I am so excited that my latest blog has been published by the Huffington Post! They are one of my favorite websites, and it’s an honor to be associated with them. This blog is quite personal, so please comment on it and let me know what you think.
On every person’s spiritual journey, we are tested to help us learn. Occasionally, we invite frustrating people into our lives that challenge us to be stronger and stand up for ourselves. I have reiterated this lesson to clients for years now, yet I must admit that it stings when it happens in my life. I pride myself on searching for balance in all areas. However, learning compassion and forgiveness can be a hard lesson when we feel mistreated. Recently David received an invitation to a bar mitzvah on his side of the family Read More…
“You can’t have dreidels on your Christmas Tree!” We hear that a lot. People seem startled when they visit our home and are greeted by all kinds of religious symbolism. A mezuzah hangs on our door frame, a four foot tall statue of Buddha perches in our foyer, and a wrought iron cross adorns our garden. “I like to cover all bases. Just in case.” I say to new friends.
Many of my close friends are in religiously blended relationships. I can count six couples that I know of, where one was raised Jewish and the other is Christian. When holidays come up in conversation, it can bring up quite a bit of emotion.
When David and I were first living together, putting up a Christmas tree was a big deal for him. I didn’t understand at first; you’d think I had asked to place a 7 foot cross above our bed with weeping eyes of Jesus staring down at him. David explained that he was raised in an Orthodox Jewish household and is the child of Holocaust survivors, so he felt quite a bit of guilt around it.
“You have to realize how freaked out I am right now,” he would lament. The funny part is that David loves Christmas, and he often wants to drive around looking for homes that are decorated in twinkling lights.
“Really? The tree is not technically religious to me, it’s just festive!” I told him.
“I get that. I want to honor both holidays, but there is a part of me that feels like I’m abandoning my Jewish roots.”
“Well, you definitely aren’t abandoning your Jewish guilt!”
It was important to me from that point onward that our holidays represent both of us. We would have dreidels, stars of David and a small banner that says “Happy Chanukah” strung across the tree.
I feel so lucky that religions coexist in our household. I’m aware that it is not always this easy. I know couples who say things like ‘his’ tree and ‘her’ menorah. They live in the same house but are in their own corners, celebrating their own holidays. People seem afraid to honor or acknowledge beliefs other than their own, as if they will lose their identity and heritage.
Every year I supportively starve myself with David on the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur because it is his tradition. Not exactly one of my personal favorites, but I am supportive no matter the reason. This is why I understand his questioning of my traditions.
“What is this gigantic bowl in the corner for?” David will ask.
“It’s a Root Charkra bowl. It’s very important.”
“It’s very dusty.”
“Well you never know when your root chakra will need attention.”
In the end, I love the empowerment and joy that I receive from blending our cultures. Neither of us is particularly religious. We both believe in a higher power and like to consider ourselves spiritual. When it comes to traditions like lighting the menorah or decorating the tree, our focus is on creating special family moments.
Why does society ask us to choose one particular faith? Does there have to be one “right” religion? Raising children in a house hold that incorporates different cultural traditions is labeled ‘confusing’. When we were getting married, we searched high and low for a Rabbi who was willing to perform a ceremony under a chuppah with Tibetan Prayer Flags around it. Surprisingly the fact that we were two men about to marry wasn’t an issue for any of the Rabbis; it was the fact that I wasn’t converting. We continued our search until we found a Rabbi who understood that we wanted to create a life that honors both of our cultural heritages.
Every year when the holiday season approaches I realize how lucky I am that I get to celebrate both. Whether its Kwanzaa, Chanukah, Christmas or any other holiday, it’s really about disconnecting from the world and reconnecting with your family and loved ones. This particular year, Christmas and Chanukah fall on the same week. For my family it’s as if there is an outside force encouraging us to celebrate both.
This holiday season, I invite you to incorporate a tradition outside of your own belief system. If you have any traditions that you blend, please share them in the comment section below or on my Facebook page. Here are some easy ones: If you aren’t Jewish, try having a jelly donut on the week of Chanukah. The donut is fried in oil, which reminds us of the oil that burned for eight straight days. Have some Egg Nog while lighting the menorah or attend a midnight Mass. Remember, our stories may be a little different, but we all come from the same Source.
Can you believe that it’s November? The seasons are changing! We’ve watched the leaves changing, had fires in the fireplace, and cooked comforting soups on the stove. As usual, for months my family has also been talking about what we are going to do for the holidays. Seriously. This year we hit a record and in February my aunt asked what my plans were for Christmas. The details of our upcoming holiday family gatherings are always eagerly, sweetly and zealously pointed in my direction. It’s not that I don’t enjoy planning for the holidays, but I notice that it takes me out of enjoying the present moment with them.
I vividly remember my grandmother planning months in advance for Christmas Eve. We’d be visiting with her at the end of the summer. I’d run back to her house from the lake and barrel into the kitchen, to find my Nana perched at the table with a pen and paper.
“What are you doing Nana?” I’d ask.
“I’m doing the seating arrangement for Christmas Eve sweetie,” she would reply.
“But it’s August?”
My nana would plan that meal for months. And you always knew who she was mad at based on where you were seated at the table. We traveled to see my Nana during the summer and spend time with her. Why was she alone in the kitchen planning our next visit? We’re here now, let’s enjoy this moment!
