If you believe everything you’ve seen on 60 Minutes, then I have been part of a cult. In the mid 1980’s, my mother discovered the EST training which found its popularity in the era of positive self-improvement and transformation through weekend long seminars. So, at the age of 10, my mother enrolled me in the Young Person’s EST Training and I found myself in a hotel ballroom with other young people my age discovering the tools to transform our lives and thinking - presumably before life bore down its burdens upon us.
EST, led by its creator and guru, Werner Erhard, fell victim to much scrutiny, including a 60 Minutes story suggesting cult-like practices among other concerns. Eventually EST was sold and morphed into a larger corporate entity called, Landmark Education; the weekend seminars reformulated under a new name, “The Forum.” At the age of 16, my mother invited me to take the Forum with her. When we arrived at the hotel ballroom for the check-in prior to the first session, I was whisked away to a private space, away from my mother, to be further interviewed by staff. There they questioned my application responses to determine if I was being coerced into participating. After several conversations and numerous assurances that indeed I was willing and able to participate of my own free will, I rejoined my anxious mother for the first session. Little did I know that whole encounter would become my first lesson of The Forum about the freedom to make my own choices - that ultimately, nothing compelled me but me.
One of the major tenets of The Forum, based on tenants of popular psychology, held that we are the architects of meaning in every facet of our lives. In fact, one of the mantras I remember hearing often was, “Life is empty and meaningless.” This sounds harsh, but accompanied by the observations of all the ways we create meaning, there was also something liberating in its pithy wisdom. The reality we experienced in these trainings is that we have the ability to choose our own meaning. We are the meaning makers - no one else. I have used this experience often in my life and work.
But as I have gotten older, I’ve begun to question this idea of choice. Yes, like most of us rational Unitarians, I firmly believe in free will and choice. Especially the choice about how we perceive, understand, and make meaning out of the events in our lives. However, the implication at the root of this seemingly simple truth is that when life feels painful, difficult or overwhelming, all I need to do is choose a new meaning; write a different story. But this simple truth too easily dismisses the hard feelings that arise in intense and challenging situations.
Since my cancer diagnosis, I have felt this acutely. I think a large percentage of us would prefer not to feel the hard feelings. Many of us actively work to dismiss them, repress them or perhaps choose to interpret them differently, reframing them into positive life lessons. I am one of those people. This diagnosis and all that it carried with it overwhelmed me in unexpected ways for which I was not prepared. Regularly, I’d experience waves of sadness, fear, and anger, often accompanied by tears. It was tempting to just sweep the emotions aside. But, having done some deep personal work and thanks to the support from dear colleagues, I knew I could not just choose to feel differently or reframe the experience into a positive life lesson. I knew I needed to sit with it.
Each time a wave of emotion swept over me, with all the accompanying meaning I would assign it, rather than try and rework it, I would try and hang out with it. In fact, I would work to disentangle whatever meaning I’d brought into the moment and just try to feel the feeling. I’d hear the voice in my head say things like, “You’re sad. It is okay to feel sad. You don’t have to know why, Just be sad for a minute.” This is not easy work. Some days I would fight against it. But the feelings were always there, waiting. The more space I allowed myself to feel them, unattached to meaning and choices, the more peace and clarity I felt alongside them.
I know that years from now, my cancer experience will hold deep meaning in my life. Meaning that I will create and likely have formed and reformed in myriad ways. And, I will always hold onto the adage that I, and I alone, am able to choose that meaning. But, I am not in a hurry to determine that meaning now. Instead, I’ll keep welcoming the feelings and learn to be with what is.
