Forty years ago, Buzz Aldrin danced on the moon.  He did a little kangaroo hop that was watched by 600 million viewers. I was one of them.

Now this 80 year old American icon is dancing again, this time on Dancing with the Stars. 40 million viewers watched. And again, I was one of them.

It’s staggering to consider about how much has changed since Buzz Aldrin’s first dance on the moon. In fact, thinking about this motivated me to create a quick timeline of those 40 years, just to get a sense of the changes I had personally experienced during that span.

I was fortunate that my work during the first twenty years of that period was as a change agent, someone who helped organizations and individuals go through what were often dramatic and fear inducing changes. I even wrote a book about change, creating a model I still use to this day.

And then I went through my own personal dramatic change when I had to give up my consulting practice, benched as I was by what no one knew about in the early nineties, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I wrote a book about that too.

So I am no stranger to change. In fact, I consider myself a Practitioner of it, one who aspires to Mastery, a la George Leonard’s great book of the same name.

But I must confess, sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed by the changes my partner Greg and I have been faced with in the past two years, and I am sometimes a bit daunted by more changes we see ahead. When this overwhelm creeps in, I find it difficult to be creative, to think clearly, to enjoy the beautiful present moment that is always mine.

What I need at these moments varies. A walk in the woods, time spent in meditation, getting on my knees to express gratitude for my life, just as it is. Sometimes an inspiring book, like Wayne Dyer’s There is a Spiritual Solution for Every Problem.

Now I have another source of inspiration — watching Buzz Aldrin on Dancing with Stars. Okay, so he can’t dance worth a darn, but that’s not why he is doing it. He is doing it to show us that we can still dance. Forty years ago we were young, we were powerful, we were full of ourselves and we thought we could do anything. Now we have had the proverbial rug pulled out from under us, and we may be floundering a bit.

So Buzz is dancing again, and I am filled with gratitude that I am here, at this moment, to watch him do it, again.

Let’s pretend the Still Point is a place, a dot on the map of your consciousness. Do you know where it is? Do you have any roads leading to it? Or is it a tiny pinprick, lost in a sea of busyness, drifting about with no anchor, far from shore?

In today’s busy world, it’s easy to lose our connection to the Still Point, and the further we get from it, the less it even occurs to us that we might need to visit it – because, after all, we have THINGS TO THINK ABOUT! THINGS TO DO!

When I hear people say they have tried to meditate, but it is just too hard, I know they have forgotten about (or maybe never knew) the inestimable and necessary beauty of the Still Point.

What is the Still Point?

Each of us will describe it differently, but here is what it is for me –

It is moment in time when I let go of my need to be absorbed in my thoughts, when I step back and simply observe them floating by like ripples in a stream.

I feel my body sink into the chair, my spine relax, the heaviness of my hands on my lap.

My breathing becomes deeper and smoother, and I am aware of the sound of my breathing in and breathing out.

Gradually (and the amount of time this takes can vary from a few minutes to half an hour), I am able to let go of my stream of thoughts. I become aware of the sounds in the room, of my body in the chair, of the PRESENT MOMENT.

I may see some colors or lights or other visual effects. This does not always happen but when it does I welcome it. I may also feel a warm tingling all over my body.

Sensations come and go. Thoughts come and go. Moments of complete peace come and go. Moments of ecstasy come and go. Nothing lasts. Nothing needs to last. I am part of the larger stream, letting it carry me and remind me that I am always part of it.

Eventually I return from the Still Point.

I drink a big glass of water and make a few notes about my visit. When I am finished, I leave my journal on the small round glass table next to my large overstuffed deep red chair. I fold my tattered and much beloved brown shawl and place it over the arm of the chair, put my shoes on, and walk back into my busy life, with the memory of where I have been to enrich and sustain my everyday world.

