Coming to Asheville

(an edited version of this article appeared in Spirit in the Smokies,  January 2001)

In 1995, I closed the New Life Institute, a holistic center I had founded and run for 4 1/2 years on Staten Island, New York. During that time, the center became the gathering place for many spiritual seekers of all kinds, a place where all those who had felt alone with the new, unorthodox, “alternative” ideas, could come together and find appreciation and support. By presenting a whole range of programs, everything from Healthy Cooking, and The Healing Power Of Sound, to Polarity Therapy and Soul Retrieval, we introduced the community to a new way of thinking, a new way of being in the world. People came from far and wide to participate in our programs.

I not only served as the director of the New Life Institute, organizing programs, hiring teachers, putting together a quarterly brochure, managing our small bookstore, I also taught several classes, such as A Course in Miracles, and Healing Touch, conducted spiritual services on Sundays, had a full schedule of private clients, and tried to have a private life. (Hah!) I had one assistant (a god-send), but I seemed to be on call twenty-four hours a day. As the center grew, my own private living space was taken over until I was left with two rooms upstairs. I began to resent this encroachment on my space, but pushed aside these feelings, seeing the center’s expansion as a sign of its (and my) success.

I worked hard. I thought I could do it all. I thought I had to do it all. I didn’t know any other way. I ignored the tell-tale signs of burn-out (exhaustion, irritability, joint pains, insomnia). I kept going. I tried to stay balanced by meditating, breathing, etc., but I was still on the fast-track headed for a fall.

One day, as I rushed from a session with a client, quickly dealt with the printer on the phone, and hurried to teach my class in (ironically) Stress-Away, I knew something was definitely wrong with this picture.

I knew I couldn’t go on this way. The last straw came when I held a meeting of people who had been very supportive of the work I was doing, and had participated in many programs. I thought that if they loved the New Life Institute, as they said they did, perhaps we could transform it from being “Elizabeth’s center” to a non-profit educational center in which others had equal input and involvement.

However, while everyone loved the idea, no one was willing to become more actively involved, to take more responsibility. Everyone appreciated what I had accomplished, but no one was willing to come on board and do the work necessary to keep it going. Everyone had their own lives, their own preoccupations. This was my baby, not theirs.

It was clear to me that I could no longer take care of this baby by myself. Apart from the physical work involved, the center was draining me financially. The center was being supported financially by programs, memberships, sales of books, etc., but it wasn’t enough. Expenses were high, income wasn’t dependable (one good snowstorm would cancel classes), and I was continually feeding the coffers with my own income, which came from my therapy sessions, and sales of my tapes. It was all too much for me. And so, I made the decision to close the New Life Institute.

When the doors were finally closed, I felt somewhat bereft, lost, unsure of my direction or my purpose. In the weeks and months that followed, everything seemed to slow down. I went from having a waiting list of clients, to having barely enough income to pay the rent on my new apartment.

I began to feel very unsure of myself, unsure of my place in this Universe.With fewer clients to see, and fewer classes to teach, with less to occupy me, I spent more time in the park, more time journaling, writing some poetry and short essays, reflecting more on life. Still,  I missed being more actively involved.

In an attempt to keep my energy flowing, I started the Staten Island Association of Holistic Practitioners. Once again, I found myself the center of an organization. Without realizing it, I was continuing a pattern of operating from a strong leadership position, doing most of the work. As we planned our first function, a holistic fair, others in the group made it clear that they were counting on me to take charge and keep things running smoothly.

While on the one hand, I was comfortable with this role, and my ego self was reassured that I was valued by others, on the other hand, I was tired. And so, my inner self decided to teach me a lesson. That fall I was headed for happened - literally. The day before the fair, I was going down a flight of stairs carrying things in both hands. Thinking I had reached the landing, I missed the bottom step, fell, and painfully sprained both ankles. I wasn’t going anywhere!

Stuck with two sprained ankles, I had lots of time for contemplation. I got the message. It was clear that I had to let go of a way of being that no longer served me. I knew I had to change the way I functioned, especially in groups, but I didn’t know any other way to be. After all, I was the one who had the vision; I knew what had to be done, and I was most often the one who was willing to do the work. Now, I was beginning to see that my taking charge often left others feeling disempowered. Yet, if I gave up my role of leader, organizer, teacher, who would I be? Was this not my strength, my gift? How could use my leadership ability and also blend my energies with those of others? How could I encourage the empowerment of others and not disempower myself? I questioned my role, my function, my purpose. Perhaps everything I did was ego-centered, false, and wrong.

