What Got You Here Won’t Get You There

And how different phases of your life require you to embody different parts of you.

Let me illustrate this point with my life.

I used to pride myself on my warrior approach to challenges. Since I could remember fighting my way against personal traits that I deemed negative was the way to go for me. Personal growth was a battleground. I’d dive right in any issue I encountered. Was I shy? I’d go to group events by myself. Was I terrified of public speaking? I would sign myself up to speak at conferences, or spoken word events. Was I convinced of my lack of self-reliance? I would embark myself on a solo trip to another continent I’ve never been before, I knew nobody there and with no return ticket.

These are just examples of my approach to life. I would face challenges head on, warrior style. And they lead me to massive growth and I’d be forever grateful to this warrior María. But there were side effects of that behavior, there was burnout, overwhelm and an overactive nervous system. I basically had to take breaks from life, or from the way I was living my life with the constant goal of improving myself through a battle with myself.

It was a good few years ago, and after all those examples I mentioned about solo traveling and public speaking engagements, that I had my first ever life coach. On one of the sessions, and I don’t remember what we were talking about, she said “what got me here, won’t take me there” and at the time it felt like a blow to my stomach. What do you mean? – I thought – I have to take my approach to life now? And what am I supposed to be?

It felt like I was at the end of a cliff, with my future ahead of me and the standing goal of personal growth but no path, no tools, no guidelines or blueprint anymore. 

If embodying my warrior self was not going to help me get further, what part of me was? It obviously felt like there was a part of me I needed to embody but I wasn’t acquainted with her. What does she look like? What are her traits? How does she move like in the world?

At that point, the journey of personal growth required a diversion to explore the parts of myself that were dormant but needed to be awakened so I could move forward. This diversion of the path, which was of course part of the path, took me to explore the Jungian archetypes, myths and folktales that would shed light on universal stories on which I could see mine reflected.

I became the explorer, the sage, the creator, the wild woman… Ay, the wild woman! I call her forward everytime the lust for life dims. 

And now, all those parts are alive inside of me, ready to be embodied when the challenge arises. Of course, it took some time to get used to the explorer ways, what being an explorer would look like for me, but over time, I got to know María the explorer and that part of me became integrated over time. Same with all the other parts or coats that needed some wearing to fit perfectly. 

Picking up the image of being at the end of a cliff, with my future ahead of me but no path, I wanted to share with a poem by David Whyte, that I heard for the first time in a Ted Talk, delivered by David Whyte himself, entitled “A lyrical bridge between past, present and future”. I will link you to it and I’d recommend you watch it later. I bawled my eyes out when I heard him reciting it and still now, it’s one of my go to poems for those uncertain times when you sense that change is coming and you may feel unprepared. This poem is a manual for changing times.

Listen and after the poem I’ll share some prompts with you.

Finisterre
by David Whyte

The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,

into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you

as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way

to your future now but the way your shadow could take,

walking before you across water, going where shadows go,

no way to make sense of a world that wouldn’t let you pass

except to call an end to the way you had come,

to take out each frayed letter you had brought

and light their illumined corners; and to read

them as they drifted on the western light;

to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;

to promise what you needed to promise all along,

and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here

right at the water’s edge, not because you had given up

but because now, you would find a different way to tread,

and because, through it all, part of you would still walk on,

no matter how, over the waves.

Reflective Prompt:

David Whyte says: 

– To empty your bags: to sort this and to live that: What would you let go of and what would you keep in your bag?

– To promise what you needed to promise all along: What would that promise be?

– And to abandon the shoes that had brought you here. And as a side note, this is my favorite line of the poem. If you had to abandon something that has brought you here, where you are now, what would it be?

So, this is it. These are your prompts. As usual, write without giving it much thought, don’t edit yourself, don’t censor yourself and if you feel called to, share your writing our yours insights publicly with us in the comments if you are listening on Substack or email me privately on [email protected].