Postscript:  A Metaphor about the Still Point from Inside Our Magnificent Bodies

I am reminded of the conversation I had on Finding Magic in Midlife with Dr. Joan King, a former neuroscience professor and author of The Code of Authentic Living: Cellular Wisdom. She coaches people in how to be guided from deep inside, from our own cellular wisdom. As we were talking about the fast pace of our world today and the excitement of being able to have access to so many people through social media like Twitter, I made the comment that this constant stream of input made me feel overwhelmed at times.

Joan and I discussed her chapter called Turning On and Turning Off in which she addresses this very issue. Here is the wisdom from our cells:  After the neurons are stimulated and release their transmitters they go into a quiet phase that is 3-4 times as long as when they were active. You see, when they are active lots of charged molecules are moving out and charged particles are moving in.  The cells have to re-equilibrate and move things back into place (sort of like catching up with your filing). During this time, the neuron is completely still.  If you force the neuron to fire during this restorative still time, it dies.

This is a perfect metaphor for our external lives. If we are constantly busy, if we don’t take time for silence and regain our equilibrium, nothing will be integrated and we will burn out. We will lose our connection to the larger source, our creative ability, our sense of peace and well being – our restorative connection to the Still Point.

Footnote: The Still Point in a Turning World is a line from T. S. Eliot

Before I begin, I want you to know that I am not whining – I’m scientifically observing my own resistance to change.

I recently committed to writing something every day – a blog post, a newsletter piece, or an article. This is in addition to beginning the writing of my new book, the sequel to Choosing to Be. Naturally I find myself getting distracted by the many other things that need doing, and often the day slips by with nary a word on paper or screen.

As I explore my lack of results I realize that I am still pushing myself to do this – there is no pull, no vision of who I will be, how I will feel, when I actually am able to write on a daily basis.

I haven’t figured out how to change the way I think about this and set myself up for success. I don’t carry around a little notebook to jot down ideas as they come to me. I don’t set aside a time each day to do my daily posting to one of my blogs. And now that I know I can postdate a post, I’ve found a loophole – and I have enlarged that loophole from two days without posting to three days, then backdating the posts.

It’s amusing that I’m struggling so with this change to become a daily blogger. After all, I wrote a book on change in the early 90’s, and developed a change model that still holds true today. My model was based on work by Roger Gould, who wrote Transformations, and William Bridges, author of Transitions, on how to succeed at making changes in your life.

At the time I was consulting with companies on how to implement widespread structural changes or new corporate-wide systems. What I learned about change was that no matter how many people were impacted by corporate change, it was for each of them a quite personal matter. The problem, and the reason for the failure of many costly change implementations, was that often the people trying to implement the change didn’t think much about the people involved.

I smiled as I wrote that last sentence, because I suddenly had this image of me as a giant corporation deciding that I should become a daily blogger, without considering the personal implications for me, the person who has to make the change. Perhaps my corporate mind should spend a little time exploring the implications for the little person who has to actually do the work.

Hmmm, I’m beginning to see why this becoming a daily blogger is so difficult. My big corporate self is telling my little writer self to “get with the program” – after all, my corporate self has goals, big ideas, worlds to conquer. Meanwhile my little writer self, who has always had to take a back seat to my corporate self, is really pissed off. Once again, my creative abilities are not being respected. Feels just like all those years I had to spend writing corporate stuff instead of poetry or books about talking cats.

I am trying to find interesting things to write about, views with a twist, imaginative observations. But I’m not used to doing this on a daily basis, not used to keeping track of all my ideas, and then when it is time to write, sometimes my mind looks like a big stretch of Antarctica, completely white and devoid of any living forms.

So like all the “little people,” I’m pushing back at the big corporate mind dictating this change, finding reasons not to do it, problems that get in the way, subtle passive resistance that makes the big corporate mind pull her hair out. “Who cares,” I pout, crossing my arms and stamping my foot. “After all, what has she ever done for me?”

“Well,” my corporate mind replies, “I did give you this idea about exploring your resistance to change, didn’t I? And, I’m showing you right here that you can do one of your favorite things — you can write dialogue even in a blog. So why not open up that creative mind of yours and have some fun?”

