Sesame Street Simple

By Paula Renaye

It was raining and cold late Friday afternoon when it came time to leave to make the long drive to the kick-off of a three-day conference. The event hadn’t “called” to me even a little. I had no clue about Rumi or the modern day mystic Andrew Harvey who was interpreting the poems. I’d simply signed up for the conference to support Healing Farms, a wonderful nonprofit organization here in Arkansas in the US. 

 
So, with the rain pouring down, the long drive back late at night looming and my general lack of interest lacking more by the second, I rationalized that I didn’t really have to go. I’d just consider the money a donation and curl up with a hot cup of tea and a movie at home instead driving three hours and sitting through a dreary thirteenth century poetry reading. 

 
Besides, what could I, in my lowly state of evolution, possibly find applicable to my life from someone who’s spent his studying with spiritual masters and working toward enlightenment? Seriously, while he was chatting with the Dalai Lama and the like, I was changing truckloads of diapers, singing Sesame Street songs as if my life depended on it and trying not to lose my tenuous grip on my sanity. If the ship of enlightened master potential had ever sailed past my door, I’d missed it.

 
Nevertheless, I decided that it didn’t really matter whether I thought I’d get anything out of the gathering or not. I’d committed to being supportive and that meant physically as well as financially, so I marched myself to the car and dutifully headed out, all the while plotting how to excuse myself gracefully from having to go back the next day.

 
You can probably guess where this story is going—things didn’t turn out quite like I expected, to say the least. I can’t say the experience made me a Rumi fan—it didn’t. And we already know the enlightenment thing is a pipe dream, but I did find myself eager to get back to the conference the next day anyway. 

 
No, I don’t really know why. In fact, I can’t really describe much of anything about the weekend—I’ve tried a couple of times and it comes out sounding either utterly simplistic or like a bunch of esoteric gibberish. Neither is accurate. 

 
If I had to pick one word to describe the weekend and the process, it would have to be transforming. There’s not one moment I can point to as profound, and yet all were. If I saw the same description of the conference, I still wouldn’t see it as my kind of thing, and yet it was. 

 
So, what is the message here? How do you know when you might be missing the very thing you need even if it doesn’t look like you think it would?

 
I know I usually have some clever way of wrapping these things up, but I don’t this time. Then again, maybe that is the message—sometimes you don’t have to, sometimes it just is.

Paula Renaye is a life transformation speaker, certified professional coach and author of the multi-award-winning Hardline Self Help Handbook. To get a free personal development report and special audio recording, visit http://hardlineselfhelp.com.