When my parents first got divorced, the main question was how to handle the holidays. Every child of divorce knows that the holidays can be difficult to navigate. It seems like every year feelings get hurt. Someone feels neglected, and issues from the past bubble up as the brussels sprouts are passed around the table.
With the wounds of the divorce fresh in our minds, my sister and I decided that alternating holidays with our parents would be an easy solution. For nearly ten years that is what we did and it went fairly well.
The tides shifted when my nephew was born. Now that there were kids in the equation, I wanted to see them during the year as much as possible. It is special to see the energy shift as these little souls entered our lives. I never would have imagined my divorced parents in the same room for Christmas, but everyone wanted to be where the kids were. It seems that every time I see those little tykes they have grown an inch, facial features have changed, and mispronounced words become full grown sentences. I adore them and want to be a part of it.
My sister’s son is now six, which means that we have come together as a family for the last 6 holiday seasons. Although I am glad to see the family together, it is stressful to try and please everyone. It must be very difficult to spend the holidays with an ex husband or wife, and I often end up feeling like a need a vacation from my vacation.
“What if this year we don’t celebrate any holidays with family?” I asked David one day.
“What do you mean?” he quizzically replied.
“Holidays seem to bring up a lot of feelings for people. Why don’t we do our own thing this year?”
We arranged it so that we will still see our families for the same amount of time, but it would not be centered around any holidays. This seemed like such a radical idea. What kind of person doesn’t go home to see their family?
As the holidays get closer and closer I am surprised by how much guilt I feel. Am I a terrible son? Maybe having a stressful family holiday is just the way that it should be? Then I allow my mind to fantasize about how relaxing it will feel to take several days off and not have to fly anywhere. We can cook meals at our own pace. There will be no running around, trying to make a flight in a crowded airport. I love the thought of David, our dog Bernie and I just listening to music and connecting with the family that we have created. I can’t wait to sit by the fire, watching the twinkling lights on our Christmas tree and the soft glow of our Hanukkah candles. And who knows, maybe I will miss some of the family excitement/drama.
What are your holiday plans? I’d love to hear them, let me know by commenting below!
This might come as a surprise to you, but it’s hard for me to accept a compliment. This is especially true when it comes to my work. It’s not that I don’t think I am good at what I do. I’m personally quite proud of the career that I have made for myself. I was only eight years old when I picked up my first deck of Tarot cards, out of curiosity. I didn’t know that 26 years later I would be teaching people from all over the world. I love encouraging people to realize their dreams, but sometimes it can be hard to receive the encouragement.
I was in Seattle a couple of weeks ago to do several events. I was a bit nervous about one event in particular. As you may recall, a few months back we gave away a free Cosmic Coaching Package on my radio show. I was delighted to receive so many entries from all over the country, with people sharing their stories and expressing why they should receive 5 weeks of my coaching for free. One particular entry kept lingering in my mind, and when the contest came to a close, I knew which one was the frontrunner.
Our winner, Casey from Seattle, sent in an email that just popped off the screen. She expressed her ambivalence about her job as an administrative assistant, and mentioned her dream to become a fitness trainer. She seemed ready to make a change and I knew that I could help. Casey and I conducted our coaching sessions over the phone for five weeks and instantly formed a bond. We zeroed in on some of the thought forms holding Casey back from acquiring her dream. Casey’s progress during our journey was remarkable. In just over five weeks she resigned from corporate America, and manifested a job managing a fitness studio. She now teaches spin and exercise classes at Fly Fitness in Kirkland, Seattle.
Several months later Casey sent me an email, and asked if I could come to Fly Fitness to do a ‘No Sweat’ event; I happily agreed. As the trip got closer and closer I started to get a little nervous. Casey’s enthusiasm was so dear. Sometimes she would post her excitement about the event on Facebook, and her comments about me and my work were so kind that they were hard for me to accept. As a spiritual teacher, I occasionally suffer from the oh-so-irritating impostor syndrome.
“Dougall, I just got a sweet email from Casey and she would really love if you took one of her spin classes in Seattle while we are there.”
“Really? I’m starting to get nervous about this trip.”
“Why? They are all so excited.”
“Well, what if they have created this perfect image of who they think I am? I’m afraid I am going to disappoint them. Part of coaching is just being present for people, but sometimes they conjure up an illusion.”
“You’re freaking out. Just relax, it’ll be fun!” David says.
He’s right. The truth is that I feel the most vulnerable with anything related to physical fitness. It seems beyond ironic, like a grand cosmic joke that the Universe would have me coach someone on becoming an expert in the fitness industry.
The morning of my event at Fly Fitness I was more nervous than usual. I’ve been doing this for years. But on this particular night I would be speaking to about a dozen people in a gym. Smaller groups tend to be harder for me. In my experience, people hesitate to laugh in smaller groups. When I speak to a hundred or more people, the energy seems to move around more easily.
As we walked over to the gym, Casey raced out the door to come greet us. Casey is an adorable woman, just like she is on the phone. She has naturally flushed rosy checks and a sunny, cheerful demeanor about her.
“Hi Dougall, I am so excited for tonight!”
Casey gives me a big hug and we make our way into the studio. There is a circle of women waiting for me.
“Are we late?” I ask Casey.