I suspect a trick, but I do have to admit that her idea of digging deeper into my resistance as an actual blog post was pretty cool. And I do love writing dialogue.

“Okay,” I reply grudgingly, “I admit I’ve been dragging my feet. Maybe you’re on to something. As long as you promise that I can exercise my creative freedom however I see fit, I’ll do it.”

“That’s lovely. I just know you are going to like what comes of this. Trust me, I know what’s best for you,” she says with that knowing smile I’ve learned to hate.

But, what the heck, I know how to postdate my blog posts, so I can still play her game in my own devious little way — just like all the little people have been doing for centuries.

Have you ever bought a present for someone that you just couldn’t stop playing with? That’s what happened to me when I bought the Mirage, an instant 3-D hologram maker. You put this little plastic pig in the bowl, put the top on, and the pig appears to be sitting on the top of the bowl — but it’s not, it is only a hologram.

I now have this Mirage maker sitting on my desk, and every so often I reach over and try to pick up the pig, and every time I am re-astonished at how real the pig seems until I touch it.

The same thing is true of our “stories” isn’t it? They seem so real, we just know they are real, this is what really happened to me, we scream silently. But if we tell our story, or better yet, write our story, and ask someone who is not involved to listen to it or read it, and ask them to give us their view of it, or ask us questions about it, what do we find? It is just a story. We have personally arranged all the mirrors, just like this they did with the Mirage maker.

This is how the Mirage makes the pig appear real. The mirrors have to be arranged just a certain way, and they have to be polished for it to work. Hmmm, sound familiar? We have been arranging and polishing those mirrors for years. And then, if we are very lucky, someone moves one of the mirrors just a bit, and the pig disappears. Wow! Been carrying that pig around all my life, and now it’s just gone. What a miracle!

I actually arrived at this idea about the mirrors before the Mirage came into my life, when I was writing the chapter on Anger in Choosing to Be. I was having trouble explaining how meditation eventually helps us get out of our Ordinary Mind (the Mirage) and into Buddha Mind.

I was writing the dialogue between me and Poohbear Degoonacoon, the Feline Zen Master, in which he was trying to help me break free of my story, the one that was coming up repeatedly like a bad movie in my meditation. Pooh said that I was caught in the Wheel of Samsara (suffering), reliving the same events over and over again. He told me that the way to get of the wheel was to “become curious about this anger and this hurt and this humiliation. Do not participate in the scene. These feelings you are having are not you. Do not be overcome by what is happening in it. Step back and look at it from a distance.”

Several days later, the same scene came up again in my meditation. This time I did what Pooh suggested. I became curious, asking myself about the texture and tone of the feelings, and how my body was responding to them. I saw that my stomach would tighten, and I wasn’t breathing. I took a deep breath, and then another.

The story was still present, but the scene had shifted, as though I was looking at it from another angle. It was just a story about a woman who as a young girl made a decision that it was not acceptable to speak her truth. I saw how my story could morph and change in an instant, as if I was in a hall of mirrors and I just moved a few inches to the right — and got a completely different picture.

Of course, there are lots of books and techniques we can use to help us get out of our stories, but I find myself getting pretty attached to the pink pig that is not sitting on top of the bowl on my desk. Guess I’ll have to go back to the store to get another Mirage for that present I still owe my friend.

I have a confession to make. I don’t always meditate every day, even though I tell everyone they should.

What happens to me is what happens to most of us. We have every intention to stop, to sit still for brief time, to just be. But life gets going, we get revved up, and the day slips by before we know it. We smack our foreheads on the way to bed and say “Oops, I forgot to meditate today!”

I wrote a book about learning to meditate, and I wrote an e-program about how to become a confident sleeper, so, for the most part, I practice what I preach. Not to be goody-two shoes perfect, but because I really do understand how I benefit from doing what I tell other people to do.

