I signed up for Art of Accomplishment’s Groundbreakers retreat, and then realised I probably didn’t have enough money.
Already on the verge of burnout, paying north of 10 grand would mean reneging on my promise to take the next month and a half off work which I had made to myself. The decision to pay or not to pay is cutting to the core of an identity question: am I going to change my priorities and start doing normal people things like saving for a deposit on a house? Or am I going to continue pursuing this off-piste spiritual journey which I seem to have designed in such a way that no one around me has the necessary context to be able to tell me that it is a bad idea?
A lot of fear has come up. AoA (Art of Accomplishment) make a big thing of welcoming fear, since it’s a signpost to authenticity. It’s a sign that a part of your identity is under threat, which they say is a good thing because identity is what blocks out your more expansive, evolving, essential self.
I’ve been wondering about what part of me is being faced with annihilation. The part of me that says “hell yeah I’m going to pay loads of money, why wouldn’t I, with all the pain I’ve been through?” The part of me that is such a good customer whose praises all the coaches gather around after hours to sing, and deserves to be seen as a sincere seeker (wait til I leave them scrambling to fill the space when I drop out…) The part of me that thinks he knows what’s going on, thinks his judgement is better than other people’s and he’s really on to something with this AoA stuff, which everyone will look back and recognise in wonder, 10 years hence.
There is something self-disparaging in how I’m characterising the identity that might be departing me. This itself is probably the identity of The Self Aware Person. Fear bursting through all of this. The thing about genuine fear, I’ve come to believe, is that if I know it’s healthy then I’m only on the edge of it. If I know it’s going to lead to something better, ultimately, then there are layers left for me to feel.
I need to be held in my fear, and I don’t know how to reach out for that.