The energy in the room was so palpable, I could almost see it pass between bodies. The air was still and quiet, all 320 eyes of the 160 participants concentrating on the piece of metal between their fingers, willing it to bend.
I was attending a retreat weekend with several of my MBI instructors and fellow classmates, and today I was watching the talented and funny Martha Beck at work. She is the world renowned author and Life Coach Extraordinaire, and over the weekend, students training to become Life Coaches congregated together from all parts of the world to be mesmerized by her presence—and her stories. I've been smitten with her work since I read Expecting Adam in the months after my life began unraveling, and she has since become one of my go-to healers when I need a dose of magic.
Martha and her colleagues (our on-line instructors) demonstrated a few energy exercises to explain how we all emanate, receive, and affect the energy in and around us continuously. So imagine our delight when she easily bent a spoon, but also cork-screwed it, right before our eyes! I was hooked.
Someone was already passing out spoons from the adjacent restaurant and I instantly felt the pressure to do it right, as if I was going to be tested on my own ability to bend anything more sturdy than a rubber band. What if I was the only one who couldn't do it? My heart was pumping in my ears as I looked to both sides of me--reassuring myself that I wasn't being watched--before attempting to do the impossible.
I gripped my spoon with both hands, then let my gaze “soften” as we'd been taught to do, and gave the spoon a good tug downward. Nothing. I tried twice, three times, and the metal would not budge. Dammit. I wanted to prove that I could purposefully affect energy—especially that of an inanimate object. But I was failing.
I said a prayer. Nothing. I willed my hands to 'toughen up'. Nada. I went cross-eyed as I said a stilted Hail Mary. Zip. My inner lizard was at work, doubting my ability to tap into my own energy. But I tried again and again, anyway, intent on learning something new about myself.
In frustration, I lifted my head, took a big breath, and as I looked around the room, I saw a sea of bowed heads. I'm not sure I noticed any noise in the room, but I definitely tapped into something. I felt it.
It took a nano-second to turn my attention back to my hands that were still gripping the spoon, and Poof! I kid you not, just like buttah, the spoon went limp between my fingers as I bent it almost in half!
I bent a frickin' spoon, People!
And as I did, I heard the gasps and sighs of relief (disbelief?) as other spoon-benders succeeded in their attempts, too. Almost all of the ten women at my table were proudly holding a bent spoon in their hands, disbelieving eyes staring at each other, then back at their bent utensils. Nervous giggling penetrated the growing chatter in the room.
We were sold. And we wanted more.
Martha and her team did not disappoint.
I was attending a retreat weekend with several of my MBI instructors and fellow classmates, and today I was watching the talented and funny Martha Beck at work. She is the world renowned author and Life Coach Extraordinaire, and over the weekend, students training to become Life Coaches congregated together from all parts of the world to be mesmerized by her presence—and her stories. I've been smitten with her work since I read Expecting Adam in the months after my life began unraveling, and she has since become one of my go-to healers when I need a dose of magic.
Martha and her colleagues (our on-line instructors) demonstrated a few energy exercises to explain how we all emanate, receive, and affect the energy in and around us continuously. So imagine our delight when she easily bent a spoon, but also cork-screwed it, right before our eyes! I was hooked.
Someone was already passing out spoons from the adjacent restaurant and I instantly felt the pressure to do it right, as if I was going to be tested on my own ability to bend anything more sturdy than a rubber band. What if I was the only one who couldn't do it? My heart was pumping in my ears as I looked to both sides of me--reassuring myself that I wasn't being watched--before attempting to do the impossible.
I gripped my spoon with both hands, then let my gaze “soften” as we'd been taught to do, and gave the spoon a good tug downward. Nothing. I tried twice, three times, and the metal would not budge. Dammit. I wanted to prove that I could purposefully affect energy—especially that of an inanimate object. But I was failing.
I said a prayer. Nothing. I willed my hands to 'toughen up'. Nada. I went cross-eyed as I said a stilted Hail Mary. Zip. My inner lizard was at work, doubting my ability to tap into my own energy. But I tried again and again, anyway, intent on learning something new about myself.
In frustration, I lifted my head, took a big breath, and as I looked around the room, I saw a sea of bowed heads. I'm not sure I noticed any noise in the room, but I definitely tapped into something. I felt it.
It took a nano-second to turn my attention back to my hands that were still gripping the spoon, and Poof! I kid you not, just like buttah, the spoon went limp between my fingers as I bent it almost in half!
I bent a frickin' spoon, People!
And as I did, I heard the gasps and sighs of relief (disbelief?) as other spoon-benders succeeded in their attempts, too. Almost all of the ten women at my table were proudly holding a bent spoon in their hands, disbelieving eyes staring at each other, then back at their bent utensils. Nervous giggling penetrated the growing chatter in the room.
We were sold. And we wanted more.
Martha and her team did not disappoint.
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