I am finally opening ‘the box’ I’ve intentionally overlooked for several years now. When we moved, over eight years ago, I located stashes of personal journals and collected them all in one box. There were fourteen of them. When I mentioned how many I had found, friends assumed I would re-read them and surmised how interesting reading it would be. I really wasn’t particularly drawn to read any of them. Honestly, I was convinced I would be bored; like re-reading a map of territory you had already travelled.

What I had overlooked was that it could be confirmation of a journey undertaken and well-travelled.

Reviewing my first journal dating back almost 40 years, I’m struck by something I wrote, “Sometimes I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon waiting…just waiting to blossom into a beautiful butterfly. Other times I feel like a prisoner trapped by my own shortcomings and insecurities.”

As I read other entries, it transports me back to a time when I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin; when I had more questions about myself than I had answers. I realized how hard I was on myself, too often falling short of my own expectations.

“Why can’t I just be satisfied with being myself?” I pondered all those years ago, “Why do I depend on others’ opinion of me to formulate my own?” Then, I went on to give myself advice of what was a worthy pursuit: “First, I must know myself. Secondly, I must accept myself, and thirdly, I must develop the courage to be myself.”

Having believed from the beginning, that I would never reach my full potential unless I knew my own mind, heart and what made me ‘tick,’ I didn’t realize back then, that I had set forth part of my life’s mission. As I look back, I see that this has been a constant for me; self-examination, reflection and pursuit of understanding of myself, and others. What a remarkable journey it has been!

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne

Several years ago, I stood at the jewelry counter of a large chain department store in Florida waiting to return two pieces of gold jewelry I had bought in their New Hampshire store a couple days before. When the sales clerk at the New Hampshire store realized I wanted my husband’s input on my selection, she recommended I buy all three and simply return the two I chose not to keep. I felt a bit uncomfortable doing so because I hate returning things, and it would be to a different store location, but she assured me it would absolutely be no problem at all. In the end I decided it was the almost-perfect solution.

My discomfort at returning not one, but two pieces of jewelry must have come through in my demeanor.   When I explained to the clerk what I was there to do, her abrupt movements coupled with the sigh that escaped her lips let me know she was not too pleased. I felt myself shrinking inside, and wishing I had not followed the advice of the clerk in New Hampshire. I couldn’t wait for the ordeal to be over!

To this day, I don’t know what inspired my moment of clarity. All of a sudden, I realized that she was the clerk and I was the “valued” customer. I was not doing anything wrong and I should be treated in a more respectful manner. At the same time, I understood that the way I had communicated to her affected the way she was treating me. I decided to change the situation and turn my discomfort into an experiment and a learning experience by plowing through my feelings of low self-worth in that moment.

I straightened up, took a deep breath and plunged in. “Excuse me, I was told I could easily return these pieces at another location, but it seems to me that there actually is a problem with that. If I’ve been misinformed, I’d be happy to speak with someone else…the manager, perhaps?”

Her head whipped up, “Oh no, there’s no problem, I can take these back,” the words tumbled out.

“Oh… well, it didn’t appear to be okay.”

“It’s just that with these extra pieces, I’m going to reflect a higher inventory and it’s going to affect my numbers… “ the last vestiges of her frustration being spent, in that statement.   Thinking better of it, she added, “but, no worries, it’s not a problem.”

The transaction was completed in a very different tone than it had originally started. I walked away having gotten way more than my money back. I learned a valuable lesson that day about the truth in the saying, “We teach people how to treat us.” If I had not spoken up for myself, I would have continued to be treated poorly simply because the clerk had her eye on the bottom line rather than customer service. I merely reminded her of where her attention ought to be and how I expected to be treated. In the process, I got an up-close-and-personal lesson about the power we hold in how we are treated by others in all our interactions.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne

While out for breakfast recently, the wait for a table was extremely long. Shifting from one foot to the other, we all tried to avoid invading one another’s space, but the diners who had the misfortune to be seated nearby had the line spilling over by their tables.

I was trying to be inconspicuous and not pay attention to diners’ conversations, when it occurred to me that there was an elderly man next to me. At first I thought he had finished his breakfast and was trying to move past me to leave the restaurant. I smiled at him and stepped aside to give him enough room to maneuver with his cane when I realize that he, too, was a fellow patron waiting his turn. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and that’s how our conversation began. The poor fellow suffered from shingles over two years ago and since then, was left with the debilitating pain of neuropathy. He has tried every treatment the world over to find relief but alas, none could be found. He told me that if it wasn’t for the love of his family, he certainly would have taken his own life by now.

He was quick to tell me that he has been married 56 years and that while he and his wife have not always agreed on things, they have never fought. They have always been respectful of one another.

