August 2011


Webster’s dictionary defines translucent as “letting light pass through, but not transparent.” A transparent object, like a clean sheet of glass, is almost invisible. You see everything through a transparent object as if it were not there at all. An opaque object, on the other hand, blocks light completely. A translucent object allows light to pass through, but diffusely, while maintaining its form and texture. Objects on the other side cannot be clearly distinguished. A crystal is translucent. So is a sculpture of frosted glass — if the sun were to shine on it from behind, you would see the light passing through the sculpture, and it would appear to be glowing from the inside.

Translucent people also appear to glow from the inside. They have access to their deepest nature as peaceful, limitless, free, unchanging, and at the same time they remain fully involved in the events of their personal lives. Thoughts, fears, and desires still come and go; life is still characterized by temporary trials, misfortunes, and stress. But the personal story is no longer opaque: it is now capable of reflecting something deeper, more luminous and abiding, that can shine through it. (more…)

Here is a passage from my book Leap Before You Look.

When we are willing to exchange our life of preoccupation with “me” and “my needs” for a life given in the service of love itself, of that presence itself, we are faced with an interesting paradox.

On one side of the paradox, we recognize that everything is perfect just as it is. When the chatter of the mind recedes just a little bit, when the smells, colors, and textures of the world become more immediately felt, we recognize the grace running through it all. Even in conflict, or in the midst of what we call suffering, if we are really in touch with the pulse of life itself, we can feel the beauty of it all.

On the other side of the paradox, we realize that everything is continuously evolving. Our human condition, as it is now, is flawed with unconscious habits, addictions, and compulsions. In seeing the gap between who we are today and who we could be, seeing the trickle of gifting that’s coming through us relative to the latent torrent that we intuit, we bow in humility. When we look down from our resting point on the mountain, we may marvel at how far we have come from the valley below, but when we look up, the peaks are still lofty and daunting, and we know there is still much more to discover. (more…)

I remember many years ago I went for a coaching session with an extraordinary man names Stan Russell. This was before the word “coaching” was used for anything other than football, tennis, and soccer. So he was a coach before we even called such people coaches.

We discovered some unconscious beliefs I was holding about different things in my life, and instead of talking about the content, or the story or the history or anything, he had me do something very strange. He had me tap on different points of my body while doing other unusual activities like counting from 20 backwards in multiples of three, or singing Yankee Doodle.

The amazing and unexpected consequence was that a lot of aspects of my life got clear on their own without having to deal with them directly.

Twenty years later, I got re-introduced to this method of “tapping” by my friend Nick Ortner. (more…)

Here’s a passage from my book The Translucent Revolution.

With the willingness to be less defined comes a loosening of our grip on the past. The past is of little use when you have no case to defend. If the trial is dismissed as boring and irrelevant, you can send the witnesses home to get on with their lives and dump the bulging dossier of carefully crafted case notes into the trash. Translucents have a natural interest in forgiving and moving on. Forgiveness is no longer a moral virtue, or something we need to practice, but the effortless by-product of no longer needing to protect anidentity with a story attached to it. The past is not healed; it simply ceases to be useful.

I know a woman named Sarah who had memories of abuse as a child. She was never quite sure which of the events she remembered actually happened, but they certainly all seemed real. She saw a number of therapists over many years. She visited her family from time to time; she tried to sit down with her father to find out what had really happened. She joined a support group. This identity, as a survivor of abuse, was one of the first things she would tell you about herself. Some years ago, Sarah came to a gathering I offered. She had an awakening; she discovered reality without the filters of her mind. (more…)