I am hardly ever at a loss of things to write about. In fact when I started to write newsletters I was told they were too long and I should make them shorter. I could actually go on for ages about some of the subjects I write about, and most of all I like to express them in story as its more fun – and I hope more engaging too.
Today, as I opened the door to our little camper van Amy was talking on the phone, and I heard the words “Bring your most potent medicine out now”
It was probably the end of sentence, but for me, as I reached for my laptop to write my weekly epistle, it seemed like a most wonderful beginning.
I remember as a young father playing with my 3 year old son on the floor. All of a sudden he said “Dad, I don’t like it when you don’t tell people the truth.”
I was stunned, because I didn’t consider myself a liar. Sure, to keep the peace I might tell a ‘fib’ or two, but they were white lies, nothing serious. I could distinctly remember my father and mother making up stories to get out of a dinner engagement with friends. Instead of saying “You know, we just aren’t up to it and would rather be alone’, he felt obliged to find a way that would not offend his potential hosts. Instead of the truth it would come out as something like “Palmina (my mother) has a migraine”.
A harmless little lie perhaps, but one that taught me it was acceptable to make excuses. Little did I know they were excuses for being who I really was. Instead of telling the truth, I would seek the easy way, and here was my three year old son waking me up with his medicine!
What I love about young children is their directness. That’s the best medicine we can get, a pure reflection of who we are. What Demian said to me that day has stayed with me ever since, with growing effect as the years roll by.
As we accept the norm and form of our culture, we distance ourselves from the impact of telling our truth. We learn to hide our strength away and not to shine our brightest. Our very essence is dimmed by our efforts to conform and excel. We lose the confidence that was ours as little ones, often holding back what is most important to reveal.
But something else is happening too. By withholding our true self from any situation we are influencing those around us. This is serious. It’s misleading, and invites a similar behavior from others. How much of our lives is spent investing in the creation of artificial reality?
One of the most rewarding aspects of my work is to watch how people step into their courage. I clearly remember the sense of risk when I first went to a Breathwork. With someone lying either side of me how was I possibly going to allow myself to have a complete experience? I was shy!
Today, as I watch old and new breathers alike plunge into the unknown, I am ever impressed and humbled. And at the end of a session, the power of what is expressed is the medicine that they bring to the world. The truth doesn’t take many words to articulate. The connection in the room is palpable – exciting, soothing and safe. And the medicine that’s brought forward eases the deepest wounds, feeds the joy in my heart and ignites my hope for humanity.
If you were to bring your most potent medicine to the world right now, what would it be?