Quickly I spiraled down into a “dark night of the soul.” It was not the first time in my life that I found myself in this dark, desolate place, questioning everything I believed to be true, feeling my very foundation crumble beneath me. This time, though, I had to cast away all the roles, all the acquired layers of self, my very identity. I went deep inside, shedding all that I had come to accept, all the spiritual teachings, channeled messages, all that I had learned from books and masters. I peeled away layer after layer of beliefs, ideas, comfortable thought cushions. I let go of my belief in God, Spirit, Higher Power. I left myself nothing to fall back on. At bottom, I could be sure of nothing. I knew nothing.

Except — one thing. When all else was cleared away, I was left with one thing, the only thing I could say for sure: I exist. I am aware. I am. This I knew. I exist. And not because I think (“I think, therefore I am” - Descartes’ mistake), but because I am aware. I have a sense of self, of being. This then, was the bottom line, the first basic, truth. I Am.

Then, I saw the next basic, fundamental truth: the existence of the world around me. There was a world that I perceived, a world of other people, of animals, of trees. A world of nature. As I contemplated this, I could safely conclude that while the world “out there” consisted of much that was man-made, there was also a world that was not man-made, a world of nature. The very fact of nature, of the existence of rocks and plants, sun and stars, the fact of the cycles and rhythms of nature and the inextricable interdependency of all life forms, suggested a source that was not only a creative power, but was also an extraordinary intelligence,  beyond anything that humans were capable of. 

And so, as I stripped away all my acquired  beliefs, opinions, and ideas, I came face to face with what for me was the only reality, the only Truth: I exist. Nature exists. And existence, mine and nature’s, arises from a Source beyond myself, an Intelligent, Creative Power. This Power, having given rise to all that is, remains as the essence, the life within everything that is. This Power is the Life Force in me, my essence, my very beingness. The Source lives in me and expresses through me. This then, is the Truth that gives meaning, and value and purpose to my life. I live as an expression of the Creator, a unique manifestation of It. And so does everyone else. Each life form, each being, each blade of grass, each rock and squirrel, is a unique expression of the Life Force. Our worth does not come from what we do. We are each of value simply because we are.

Here I let it rest. This was enough. I had no need of a God-father figure, (or Goddess mother figure, for that matter). No need for guides, angels, masters, or other “divine” beings. Our desire to look for higher beings to take care of us only serves to keep us from being in our own truth, relying on our own glorious, creative selves. Constantly reaching for the next book, the most enlightened master, the latest teaching, prevents us from finding the answers within ourselves, discovering our own inner wisdom. Religions, though perhaps containing seeds of truth, keep us imprisoned by the belief that we need redemption or rescuing, that we need forgiveness.

It’s a thin line to walk, claiming the power of our own true god-self, while acknowledging that we are still in the process of becoming. And, while we have no need of outside forces to “save” us, it may nevertheless be beneficial to open, through prayer or meditation, to more fully evolved Light Beings. (Surely we are not the only aware life forms in the universe!) Addressing prayers to “Father-Mother God,” or attuning to Spirit in the form of guides and masters, reminds us that we’re not alone in the universe, and opens us to our own inner wisdom which provides the answers, the guidance we seek. Communicating with devas or angels connects us more deeply with the Divine Intelligence that infuses all life.

Thus, I emerged from this dark night more deeply connected to Spirit, and to my own spiritual self. I began to release my need to “do it all myself,” and made a commitment to learn how to “work and play well with others.” Where it once seemed that I would have to give up my leadership role in order to do this, I found instead that by releasing my need to have everything done “my way,” new possibilities emerge, and everyone benefits. I could see more clearly how we each have a piece of the puzzle, and that not one of us has the whole answer. Only by joining together can we co-create the desired result.

 I had to practice the art of letting go. I worked at releasing my need to be in control, and the fear that lay behind it. I examined my attachment to the role of leader, my desire to succeed in the eyes of others. It was a challenge to step back but not stifle myself, to make room for others and still have the freedom of my own expression, to lead but not to dominate.

As I let go more and more, I soon felt a strong desire to let go even of the Staten Island community which had been my support system for so long. It was time to move on.