“You’re fashionably late.” she politely replies.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I was late to anything. Seriously, I am always early. The last time we flew, I literally got us to the airport three hours early. In my mind if you aren’t 15 minutes early, you’re late. The fact that I got the time wrong reminds me of how nervous I am to be in a gym right now. What would they think if they saw the burger and fries that I ate last night? I knew I should have had the salad. I’ve got burger written all over my aura.
“What kind of a psychic doesn’t know he is going to be late?” I joke to the group.
As the group laughs, I try to take my seat and find my center. We are in a fitness studio, and all I can think of is being the overweight kid in seventh grade gym class. I had failed gym several years in a row. I know what you’re thinking; who fails gym? Rather than face my fear I actually convinced a doctor to write me a note so that I could get out of gym class entirely. Now here I am, seated next to my coaching student, as well as the owner of Fly Fitness who had a reading from me in 2003! Coincidence? I think not.
Casey begins by telling the group about her experience with me. Casey wells up with tears and gives the most heartfelt explanation of our work together. By the time she is done I too am crying. I am taking deep breaths and really trying to listen to what she is saying. The conversation shifts to how funny it is that Casey ends up working at a gym that is owned by someone I have worked with before, Traci.
“I had a reading with Dougall in 2003, and I still have the notes!” Traci tells the group.
With that,Traci pulls out her notes from our reading and it has my really old business card stapled to the top. She starts reading off some of the predictions I accurately made. I can hardly hear her because I am so focused on those ugly business cards I used to have. Who picks plain white and black bubble lettering? When did I buy those cards? I can’t believe she still has one. She might be the most organized person I have ever met.
To hear this follow up from two wonderful people was so dear, so kind. And yet I was having a hard time absorbing it. Finally it was my turn to talk and I did what I do best, focus on other people’s problems. I gave a short talk and then spent the rest of the night giving mini-readings to everyone who came to the event. When we finished I promised Casey I would come to her spin class on Saturday.
“David! We must be on time this morning!” I snap.
“Don’t worry its right across the street.”
“Are you kidding? We were late last time. I can’t bear that again. I want to be on time for her class.”
Typically when I go to the gym I like to blend into the background. I put on my headphones and I begin my process. Even if I am taking a class I just want the teacher to ignore me. Don’t adjust my posture. Don’t ask me my name. Just let me go through the torture and get the hell out of there. Fly Fitness is completely different. They want to make sure that each student is taken care of and attended to.
“Just so you know, everyone knows you are here and they know how excited I am.” Casey says with beaming eyes.
I choose my location of being right in the middle. Normally I would pick the back row, but today the tables have turned. My client, or student if you will, is my teacher for the next hour. Casey’s students slowly enter the room and hop on bikes surrounding us. You can see how much they love her by the way they talk about her.
“This is my favorite place, I’ve lost over 30 pounds.” I hear someone tell David.
“I love this class, it’s so fun.” The woman to my right says.
Casey skillfully adjusts my seat and hands me a bottle of water. She then walks to the front of the class and takes her seat on a bike that is perched up on a small makeshift stage so we can see her.
Looking up at Casey I can’t tell if I am nervous or if she is nervous. Maybe it’s both. One thing I know for sure is how proud of her I feel. It’s kind of magical when you think about it. Our contest winner had a total career change, and now I was in a room taking a class lead by her. My heart started to swell.
The music started, and the next hour was seriously the best exercise class I have ever taken in my entire life. I’m not sure I can even limit my explanation to just an “excercise” or spin class. Our teacher guided us through an hour with wisdom and empowerment. Casey was so engaged with every person in that room.
“During this next minute you are going to push yourself. Feel the power in your body. Feel your potential. Everyone in this room is a rock star.”
When we reached the 40 minute mark, my entire bike is covered in sweat. My hair is floppy and there is a puddle of sweat around the bike as well. Casey ends the class with a meditation. My body feels exhausted, electric, alive, pure, clean and present all at the same time. I take deep breaths and forget that I used to teach her. I hear my teacher’s words of wisdom envelop the room.
“Give thanks to your body. Appreciate what it does for you.”
With every affirmation she says I can’t help but wish that there was a Fly Fitness in Los Angeles.
“I know we’re sweaty, but can we take a photo?” Casey asks.
Normally I am kind of particular about taking photos with people. With Facebook and Twitter I know this photo will be around forever and the front of my shirt is totally soaked. But I am so happy that I say yes. I am so proud of her. And it was hands down the best class I have ever taken in my life.
As a teacher, it is rare that I get to have a full circle moment with a student/client. I teach people to work out their soul bodies and now Casey teaches people to work out their physical body while still maintaining a connection to their spiritual bodies as well. This experience reminds me to accept encouragement and support when it presents itself. Casey allowed me to encourage her dreams, which is easy for me. In return, Casey encouraged my work and my physical fitness.
In an effort to be authentic, I'm sharing this unglamorous photo
I’ve never been much of a morning person. In fact, I usually don’t see a client until 1pm-crazy right? It’s not like I don’t do any work in the morning, but it does take me a while to find my energy for the day. Even as a kid, every Christmas my Mom would give me a new alarm clock with a message on it. The card would politely say, “Maybe this year we can try and not argue in the morning.”
