Being of Power

“Among the great things which are found among us, the existence of Nothing is the greatest.”

— LEONARDO DA VINCI

Things happen in our daily lives that are good, bad, or otherwise. Every day, we have interactions with people and experiences ranging from the exciting to the mundane. In and of themselves, these events have no charge. Our challenges arise when we give them meaning. We create all kinds of stories around the stuff that happens—what it means about us, others, our relationships, our status, and so on. Those stories weigh us down, create stress and discomfort, and—if we pile them on for years and years—disease.

Here’s an example from Scarlett, the mother of two-year-old twins. The night before she was leaving to come to a workshop with me, her toddlers—whom she described as being in their “terrible twos”—got into some mischief and decided to smear an entire tub of ointment in their hair. Scarlett was in the process of packing and getting ready to leave town for a week, so she was quite aggravated that she had to drop everything to help her children clean up a sticky mess. She finally got them cleaned off and went upstairs to pack. When she returned not even five minutes later, they’d made another huge mess by painting on the floor. That was it. Mom lost it and started screaming at them.

Things like this happen all the time (especially when we’re dealing with kids!). The problem wasn’t that Scarlett’s twins made a mess. It was that she made the experience mean something. She interpreted the actions of her two-year-olds as proof that, as she put it, “I never get to do anything for myself … I’m trapped … they’re out to get me … my life is out of control. …”

An empowering question in any challenging situation would be: Can you see the difference between what actually happened—the naked reality—and the drama you created around it that’s giving it weight and charge? Even more, are you willing to drop those stories, knowing that layering on all that meaning and interpretation is blocking your natural power and flow? Such questions speak to what you’re committed to: your stories versus your transformation to being of power. We choose the latter when we quickly get to the facts of what’s happening in a situation rather than being stuck in the opinions and explanations we’re adding to what’s going on.

What actually happened is what you want to get to here. So really, what happened? In Scarlett’s case, her children put ointment in their hair. Okay, that happened. That’s the naked reality. They were full-on having a party, smearing it on their heads and doing whatever kids do. Their mom, though, interpreted the facts as something catastrophic. But there are lots of other ways she could have approached the situation, right? Maybe the twins wanted to imitate their mom putting styling products in her hair and were modeling her beauty routine. Or what if they were just being creative and expressive or simply having fun? The power here lies in seeing that you have the freedom to choose how you view events, and, as a result, how you respond. When you come from a neutral, relaxed place, you create the space to handle the situation in a nonreactive way (as I talked about in “Practice #5: Let It Be”) as you see appropriate.

Embracing naked reality is a practice of seeing the difference between what actually is and the garbage we add to it. Our work here is to step back, take a clear look at the bare facts, and distinguish them from our own fiction. Here’s the beauty of it: that which we create, we can undo and then create anew.

We live our entire existence out of our own point of view. Actually, we don’t even have a point of view. We are a point of view. That’s how confident each of us is in our belief that we’re seeing the truth. We wear different lenses through which we perceive our world, never taking into consideration that they determine what we see. They funnel our attention to only certain aspects of reality or a situation. We don’t see the world in front of us, and we don’t see the filter; rather, we only see what the filter allows us to see.

There is a retreat center I go to in Hawaii where they wrap the main hall—which is a big, pavilion-type building in the jungle—in heavy sheets of plastic so we can keep the heat inside when we do our physical practice (Baptiste Yoga is done in a warm room). It makes for an interesting experience, because the participants, staff, and I are basically enclosed in a plastic bubble for a week during these sessions. Many students have a lot of feelings and interpretations about the so-called bubble, so one time I asked everyone to list them. Here’s just a small sample of what we got:

The naked reality is that the bubble is none of those things. Those are just interpretations that the participants gave it, as seen through their own lens. If people are coming from a place of feeling constricted, they’ll see this space as limiting and stuffy. If they’re annoyed, they’ll see the bubble as irritating and ridiculous. If they’re weary or were cold that morning, they’ll see it as a warm refuge. But really, the bubble simply is what it is. It’s a large-sized room, with two doorways, wrapped in clear plastic sheeting—nothing more, nothing less.

Here’s another way to think about point of view. Students often point to their heads and say that they feel stuck “in here.” But there isn’t actually any reality to that. Life happens outside of us. The filters we have about what’s out there are in fact all in our heads coloring our perception. In other words, as the philosopher Goethe said, “You don’t see life as it is. You see life as you are.” We want to take off the filters to get back to what’s called samadhi, meaning “neutral vision.” In Sanskrit, sama means “neutral” or “clear,” and dhi is “vision.” It’s not colored, there is nothing added to block or limit our clear view.

