I publish bi-weekly about shifting our relationship with things we do or consume to feel less such as eating, snark, exercise, shopping, sex, work, drugs, or even over-functioning—and often what leads us into these escapist places. The framework is the Eight Awarenesses. Prior posts here. Information about my recent book, upcoming events, and more via my website and at the end of this post.
I’m getting married today, I think to myself as I get out of the bed at the inn near our home pre-dawn. I’m alone, as we’re following tradition, spending the night before our wedding day apart.
I have several options, I think to myself. I have a little less than two hours before heading out to host a breakfast, so I could run, read, sit, bathe, or some combination of the above. Within minutes, I have sweats and sandals on, and I am walking with gentle but intended steps—pre-coffee, pre-anything—to our wedding site, about ten minutes up the road.
As I arrive at the park, I tuck into the towering redwood trees on the same path I will several hours later in the long ivory dress currently hanging in my hotel room closet, with my sons on either side of me, bouquet in hand. The sun is just starting to creep into the park, kiss the redwoods, light the way. It’s still, quiet—the way forests are, yet I can hear (and feel) the day awakening around me.
I stall, snap a few photos, then put my phone away. I walk towards the site—another minute or two, a wooden platform by the creek that has contributed to the soundtrack of my entire life. I step up, noticing, we still need to sweep before the ceremony. Maybe my son will come down and do that.
Eventually, I stand, centered on the stage. The planks creak a bit as I tread gently, worn soft from years of weathering our local storms, children’s sneakers, footwear of Shakespeare summer play actors, and the steps of others experiencing all kinds of moments, big and small (including our first date, five years ago). It is the spot from where I will recite my vows outloud for the first time, marrying my beloved, surrounded by friends and family members, later today.
I take it all in.
Birdsongs. Crisp air. A hushed energy that feels like forest breath.
I pull my vows up on my phone, reading them to myself, feeling the moment, imagining it later, and tuning into how they will feel to us both in that long-anticipated moment. Then I add a final statement at the end, “I am yours.” What I had crafted had felt unfinished until now. Later that night I’d hear it was those words that meant the most among the sea of vows, stories, and proclamations.
The day unfolded with majesty, connection, beauty, grace, and levity, and concluded with a lot of dancing. Our kids alongside us, beaming, throughout.
I’ve had a few days to let the entire experience sink in. The conversations, all too brief. The tears welling in the eyes of others, and mine. The moments of welcome silence, especially during our other-worldly ceremony. A few extra long hugs, that said more than any card, well-wishes, or toast. The sensation of sweat dripping down my chest as we danced and sang—until way past our usual bedtime.
What struck me most wasn’t any single moment (though there were some very memorable ones!), but what wasn’t there. I was there for it. I wasn’t self-managing. The energy of the entire weekend felt clear and clean.
Yes, my heart was racing as I walked to the ceremony for a choreographed entrance with my teen sons—so much so that I thought at one point I might have a cardiac event! But I was with it, in it. I didn’t feel like I needed to join the others in sipping champagne before, or pop a pill, or take a puff. I loved the edge, mostly, and didn’t want to do or consume anything to soothe or soften it. The intensity of emotions throughout was an orchestra I didn’t want to miss a breath of.
I’ve continued to reflect on this entire experience since then. It feels like something new after close to a decade of intentional undimming.
It is alarmingly easy to move through life with a portion of our attention elsewhere. For me it’s typically been reflecting, ruminating, or anticipating:
How much? When? What next? Am I ready?
How am I coming across? Are the other people around me seeing me in a certain way? Is it good? Is it true?
Should I push through this moment? Or maybe try to soften it, or just allow it? Am I ok?
Will I regret this? What does my future self think of these activities, decisions? Is this me?
This experience of managing ourselves, whether it’s moderation, optics, or architecture can be exhausting. It can drain us. And yes, it can rob us of our presence.
In my case, it feels like old patterning, something like a long tail of a prior life. It reminds me of a comment Dr. Bill made once (cited in chapter 3 of Undimmed): “Cecily, your entire life has been an architecture of appropriateness, shaped by behaving how you think pleases others.” Ouch.
And on this day, it felt absent. An unexpected threshold, an unexpected new beginning.
It turns out that turning a page, for me, looks less like doing more, and more like leaving more alone—allowing. This feels particularly timely now that I am in my first week after four large life events and launches (launching a kid, launching a book, closing a fundraise, and planning a wedding). I don’t want to design what’s next, at least not quite yet. The guidance I need for these next steps will emerge from quiet and stillness, not lists and tasks.
I’m working on trusting that some moments don’t need help. Knowing that I don’t need to engineer an experience for it to be enough. That I can be in something without also managing my way through it.
Maybe you can relate. Maybe we could all use a bit more space for allowing, trusting, being.
A few small practices I’m experimenting with:
Embrace Negative Space: Don’t schedule everything while also being open to the unexpected. Allow for spontaneity, then actually be in the waves of the unknown as what’s next evolves, emerges.
Let a Detail Go: Catch the impulse to adjust, optimize, or enhance. What happens if we don’t follow it and just let things unfold a bit more organically? Take a moment after the fact to take stock. What was really different?
Don’t extend something just because it’s good. Let it finish when it’s finished. Know that when we know, we know. Hold impermanence like the inevitable truth it is.
I’d love to hear from you.
Love, really.
Upcoming talks, collaborations:
Next Wednesday April 29th, 11a-noon PT via Zoom
Featured guest on Founder Satsang, Wisdomshare. This is a community founded by Scott Britton.Tuesday May 12th, 5-7p, Alchemy Springs & Sauna Garden,San Francisco
Taking place during Human Tech Week, hosted by Conscious Talent: “The Future of Conscious Company Building” a panel including Diana Chapman (Conscious Leadership Group), Dave Hersh (Metamorph Ventures), Stacey Lawson (Positive AI Labs) and me. Details and registration here. Space is limited.Thursday May 14th, 9-10a PT (online)
Featured speaker, Teens & Alcohol: Honest Conversations Without Fear or Shame focused on how we talk with teens about habits, pressure, and choice without fear-based framing. Hosted by The Institute of Child Psychology. Registration here. I will share about my own journey growing up and parenting my own teen sons on the topic of alcohol.Thursday May 14th, 11a-6p, SF Jazz Center, San Francisco
Details forthcoming, but please join us (and many friends!) at Wisdom & AIFriday May 15th (AM session), Shack 15, San Francisco
Speaking at the Reimagining Science Education Summit. This one is more about our work with Wisdom Ventures.Tuesday June 9th, 6p
Hold Nothing x Undimmed: The Ways In with Elena Brower at The Portal in Mill Valley. Details here. (Members only, lmk if you want a spot on my list!)
Speaker Deck…. The remarkable Megan Belden helped me get this speaking deck together so I have a digital calling card of sorts. I love connecting with a broad range of audiences and communities, this helps me find my people. Thank you, Megan!
If you’ve yet to get your copy of Undimmed, it’s currently discounted on Amazon (and available anywhere else you might buy books). Your reviews help the algo too, if inclined.
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And for those who made it all the way down here, I leave you with this gem from Rumi (Coleman Barks translation):
For the grace of the presence, be grateful.
Touch the cloth of the robe,
but do not pull it toward you,
or like an arrow it will leave the bow.
♥️
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