Since moving to sunny California, I have noticed that it’s easier for me to wake up than it was in New York City. Of course, the Universe’s little joke with me is that I am married to a totalmorning person. Let me set the scene for you. Just about every morning David opens his eyes first. It’s typically a decent hour around 7:00am. We have a rule that our dog Bernie isn’t allowed to sleep on the bed, but he knows that around 5:00am he is allowed to hop up for a few hours of “family time”. Cue eyeroll, I can’t believe I have become that person.
At about 7:02am David will pop out of bed with lightning speed. As he throws on some clothes I will playfully say, “You know, that coffee isn’t going to make itself.”
I then roll over, and as I hear the door shut, Bernie lifts his head and looks in my direction.
“What is wrong with him?” I say to Bernie.
He looks at me groggily as if to agree, and we proceed to fall back asleep for at least another forty minutes.
Around 8:00am is when I usually decide to face the world. I don’t pop out of bed, I muster up the strength to drag myself out of bed. The moment I shuffle into the living room, David turns on the coffee maker and I hear a loud buzz. It’s like a small jet engine is grinding my morning coffee in the kitchen. This to me is a miracle of all miracles. There is nothing more loving to me than the fact that David who doesn’t even drink coffee, (he’s actually allergic to coffee) makes my coffee on most mornings.
After pouring myself a cup of Joe, I grab my laptop and immediately start working. Recently with a new client, I realized that I have been forgetting the importance of beginning my day with intention. The way that I start my day sets the tone and invokes a certain kind of energy. Often times I will ask coaching clients how they start their day. I am assessing what energy they bring to themselves first thing in the morning, and I believe that this energy lingers throughout the entire day.
“How do you start your day, Mark?” I asked my client.
“Well usually I wake up and greet my wife in the kitchen. She has been up for at least two hours and will typically launch into ten things she wants me to do. We often fight if I don’t start working on the list right away.”
Just the other day my client Rebecca said that the first thing she does before even getting out of bed, is to reach for her Blackberry phone and check on any “crisis” that may have happened at work.
Here are two people struggling with feeling passion or a connection to their career. Mark who isn’t a morning person, starts his day feeling pestered and irritable. And Rebecca is manifesting drama before she even takes a shower. This sets a powerfully negative tone for the day.
My advice with Mark was to explain to his wife that he is trying a new morning routine. The moment he wakes up, he is going to throw on his running shows and jog for 20 minutes around their neighborhood. We came to the conclusion that Mark likes some alone time before interacting in the morning. During our followup he was surprised by how much better he felt. More importantly, Mark was available to work on household tasks and stay in a good mood. He and his wife eat breakfast together after his run, and both of their moods are better throughout the day.
Rebecca hadn’t even realized that her first waking thoughts were of crisis and work. Together we decided that she would take a walk with her dog, who relaxes her and reminds her to be in the present moment. She has enjoyed the shift in her mood, and decided to add a morning meditation to her routine as well.
My amazing clients often inspire me to improve my own life, so I decided to reassess my current morning routine. Why do I have to get on the computer so quickly? In today’s climate, the moment I check my email I am surrounded by an influx of energy. Wherether it’s news or work issues that need to be handled, it’s like going from zero to 60 without ever setting my intention.
When I envision the kind of morning I want to have, I sip my morning coffee on our patio. Rocking in our glider for about twenty minutes, I start my day with gratitude. I might stand up and do some stretching, or listen to the hummingbirds as they dart through the yard. Most importantly, I ask myself what my intentions are for the day. Who do I want to be? What kind of service do I want to provide for the planet? Rather than blindly taking on the world’s energy, I need to remind myself to create my head and heart space first. Only then am I really ready to face the world.
This week I ask you to reflect on your morning routine. Are you a chronic snoozer? Do you watch the news? Do you even give yourself a chance for reflection or intention? I vow this week to start my morning in the garden. I will set my intention and connect with my heart’s desire before I face the world. I look forward to the change, as long as I don’t have to make my own coffee!
Do you remember the excitement you felt counting the days in school until Summer vacation? Days felt like weeks and minutes felt like hours, until that last day of school arrived. This is the day that everyone has to attend school for one hour before you are released to freedom. There was even a sense of camaraderie with my teachers. I could see a twinkle in their eyes and I remember realizing that they were just as excited to have a break from us.
As an adult, my two month break has turned into two weeks but it’s still just as refreshing and exciting. For the past 10 years or so, every August several members of my family head to the North Fork of Long Island and invade my dad’s home for two weeks. My sister, her husband and two kids fly from Dallas to meet David, myself and Bernie in New York for two weeks of great fun. Of course we drive each other crazy as well, but it’s great.
I’ve been back now for almost a week and I love picturing some of the fun things we did during vacation. My favorite memory of this past trip was during a lobster dinner. Nothing reminds me of the east coast and Summer on Long Island more than a good lobster dinner. This particularly humid Wednesday night was no exception. As the 6 adults are seated around the table, my 5 year old nephew Thomson is both fascinated and grossed out while we shell our meals.
“I’ll cowwect the wobster sheww’s. Hand all of your sheww’s to me,” Thomson says marching around the table.
“Gotta love having Barbra Walters bus our table tonight,” I whisper to my sister.
“Dougall, stop it!” Tarrin says laughing while also gently hitting me.