Have you ever come out of an amazing yoga class or a deeply relaxing meditation with an expanded awareness beyond yourself, yet you were still fully grounded in your body and senses? It’s as if you suddenly saw and heard everything more vividly and felt more alive and aware. For example, maybe you had a conversation with a friend and could really hear this person. That happens because you’ve removed the filters and are fully experiencing life in its purest expression.

When we’re trapped in our own point of view, the energy gets depressed and repressed. The stories, interpretations, and meanings we give to experiences are the filters we need to drop in order to come to the empowering state of samadhi.

Not long before coming to a bootcamp in Costa Rica, Christina had radically changed her life when she left her longtime job—which, she admitted, had been her whole identity up until then. She was ready for something new, but didn’t really have a plan for what was up next. She said she was excited, though, because she was going to do some traveling through New Hampshire in the meantime. Yet then she immediately followed that up with, “Even though that seems really scary.”

We broke it down: what was scary? Was she afraid she wasn’t going to have a place to sleep? No. That she wouldn’t have enough money to eat? No. Encounter bodily harm? No. Was she afraid of the people she was going to meet? No. “Scary” was just what Christina unconsciously made up about her upcoming trip.

The mind gives meaning to everything that happens in the past or that we believe will take place in the future, and that becomes our story. And we love our stories, because they tell us who we are. A deep purification and transformation occurs when we have a breakthrough in seeing that nothing has any meaning except the one we give it.

The practice of embracing naked reality is very simple. When you find yourself spinning a story about anything—and you’ll know you’re spinning a story if you feel yourself becoming worked up, stressed out, or fearful—pause, get present to your body, breathe, and simply ask yourself, “What’s actually going on here?” At its bare-naked, raw form, what’s happening? What are the plain facts?

For instance: “My boss was unhappy with my work on a project and requested that I redo it,” “My husband was late for our dinner reservation,” or “I forgot to send my tax form in.” When you come at the situation from that facts-only perspective, you’ll start to experience space around it and land fully in the present moment. You can just be with the experience as it is and actively choose how to relate to it … and then calmly plot out your course of action from there. You can choose to revise the project, ask your husband if the traffic was bad, or call your accountant and set the necessary paperwork in motion rather than automatically launching into fantasy stories of, “I’m going to get fired,” “My husband never respects my time or feelings,” and “I’m a screwup who will end up in the poorhouse.” That freedom of choice is a tremendous source of power.

We don’t know what options are available to us if we don’t create that space between ourselves and our automatic response. Dropping all the meaning, Scarlett could just be with her two-year-olds as they are, without the filter of “They’re in their terrible twos” or “This is a catastrophe.” Yes, there was still a mess to clean up, and she still might have felt aggravated, but she could have also laughed at the absurdity of the situation, which would have a totally different impact than raging and screaming.

You know how you sometimes get all choked up when you tell a story about an event in your life? Well, that’s a clear signal that you’re carrying around an interpretation of the experience that’s weighing you down. The story creates emotion, and as a result you feel controlled and constrained. You’re not free from it. Tales from the past are the ones that most inhibit us; we keep the experiences and feelings alive in our minds and bodies, as though they’re still happening. The past isn’t anything but a memory, yet we’re still holding on to an old story as if it’s occurring right now.

On the other hand, take a moment right now and think of a situation that you’ve completely let go of. It can be an event from the distant past or even something that you’ve recently moved beyond. How do you feel when you imagine talking about it? Clean and clear, right? That’s what I mean by being free. The triumph from releasing the story creates the opening to ask a key question, which is, “What’s possible from here?”

The heavy meaning you add on top of your experiences is the root of all stress. Everyone does it; no one is alone in this practice. Life happens, and you automatically veer into story land. Your spouse forgets to pick up the dry cleaning: it means she doesn’t value all you do for her. Your boyfriend doesn’t call you back: it means that he’s pulling away from you. Your kids create a huge mess: it means that you’re trapped in a life of chaos and no one respects you. You lose your job: it means you’re doomed, maybe even pathetic—or worse, a total failure.

Consider that you live in a world full of inflated significance, and that’s why you’re so exhausted. Pour on all that meaning, and you’ll feel energetically heavy. Let go of it, though, and you’re in the domain of freedom, energy, and power. The following saying comes from the first Noble Truth of the Buddha: “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” Perhaps there is real pain from an experience, but your suffering can be greatly lessened by letting go of the junk you’ve piled on top of it. Having no story allows you the space to create a new, empowering one. And when we live from that, life is a creative act.

