Hello,
I just got back from a hiking trip to the desert mountains of Utah, and it was amazing. As anticipated, the act of disappearing left me inspired and invigorated, and I wanted to share a few thoughts with you.
Retreating, for me, is a necessary discipline, one I am still learning. Many great artists and creators throughout history have had to remove themselves from civilization to connect with their work at a deeper and more meaningful level, sometimes against their own wills.
Life is constantly inviting us to let go of ourselves so that we can experience rebirth. Sometimes, we are slow to recognize these moments—a death in the family, a lay-off, a divorce—but change is always happening all around us, often disguised as loss, asking us if we are sure this is who we want to be.
Our identity, in many respects, is an idea: a story we tell ourselves that is reinforced by our environment. When we let go of this idea, even briefly, we are free to re-imagine almost everything about our lives, including our work. Disappearance, then, will refresh a soul when done well.
On the retreat, I read these words from Lao Tzu, the Chinese philosopher who wrote The Way of Life:
A sound man by not advancing himself stays the further ahead of himself, by not confining himself to himself sustains himself outside himself: by never being an end in himself, he endlessly becomes himself.
To endlessly become ourselves, we have to let go of what we think we are. This, I think, is the quest of the artist, the visionary, the creator. She must go to the heart of life, tasting the marrow of it, and only then may she re-emerge to talk about it sincerely.
This can be uncomfortable. At one point on my trip, I slid down a rock face only to trip and fall head-first into a rocky gorge, worried I might break a bone—or my skull. The danger of the experience was both frightening and exhilarating, and that was the point. We have to find new edges; we have to go beyond what we think we are capable of if we want to keep growing in our work and inspiring others to do the same.
When we don’t allow ourselves to disappear, we often lose our selves in the haze of a frantic, unintentional life, settling for something less than our best. This discipline of stepping away from the outer world to access a deeper, inner one teaches me to let go of what I thought was true and allows me to access something new and altogether familiar.
Anyway, it’s good to be back. If you're feeling a little angst—as I was before the trip—I'd like to invite you to consider three questions:
First, how is life already calling me into a season of stillness? What changes are forcing me to let go of the old story of what I thought I was so that I can become something new?
Second, what is something small—be it a walk around the block or a few moments of silence—that I can do today to reconnect with my deeper, truer self?
Finally, what do I need to let go of right now to make room for what's to come, even if I don't know what that is? What used to work but is no longer serving me?
Send me a reply with your answers and let me know what is happening in your world. I'd love to hear from you.
Best,
Jeff
P.S. I still have a few coaching spots available for anyone wanting to work on their book. This is high-end, one-on-one book coaching, so please only respond if you are serious and ready to do the work. It'll be a six-month process, and I can only take a few more people. That said, just send me a reply with your book idea, and I'll share more via email.
See you next week!