My sister is going to be 41 and I am 34, but the minute we are in a room together I can’t help but be that snarky younger brother. I’ll probably make fun of her wig and Depends undergarments from adjacent rooms in a nursing home in our 80′s.
Once I finish my meal I lean back and look around the room. My heart is filled with joy as I look at the people that I love. There is always a lingering sense of sadness that my Mom isn’t with us. My parents have been divorced for almost 20 years and even though I know it was the right choice, in these moments it feels hard.
“Ugh, my hands are so sticky!” I announce to the table.
“Me too.” David responds.
“I have an idea. Who wants to go swimming right now?” I ask the table.
“Really?” Thomson screams.
My niece Talula is standing on a chair staring at everyone. She hasn’t a clue what we are talking about but can tell that there is excitement in the air. She seems keenly aware that at 8:15pm it is way past her bed time, and something really fun is about to happen.
“Let’s go swimming!!!!” My Dad yells from the head of the table.
Everyone jumps up and races around the house trying to find their bathing suits. I hear laughing and giggling coming from every corner.
My family’s home is on Little Peconic Bay. Perched at the top of a small bluff above the bay, the house is about 20 feet from the water. It’s a magical location that we are all very fond of. On this particularly muggy night, the bay is lit in silver by the moon. All eight of us slowly descend the stair case only to realize that the tide is so high, it is covering the last step.
Without hesitation I dive right into the water and hear eight splashes one by one behind me. I float on my back for a second, stare up at the moon and feel grateful. There are three generations of family floating and splashing around me. The water is cool and in contrast to the muggy night, it feels like perfection.
“Look! Look!” I hear David yelling.
I raise my head to see David and Tarrin slowly waving their arms in the water. They are surrounded by little sparkles of light.
“The Jellyfish are glowing! Thomson, look.” Tarrin says.
I’m not sure how this happens, but at night in the bay there are small white jellyfish about the size of silver dollars. These don’t sting, and when they collide with something they light up like fireflies of the sea.
For the next 30 minutes we bobbed around in the water looking up at the stars surrounded by tiny flickers of light. It felt perfect and timeless.
As David and I were returning back to Los Angeles, we both agreed that we had a great time and yet felt a sense of sadness or loss. We were certainly looking forward to getting home and back to our routine. But there is something energetically uplifting about anticipating a big trip, or a special event that is coming up in your life. We daydream about it and use it for inspiration. But once the experience is complete, sometimes my mood dips a little.
I find myself daydreaming wistfully about my Summer highlights. Although it makes me happy, I realize that there are endless ways to generate new energy for the months to come. I feel refreshed and excited for fall to arrive. Fires in the fireplace, sweaters, and hot apple cider on a cool night all make me giddy. Connecting with special clients on my September trip to Seattle, seeing my mom and aunt in Dallas in October, and going to upstate New York for my friend’s wedding all make me look forward to Autumn.
This week I invite you to share some of your summer highlights by commenting below. And as your summer draws to a close, intend for your consciousness to pick the next exciting goal or marker in your life. I think it’s important to step back occasionally and reassess where you are, who you are and where you are going in your life. More importantly, are you enjoying the journey?
I am not much of a thrill seeker. I have zero interest in roller coasters. I’d happily choose a Volvo over a sports car. It’s just not my personality type. My husband on the other hand, loves the adrenaline rush of a roller coaster. I really don’t get it. In the early stages of our relationship, I promised that I would join him on at least one adrenaline pumping,thrill seeking adventure per year. In hindsight that was a terrible idea. I’ve mentioned before that on birthdays, David and I like to pick a place in California and explore our new home state. This July 19th, David turned 33 so I took it upon myself to create a birthday experience that he would remember forever. I did some research on the internet and found a few deals on Catalina Island.
Catalina island is 22 miles off the coast of Los Angeles. In the 1940′s it was considered an upscale location where Hollywood elite would vacation. It seemed like the perfect spot to get away for one night. If it were my birthday I would have selected some fancy spa, booked a quiet dinner and enjoyed a very relaxing evening. I kept reminding myself that this was for David. In my search for an adventure, I found a dolphin tour, a segway rental, and lastly, a Catalina Zipline Eco-Tour. Ugh, he’d love that. I clicked on the link and was taken to YouTube. The video began and explained the 5 ziplines that made up the eco tour. I found video of men, women, and even children, excitedly zipping across the valleys of the island. Are people insane? Who does this? I have heard David talk about ziplining before. I know how much he would love this, and the more I hated the idea the more I knew it was probably the right one; so, I booked it.
As we arrived on Catalina island I quickly realized that it has changed quite a bit since the throwback stories of the 40′s. I exited the ferry with images of Marilyn Monroe relaxing on the beach, but as I made my first steps onto the island my eyes were flooded with tattoo enthusiasts and what I would describe as a distinctly “rugged” community. To my left was a bleached blonde woman with a leathery tan, wearing one of those beach shirts that has a perfect bikini body printed on the front. She was eating several hot dogs out of a makeshift lunchbox made from tin-foil, and holding a 40 ounce can of beer between her legs. To my right were a group of men earnestly trying to bring back the mullet; it was a cornucopia of festive folk.