“This morning I hiked about a mile up to where I could get cell reception in order to call home. I had all this incredible stuff I wanted to tell my wife about my week here, but she was distracted and totally focused on dealing with the plumber coming to fix a pipe that was leaking. I hung up the phone feeling very hurt, like she didn’t care at all about what I was saying or what I was experiencing.”

We all get wounded like this, sometimes daily. We take what someone else does or says personally, which takes us immediately out of our power. Or we feel disappointed, offended, insulted, not wanted, and so on, and this leads to distress. Over time, it can start to become death by a thousand tiny cuts, as these emotional upsets drain our energy and life force.

It can be pretty automatic to make someone wrong the moment you realize that your expectations aren’t being met. Unknowingly at that moment, you’re usually triggered by some situation from your past. You leave the present entirely, and anyone speaking to you becomes a character from a previous time or event. Into every situation you naturally bring your point of view and old stories, which are things you believe to be true about yourself, such as, “No one cares about me.” Or maybe it’s an old, familiar complaint you have running in the background of your life, as in, “My wife never listens to me.” Communication with the actual person who’s there in that present circumstance gets weird, because you’re not really relating to the individual as he or she is, as things are, in unfiltered reality.

It’s typical in an upsetting situation like this to pretend that you’re not upset and that you’re not making someone or something wrong, even though you are. When you do this, you become inauthentic, and others experience you as being off. The question you want to get to here, once again, is, “What is it costing me to hold on to this resentment or upset?” That’s the immediate path that allows you to give it up, because you can see the peace of mind that it’s robbing you of.

It’s a helpful practice to get specific regarding what you’re upset about. Get very clear: He or she did or said what, exactly, and what did I interpret that to mean? That instantly brings you right back to the naked reality of the moment. When you get present and really look, you might notice that the individual didn’t actually do whatever it is you’re upset about. A lot of resentments are ungrounded in reality, simply misfirings of the mind. Or maybe they actually did or said the thing that angered you, in which case you have the opportunity to give up the brick of resentment and quickly get back to what you were up to before.

All that happened when Marco called home was that his wife was focused on getting a plumber to come to the house. That is the naked reality. Marco, however, made it mean that he wasn’t important to her … that his experiences weren’t of interest to her … maybe even that she didn’t love him enough. He created all of it, probably because it reminded him of something from his past (or a dynamic from their shared past as a couple). He felt scared and threatened because he had “evidence” from their interaction (“she was distracted”) that proved him right.

In my own thinking, I always want to get to whether or not it’s useful for me to be stuck on whatever emotional upset is derailing me. Is it allowing me to be a yes in my continual evolution and to what I’m committed to in my heart? Or is it a brick that I need to drop so that I can free myself and be of power? Since it’s a story I created in my own mind, it’s all mine, and so I’m the one who has complete and total say in the matter. I’m also the one who pays the piper with my energy. If it’s not serving me, others, or the planet, then I let it go, because I’m up to something bigger than that. I take ownership of my own experiences and feelings and interact with people in regard to what’s going on right now, not the things they did back in the past, or even some random event from long ago that just got triggered.

Whenever you find yourself tangled in an emotional upset, remember to pause, get grounded in your body, breathe, and distinguish between what’s actually going on in your environment and what’s going on in your head. Like we said earlier in “Practice #6: Clean Up the Messes,” notice what you need to take your focus off and what you need to put it back on. It’s a small but powerful shift in perception.

I once saw a large iguana in Mexico stop, as if frozen, when a cloud came between it and the sun. It wasn’t going to risk being wrong about the shadow, which could have been a hawk in the sky looking for a snack. It made me wonder: considering how we tend to live by automatic response, how often do we get paralyzed by perceived threats?

Everything we see, hear, smell, touch, and taste gets sent directly to what’s been called the reptilian brain: a small, primitive area of the brain that instinctively determines if a signal we’ve received poses a threat to our survival. If so, it reacts. The problem is that the whole process flies underneath the radar of our normal awareness, so fear can end up running our lives more often than we know. The even bigger issue is this: we don’t know that we don’t know. The reptilian brain is okay with not being accurate and erring on the side of keeping us safe. Even if the threat of danger is false, an alarm gets raised, and we react to anything that even remotely resembles a past threat.

