Yes. Like that.
That was the sound my body made last week when we gave in to its firm suggestion that we sleep in until whenever. Until nine! Craziness!
It loved that we acknowledged how very, very right it had been about how much better we would feel.
It said, See? See?!
But it didn’t do a little dance, even though it looked like it wanted to.
An unexpected realization.
We — that is, the collective — were surprised. We hadn’t realized what an incredibly special occasion it was for the body to really be listened to.
We’d basically thought we were listening. All the time.
You know, being a yoga teacher. Running what we think of as a yoga-based business.
The body is such a major player in everything we do around here and how we do it.
It seemed obvious that the body always gets heard. A given. The body always gets a vote. Always.
The coup. It was a quiet one.
The body said, very seriously, “Not a vote. Not a vote.”
The room became very still. We were paying attention.
The body said, “Not a vote anymore. It wasn’t a vote. Executive decision. I made an executive decision. Thank you for trusting me enough to let this happen.”
We weren’t used to thinking about things this way.
We tried to remember other times the body had made an ‘executive decision’.
Not a reactive one, like quitting sugar nearly eleven years ago. But a calm, assured, measured, this is how things need to work around here decision.
I want the job.
“What are you saying?”, we asked the body.
The body cleared its throat. Our throat. The body leaned into a wall for support.
The body said, “I want the job. And don’t pretend you don’t know.”
We looked at each other. We thought we didn’t know, but we did know.
Pirate Queen me spoke first. “Well. This is certainly unexpected, but I kind of like it! Who’s up for an experiment in radical trust?”
Cautious me said, “Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Gleeful me: “This is BRILLIANT. Let the body be the Chief Executive Officer. Ohmygod. Genius.”
Business savant me: “Ha! Interesting. Show me some numbers. Let’s say it’s possible that this isn’t a terrible idea — I want to know why this is supposed to work.”
The body shows us a series of memory slides.
How permanent email sabbatical saved us from hating the business.
How tramping and walking make us more efficient.
Writer me says, “I like it. Just promise me there will be time for writing.”
The Worry Council: “Wait! We want the scientists to be involved! There has to be a way to measure results so we can stop this madness if it becomes necessary!”
The body didn’t seem phased by any of this. It had a proposal. But it wasn’t a proposal. Executive decision.
The body’s nonproposal:
“Here’s what need to happen.
You give me a year to run things my way. We have daily chickening, so that I get to give you information and make recommendations. We have weekly council where we talk about what’s working and what isn’t.
A six month performance revue (not a review!) with dancing and frivolity.
And you trust me to know what I’m doing.
I can totally change our world and the business and take this ship to amazing places, if we all work together and you trust my instincts.
My methods are unconventional. You may worry at first about the amount of napping and the expense of the facials.
But we will turn this ship in a new direction, and the most magical, spectacular things will happen. Are you with me?”
Magic markers for everyone!
Everyone applauded. There was some general grumble-thrum that sounded like, “Yeah! Yeah! But we want to see some charts! But yeah!”
We got out the magic markers and started charting:
- What questions we need to ask the body each day.
- Possible checks and balances.
- What would help us trust the body’s messages more.
- Activities (breathing, yoga, assorted wackiness) to connect to the body in such a way that we’re tapping into deep knowing and not surface knowing.
All this to make sure we won’t be regularly intercepting messages of the I just want to eat nachos and cry all day variety
Or if we do get that message, we’ll know that this is the temporary but necessary course that must be taken for the next thing to happen.
And now there’s a committee too! But not really a committee.
It’s not so much a committee as — tee hee! — an executive decision-making body.
Yes, a body. That includes my body. My body thinks this is hilarious.
My body still makes all the executive decisions, and the other two back her up.
There’s other stuff going on too, and I’d love to tell you more about it, but the body just told us to get off the computer and go for a walk.
So assume that normal comment zen applies (we own our stuff, we let other people have their stuff and we don’t give unsolicited advice). And you are welcome to play with me on any of this.
By executive decision, radical trust and the power vested in me by the collective, signing off for now. :)