We grabbed our bags and headed over to our hotel. Upon arrival I got the sinking feeling that this was not going to be the oasis I had expected. Our hotel was clearly built in the 60′s and a few years ago had a light facelift. And by light, I mean they bought new towels. Whoever took the photos for that property and loaded them onto their website deserves an award for airbrushing. After a moment of silence, David said, “Listen, I know this place isn’t great, but we are about to go on a Zipline tour! It’s my birthday and it’s one night. Let’s suck it up and agree, no more talking about the hotel.”
He was right. Sometimes this stubborn Taurus brain of mine gets a little wrapped up in earthly pleasures. I tend to daydream about thread counts, hardwood floors and spacious bathrooms when I am selecting a hotel. This was the closest I would ever get to camping.
We decided to walk across the street to sit near the water and have a glass of wine before we plunged to our deaths. My fear of heights and anxiety was pretty intense at this point; I couldn’t decide if a glass of wine was going to calm me down or increase my chances of vomiting. We loosened up about the hotel, and after an hour headed over to the zip line location.
We checked in at our appointed time, and as I was weighed I scanned the other people on our tour. Each tour consists of ten participants and two guides. There were four guys who were on vacation together and I was immediately intimidated by them. They seemed like the kind of frat guys that watch MTV’s “Jackass”. You know, the show where hand held video cameras capture Steve-O swallowing a gold fish and then he vomits it up while it’s still alive! I’m talking real high brow entertainment. Simply put, I would have been petrified of these guys in highschool. There was also a small family joining our group. The Mom and Dad looked excited for our tour, and their two adorable red haired daughters (around twelve and eight years old) seemed both excited and just as worried as I felt. I figured I would bond better with the family rather than Evil Knievil and his crew.
Our tour guides Nick and Miguel suited us all up in our harnesses, head gear, and handed each of us what I can only describe as a medieval torture device that I would hang onto as I went screaming across the zipline. Our guides then walked us through our safety lecture and slowly explained the process. The moment our instructors began their lecture, my mind wandered off.
What on earth are you doing Dougall? You can leave now. You don’t have to do this. Is this even safe? Am I going to trust our instructors who look like they are all of 19?
“Who’s nervous?” Nick asks our group.
How thoughtful and sensitive of them to ask! I raise my hand and say “I am” with a cracked high pitch like a prepubescent boy.
“Well you get to go first!” Nick says smugly, and starts walking towards the bus that will take us up the mountain. Our group laughs and I immediately decide that I do not like Nick. When I booked this birthday extravaganza, I conjured up images of what our tour guide would be like. In my mind he or she would be native american. They would have long black hair and calmly drum to help me find my inner eagle energy. Together we’d face my fear of heights and I would feel courage swell up inside me. I’d glide across the valley and take to the sky like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat.
“Look, it’s a shortbus filled with kids in helmets! Everyone is special.” Nick yelled from the front seat. Clearly my indigenous tour guide fantasy was being ruined every time Nick opened his mouth. I decided that I would have to look to David or myself for reassurance, as Beavis and Butthead were very attached to their schtick.
As we rode the bus, my mind kept lecturing me for not listening to at least 70% of the safety lecture. What did he say about getting stuck in the middle of the zip? Make a star fish position to go faster or slower? Do I walk off the plank or jump?
At the top of the mountain, the bus pulled over and all ten of us descended to the first platform. My heart was pounding. I really do have a fear of heights. Here I was standing at the top of a mountain, about to step off a ledge and shoot across a valley several hundred feet to land on the next platform. This was the dumbest idea I have ever had.
“Are you scared?” I asked David.
“Totally!”
Our nicer instructor Miguel clips his harness in. He checks his four points of safety which everyone else seems to remember from the lecture. He hops off the platform and zips to the other side, so that he can be there to catch us when we arrive. Our group is silent; clearly everyone is nervous. The four guys go first and each one of them quietly steps off the ledge. I know they are nervous because no one makes a sound as they go. My palms are now dripping in sweat.
“Do you want me to go first?” David asks.
“Oh god yes.”
Nick locks David’s harness onto the line. Again he checks the four points of safety. I still don’t know what any of the safety points are other than to GET BACK ON THE BUS.
Nick takes out his walkie talkie. “David is ready to zip and it’s his birthday so be nice to him.”
“Zip away!” Miguel responds from the other platform. As David steps off the platform, I feel vaguely sick. It’s a very strange feeling to watch someone you love do something that seems to defy the laws of nature. We aren’t supposed to jump off the side of a mountain. Before I can even process it, he glides away. It takes an estimated 30 or 40 seconds to cross, and I watch him get smaller and smaller until he is the size of a dot.
“My turn I guess?”
I turn my head and face the parents of the two young girls. “I need to apologize right now for the foul language that may fly out of my mouth.” They laugh and say it’s going to be fine. Time seems to slow down for a moment. I have a choice here. The bus is about ten steps away. I can leave. What am I proving to anyone? Who cares? Not everyone loves roller coasters. It’s not a character flaw. Why can’t we just lay on the beach like normal people!
Take the plunge Dougall. Let yourself be free and experience life.
