Monday, December 31, 2012

I Don't Work on New Year's Eve

I usually cocoon the week between Christmas and New Year's.  It's kind of a sacred time to me.  A time to tie up loose ends, complete the incomplete, to clean and clear, inside and out.  I like to start the new year with fresh sheets, fresh rooms, and a fresh outlook, not dragging around any unnecessary unfinished business.  So when a Claritywork client wrote me three days ago to schedule her follow up call "as soon as [possible]," I was torn.  On one hand, I wanted to accommodate her request.  On the other hand, I wanted to stay in my cocoon, to continue my ritual readying to greet the new year all fresh and new.  Given I had offered the entire previous week to her and she chose not to respond before Friday at 3 p.m., I reasoned that I could at least give myself the weekend.

By Sunday night, I was still tempted to write and say "I don't work on holidays"--the holiday in this case being New Year's Eve of course.  But I couldn't.  Partly because I knew it wasn't a full holiday, that there'd be plenty of people working that day--at least half the day, the morning.  But more to the point, I knew I couldn't stand behind that phrase because my work isn't work exactly.  I'm keenly aware of this, so the word didn't even ring true in the thinking it, never mind writing or speaking it.  In any event, I wrote my client and offered her a window of time the next morning.  Still aware that I was making an exception to my rule, I half hoped she wouldn't take it, but she did.  And am I ever glad she did.  

"Jane" and I met by phone for just about 30 minutes this morning, during which time I was moved to tears by the transfor-
mation she exhibited, shared, radiated.  She'd left her face-to-face Claritywork session one month prior with a significant breakthrough for sure that promised to be life changing.  But beyond that, what she would or wouldn't do with it and her clarity had remained to be seen.  What Jane did with it was this:  she took the ball and ran with it.  Her energy had shifted--I felt that right away.  She was changed.

It moves me to no end to facilitate and witness, as a Clarityworker, such life-altering breakthroughs and transformations.  Jane has a new life--new openings and possibilities available to her--because she took a leap of faith and made an appointment for what would turn out to be an intervention of sorts.  I congratulated her, acknowledged her for acting on her clarity, for what she'd achieved in the weeks since that appointment.  And when I wished her a Happy New Year, I did so with all my heart, so very pleased that we had tied up the loose ends of her session when we did:  in the final hours before the dawning new year.  I knew that now she would also be starting the year fresh, and with a new outlook.  In a mere 30 minutes, we'd set and mortared the last few bricks of her new foundation into place.  I was so happy for her, and I told her so more than once.  She thanked me again and again.  "You did it," she said, but I couldn't agree.

"What a gift," I said out loud after hanging up.  I was glowing, beaming.  She did it!  And I am still glowing.  Little did I know when I broke my rule that I would be giving myself this great gift by doing so.  

I suppose Jane's transformation, her triumph means even more because it so easily mightn't have been.  She had had reservations when first inquiring about Claritywork, the what if I invest all that money and it doesn't work? kind of reserva-
tions.  I responded candidly to her questions, not completely sure that my answers communicated the extent of what Claritywork offered, or that I'd answered her questions sufficiently.  The next thing I knew, a week or so later, she was asking to schedule an appointment.

"Okay, I can die now."  That's how I feel after a session like Jane's.  I've even said as much to friends over the years.  To say that it is deeply gratifying to use my capacities in service to another such that the other is freed from a longstanding bondage of sorts is an understatement.  It is a complete fulfillment, like no other, every time. 

"What a gift, what a gift..."--I couldn't stop saying this after our call.  What better way to finish one year and start another.  Blessed, in a word.  Richly, deeply blessed.


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