Crossing Paths: When Does Change Bccome Transformation?

Ladder of Change...Trail of

Transformation

Change is a ladder. Through conscious choice, we climb, rung by rung. It's about changing "T.H.A.T": thoughts, habits, action and talk. When you decide to stop holding a rabid conversation with your fellow drivers, for example, you've got one foot on the lower rung. From there you can see the destination and have a pretty good idea of how to get there though

Rungs of change call for "Bravos!" So you didn't swear as much at those highway hackers today? Let one guy off the hook because your favorite song was playing on the radio? Realized that you'd arrived at your destination feeling more calm when you breathed instead of bashed? "Bravo!" "Bravo!" and "Bravo!" We don't do this enough-simply recognize the rung changes and congratulate ourselves for them. Yet such recognition keeps us climbing.

Oh, no! It's an extension ladder! Did you ever have a bad dream (a bit shy of a nightmare) where you're almost to a safe door, a lost love, or bag of Doritos and then it moves suddenly out of reach? Change can be like that-an extension ladder that turns out to be a whole lot more of a climb than you signed up for. You're tired. Not to mention cranky--or that your fear of heights has kicked in.

Hurrah! You made it to the top! You're keeping your mouth to yourself on the highways and byways, attracting fewer offenders, and feeling much better about yourself and your driving experience. (And your passengers are all shouting, "Bravo!" too.)

But what if, at the end of the ladder, a whole new vista awaits you?

The Transformation Trail. A couple of weeks ago at a workshop in San Diego, a woman shared with the group after an intense exercise. Her tone was direct and determined, yet softly present. "I've been an angry person my whole life," she said. "I've made myself miserable over things that didn't matter. I've hurt other people with my anger. But no longer. Today, I begin to create a life of peace and serenity." No cheers rattled though the room though noisy support had been the norm throughout the workshop. Instead, tears ran down people's faces and the applause was quietly respectful. We were in the presence of transformation--not merely changing angry habits, but becoming a peaceful person.

Up the Mountainside. Will this woman get angry again? Most likely. Will she experience it differently? Respond to it differently? I'm sure of it. Something had shifted in her-something conscious choice alone couldn't create. She was present to peace. She was peace. It was clear that she'd been climbing the "ladder of change" for a long time, and had now been transported to the trailhead of the mountain she is called to.

No Top to this Mountain. When a person decides to "create a life of peace" (or any evolutionary shift), no one knows what that will mean for her. She has opened herself up to radical trust in something that she doesn't know much, if anything, about. How could she? She's never been on this mountain. There will be beauty. Cliffs and caves. Wild things. Fellow hikers. Day and night. The trail itself might be obscured at times. Or seem to end.

The Mountain Is You. Transformation might be more like burrowing into a mountain instead of climbing it. A calling fulfilled, a life of peace, a great wound healed, a gift broken open, these are all worthy of our dedication and our love. But what is really being fulfilled, healed or broken open? If we find peace, it's because we've found it in our own hearts where it was hiding all along. If we effectively offer a great gift to others, it's because we've allowed it to emerge from within. If we experience the healing of a wound, it's because we've loved the wound for what it revealed to us. If we've fulfilled a calling, it's because that calling lives in the heart of the mountain that we are.

Transformation calls for radical trust in your calling, in "the process," in your guidance, and in your circle. Surrender in love to these and watch the mystery unfold.

Til We Cross Paths Again,

Maridel