Out with the old, in with the new.

That’s my motto right now. I reserve the right to change it, if/when it suits me, but that seems to be the flavor of my thinking lately.

Ever have the feeling your business could use an emema? I did/do, and I’ve been laying down on that table for quite some time now.

To help steer me away from expanding on that metaphor, and to give you some context, let me give you some background. This will be especially helpful for those of you who haven’t known me all that long, all that well, or just are curious about the path I’ve come to tread and where this blog is going. I’ll try to be succinct…

Tra-la-la-ing down memory lane…

When I was 24, I went to a school for energetic healing, which soon became spiritual/energetic healing, and after graduating, I taught for them. But, since it was part-time, I had a private practice on the side, and started teaching groups, too. One thing morphed into another, and I was a healer/intuitive/teacher/thingy, and needed a platform. That platform became Monk at Work.

When my long-time buddy Dawud Miracle got me into blogging (so now you know who to thank/blame), the only way I thought to write was the same way I’d been doing for my email newsletters and for my classes, which was the Authority model. As in, “I’m the authority, and here’s what you need to know.” Which is great, if that’s what you think you need. But, as you’ll soon see, that set me up for some rough times…

Time passed. I kept writing, learning, and teaching. My subscribers grew, and life was good. Until the bottom fell out.

About two years ago, the school I was teaching with underwent both a metamorphosis and a financial crunch, and I found myself jobless. Not a huge deal, I thought; I saw it coming for a long time. I figured I’d be fine with my own classes, clients, and products, and life would continue on pretty much as it had before.

And it was good. I enjoyed my work, I kept on writing, and, free of the organization that had shaped so much of my development for so many years, and all the expectations that came along with it, I was free to explore my spiritual path without anyone “looking over my shoulder”, so to speak. I was accountable to no one but myself.

But then, doubts that I had long been suppressing arose. Rumors that had been circulating were examined. Curtains were lifted, and I peered behind them. And—long story carefully sidestepped—I didn’t like what I found.

This led to a lot of soul searching. And a lot of research. And a lot of raging. And a few pity parties (I was the only one who attended, though, thank god). And I came to a few inescapable conclusions:

• I didn’t like how exclusionary my beliefs had become.
• I didn’t feel the same kind of joy with my spiritual path as I once did.
• I didn’t like having my spiritual well-being and my financial well-being merged into one vehicle.
• I had lost my spiritual direction, and going back to it was not an option.

Now, if you think this is easy for me to write about, you’re dead wrong. I’m practically crapping in my pants writing this right now, because I’ve never said this publicly before. Imagine: the financial well-being of your wife and kids, who count on you for the roof over their heads and the food on their plates, is on your shoulders. You have clients, students, and people in your community who look to you for direction, and you no longer have answers for them. All of your so-called status is wrapped up in something that just evaporated like a fart in the wind. And now, you’re talking about it with the world.

What do you do?

Well, I have no idea what you’d do, but here’s what I did: I quit teaching. I completed with all my clients and handed them to someone else. I collapsed my website and tried going in a different direction (Viverati, I’m looking at you). I plunged headlong into a long-time hobby of mine—webdesign—and beefed up my skills to the point where I could go professional with it. I learned more about WordPress that I knew there was to know, and I keep learning more all the time. In short, I took a side passion and ran with it, because my old roads had been demolished.

But still, Monk at Work remains.

This blog remains. You remain, reading this. And even though I haven’t felt very Monkish in quite some time, I realize that this is my home, and I want to be here. I want to have you here. But not as your Authority.

When I announced Monk at Work’s Grand Re-Opening, I thought I could just waltz back in and start writing again. But with all that got washed away in my great flood, the Authority model got washed away with it.

Every week I think, “I really need to write a blog post”, but I haven’t been able to. My habits turn to the Authority model, but my heart is somewhere else. I’m not the Authority anymore, if I ever even was. I’m just me, in a monk’s clothing (speaking of, if anyone knows where I can get some saffron monk’s robes, I’d love to know).

It took some time, some conversations with my wife, and a few good examples to see that I have a voice without the Authority, and it’s worth sharing.

Besides, I don’t think being teachy-preachy really helps all that much. What I think helps is having friends to share the journey with, hearing the real story from what people go through, and learning from the experiences of others. The people I like to read the most aren’t proselytizing, they’re just being themselves. The funnier, the crazier, the more unique, the more honest and authentic, the better. I don’t expect them to be “the world’s best”; I expect them to be themselves.

Whether people show up at their finest, or fall flat on their face, makes no difference. I feel closer to them when they’re being honest, and I learn either way. So why, on God’s Green Earth, am I expecting something else from myself, and from you?

So, here’s the wake-up call.

If you’ve been reading me because you want a perfect model of how to be/do/have something, it’s time to unsubscribe, and search for your own personal guru somewhere else. There are plenty of people out there who would love to take your fawning admiration and inflate themselves with it, but I’m no longer one of them. It disgusts me that I used to be in that fraternity, even if it wasn’t a conscious intention of mine to be there. It happened, and I’m putting it behind me.

If you’re wanting to hear the personal journey of a man trying to live consciously, do good things, learn fun stuff, get in damn good shape, and unleash his triple-Virgo self all over what it takes to operate a successful website, then stick around. I’m planning to share my insights on all the stuff I’m interested in, from productivity to WordPress to macs, from CrossFit to personal development to social media, and try to do it all as genuinely and authentically as I can. No promises of brilliance, no claims to perfection, no one-up/one-down teacher/student relationships. Just me. Just you.

Image by pixelfahrenheit20.
Just friends.

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2008. | Permalink | 30 comments

With all these gazillions of blogs out there, it sure can seem like a lot of noise.

So, does the world need your blog?

If it’s a spam blog, the answer is clearly no.
If it’s a blog about your cat, well, good for you — but sharing with it anyone but your cat isn’t really necessary.
But if you write because of something that you have a passion about, then I’d say yes — the world needs your blog. Very much.

Why?

Because you are a shining star in the firmament of the universe.
You are a jewel like none other.
You are a rose in bloom, honeyed and resplendent.

Let me ask you something, honestly: Did you read that last bit, or did you skip over it? Did you really take it in, as if I was writing to you (yes, you), or did you brush it off as banality?

As Horton said, “I meant what I said, and I said what I meant; an elephant (ahem, monk) is faithful one hundred percent.” I really do mean it when I say that you are special, precious, and unique.

How can I say that, when I don’t even know who’s reading this?

Because I believe — not as an airy-fairy dream, but because I’ve seen it in everyone I’ve ever met — that you have a special purpose inside of you. You have a light burning inside you to share with the world. It’s your contribution, your precious gift, your offering to the world.

And the world needs that. We need your gift. We need your voice. When you share your passion and your purpose, letting yourself be moved by the stirrings of your deepest yearnings for life, joy, connectedness, and expression, then the world benefits from your contribution.

Just as a symphony wouldn’t be complete without the contribution of the violins, the world around you hasn’t experienced fullness until you’ve given what you have to give.

So, does the world need your blog?

If you’re just adding to the noise, then no, probably not.
But if you’re sharing the music inside you, then yes. A resounding, full, and overwhelming yes.

Image by MyklR.

And thanks to all those who commented on the two previous posts so far: Pixelhead, Wendy Piersall, Joanna Young, Dawud Miracle, EM Sky

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2007. | Permalink | 31 comments