rejected. For years I blamed them for what wasn’t working in my life.

Going back a second time, I took ownership and said, “Everything that’s great in my life, you gave me. Thank you. Everything else, that’s me—I’m an adult now, and I’m responsible. And I just want to say I’m sorry, because I held an emotional sword over you and I judged you.”

It was such an opening, since I wasn’t giving them anything to resist or fight against. What came out of that day was pretty amazing. There was acceptance present in our relationship, which had never happened before, and from there I really got to know my mom for the first time. She opened up to me about her own childhood, and I gained a whole new perspective on what an amazing woman she is and the life she’s lived—a true sense of who she was.

My dad also opened up in his own way. He’d always been pretty closed off emotionally toward me, and I resented this until I found out why. He’d grown up during the Great Depression as the eldest of 11 kids, and when he was 13 his mom abandoned them for another man. His father worked three jobs just to sustain them, so my dad became the caretaker of all his siblings. He never really had a parent. In the Depression, Oprah wasn’t around yet to tell us how to do it right as parents. I suddenly realized, Whoa … he really comes from a different world than I grew up in. I started having real, true compassion for my dad. I could see how in his own way, even though he was emotionally bound up, he’d always shown up with his own expression of love and care for our family.

Becoming aware of this blind spot was a breakthrough for me. I was finally able to see my parents, not just my idea about them. It took getting to total forgiveness and acceptance to digest the uncommon insight and incredible life lessons passed down to me by my father, a legendary yoga master whose message profoundly transcended the world of physical yoga. The practice of meditation, which was at the very core of his message, has increasingly become a source of tremendous power in my own life and the many transformed lives of the people he touched. The more I wake up as a student of yoga and transformation, the more I recognize how unquestionably my father is still a man way ahead of his time.

By taking responsibility for judging him, I actually healed something deep inside. Where prior to this fundamental shift I could only notice the shadow side of my father in me, I can now recognize all of his extraordinary qualities within me. He left his body in August 2001, and I am deeply and forever touched by his guidance and spiritual teaching and deeply appreciative that he always pointed me in the direction of personal development and learning more about myself.

Cleaning up the disempowering stories I had about my parents allowed me to finally put to rest events in my life that I had tried in vain to bury. When I healed my relationship with my dad, I found my own sense of masculinity. I also gained a deeper understanding into the importance of a father in a child’s life, which was a breakthrough for me in parenting my own kids. Connecting with my mom allowed me to heal my relationship with all women—including my ex-wife—and create connections with them that are unconstrained by the past. My being stuck in many different areas of my life immediately disappeared as I let go of the blame, resentment, and the need to be right. On the other side was a new kind of power and freedom waiting for me.

Taking responsibility starts with healing the fractures in our closest relationships, which are often the most challenging. You’ve heard the saying, “You only hurt the ones you love,” and deep down you probably know that’s true. It takes courage to come clean, tell the truth, and call yourself out in the context of these relationships, usually because resentments have had a lifetime to build and gain steam in our minds. Healing these fractures heals the fractures in our own hearts.

Taking responsibility also requires humility—the willingness to see how we’ve acted and recognize that it’s not who we want to be. It’s never too late. As the Turkish proverb goes, “No matter how far down a wrong road you go, turn back.” Ideally, as we become wiser, maybe we go down the wrong road but we don’t go quite as far. We correct our course sooner and restore our authenticity. We have those difficult, heart-to-heart conversations; start being real; and own what we’re responsible for—not tomorrow … not next week … but today. Right now. This is it. All we’ve really got is right now.

I’ll end this chapter with a story about a course participant named Alan, who was a very accomplished and wealthy guy. Through a lot of his climbing the success ladder, Alan had been kind of a bully and a jerk and created a lot of emotional wreckage for the people around him. When he came to one of our trainings, he really took on the practice of cleaning up those messes; he went home and owned up to how he’d behaved to the people in his life. He apologized and asked to be forgiven for the impact his actions had on his friends, co-workers, and family members. He listened, acknowledged other people’s perceptions and feelings about what had gone on in the past, and let them know how he appreciated them for who they had been for him.

About a month later, Alan passed away unexpectedly. I know this because his wife called to thank me. She said he died with a feeling of completion and peace of mind because he had made good with the people in his life. I’d always known this practice was powerful stuff, but when I heard this, even I thought, Wow.

Life is amazing that way. Alan had some type of spiritual urgency to clean up his messes without even knowing why, and he immediately went and acknowledged all that he needed to. I’m not saying that our lives need to be threatened in order to have this practice be powerful for us; exactly the opposite. What I am saying is, why wait? We can live powerfully by doing it right here, right now.