A Message from Me to You
Not many people have seen me. Believe me. We all have our things is what I’m saying. Please don’t be offended. A video? Someday, maybe. I’ve got some healing to do is all.
You’re almost halfway through The Readiness Challenge. The fulcrum. Week 3’s done. Felt like a free pass, didn’t it? Nothing’s free. It’s not easy to speak your needs, make yourself naked and receptive.
Who am I? Doesn’t matter, except when it does. You’re working hard, you deserve answers. We all do. Don’t you just want something complete? Something you can hold in your hands and see it all the way through? Know every piece of it?
3 weeks down, 3 to go. All the Eastern philosophies, they say, Don’t attach. You know what? Too late. We’re here and aware and attached, and sometimes, you know, you just need to be told you’re beautiful or that the hang of your pants is perfect. You are beautiful.
Maybe you have doubts about The Caligenic. Why am I doing this? Is this the right thing? You hold onto that doubt. It serves you, you think.
I get it. In my life, before, I held onto everything. Don’t fuck this, Zak. Pardon my language, but that’s how I was. That was my mantra. Very compassionate, right? Didn’t let go of anything. When I would whatever, do something that made my body sweat, I’d be angry, watching all that sweat get away from me. What if I needed something in there?
All that holding on, all that saving, what’s the return on it? What do you get back? Here’s what: a tumor the size of a basketball in my chest. Not even attached to a specific organ. No name. Just there, dead center, where, were I a better person, I’d be radiating love. But that wasn’t me. Instead: a yellowed, tentacled mass swallowing me from the inside out.
But releasing that mass, permitting the surgeons to do their work, that was my rebirth, the genesis of The Caligenic. It’s not how you think, with epiphanies and revelations, bliss and radiance. That’s crap and beside the point. It crushed me, humbled me near to death. It was deep, a hard-earned and unwanted understanding of myself.
This is what I want for you. You personally, sitting there in your room, your cube, the subway, wherever you are right now. Listen.
Am I fulfilled, complete? I’m not here to bullshit you. I don’t crap unicorns, but I can tell you this. The tumor’s gone, other things too, but we won’t dwell on those. I’m lighter is the point. I ease through the world now. Not all the days, but a lot of them, ok?
Keep going. I believe in you is what I’m saying.
Here’s your Week 4 Challenge, directly from me, big whoppdeedoo at ZeroLabs, rarely seen in public, so intent is he on improving himself, on lightening his psychic load, convinced he’s got such important work to do, choosing seclusion over community…you see what I’m saying? There’s plenty of work to go around.
Fine. Who cares about me? This is your Challenge.
This week: look deep. Where’s your pain? The real stuff, sticky and dark. Not your kids-won’t-listen pain or your neck-tweak pain or your football-team-just-sold-the-future-for-a-quarterback-who-never-played-Division-I pain. Way under all that.
Ferret it out. That’s your job. Exercise, meditate, do broga, whatever. Find it.
Then? tell me where it lives, where in your body. Everything lives in your body. For now.
Just write, “Zak, the big toe on the left foot with the jagged nail that gets caught on my sock, reminds me every time.” Or, “Zak, the bricks on my chest.” Or, “Zak, I can’t move my arms some days.”
You tell me. I’ll hear you. You’ll be heard, seen, accepted. Believe me. We know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?
Do it now. Post your pain.