...in the parlor, in the hallway...in the places we hold dear...writes Stephen Sondheim in his famous song from A Little Night Music. Little did I know just how profound this lyric was (although it has always struck me as pretty profound!) until I got my apartment "feng-shuied" this past weekend. Seems there is a whole lot of death lurking not only in the parlor (does anyone really have a parlor anymore?), but on the bookshelf, in the kitchen, in the bedroom...and of course, in the closet (who would have guessed!).

But seriously, here's another lesson that I learn again and again as I explore the principles of "Life-Shifting" in a wide range of domains: everything on the inside is mirrored on the outside, and vice versa. This past weekend, a friend cajoled me into attending a workshop on the ancient chinese art of "feng-shui". It turned out to be a very interesting way to spend an afternoon and I came away impressed, as always, with the wisdom of the East. It seems that one of the key principles of feng-shui (which turns out to be a whole lot more than warding off demons by placing crystals and other New Age accoutrement in strategic corners of your condo...but you knew that, right?) is that in order to make room for the birth of new ideas, creative insights, and expanded prosperity to enter both your psychic and physical space, you have to get rid of stuff that no longer serves you.

You need to create space for something new to arrive. The rule of thumb that this particular feng-shui teacher, Ariel Joseph, gave us, was that if something in your space has not been meaningfully put to use for over a year, it is time to let it go. For all intents and purposes, the "thing"--book, clothing, trinket, gadget, decoration, photo album--is dead. And death drains energy...from your space, and from your heart.

Doesn't this strike you as very similar to one of the key principles of "Life-Shifting"? In order to become a master of self-renewal, we must learn to release and let go of outdated, worn out versions of our own self-identity. When the narrative of who we are, or more specifically, who we think we are, no longer serves us, it is dead. In fact, some aspects of our identity are always in the throes of dying.

Think about it. Step back for a moment and reflect on your life ten years ago. Who were you? Perhaps you are in your thirties today and ten years ago you were single, a student, living alone? Perhaps you are in your forties today and ten years ago you were newly married, a young professional, a proud condo or home owner for the first time? Are you still identified by these labels? I doubt it. Besides, these are just surface identities. If we dig deeper and ask ourselves who we really are today, what stories do we tell ourselves and others about our lives, our sense of self, our place in the world? Are we successful? Happy? Healthy? Are we honest about what aspects of our personal narrative may no longer work, that may no longer serve us? When was the last time you looked in your psychic closet and got rid of anything--any label, any story, any idea--that you have not, in effect, "used" in over a year?

I can sense your anxiety rising. Ok, I'm projecting, but all I know is that it rises in me as I write this--so if you're breath has become a bit stilted, or your chest tight as you read this, I'm with you. You see, this principle of death, taken from feng-shui and applied to our inner sanctums of self-perception starts to get emotionally dicey, because we know where we're headed: to the dumpster. The key to unlocking the energy, vitality and creativity of re-birth is in the act of releasing the dead. In a feng-shui context, we are talking about getting rid of stuff. In the Life-Shifting realm, the order of the day is getting rid of limiting beliefs about who we are, what we can and cannot do, how we should live our lives.

Now, I certainly recognize just how difficult it can be to let go of our limiting beliefs about ourselves. We tenaciously hold on to old stories because of a deep-seated unconscious fear that we won't know who we are without them! In effect we fear the worst: being nothing, being nobody, being empty, bereft, alone. Yet, it wasn't until I watched the class erupt in a tirade of emotion and anxiety in response to Ariel's simple mantra--"empty the closet, empty your life"--that I realized just how terrifying it can be to throw out stuff. In fact, as I sat in the class and ran my mind through my closets, bookshelves and cabinets, I too, recognized how emotionally attached I am to my stuff. "So what if I haven't read any of those old college books in years," I could hear the inner voice whining, "I couldn't possibly throw them out. They mean so much to me."

Do they? Not really. They are symbols of a time before, a time when I was living in a different place organized around a different story. A time that is no longer alive in me or present in my world. Of course, I know Ariel--and Sondheim for that matter--is right: those old books are dead. Dead weight. It is time to let them go. To lighten my load, so to speak, to make room for something new, fresh and inspiring to take their place.

Dead may feel like a harsh word to apply to a book, or a piece of clothing, or even too long-loved story of your youth. Yet, the principles of feng-shui are no laughing matter: everything carries energy. Everything. In fact, quantum physics now demonstrates to us that energy in some form is all we really are, and the energy of creation and destruction are truly two-sides of the same coin. If the energy in your space is not being born anew every day, spiraling towards the realization of your next great potential, then it is spiraling downward in entropy, towards dissolution and death. Nothing is ever stagnant. In fact, the Tibetans would remind us that from the moment of birth onwards, every breath takes you closer to death. All energy is entropic on some level. But let's leave that one for another day...and focus on release, surrender, and creating space.

So, here is the question of the day: if your physical home is a reflection of your psychic home, what clutter needs to be thrown out? What no longer serves you? Take a few minutes each day for the next week to scan the horizon of your four walls. Ask yourself if you have meaningfully "used" all the items in your space. If not, what prevents you from releasing them to the world? Perhaps you have clothing, books, kitchen appliances (I have an old laptop if anyone needs one) that could use a new home. OK? Ready, set, let it go!