“Son of a mother !*@?#!?@*” I scream as I step off the platform. Admittedly I may need to work on a new mantra for moments like these. I suppose Om Mani Padme Hom would have been more charming? I can feel my weight supported by the cable above me. Suddenly trees are shooting by me on both sides. I am in full “canonball” pose as requested by our tour guides and I am racing toward the other side. My teeth are clenched and I am holding my breath. The wind is screaming in my ears and I see David on the other side getting closer and closer. I hear a loud smack as Miguel applies the breaks to stop me from flying halfway across the state.
“Holy #@?! J*sus #$%&*!”
“Did you like it? I really tried to stay in the moment!” David says excitedly.
Moment? What moment? I can’t feel my feet! I am so out of my body that I am trembling. I can hardly hear David. I just keep looking over his shoulder at zip number two that is at least 1000 feet and what feels like the highest height I have ever seen in my life. I can’t do this. One by one each member of our group makes it to the other side. The young girls race across like Mary Poppins apprearing 10 times braver than me. I can hardly remember anything before my turn for zip two. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I vaguely remember hearing that this next one would be the fastest. Nick locked me into the zip and repeated the four point safety check while I wiped sweat off of my hands.
“Are you wearing lotion?” Nick asks.
“Suntan lotion.”
“Oh that is kind of dangerous!” he quips. Everyone starts laughing.
“You know Nick, you don’t get a tip for joking.”
I step off the platform and sweet kind Nick jokingly yells “NOT YET!”
Hysterical. NOT.
This zip feels ten times longer. I am in proper canon ball position. My teeth are clenched, and pretty much every muscle in my body is holding its breath. I hear a voice in my head say Dougall, breathe. Breathe slowly. In through the nose and out through the mouth.
With each breath that I take I am startled at how much calmer I feel. Every exhale loosens my body. I glance to the right and I can see the Pacific Ocean in the distance. For a brief moment I am seeing the perspective of a bird. I notice Miguel in the distance signaling me to make a starfish formation to slow myself down. Without thinking, my body moves into proper pose. He then makes another signal to pull back into a canon ball and I follow suit.
“It helps to breathe!”
I am safely standing on zip platform number 3. Admittedly I enjoyed the second one more, but I am still shaking. I sit down to collect myself. David has been filming my landing every time.
“Can you film me?” David asks.
“David, I can hardly feel my face. I am not available to hold a camera.”
For zip three I consciously focus on my breathe and am amazed at how much of a difference breathing helps. So simple right? By the time we finish all five zips I am mentally, emotionally and spiritually exhausted. The company boasts that each zip is easier than the last, and to be fair that is true. What I marvel at is the tremendous power of breathing. Even as I write this blog I notice myself holding my breath. I will read it back to myself and start to question. Is it boring? Too long? What is the point? All while holding my breath. If I close my eyes, take a deep breath and just let my energy flow, the words come to me with great ease. In workshops I teach clients to focus only on your breath. I can’t tell you how many times I have said “Whenever in doubt, just breathe”. But life has a funny way of distracting us. Certainly when a core issue like the fear of heights is in my face, my mind tends to go straight into panic. But when I take a moment to utilize a simple technique of breathing, I can almost instantly change my stress to peace.
David and I spent the rest of the night at a charming restaurant on the water. We ate seafood and talked about our zip line adventure the entire time. I felt proud of myself for overcoming a fear and allowing myself the chance to experience flying.
The following morning we boarded our ferry and I looked at Catalina Island with different eyes. I am leaving this island with one less fear than when I arrived. Sitting on the back of the Catalina Island Express I watched the water in swirls of greens and blues. I took a deep breath.
“I feel happy.” I said to David.
“Me too.” He replied.
I’d love to see some dolphins, I kept repeating in my mind. C’mon guys. Suddenly I saw one. Then two. Then four. Then several dozen started jumping from the water right beside the boat. They followed us for about ten minutes. I took a deep breath and with full gratitude said “Thanks guys.”
The other day our dear friends Amy and Annie invited us to celebrate the 4th of July at their house. The email stated that it would be an afternoon pool party with a small group of friends, perhaps some poker and then ultimately we would end the evening watching the fireworks at CBS studios across the street from their complex. I have lived in Los Angeles for four years now and have done my darnedest to avoid swimming at a pool party. Luckily for me, rarely do people actually swim at a pool party. Sure some parents jump in with their kids, but there are usually at least a handful of people who have the same look that I do. Our eyes seem to say I’d have to be on fire to jump in that pool!
My earliest memories are of avoiding public swimming. One summer at Camp Sloane we had to all wait on line to take a swim test. I think the idea was that we were first time campers and they needed to asses how well each of us could swim.
“Look, Dougall has more rolls than a Deli!” Mark quipped.
Mark’s friends laughed at his comment, and I started to feel nauseous. I wanted to run away, or call my parents to come pick me up. I’d much rather be home watching an episode of the Bionic Woman, she’d never judge me for being overweight! With everyone watching, I knew that I needed to say something back to Mark.
“You know, I have a disease”, I calmly replied.
“Re-really?” Mark stammered.
As I stared into Mark’s now vulnerable eyes, I started to ramble about my new “disease.”
“You see, my body creates too much blood.”
The cool kids stopped smirking and got very quiet so they could listen.
“When I am at home I have to see a doctor once a week, and they drain my blood so that I can be a normal weight. But because we are at camp, they don’t have the proper equipment so I keep gaining blood; not weight. It’s really painful, but I don’t care. I just want to be at camp and have fun like the other kids.” He embarrassed me so I figured he deserved an extra helping of guilt.
