I’ve gotten a couple of questions about the masterclasses offered tomorrow as well as next week on Tuesday, especially about what kind of technology you need or how you access it. Basically, it’s like watching a TV program or a video on your computer, only I’ll be offering a slide presentation and talking, live.
When you click the link to your masterclass you’ve chosen to attend, you’ll be on your computer of course, and a new browser window will open and you’ll be connected. It’s best, I am told, if you have chrome or firefox as your browser programs on your computer.
No one will speak out loud or be identified–you can’t see who else is watching (same as a TV program). If you choose, you’ll be able to participate via chat Q & A and I’ll read your words, maybe even out loud, but I won’t identify anyone. This will be a time for you to go deeper into your own work and hopefully discover some new crack in your story that’s causing suffering. People new to The Work as well as long-time inquirers will all be participating.
There’s limited room, but you can still register here. This way you’ll receive the links to join, either Thursday (tomorrow) August 4th at 5:30 Pacific Time, or Tuesday August 9th at 8:30 am. I’d set aside 2 hours. This will be a little mini retreat for you with exercises to complete during our time together.
Phew.
There’s a lot that goes into organizing these things, and questions people have when something’s new and unfamiliar.
Sometimes, the what-how-which-when stuff….
….can drive me absolutely nuts.
Details.
Can’t the thing just work?
OK, so the people in Summer Camp already all know this (you guys are wonderfully patient, thank you–everyone was awesome).
A thing happened on Monday.
I’m traveling in Illinois and Indiana right now, and in the past several years, I’ve done a ton of on-the-road telecalls, from other countries, airports, hotel rooms, friends’ houses.
I know what’s needed: My laptop, headphones, good internet connection, and a somewhat quiet location.
I know how to find and arrange these things.
Well, so I thought.
I had arranged to arrive in Chicago and be let into a room with internet about 90 minutes before my daily Summer Camp for The Mind Inquiry call.
Except, the person who was supposed to let me in (I didn’t know them before) sent me a text she was in New York. And a friend would open the room instead.
OK. But no friend.
So 30 minutes beforehand, I realize I better go find a Starbucks (they always have good internet and my devices already recognize it). I get all set up in a Starbucks after googling the nearest one, but then can’t connect.
I ask the server.
“Oh, it’s not working right now.”
I immediately pack up my things, text my husband who has dropped me off (and is a super kind helper) and we go to the Chicago public library, a block away, because they have free internet.
Only all the meeting rooms are booked.
So we quick go to a Subway (free internet sign in the window, if you buy something). The clock is ticking. I have ten minutes now until the telecall starts.
We get all set up again, laptop plugged in, headphones plugged in. I keep getting a weird message to join the Business program of some kind. What business program?
Employees come over and peer at my screen. They never heard of this pop up message before.
Then a woman starts yelling in anger from the open bathroom door around the corner and keeps repeating “I’m 56 years old!” like she’s very offended, and there’s some kind of scuffling I can’t see and one of the employees runs out the front door of the subway wearing her green apron shouting for help.
I drop everything and leave with my cell phone into the street, following the frightened Subway employee (my husband nods Go-Go and stays to deal with collecting the computer equipment) and I dial-in to my own teleconference call–I know the number by heart–thinking we’ll do our inquiry together that way.
Only I can’t tell if anyone can hear me, and apparently they can, but no one can get themselves off mute.
Meanwhile, my husband has crossed the street, I rush behind him and we get set up in yet another coffee shop with free wifi called Dollop. Yay! We’re connected!
I email everyone to come on back, if they’ve left the call, because we’re on.
And all anyone can hear, when I speak, is the loud grunge music coming out of the ceiling speakers.
Fine.
I cancel the call. Or should I say….the call is canceled, by forces beyond my or anyone’s control at that moment in time.
Everyone has moments like this—when you push through to the next, the next, the next thing and the intended outcome STILL does not occur.
A harping voice arises….”You should have come to Chicago a day earlier, you should have been more deliberate in your organization, you should have, you could have, you didn’t, you screwed up, you disappointed, this two-block location was a devil’s triangle, the universe had other plans and they weren’t good!”
Have you ever gone over the way something unfolded multiple times? (There are so many more threatening kinds of moments, life-changing ones, than this one–that’s for sure).
The thing about that stressed-out voice that becomes critical, is there is a Mean One and a Victim born in the moment you begin speaking that way.
Mean One rages on about how you shouldn’t have done it like that and you could have prevented that thing from going that way….
….and Victim feels awful, like a loser, sad, small, stupid.
One of the best things in the entire world for addressing this kind of internal battle of thinking you’re doing it wrong, or you’ve been done-wrong-to by your own self (or the universe)?
The Work.
Because you STOP having a dueling-banjo conversation inside, and instead you actually sit with the broad and expansive four questions.
It shouldn’t have gone that way. I could have prevented it.
Is that true?
Are you sure it shouldn’t have gone the way it did? Are you positive you could have prevented it?
No.
How do you react when you believe it shouldn’t go the way it’s going, gone the way it’s gone, and you could have done something to change it?
Filled with voices shouting, all of which oppose each other and ruminate on outcomes endlessly.
Who would you be without this story that something (in my case, the teleconference inquiry Summer Camp call) shouldn’t have gone the way it did?
Noticing there isn’t a single thing I could have orchestrated differently, even though now I’ve learned something new and I’ll probably never do it again the same way.
Who would you really, really be, in this moment now, without the belief that something shouldn’t have gone the way it did? Something painful? Something hard? Something unintended? Something disappointing?
Wow.
I immediately see the bouquet of stunning green-petaled flowers on a low wooden table nearby. I feel the quiet air of the room, and hear the air conditioner.
Now back in that scene, as I picture how it unrolled itself, without the belief it shouldn’t have gone that way?
I notice I just kept following the simple directions. Like playing a game of tennis, or volleyball, with life.
Street, cars, sounds, shops, tables, brown leather bag containing laptop, hands moving headphones in and out of plugs, looking at human faces to ask questions, hearing answers, moving to the next thing.
No one got hurt.
Trusting Reality. Maybe there were very good reasons, and I don’t even need to know them all quite yet, why that telecall should NOT have happened.
Including helping me do the best I can, and still fail, and let go of the outcome going my way.
Sometimes, these turnaround examples can be tricky, when you have something happen and you really don’t get how it could possibly be true or truer that it SHOULD have gone the way it did.
But if you don’t force or push or grind at these turnarounds, only try them on like a pair of shoes, and see if anything appears for you that makes sense….you may become very surprised.
Turnaround: It should have gone the way it did, and you could NOT have prevented it from doing so.
Right now, what I can come up with is….
1) it’s helped me get more clear on my plans when I’m away from home, and determine better how to secure a quiet spot for the work I do (better self-care). 2) I get to see that I’m not running everything (always good for the lightness of letting go. 3) I rescheduled this missed call for another Monday in August, so I’ll get to stay connected with this awesome group of inquirers for a longer period of time. 4) I’ll never forget this vortex two-block radius in Chicago of internet connection attempt and failure–it’s already making me laugh how absurd it was. 5) Coffee shops of any kind are no longer an option for telecourse facilitation, which narrows down the field and makes it far more simple.
Ooh, I like that last one. Yeah. I just saved myself a lot of time in the future potentially, googling coffee shops on maps and racing to them to connect, like in the Matrix when they have to find a ringing phone.
The new way is calmer. Avoid the public spaces, and get the meeting room completely squared away.
Follow the simple directions.
Much love,
Grace
P.S. While I could never guarantee technology-glitch freedom, I expect Thursday’s class (and Tuesday, too) to be great learning times together. Thanks for joining me.