This month I’ve been writing about trust habits that support us taking scary next steps. Today I want to share another resource that’s been hugely instrumental in me trustfully taking MY scary next steps.

It’s a program called Playing Big, by Tara Mohr.

Playing Big is a six-month, in-depth program for women who want to play bigger in their work and in their lives. It beautifully blends three things:

• Inner work to help you overcome fears, end procrastination, and clarify your vision
• Practical training in skills for world-changing: communication, negotiation, getting media attention for your work
• Supportive and dynamic community with creative, visionary women ready to support each other in Playing Big

I tend to get buttons pushed by big promises and big language – even the word “big” itself, honestly :) – so I want to use all the heart and unpolished authenticity I have in me to say I love what Tara is doing in the world, I find it deeply kindred to what I’m all about, and I personally found this course to be trust tending at its finest.

Not gimmicky. Not about a subtext that values one particular embodiment of playing big over another (i.e. being on stage, making lots of money, becoming uber popular, etc.). Not undervaluing deep inner dives NOR the need for nuts-and-bolts know-how and strategy.

It’s a practical guide I continue to use for clearing communication channels between my wisest self and the part of me that feels like its in my driver’s seat, and a practical guide for learning the skills and gaining the tools I’ve needed to follow the path that my wisest self illuminates – even right through and alongside my fears.

Awesome.

Today’s sketch reminds me what my wisest self knows and supports me in my path of playing bigger. If you sign up for Tara’s Playing Big course using this link (or any link from this post), I’d love to send you a free 5×7 card of it – a reminder that you might need along the way. I’ll include a blank envelope in case someone you know might need this reminder, too.

And if a darker-haired, darker-skinned version of the image fits you best, I’d be happy to send that alternative (click here to view).

The links in this post are affiliate links, so my trust tending work is supported by your sign-ups here. Which seems like a beautiful circle of trust support – yours, Tara’s, mine, and all those who benefit from all of us playing bigger!

Just forward me proof of your course purchase (a receipt or a welcome email from Tara) and your snail mail address, and I’ll drop your card in the mail.

If you have questions about the program and want to ask me personally about my experience, feel free to drop me a line! There is also extensive information you can read about the program on the homepage itself.

Whole-heartedly, and cheering you on in your moves to cultivate trust,

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When we’re honest with ourselves, most of us know that life = change – that there’s no such thing as stasis. Our inner and outer landscapes are constantly in flux.

Our experiences of that change, however, are myriad and after a weekend full of emotions I still can’t understand, I’m moved to talk about our less straight-forward experiences of it.

Changes we don’t understand

The murky shifts I have in mind are no less real than the ones we can readily identify (e.g. I moved. I got a job. I got divorced.), but often tear at our trust in particular ways. They cause us to question our self-awareness and feel a bit, well…crazy. They challenge our ego’s wish to name a “problem” and try to resolve it. And they elicit fear (in us and, sometimes, in people we love) that they’ll drag on forever.

So I want to talk about them. I’ve found that with greater consciousness, I can experience them with more cushion around my inner state of trust than is otherwise present – more ability to ride their discomforts, rather than constantly, flailingly be thrown by them.

No-name Change

The name I want to give these murky shifts is “No-name change”. Because, truly, they mystify.

No-name change is what I experienced this weekend. I attended Tara Mohr’s Playing Big Workshop and it was a fantastic experience. Full of wonderful content and dear, supportive companions. I left there FULL of inspiration and practical tools for navigating the inner and outer aspects of playing my freest, most authentic game.

On a level below my cognition, however, something was up. I felt intense urges to cry without the ability to name their root emotion. Grief, fear, shame, anger, nostalgia – none of these felt like “it”, and I was at a loss to come up with alternatives (I couldn’t even blame PMS!).

I engaged whole-heartedly in workshop and social time, and then walked the trails of Green Gulch alone, mystified, tears streaming down my face.

Riding no-name change with grace

As I reflect on these experiences and similar ones from elsewhere in my life, it seems clear that riding no-name change doesn’t usually look graceful on the outside. On the outside it can look like:

• Awkward attempts to act “normal” when everything inside feels strange
• Slow or blubbering tears
• Emotional flat-lining as you work to keep intense and/or inexplicable emotions in check.

On the inside, though, grace can be simultaneously present. Here are some of the ways I’ve discovered it can look:

• It can look like a kind and knowing nod to yourself that says, “It’s that no-name change happening again, isn’t it? Yeah. That’s hard. And awkward.”
• It can look like giving yourself space – in the form of inner permission, conscious surrender, or literal chances to cry, be alone, walk, sit in the bath, etc. – to let it do its thing for as long as it needs to.
• It can look like a reminder, taped to your inner or literal fridge, that says, “No-name change is happening. Welcome, again, to the human experience.”

Life is change, so no matter how intense you experience your no-name change to be, that, too, will change. With time and curiosity, you may get insight into its true nature/name (you may even sense it’s time to press in toward this end – to ask questions, to seek therapy). But then again, you may not.

My deep and deepening trust, however, is that whether or not we ever get a more specific name for it, no-name change isn’t a sign that we’ve failed on some enlightenment or self-awareness test. It isn’t a sign of immaturity and not likely a sign that we’re losing our minds. ;)

It’s simply one of the more awkward and mystifying ways that we grow.

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