Here’s how this plays out in our everyday lives. Something happens, and our nervous system goes automatically into fight, flight, or freeze. We recognize the body signals that let us know we’re in danger—pounding heart, sweaty palms, throat locking up, arms heavy—and we react. That’s the fear that becomes present whenever our reptilian brains perceive a threat. Of course, if we were confronted by a snarling grizzly bear in the wild, or if a stranger approached us on the street in an aggressive way, our automatic survival response would be a good thing, because it would serve to protect us. But that’s not the case when it kicks in during day-to-day situations, as in minor conflicts and confrontations. Or worse, it reacts to a random threatening thought in our head and our body experiences it as real.

What you want to notice is how you’re relating to fear when it shows up. Is it automatically taking you out, or can you see that it’s a reaction that’s probably out of alignment with the actual level of threat? A bear? Yeah, that’s scary. That’s a reason to freeze and play dead. Speaking to other human beings? Not so scary in reality.

Yet since our “fear body” doesn’t know the difference, it automatically kicks in. We tend to think that if we’re physically having this reaction, we must be in danger—that’s how real it feels. The emotions and body chemistry are real, but is the story? Or is it an interpretation all made up in the mind?

Everyone has his or her own typical adaptation response to fear. Maybe you get light-headed, your heart pounds, you have difficulty focusing, or you get a headache or stomachache. It’s really powerful to identify yours, because when those body sensations show up, they’re a signal to pause and ask that pivotal question of, “What’s actually happening?”

At a workshop in upstate New York, a participant named Jacqueline received a message from the front desk that her father had called. Hearing from her dad wasn’t a usual thing, especially when she was away on retreat with no cell-phone service. Immediately, Jacqueline felt her whole body go tense and break out in a cold sweat—her typical fear adaptation response. Her physical self signaled that there was a looming threat, so her mind was further charged up. She suddenly imagined tragedies of all kinds that must have gone on at home. Near hysteria, she got to the front desk only to find a message that said, “Your mom and I decided to go out of town for a few days, so we’ll be out of reach in case you try to call.”

That was it. No tragedy. But no one told Jacqueline’s parasympathetic nervous system that. Her body sensations were signaling Danger! Danger! so she instantaneously went into reactive survival mode. That’s how fast it happens.

This is valuable information, because when you feel your fear show up, you can take it as a signal to pause, get present in your body, find the source of the fear, and really look at it with clear eyes. You can look at the naked reality of the situation—just the raw facts—and ask, “What’s actually happening? What’s the actual threat? Is this really so scary? What’s scary about it?” You’ll likely notice that scary usually lives in your mind.

Fear happens when you get all caught up in your thoughts—you isolate from what’s really going on out there and start spinning stories. Maybe some things are frightening, but most of the time they’re nowhere near as bad as all the stuff you’ve made up about them. Just like Christina’s story about traveling that I shared earlier—she was going to New Hampshire, for goodness’ sake! I haven’t been there in a long time, but my recollection is that the people there aren’t all that terrifying.

The key to making fear disappear is to root ourselves down in reality. Remember that what we actually, physically see is the present reality. We’re either in story land or right here. Wherever our feet are on Earth is our path of power. For the most part, everything else is our reptilian brain in survival mode, creating meaning and spinning stories.

In my upper-level trainings, I work with people from all walks of life on how to be authentic and effective with and in front of groups. You probably already know that public speaking tops the list of common fears, so it makes sense that most individuals initially experience a walk through the fire of fear. But none of their fear-based adaptation responses help them to be more powerful or free in their sharing with others. I’ve never heard a student say, “If only my heart raced, my mind went blank, my mouth went dry, and I disconnected from my audience in front of me … then I could experience total connection and give an amazing presentation.”

You don’t have to be a yoga teacher or public speaker in order to recognize what I’m saying here. It’s common to feel fear if you’re speaking about something that’s important to you, or if you’re taking a stand or confronting someone about a difficult issue. You may have even become good at isolating yourself to prevent this from happening.

Power; peace of mind; and the freedom of communicating powerfully all the time, everywhere, and with everyone all come from the practice of flowing from your grounded center rather than from fear. That’s why it’s so important that you are in a practice of fully experiencing it, dancing with it, and acting in the face of it, rather than reacting to the auto response that’s hardwired into your nervous system.

This mechanistic survival system can keep us living inside a virtual box that protects us from anything unknown, new, and unpredictable. Unfortunately, that includes being closed off from wonderful opportunities that are only found through defying the predictable, disrupting business as usual and expanding into uncharted horizons.