I learned that he started his first company when he was 25 years old and is still running 50 companies scattered all over the world. He expressed how blessed he felt, and that because of his need to ‘give back’ he launched a charitable foundation in 2007 whose mission it is to provide clean, safe water throughout the continent of Africa. In those parts, clean water is hard to come by, requiring women to walk up to eight miles each day to obtain enough water for that day’s needs. Nearly one in five deaths under the age of 5 are caused by water-related diseases and more than 50% of all hospital beds are occupied with people who have water-borne illnesses from contaminated water.

I was engrossed in our exchange when my name was called for the next available table. I felt torn from a conversation that had been truly inspiring. The quote that popped into my mind at that moment was, “we often entertain angels unaware.” I felt as though I had been in the presence of an angel. This man was in constant pain and yet what he focused on is the good that he can still do for others.

It left me wondering how often I brush elbows with other ‘angels’ without ever knowing it and how important it is to treat everyone with reverence. There is a part of each of us that is angelic and it is a blessing and an inspiration to uncover this in one another.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne

After taking off on a United Airlines flight, I was immersed in my book when I thought I heard sniffling coming from the twenty-year old sitting next to me. Since I had just gotten over the worst of a head cold the previous day, I assumed the young lady was struggling with similar symptoms. A few minutes later, however, I realized that she was crying. Cocooning herself away from everyone and facing the window, she was trying, in vain, to wipe away her tears. I thought it best to let her be. She obviously wanted to be alone and was probably hoping no one would notice. I certainly didn’t want to embarrass her!

As I tried to focus on my book, however, my thoughts mingled with the words on the page. I wondered if there was something I could do or say to ease her situation, whatever it was. My mind told me to mind my own business, while my heart told me to reach out. My mind told me I was an unknown, a stranger to her, and that she would merely reject any offers for help anyway. My heart said, “ Perhaps I could ease her burden …even just a bit?”

I had been journaling lately about how unnecessary it is that we seem to live in a world full of strangers. Aren’t we all desperately seeking connection? Yet we pass within two feet of each other, and look away without even the slightest acknowledgement. As a whole, don’t we pretty much ignore people we don’t know? We’ve discounted the fact that we can make a difference and have become oblivious to one another.

My heart overruled my head, as her sniffling turned to quiet sobs. Gently I placed my hand on her arm and leaned forward. She turned and looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “Would it help to talk to a stranger about it?” I asked. “You’ll never see me again, so it would be pretty safe…???”

She looked at me a bit sheepishly and, trying unsuccessfully for a smile, she said, “It’s nothing terribly serious; I’ve just left my parents to go back to college and I already miss them so much!” “Ah…you’re homesick. Are you a freshmen?” I asked. “No,” she answered as she tried smiling again through her tears… “a sophomore, but it’s still so difficult to leave them!”   “Well,” I smiled, “the good news is that you are well loved and you know it in your heart. Still, it’s a pretty horrible feeling to be separated from people you love so much, isn’t it?”

I dug in my pocketbook and pulled out a wad of Kleenex I had stashed there in case my nose started running again. Since I hadn’t needed them, I figured they would be better put to use by offering them to her. She gratefully accepted, and our short exchange seemed to have subdued the waterworks for the time being. She didn’t seem to have anything further to say, and by silent, mutual understanding, she returned to her musings and I to my book.

It wasn’t an exchange of monumental proportions, but as I look back on it, I realize that I had taken the opportunity to overcome my learned indifference. At our core, I believe we all really care, but we’ve learned to be indifferent towards those we don’t yet know. We’ve learned to “mind our own business,” to “not get involved,” and as a result, we live in such isolation in a world six billion people strong! It has been said that so many people go to bed each night hungry……some for food, many more for mere acknowledgement.

I’ve often thought how, as individuals, we all need and want pretty much the same basic things: love, acceptance and acknowledgement, but because we’re afraid of being vulnerable, we keep to ourselves. Our fear of rejection prevents us from stepping out and offering the best of ourselves to others, beyond our personal family and friends. I wonder… what kind of change could we affect if we treated everyone we encounter in our daily rounds with the same warmth and consideration we give to those in our personal circle… A paraphrase of Gandhi’s sentiment rings true in my heart: “Be the change you wish to see in the world!”

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne

It came to me…not all of a sudden but with a gradual understanding; like a sheer veil slowly being lifted. A veil that had been covering my eyes for so long I didn’t even know it was there.

Early on in our marriage my husband was considering a real estate investment that would, naturally, affect both of us. Not wanting to make all the financial decisions by himself, he really wanted my input. I, on the other hand, had complete faith in him, his understanding of finance, and his ability to make the right decisions but he felt the weight of the burden. My feeling was that, finances, let alone real estate, was his domain. He was the man after all! He was the one who possessed the faculties to weigh the pros and cons of such decisions, certainly not little ‘ole me!