See how it feels to lighten your space. Clean out and clear off your desk. Make room for something new to be born in your space and in your life. Soon enough we will tackle the challenge of releasing emotional, mental and perhaps physical (do I hear "weight loss"?) clutter from our inner sanctums. But for today, let's get some practice with the "easy" stuff, eh? I mean how hard can it be to part with a few old books....

Besides, here's the good news: the opposite of Sondheim's screed holds true as well: Every day a little birth...in the parlor...in the hallway...

So go for it: revel, relish and rejoice...in release!

Dr J

Whenever I meet a potential new client for the first time, I introduce them to two of my favorite children's books: Zoom and Re-Zoom, both by the wonderful illustrator Istvan Banyai. Together, my new client and I typically read these two books, which sit on the coffee table in my office, in about five minutes. They are quite easy to read, for there are no words, just full-page breath-takingly beautiful illustrations of scenes from daily life: children playing on a farm, a family on a cruise, a old lady on an airplane, a taxi cab in Manhattan. The books are nonetheless life-changing...or should I say, life-shifting, for every person who encounters them. They basically set the tone for all the work that is to come. So what, you ask, is so special about these books?

It's very simple. Each illustration that we see on one page is found replicated somewhere, in part or whole, on the next page, embedded in a new illustration. Page after page, the illustrations move you through a wide range of worlds both microscopic and panoramic, depending upon what direction you are going in the book. In this way, each book reveals a narrative that starts with a "normal" view and then shifts your focus either inward and downward (e.g. a full color, full page carnival scene on one page shows up on a postage stamp on the next page), or outward and upward (e.g a tropical rain forest scene on one full page turns out to be the cover of a book being read by a child sitting in the window of an airplane crossing the sky on the next page. In this simple yet powerful way, Banyai reminds us of a very poignant truth: how we experience the world depends greatly upon what we choose to see.

Think about it. From the moment you wake up in the morning and open your eyes, what you experience as "real" is made up of a strange and sometimes awkward collision of internally generated thoughts and emotions (memories, dreams and reflections) and external images--sights, smells and sounds. So how do we make sense of anything? Clearly, our ability to not come apart at the seams in the face of the sensory and cognitive assault we benignly call "waking up," is due to our ability to do one thing: focus. What we focus on becomes real for us. In the moment that I turn in bed and attend to the cat lying by my side, most everything else (not everything, but close) disappears. There's the cat. He needs/wants to be petted (of course, I'm making this up!). I pet him. I stroke his fur and watch his eyes glaze over in pleasure. Everything is as it should be. All this is "normal" and doesn't feel or appear particularly special to us.

Yet, as Banyai's books remind us, what we see, feel, or ignore at any given moment is always a choice. We can get laser focused and we can span the horizon. We can get tunnel vision and we can get lost in universe. The work of a life-shifting coach/therapist asks: where are you? Are you seeing the big picture? focusing on the positive? honoring what is right in front of you? Are you aware of the past, but not caught in it? Are you envisioning the future, but living in the moment? Or are you caught in the dark, tied down to an old routine, an old pattern, and old way of seeing that diminishes you and keeps you small? Sometimes breaking out of worn out patters is as simple as turning the page, opening our eyes to a wider view, seeing anew.

So today I want to remind you that life-shifting is about mind-shifting. From the Eastern perspective of Buddhism the practice of enlightenment begins and ends with accepting what is. Being present. Still. Grounded in the moment with what is right in front of you--chopping wood, carrying water, doing the dishes, or making love. Yet, our Western cultural conditioning adds an occular layer to the experience of what is as well, for "what is" is also a matter of what you choose to see; how you choose to dance with the fluid boundary of inner and outer worlds; how you decide to be.

I did the following exercise yesterday and I highly recommend it. From about 3pm in the afternoon until I went to bed at midnight last night, I made a point of constantly re-assessing my visual experience of the world around me. For example, I stood on the street corner, gazed downward and closer, narrowing my vision to take in the mail box next to me, the overflowing trash can, the poster on the street light post, the stains on the sidewalk, the mishapen stonework, all the way in to my toes on the pavement, my multi-colored flip-flops, the ripped up hem on my jeans. Then in equal measure I brought my gaze upward and outward, taking in the broader landscape-- the street filled with cars, people walking in a multitude of directions, and more: a cacophony of buildings, windows, arches, stone gargoyles, water towers, trees, puffy clouds behind the spire of a church, and finally, the great expanse of blue sky.

Sounds like a simple practice and it is. You can do it anywhere. I tried it in a crowded movie theater last night: moving my gaze from the cat hairs on my pants, slowly, ever so slowly expanding my vision to include my body in a chair, the chair in front of me, the back of the head of the person in front of me, the row in front of me...and onward and outward until I could bring the whole screen, theater and room into my field of vision. When was the last time you noticed the lighting that brings a warm glow to your favorite theater? Last night I discoverd that my neighborhood movie theater has a beautiful, antique chandelier! Does your favorite movie theater have a curtain across the screen? Does it matter? Of course not...and yet...

These simple excercises are practices for becoming present and awake to your surroundings--the beauty, diversity, the presence of life--that swirls around and in us at all times and all places. We need only pay attention. Give it a try...and if your not sure what the hell I'm talking about here...get hold of Banyai's books. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Happy Seeing!

Dr J