But I get sloppy. I convince myself that as an experienced meditator who knows the value of it, I will remember to sit every day – but this really isn’t true. I go on automatic pilot, get through the entire day, and smack my forehead on the way to bed, just like everyone else.

When I was talking with my coach about how I was having trouble with my spiritual connection, she asked me how often I was sitting. Big (huge) light bulb moment! There is a direct correlation between how often I meditate and how connected I feel to my spiritual source.

At her suggestion, I changed my practice from that of “I know I will remember to sit every day because I write about this and I’m a seasoned meditator and I’m really cool with this, thanks” to something really brilliant. I decided to set a time that I will meditate every day. Okay, snicker if you want. I’m just trying to be honest here, even if it makes me look like a bit of a doofus.

After I implemented this brilliant plan, I sat every day, usually for 45 mins to an hour. I did this for 10 days. Here is what happened during that time. I slept really well every night. I was open and creative, and completely concentrated and focused when I needed to be. I loved myself and those around me. I was inspired and inspiring. I was connected to my spiritual source. In short, life was great!

And then one day, I “forgot” to meditate. It wasn’t on purpose. I was out running errands and didn’t get back in time, and then it slipped my mind that day.  The next day, I managed to sit but not at the appointed time. Slippery slope. In an amazingly short period of time, I had reverted to my former hit and miss approach.

And guess what? Didn’t sleep as well. Not as creative. Not able to focus like before. Striving for spiritual connection, but feeling like it eluded me. Inspiration was a distant memory.

What have I learned from this fall from grace? Simply this, it really was a fall from grace.

Do I want grace? You bet. I love grace. I love the way it makes me feel. And I know how to get it. Every day, at the appointed hour, all I have to do is Sit.

And say to myself every day that what is most important is most important. Act on it. Every day. My life will work better, I promise.

Technology is moving so fast sometimes it makes my head spin. Remembering what life was like before I joined Twitter has become a dim memory. Communicating on a daily basis in 140 characters with people all over the world now seems like the norm — and my inbox is filled with updates from my many new friends: Direct Messages, Newsletters I’ve opted into, emails about new ventures they want me to know about or be part of, messages from their Facebook pages. None of this is spam — these are all people I have brought into my life because I am interested in what they have to say.

As my number of active friends increased, I began to spend more time keeping current with them. I devoted more time to looking for interesting information to “tweet” so I could provide value. I got into the #FF routine of telling people to follow my friends, and spent time acknowledging their #FFs about me. I found myself spending more time on my computer, and gradually lessening the time I spent meditating and working on longer writing projects. I found myself thinking in 140 characters.

Now, it must be said here that I have a tendency to be easily distracted, even before twitter. I am what Kathy Kolbe’s Kolbe Instrument describes as a QuickStart, and I’m also a Myers Briggs ENFP with a very high “P”. This means I like to grab things and run with them, that I am attracted to many different shiny objects. So I am exactly the type of person who can get addicted to twitter without even realizing it. Just my normal MO, amped up to a much higher level.

However, as my writing projects began to pile up and my more in-depth reading projects were stacked higher and higher, I came to my senses. Whatever happened to balance?, I thought. How would I write my next book if I could only think in 140 characters?

So I made a commitment to myself to track how much time I spend each day on Twitter. I made a commitment to meditate for one hour every day — to gently watch the thoughts flow through and become an observer rather than an unconscious participant in the steady stream of flotsam and jetsam.

After I regained my balance, I began thinking about how difficult it is for anyone to get through all this noise to reach those people who could truly benefit from what they have to offer. I had seen articles and posts about this before, but now I knew this was important. If I am to be successful in my business I must figure out a way to rise above the noise. If I am feeling this noise, I know others are too.

So when I received an email about a free teleseminar titled ‘Success Strategies for Everyday Thought Leaders’ and one of the tag lines was about how to rise above the noise, it got my attention. I remembered that I pride myself on being a Thought Leader — as a pre baby boomer, I was used to leading the crowd, not following it. I wanted to learn what Andrea Lee was talking about.

