By Jung Starrett

When I first heard this story about a man crawling around on his hands and knees on the sidewalk under the lamp post to look for a key, I laughed and then cried.

I laughed because I felt seen. I wasn’t alone.

I cried because I felt the pain. The pain of struggling alone with questions like:

• Why are you here?
• What do you really really want?
• Who are you going to be when you grow up?
• When will you know you’ve had enough of all this that you don’t want?

These questions didn’t come up when I started climbing the legal career ladder. Perhaps because I was focused on working faster, harder, and more to prove my worth—to others, and to myself.

But once I climbed high enough, I saw that there was no “top” to reach. That the race of career advancement was an endless course of performing, perfecting, and proving, while pretending “All is well!”

It was then that these questions started to seep into my mind. But my mind resisted engaging with them because it was conditioned to excel in a system that rewarded performing, perfecting, proving, and pretending. My mind was attached to what was certain, secure, and familiar.

The thought of letting go of my professional identity brought up a lot of fear and anxiety, along with two more questions I couldn’t answer:

• If not this, then what?
• How can I start something new without a guarantee for success?

These questions kept me running in place for years. I was stuck maintaining what looked good on the outside (“success”), but didn’t feel good on the inside (“suffering”).

I didn’t know how to make space for something new, but unknown. Welcoming the “not-knowing” with open curiosity, and tapping into my whole intelligence (not only intellectual, but also emotional, physiological, and relational knowing) wasn't something I learned in school. I only knew how to fit in, meet my inner standards, and exceed external demands.

So, what did I do?

First, I had to learn to stop berating myself for not knowing what to do.

Then, as I stepped into the unknown, came the messy middle where I bumbled a lot, and took many turns and detours. One trial-and-error after another eventually led to a path of learning real skills to access my whole intelligence, not the partial intelligence of just my brain.

Because these skills helped—and continue to help—make sense of the changes happening in and around me, I’m motivated to practice every day to become more skillful in how I relate, work, live, and lead. Bonus: I also experience more joy, vitality, creativity, abundance, and gratitude as an outcome of my daily practice.

If you find yourself on your hands and knees under the streetlight because you’re afraid of looking for the key where it’s waiting in the dark place, there is hope. You don’t need to go alone to an unknown place by yourself. And, if you choose, you can learn the skills to access your whole intelligence and live your fullness at work and home.

The world is waiting for you.

(Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash)

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