“Wow I had no idea, how much do you weigh now?” Mark asked. I keenly remember being the first of my friends to weigh 100 pounds. Everyone else weighed around 75.
“Right now I weigh 100 pounds. But after they drain me I weigh around 75.”
For the rest of that summer if I was made fun of, my new friends would gently explain to others that I had a disease. I’d pop another donut in the mess hall and look their way in disgust; for I was living with a rare –VERY rare — blood disease.
As you can see, my avoidance of pool parties started as far back as I can remember. I think that because I was overweight and insecure as a child, it’s difficult for me to let go of that identity. As an adult, I actually love to swim. Oceans, lakes, or pools, I find the water to be a very calming and spiritual experience. If David and I are on vacation, I swim without reservation. Why? Because I feel safe with him. There is something that triggers me when I am invited to swim at a party with people I have just met. Perhaps I am not ready for them to see my vulnerability?
“I’m packing a bag for Amy and Annie’s. Should I throw in your swim suit?” David asks.
“I’m only jumping in that pool if I can wear a Burka. Do you really think everyone will be swimming?”
“No, I probably won’t swim either.”
David grabs the keys and his bag containing his suit and a towel. For a brief second a voice in my head says, just bring your bathing suit. Don’t be weak.
We open the front door and the gush of hot air from outside is startling. Before I can even fasten my seat belt, the heat is causing each of us to perspire.
When we arrive at our destination we are greeted by Annie at the door.
“The boys are here!” Annie calls back to her friends.
Annie is adorable. She is wearing a pair of exercise shorts over her suit, flip flops on her feet, and chic Marc Jacobs sunglasses. We hug immediately and I can’t help but look into the kitchen where the rest of her friends are standing. Of course they are in their bathing suits. It’s 95 degrees in the desert!
My heart is racing as I walk into the kitchen. Technically speaking these are new friends of ours. David and I double date with Amy and Annie a few times a month, and each time our friendship gets deeper. I trust them. They see me and I try to see them. Not physically, but emotionally and spiritually. We meet their other friends and I am very aware that these are their close friends; we have been invited into their circle and I feel grateful.
“You boys brought your suits right?” Annie asks.
“People are swimming? Is everyone swimming? Are you swimming?” I ask Amy.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Amy replies.
I hear David in the background talking and I can’t quite concentrate. My inner 8 year old overweight child starts to panic. It doesn’t seem like the right time to explain my faux blood disease to anyone. Within a flash I am alone with Annie in the kitchen. She is looking right at me with that I see you look. And she has an I care about you expression in her eyes.
“Come on. It’s hot. Let’s all go for a swim.”
“Ugh, can I hate you for it?”
She wraps her arm around me and says “If you need to.”
Ok. Ok. Ok. I will get my bathing suit.
I hop in our Prius to make the trek back to our house and I feel sad. I don’t like when my issues get in the way of my life experience. I have friends and family who won’t leave the house because of anxiety. I know people who won’t challenge themselves with their career, or avoid public speaking, or dozens of other ways that people’s insecurities manifest. Right now my not wanting to swim in front of people seems pathetic. My phone beeps and I look down to a text message from David. “I love you,” it says.
God that man knows me.
Within about 15 minutes I am back to Amy and Annie’s, suit and towel in hand. I can hear everyone in the pool laughing and talking while I climb the steps of their complex. Walking through the gate I lean over the railing.
“Got my suit. I am going to go change!”
When I come out of the bathroom Amy is standing in the living room. I don’t even have a second to examine or primp or prepare for my vulnerable moment.
She looks up to me with her sparkly blue eyes and says “Let’s go face the pool together.”
Amy and I get down to the pool and I take a very healthy swig of my sangria. The water is sparkling and literally begging me to come in. Everyone is chatting and floating. I take off my shirt and of course there is no audible gasp of disgust. I try to realize that yes I am not ripped. But I also realize I have total Body Dysmorphic Disorder. The only person in this moment thinking about my body, is me. I take a breath and walk the steps into the pool. Honestly, my worry/anxiety was gone so fast it’s almost comical. My mind can create a block and exaggerate a fear to such an enormous level. When I finally confront it, the rate of it dissipating is both magical and somewhat shocking.
We spent the afternoon floating in the pool sipping sangria and gabbing. The water felt cool and refreshing on such a hot day. We talked about religion, TV, corn dogs (which by the way are delicious), movies, relationships and countless other topics. The night ended with us all poolside laying down on lounge chairs looking up into the sky watching a fantastic fireworks display. With each burst of color, I let the light ignite passion inside my soul. I was grateful to have new friends that I felt safe with, and promised myself that I would spend the year diving into life.
For some people, my pool issues may be relatable. If not, I ask that you take a look at your own personal “pool” issue. Perhaps you haven’t seen close family and friends in awhile due to a fear of flying? Or maybe fear is keeping you from making new friends or dating. Perhaps you didn’t make a toast at a loved one’s wedding due to shyness.
Typically most human beings have some fear that gets in the way of life experience. Our minds often try to protect us from danger by using fear. The lesson is to remember that your mind can also trick you into sitting on the sidelines of life. My advice is to get over it and just jump in the pool. It feels great once you’re in the water. Much love to you all.