Guess what? Not rocket science. QUALITY CONTENT. Hmm, this is what I already do. But Andrea took it a step further. She talked about how to help your audience perceive you as a Thought Leader, how to help them see the quality of your content. She modeled what she was talking about, and I felt like I had found a kindred spirit, someone who was provoking deeper contemplation and, dare I say it, providing real wisdom that would prove itself over time. Andrea is holding a 3-day workshop in Vancouver in March. I recommend you take a look  at The Wealthy Thought Leader.  Andrea Lee is definitely above the noise.

Today I received invitations to two teleseminars — each one striking a responsive chord with my own thoughts about how to prosper in 2010. Here’s what I’ve been thinking about:

#1. How can we sustain our sense of calm energy when there is much in our lives to feel stressed about?

Our effectiveness goes down when our stress goes up.  We “telegraph” our stress in our messaging and our interactions with our market. We’re not as creative and in the “flow” when we’re stressed. Seems to me there might be  simple equation here:

Stress + Unrestorative Sleep + Mindless, Reactive Behavior = Poor impact on Our Business

#2. How do we rise above the “noise” in an overwhelming flood of emails, tweets, facebook, linked-in and dozens of other sometimes not-so-social media requests?

If we are overwhelmed by the sea of hands raised for our attention, even if some of it is nicely done, pertinent, well written and respectful, we can probably assume that our customers and prospective customers are also. Now is when we need to get really grounded, breathe deeply, and allow our minds to wander creatively. Something needs to change. We need to change. But we can’t do it until we calm down.

Quite a conundrum, eh?

My approach has been to work on #1 first. This is why I meditate daily, and it’s why I spent last year learning everything I could about how to be a Confident Sleeper in Stressful Times. I knew times were going to be tough, and unlike the old John Wayne days when we said things like “When times get tough, the tough get going” — I knew we needed to be able to stay calm, relax our minds, and let go of obsessive thinking.

I’ve been successful at #1 — and I love sharing what I’ve learned and the Sleep Program I’ve created with the world.

Ah, now comes #2. How do I rise above the noise? I’m going to sit in on this teleseminar today — stay tuned for what I learn. . .

Arriana Huffington and Cindi Leive have issued a 2010 Sleep Challenge for Women in The Huffington Post. I am estatic that they are drawing attention to the importance of Sleep!

I began my campaign in 2009 to help women take responsibility for learning how to become Confident Sleepers. What I know is that a big part of being able to do that is learning how sleep works. Sleep tips are fine, but we are each unique — what works for one person may not work for another. I find that most people are in the dark about the real facts, and lack the deeper understanding they need to get adequate, restorative sleep on a consistent basis.

I suggest you think of this as a business problem — that’s what I did when I created Insomnia Relief Recipes. What did I need to know in order to solve this problem, what were all my options, what worked best for my unique situation? You can learn more about about what I spent 2009 researching and developing at Insomnia Relief Recipes.

If women can get the restorative sleep we need no matter what the circumstances, imagine how we will feel, how well we will be able to think, how clearly we will see what is most important. My vision for 2010 is to empower women to become Confident Sleepers. Thanks Arianna and Cindi for making this serious issue visible!

I am pleased to announce that a new Edition of Choosing to Be will be published  in 2010 by Findhorn Press, one of the world’s leading independent publishers in the fields of spirituality, healing, and self development. They are located in northeast Scotland, and publish works by authors living all around the world, distributing their titles worldwide.  Many of their titles have been translated into one or more languages.

This is a mock-up of the new cover.  It is much brighter and, and according to the Independent Publishers Group who advises Findhorn about their planned releases, more marketable than my original cover.  My dream has always been to have Choosing to Be in the hands of readers around the world, and I am delighted to be in the hands of a publisher who can help me realize that dream.

In the meantime, the current edition of Choosing to Be is available on Amazon until sometime in the Spring. You can see the great Reviews about the book by going to the Choosing to Be tab on this website.