I couldn’t help but wonder, though, why I felt incapable so I decided to journal about it. As I wrote, my feelings began to materialize into conscious thought. I  pondered and searched for either the evidence of my ineptitude or the root cause of this belief. I was quite good at Math and Algebra in school, and earned a high grade in my college Accounting course. I graduated High School as well as College with high honors. So… what evidence did I have to support this belief that I was not capable? Like peeling the layers of an onion, new questions revealed themselves. Could it be that I didn’t comprehend matters of finance and real estate simply because I believed I couldn’t? My gosh! Could this belief alone have been powerful enough to make me feel incapable, keeping me from even trying? If so, where would that have come from? Why in the world would I believe that?!

As I continued to journal, answers started to unfold! I recalled that, as a child, whenever I went to my mother for help with anything, be it Math or Science, filling out a form or even writing out a check, she always responded in the same way. She would look at it and unless she could understand it at first glance, she would take a deep breath and say in an exasperated tone, “Oh! Go ask your father. That’s just too complicated for my little brain!”

It may be she didn’t want to take the time necessary to figure it out, but this scenario repeated itself so many times that my father became my “go-to” person for anything that required any amount of thinking. From this pattern, my childish mind deduced and stored as fact, something my adult mind was completely unaware of; an internalized belief that held women intellectually inferior to men.

After my initial astonishment, I became extremely hopeful about having discovered this limiting belief in myself. I had a gut feeling I was onto something big. I was compelled to test my theory, so I enrolled in a real estate class.

I threw my heart and soul into this endeavor. I was always so prepared that I could answer, with ease, any question the instructor asked. So much so, that during break one day, a fellow student, a man several years my senior, came to me with a twinkle in his eyes and said, “You know, if we were in high school right now, a bunch of us would take you behind the building and beat you up. You’re making the rest of us look bad!”

I chuckled to myself because what they didn’t realize was that there was a huge difference between what they wanted and what I was after. They wanted a license that said they could legally sell real estate. I, on the other hand, was after a key that would unlock my future; belief in myself and my own abilities to think.

After passing the state boards first try with a 94, I was off and running! Not in real estate, however, but on my journey of self-discovery and conscious personal growth. This is how my ‘awakening’ began.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne

“What’s wrong? Are you disappointed?” My mother asked. She noticed that I seemed less than excited about the gifts I had received from her and my father.

At twelve I was starting to question life, albeit, somewhat unconsciously. That Christmas season, I was curious as to what it was that made up the “Christmas Magic” I had always experienced. Knowing that the gifts received provided only temporary thrills, I questioned whether something beyond them was responsible for the warmth, excitement and joy I felt at the holidays. I figured that fond memories combined with expectations were major contributors. I also strongly suspected that my engagement in, as well as the excitement that I brought to the season, were top contenders in the bigger picture… so I experimented.

In the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I often stopped and asked myself, ‘If I take the emotions out of this experience, is there still something special and exciting about it?’ The answer was usually ‘hmm…not so much.’ I would then re-enter the moment, allowing myself to feel the joys of the season. I did this often, as if taking my inner pulse and the answer was consistent; without engaging with excitement; my experience of the holidays was lackluster. What I deduced from this experiment was this: how we experience events in our lives has so much to do with what we bring to them in terms of emotions, memories and expectations. This means we have an active role in determining our life experiences. It dawned on me that if I wanted a happy, joyous, life, it was my responsibility, right and privilege to choose my demeanor. While I don’t think I realized it at the time, this insight was a much greater gift than anything wrapped under the tree.

It did, however, come at a cost. I was not nearly as immersed in the “Christmas Magic” that year and my mother sensed it. That was a problem because, my experiment wasn’t clear enough in my own mind to be able to articulate it to her, and she could see that I was not as engaged and excited as I usually was. Furthermore, when she asked, “Are you disappointed?” what crossed my mind before I answered her question was all the energy and hard work she always put into Christmas preparations to make it a blessed celebration for everyone. I thought of how devastated she would feel if I confirmed some disappointment, regardless of the reason why.

By that age I also had witnessed most adults in my life skirt confrontation by being “nice” and acquiescing to telling others what they wanted to hear, so I told her “no” that I wasn’t disappointed. I told myself I wasn’t lying, but being kind. My mother wasn’t satisfied so she pressed further and I sensed that she really, really wanted to know the truth. The war within me was truth versus “being nice.” I was torn. Like the groove in an often- used vinyl record, the “being nice” rule was so well entrenched that it, naturally, won out.

As my mother retreated, not totally satisfied that she had the truth, I remember feeling like I had done the right thing in protecting her feelings, but that, in the process, I had traded a part of myself. It was in that moment that a seed-thought flashed across my mind, ‘When is it okay, or is it ever okay to say what I really think and feel?’

This thought sparked just enough light for me to acknowledge to myself that there was an internal struggle between expected responses and my personal truth. It was an oft-recurring thought over the years that followed. I didn’t fully understand then the value of excavating such struggles and examining them in full light. While it would be years before I would be awake enough to consciously pursue my journey to authenticity, this is where it all began.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne