Next time I’m teaching on how to be a millionaire

Next time I teach a workshop, I’m teaching it on the topic of how to be a millionaire.

Not because I am one, but because every time I prepare to teach a workshop it becomes profoundly present in my life. To teach it, I must embody it. And unfortunately for me, the thing I am always invited to speak on is pain, chronic illness, body stories, loss and navigating hard stories.

Later this month, I’m presenting at the Dirty, Messy, Alive summit alongside some incredible writers, speakers and presenters, and I’m sharing about the invitation of pain. I’m talking about pain as an entry point into our stories, how our body’s hold story, and how these stories are then expressed through our bodies.

My body has been telling a story of its own this week. If I follow the vital signs as story prompts, I find the narrative of holding too much without being adequately resourced. My body, essentially, is telling me she’s running on empty, and reminding me of all the previous times we ran on empty. Of the lifetime we spent running on empty and calling it well fed.

For someone who preaches and teaches working with the stories of our bodies, I desperately didn’t want this to be true. I avoided admitting it at all costs, blaming it on one bad day or a bad night’s sleep. I looked for external factors and ways to bypass what I knew deep down in my gut to be true. As I was journaling this morning, I wrote how much I wanted this to just be an infection. I wanted it to be something easy, a quick fix. I want to be able to outsource my healing. A to B, do this and get to the other side, a clear defined path of what’s wrong and how to fix it.

If it was a quick fix, I wouldn’t have to pay attention to the story my body is telling me. I would have something else to “blame” for the symptoms and side effects. I could skim the surface without ever having to go deep.

Spoiler alert: the depths have always been where the healing is.

As someone who has done this so many times, there’s this expectation that it’s easy. That moving into the body is an effortless practice where teachings are absorbed naturally and that it makes sense. And yet I look at how many times I’ve resisted. Resisted admitting I’m in a flare, resisted admitting that the answers I crave aren’t out there but that I actually have to do the work, admitted that this body, my body, isn’t something to be overcome but an invitation to accept again and again. Healing is not a one time gig, and each time around brings with it new layers to unearth.

We cannot teach what we do not first embody, and I can’t speak on terrain I have not traveled time and time again. These trails are well worn by my footsteps.

And as hard as it is, I do think it’s worth it. It’s an invitation into a world I never could have experienced otherwise. The story of my life, and my body, isn’t straight forward, but the best stories never are.

I find myself slowing down with a cup of tea, implementing the phrases I so lovingly extend to others when they find me in their own personal chaos.

It takes as long as it takes.

You can only go as fast as the slowest part of you

It is safe to be here, to feel this.

Show your nervous system you are safe, don’t just tell it.

You have the musculature for this.

I take my own words to heart, embody them, let the process change me.

As someone once told me “You can’t take flying lessons from someone still on the ground.”

Though next time, if we’re choosing, I think I want my lessons to be on becoming a millionaire. ;)

I’d love it if you would join me at the Dirty, Messy, Alive Summit. It’s happening September 29 - October 4, with over 30 presentations inviting you to more deeply explore your own stories. Tickets are free, with the option to upgrade to an all access pass with some incredible bonus offerings. Save your spot here: Dirty Messy Alive Summit