 Simultaneously, as I began looking for the next place to live, new paths were opening for me in terms of my work. I learned the powerful transformative work of Energy Psychology, which helped me clear many old patterns, limiting beliefs, and fears for myself and for my clients.

Then, I found Asheville. Like many others, I had been searching—Sedona, Santa Fe, Colorado. Not until I experienced this beautiful place and these glorious mountains, did I feel that I was really home at last.

As I prepared for my move here, I began to feel a sense of completion with many aspects of my life. In the mysterious ways of the Universe, many people and circumstances presented themselves for closure. Emily, my childhood friend whom I had not been in touch with for forty years, showed up, choosing this time to visit from England where she was living. We were able to clear much unfinished business from the past. An old classmate came to see me, confessing that he’d had a crush on me since we were freshmen in high school. Somehow it was now that he had a need to contact me, and fan the flame. How strange, I thought, that someone “out there” has been carrying these feelings about me all this time, and I had no clue. I had no such feelings about him, but it was as if the Universe wanted all energetic cords to be cleared and released in order for me to move on. More closure.

In many other ways I felt as if I were dying to my life as it was. I drove all around Staten Island saying goodbye to familiar places — my elementary school, and the library where my sisters and I had gone every Saturday, coming home with armfuls of books; the place where my mother had had her business, Molly’s Ladies Shop, now a pizza parlor; Crook’s Point, the beach at land’s end that I often retreated to when I needed quiet time; the park near my home where I’d watched baby ducks follow their mother into the water for their first swim.

I felt an urgency to teach and train as many people as possible in the techniques of Energy Psychology, so they would have these tools to use for themselves and for others. I encouraged students and clients to follow their own dreams and become teachers and healers themselves. I gave away many gifts that were remains of the New Life Institute. I did a lot of clearing out. Even though I knew I’d be back occasionally for visits, and I knew I’d stay connected with many of my friends here, it really did feel as if I were leaving forever.

And finally, a few days before moving, I climbed into a small two-seater plane that my friend Ken was piloting, and, overcoming my fear, flew all over New York, for a last farewell to the city that had been my home. I had a bird’s eye view of the World Trade Center, of Lady Liberty, the Statue that I’d often gazed upon as I rode the Staten Island Ferry, of the Verrazano Bridge which connects Staten Island with Brooklyn and Manhattan. I felt a deep calm and a sense of completeness, along with a bit of nostalgia, and some sadness at leaving my son and other family members behind. But I was done with city life, ready now to leave all this hustle and bustle behind.

I knew that Asheville was the right place for me as wonderful synchronicities began to happen as soon as I made the decision to come here. For example, in July (‘99) I gave my landlord notice that I’d be moving as of October 1. I’d set the date, but still hadn’t found a place to move to. I was trying to figure out how I could possibly do this from a distance, when a client called and said she had a friend living in Asheville who was moving back to New York at the end of September. She was renting a wonderful little house about ten minutes from town that would be available. Did I want to talk to her about it?

So it was that I rented a house in Asheville, sight unseen, while still in Staten Island. Spirit does move in mysterious ways.

In August, I came to sign the lease for this house. I returned to sit at the foot of the mountains on Reems Creek Road, where I had felt the power and presence of Spirit on a previous visit. I opened my heart and asked that I be guided in my new life here, that I be shown the way. Having let go of my former life, my old self, what would I do? Who would I be? I was in the void, facing the unknown. Mountain Spirit said, “Learn to trust, to allow, to just be. Live with uncertainty and go forward anyway.”

Then, as I offered a prayer of gratitude to the mountains, I received a strong sense that I would still be using my gifts of teaching and healing, but that the quality of my work would shift. Now, as I served the many other teachers and healers who would be gathering here, I would be working with friends, colleagues, helping them to bring forth their gifts and talents. We would be working together and establishing Asheville as a true center of Light, providing resources for new technologies in healing, in learning, and in the development of human potentials. We will be creating a new blueprint for living harmoniously with the earth and with each other.

Joyfully, I left Staten Island and came to Asheville.

It’s been a little over a year now. During that first year here I had to reorient myself a bit (figuring out east and west, replacing my “city clothes” with hiking boots and jeans, gathering wood for the fireplace) and I’ve had a few more opportunities to shed some remaining old patterns.