I can’t deny it any longer.
I’ve got a bad case of the woo-woos.
I’m not sure if it’s mid-life or personal circumstances or the strong “wanna come hang at my place for the Apocalypse?”-y vibe the world is putting out right now, but I’ve been drawn to go inside. Not like hunkering down in fleece house pants, eating soup directly from the can inside, but spiritually inside. To get in touch with something bigger, something beyond the day to day bullshit we spend so much time focusing on that’s really good at seeming “important,” until you realize the truly Important stuff has been waiting in the background all along. The truly Important stuff is always way more patient than the bullshit.
The woo-woos aren’t totally new to me. Even as a little girl, I remember feeling a tingly giddiness when I was in nature. I never went to church, so I had no ideas about religion or spirituality. (If John Denver counts, though, I did memorize all his albums.) Yet I felt an unmistakable energy when I sat on this one, bright green patch of moss that looked like a teeny forest and made me feel like a giant. And I found wild contentment wading through the tall grass, shooting my bow and arrow at fenceposts and then flopping onto my back to stare up at the sky. (I was also a crappy shot, so no fenceposts were harmed in the making of this memory.)
I guess I’ve been dipping my toes in Woo-woo Lake my whole life. But always tentatively, with my jeans rolled up, staying near the shore.
But no more, friends. Nope. I have changed into my woo-woo swimsuit, and dove (dived?) straight into the deep end. (My swimsuit, btw, is a super-cute, practical, halter-top bikini with reasonable coverage on the bottom so I don’t have to continually tug the back down over my ass cheeks.) I find I cannot successfully connect to universal energy when I’m worried about ass cheek coverage.
I’d say the real woo-woos started about five years ago, when I was feeling professionally blah, and I read Jen Sincero’s book, “You Are A Badass” over spring break. I came home with a newfound focus and a pep in my step. Actually, more than pep, it was a feeling of power. Because I had spent my entire career giving SO MANY fucks about what other people thought, I had lost touch with what I believed and what I stood for. Plus, the book was super funny and there was swearing. I re-read it still whenever I need a boost.
Then in 2016, I attended an advertising conference where comedian and transformational speaker Kyle Cease gave a keynote. He was so funny and inspiring and talked about how it was good to make mistakes and that we have all the answers inside and why it’s important to give yourself permission to do what you love. I have never given myself permission to do much of anything except 1) try to be perfect and 2) drink Jack in the Box Cookies n’ Cream milkshakes in excess when I was pregnant with Cassidy. For my whole life, I’ve kept myself on a very tight leash. So, the revelation that I was enough, and that trying to stay in constant control was actually holding me back, was groundbreaking.
I figured everyone else loved Kyle’s talk as much as I had. But I later found out that while half the audience loved him, the other half full-on hated him. This wasn’t totally surprising, though, since the ad industry is cynic central. Cynicism can be funny. Sharp-witted people tend to be cynical. Most great humor is at the expense of someone else. And many of us spend the majority of our advertising careers trying to be funnier, smarter, cleverer and cooler than the next person. Being woo-woo, by contrast, seems soft. Naïve. Too bright and shiny and eager.
But being cynical can be draining and lonely, because it doesn’t allow us to trust in anything except the idea that life is irritating and we’re all gonna die. (Okay, some truth there.) Being cynical also limits our connection to ourselves and others. Unless it’s to judge/talk shit about ourselves and others. I know this because I’ve done my share of judging and shit talking, and I understand how good if feels in the moment. It’s a bonding exercise! It’s fun! Like eating an entire family-sized bag of circus animal cookies in one sitting or doing Jägermeister shots (Note: I’ve never actually done Jägermeister shots. See: “tight leash,” above.) But the high is short-lived. Afterwards, you just feel worse because you’ve lifted yourself up by putting someone else down. Usually out of insecurity or fear. And it always comes back to bite you. As shit talk about you. Or a hangover. Or gas. All bad feeling things. Actually, wouldn’t it be amazing if shit talking automatically gave us gas? We’d all be so much nicer! Although middle and high schools would smell way worse.
Anyway, immediately after Kyle Cease’s keynote, I downloaded his audiobook “I Hope I Screw This Up” and listened to the entire thing on my flight home from New York. It was life changing. For about six months, I gave the book to so many friends and family members that my husband threatened to send me out on weekends to knock on doors and spread the word. I backed off a little.
At this same time, I realized that instead of spending my long-ass daily commute listening to DJ’s make crank calls pretending to be a plumber who accidentally installed a toilet in the living room, I could use that time to listen to uplifting authors and speakers! And thus my “Commute Therapy” was born.
