Learning to Let Go

So I've decided to stop dicking around and get right to the heart of the matter: Why I am here (blog wise) and why I'm even doing this practice.

Most people who know me know that the last 12 months of my life have been all about loss and change--a lot of it the big, wrenching, sudden changes that leave us face down in the dirt wondering "Why?"

Why now?

Why this?

Why ME?

I think these questions are all normal, and depending on how they're used they can either take us into deeper levels of awareness or keep us locked into the idea of a seperate self. They can either help free us or help us put up new walls between our hearts and the world.

Unfortunately none of the answers to those questions are particulalry ego-gratifiying. At least not the honest ones.

Answering them honestly requires us to be fully accountable and aware of where our responsibilities lie--and where they end--without assigning blame or judgement. Most of the time, in my experience, they asnwers that arise only create more questions.

Accountability. It's a loaded word. When I first started hearing in the context of awareness work/mindfullness I didn't really get it--I thought it was the same thing as responsibility, blame, etc.

It's not, at least not in the context I use it and the way it was taught to me; it's simply an awareness and acceptance of our role in creating our lives. It's the first step towards creating any real change.

It was through program called Powerfuliving that I first became aware of the whole concept. I had been working with a business coach named Michael Goldstein for about 6 months when I took the course. Michael suggested that I try it, since he felt we had hit a bit of a wall with the coaching--I was getting more organized, more successful, more productive, etc., but there was something interal holding me back. I was not happy with...well, anything. Myself, my relationships, my business. Everything seemed to be...stuck. In a holding pattern.

Michael ran Powerfuliving out of his home in Rhode Island. It was a good hour drive from my house outside of Boston.

Now before we go any further, I need to make one thing very clear: I am habitually five minutes late for anything. All the time. Always.

Of course, I always assumed this was OK. And true to form, I got a late start that first day. I left my house at 7:00am or so on a clear, sunny springtime Saturday morning--and I had committed to be there at 7:30.

whoops.

Of course, I drove like a maniac. I sped. I wove in and out of traffic, cursing everyone on the road...who the hell did they think they were, driving 65 mph on a Saturday morning?

And then, of course, I hit traffic.

A little over an hour later I walked into Michael's house. Everyone else (with one exception) was already there--8 other people who had committed the next 8 weeks of their life to this course. I took my seat on the floor with everyone else and started to apologize.

It was a rather shitty and insincere apology. At least that's what Michael made abundantly clear over the next 10 minutes as he grilled me on why I was late--and why I thought it was OK to make everyone else late.

Of course I threw out all my reasons, all of them perfectly reasonable and totally unacceptable to him.

"I woke up late" I protested.

"Ok. Do you do that often?"

"Um, yeah."

"And you knew you had to be here at 7:30?"

"Uh....yeah."

"So why didn't you set your alarm earlier?"

"I don't know, I di---"

Michael held up his hand, a gesture I would see frequently over the next few weeks. As in almost every time I opened my mouth.

"Paul, I don't really want to hear it. This isn't about you--it's about the commitment you made to me and everyone else here. Just sit with it and think about it for now."

I was fuming. My nature is to argue, to be right, to wind and wend my way around everything using logic and data to prove myself in the right. What the hell do you mean I can't talk?

"So" he continued "why else were you late?"

"Um, well...I got a late start. But I tried to get here fast--I sped like crazy--and then I hit all this traffic! And then I got lost driving around trying to find your house."

He held up his hand again.

"Ok, fair enough. why didn't you call?"

"Oh" I said. "I didn't have your number handy."


Whew. How could he fault me on that? I was a busy guy after all, taking a whole Saturday off of selling real estate to be here. I could be making money right now, damn it. Anyway...safe. Traffic and no number! Can't argue with that, can he?

How little I knew.

"Couldn't you have assumed there might be traffic? Or that you might get lost?"

"Uh...yeah, I suppose."

"And you could have saved my number in your cell phone. Or called Anne. She works with you--you must have HER number, right?"

I could feel my face turning red. He had me dead to rights. Man, what an asshole I was.

"Well...yeah. Look, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

something in my face must have betrayed what was going on in my head--the self-judgement, blame, etc. Michael smiled and said simply "Fine. As long as we're clear on where your accountability lies. And it's not blame; but you made a commitment to be here, and you broke that commitment. Do you see why that's a problem?"

I said yes, of course; anything to get the spotlight of off me. To be honest, I was furious by this point and was planning on leaving ASAP. Fuck this--I had better things to do! I'm important, damn it.

But there I was. For once I couldn't charm or manipulate my way out of something. I had to sit there and deal with what was going on in the moment. I had no choice.

Well, I did--I could have left. But I am almost as prideful as I am arrogant, and pride won out--I decided I'd be damned if I wasn't going to sit through this whole thing. I'd show him, damn it.

Finally, he looked at me and asked "Where else in your life do you think you might do this?"

Ouch. Uh...everywhere?

He held up his hand "Again, Paul--I don't want an answer. Just sit with it."

So that was my introduction to accountability. It sounds harsh, doesn't it? And it was. It had to be, because I was so resistant to the idea that I wasn't in the right all the time.

But the truth is, Michael didn't get angry or assign blame--he just confronted me with my own immense pile of bullshit. I kept on trying to squirm away, to justify, to fib and charm my way out of trouble. And he wouldn't stand for any of it--because he cared too much to allow me to live my life like that any more.

Wow.


It's been almost a year since Michael died. I ended up working with him for over 2 years after that day--both as a student and a fellow coach, helping him run Powerfuliving. In many ways he became a true father figure to me. Through his words, actions, and even his death, he was and is the teacher of the most important lessons I've learned so far.

I think of him every day, of what he taught me, and even now those teachings are just starting to make sense. It took years and so much work on my part--and now those teachings just blossom on thier own.

If it wasn't for Michael, I wouldn't be who I am. I wouldn't have the awareness and understanding I do, the openess, the compassion, the ability (however small) to accept loss and gain with a wise and open heart.

This is the first time I've written about him. And far from the last.