For the past three years, I’ve spent at least two hours every weekday listening to audiobooks, podcasts and videos about all things woo-woo. Universal energy. Alignment. Meditation. Letting go. “The work.” My inner child. Holding space. Joy. Darkness. Vulnerability. Shame. Fear. Spirit guides. High vibration. Tap-dancing aliens, diarrhea and binoculars. (Kyle Cease is big on metaphors.) Magic. Oneness. And most of all, love. My commute buddies have included Jen Sincero, Kyle Cease, Byron Katie, Gabrielle Bernstein, Elizabeth Gilbert, Brené Brown, Wayne Dyer, the Almighty Oprah, and all her enlightened guests. These commute buddies don’t allow me to take the HOV lane, but that’s fine. More time to embrace my woo-wooness.
When I say that listening to audiobooks has transformed my commute from something I dread into something I look forward to, people invariably ask me what I listen to. I’m pretty sure they’re hoping for true crime podcast suggestions or at least something by Gary Vee, so I usually answer with a vague, “I like the self-helpy stuff and memoirs by comedians.” The reality is, I don’t want to scare anyone off. (Too late now.) The part of me that still wants to embrace the smart cynicism of the ad industry is afraid. Afraid if I admit I only listen to stuff about finding my light and aligning with the energy of the universe, I’ll come off as a naïve dum-dum. But I don’t want to feel that way anymore, plus, I don’t think I’m alone. It seems a lot of other people are also searching for a feeling of “enoughness.” A daily dose of love to overcome the hate. Like me, they’re yearning for flickers of joy and inspiration and magic. Not Criss Angel in a straitjacket magic, but “we are all connected, love is the answer, release your chokehold and everything will work out” magic.
Now, going full woo-woo doesn’t mean I will dance around you waving crystals, or that I’m going to denounce all my personal possessions and start wearing flowy, knee-length vest-tunics. (Is it a vest? Is it a tunic? Is it a long scarf with arm holes?) In fact, if it weren’t for reading this, you may not even know about my woo-wooness. The beauty of inner work is, it’s um, inner. I can’t control other people. I can only control what I choose to focus on in any given moment. But by choosing again and again to be more present, open, empathetic and grateful, I will hopefully, occasionally, give off energy that helps other people feel more present, open, empathetic and grateful, too.
If you hate all the self-helpy stuff, don’t worry. My woo-wooness is only contagious if you’re receptive to it. You’ve probably already stopped reading, anyway. Or you’re protecting yourself with cynicism and some very impressive arguments about reality or how you can’t actually be happy all the time. (You’re right! That’s not the point! See how empathy brings us closer?) Maybe you’ve even stuck with reading this because it’s proof that I’ve been a little kooky all along. I know these tactics because I’ve used them myself. And I’m sorry. But if there’s one reoccurring theme in all the woo-wooness I’ve embraced, it’s that we’re all the same deep down. We’re all connected. Separation is what creates all our pain and issues. And realizing we’re all going through the same shit in some form or other is incredibly freeing.
So I’m going to keep swimming around in Woo-woo Lake. Cause the world is scary right now. My industry feels like it’s having a midlife crisis. And I recently moved my family in with my mom, which is a difficult adjustment for all of us. Harnessing the love and power of my woo-wooness is making it all not just bearable, but damn near miraculous. I’m in the moment more often. I’ve felt more connected to my dad who passed away two years ago than I often did when he was alive. I’ve started discovering little synchronicities and miracles almost daily, that I’d normally chalk up to coincidence, but are too frequent and magical to dismiss. And when I feel pressure or conflict at work, I can quickly find compassion and patience instead of frustration and negativity. (No, not all the time. I’m not Baby Yoda, for chrissakes.) But every moment I’m able to trade love for fear, I’m a better person. As my very smart, funny, spiritually wise friend who deals with a lot of darkness says, “a benevolent force is guiding us all.” And I find that profoundly reassuring.
Yeah, but what about the real world, Jennie? What about actual problems? Are you saying that the woo-woos will improve my athlete’s foot? What about the discrepancy between forecasted resourcing and my quarterly profit margin goals that will never allow me to beat Q1 growth projections? And what about my neighbor’s dog who keeps shitting on our lawn?
Um, yeah. It can help with all of that. Focus on what’s truly Important, and the “important” stuff will fall into place.
And what if I’m wrong? What if I am naïve or gullible or a Pollyanna? What if the synchronicities are just random coincidences? Who cares? Because feeling like every action I take, even on a crappy or humdrum day, is guiding me towards something bigger- that’s an uplifting way to live. Believing it’s a miracle when a friend reaches out moments after I’ve thought of her– that’s pure joy. Or feeling a gust of wind as I think of my dad? That’s spine-tingling magic. You can have your cynicism, your realism and your rapier wit. I’ll take the hairs on the back of my neck standing up because I opened a book to the exact quote I needed in that moment. I’ll take the wave of bliss when I feel my creativity take over and I’m just along for the ride. I’ll hold on to the comfort of knowing that it’s all going to be okay. Because it already is.
So, if you’re feeling inclined, I invite you to jump into Woo-woo Lake, too. At least dip your toes in. There’s peace here. Sometimes answers. The occasional spark of magic, sigh of relief and plenty of love and support. And you can wear whatever you want.
Yep, even a vest-tunic.