"But I don't wanna break the board!" My voice is a failing, quivering hiccup.
"What is stopping you from breaking the board?" Tall, blonde Sereya crouches down a bit, trying to catch my weary gaze.
"I place n-no value on breaking the b-board!" My raw face stings from a salty new stream of hot tears. She laughs.
"Obviously that's not true or you wouldn't still be here." Damn. She's got me on that one. My brain is fried, so I allow her to take my shivering, sweaty hand and guide me to the center of the room where sawdust is flying and great cheers of "I did it!" lift up every three or four seconds from the other hundred participants. The meeting room has become a sick shop-class tableau of violence and hugging. I hold my board at arms length like it's some putrid thing. On it, written in gray marker is a list of my greatest fears in life, the ones standing between me and my ultimate success. I think to myself, "I didn't sign up for this!" Well, actually I did, remembering the waiver I initialed during registration for this seminar.
I was certain the cheese factor would be high but was willing bear it to get the insight I was already tapping into through one of motivational guru Tony Robbins' many inspirational books. Tina, one of my most intriguing, loving and "together" friends had given me Tony's book quite some time ago, and when I learned that Tony's video-recorded seminar "Unleash The Power Within" was coming to the Venetian for four days—much cheaper than seeing him live—I jumped at the chance to reinforce my book learning with an almost-live experience with the man.
Already I had learned a great deal about how we process the world around us and how our emotions affect out growth and success. Deep stuff, but I dig it. Little did I know that the intellectual experience my left-brain thought it would be getting would be augmented by a completely right-brain assault on my emotions, the intensity of which would cause a meltdown when faced with a little ol' board-breaking exercise.
I watch the train wreck progress as the line shrinks, the smug victorious ones cheering me to enjoy my own personal breakthrough and then join in the celebration. But I just can't do it. My tongue dries up, my throat closes off and I just shiver, silently locked in my prison-head. A volunteer, Lynn, sees me floundering and whisks me, my board and my fear to the back of the room, where a persistent few gather in my peripheral vision to valiantly cheer me on; they jump and yip like Jack Russell terriers until finally my anger boils over.
"Excuse me," I say, turning away from Lynn to face the yippiest of the bunch. With as much restraint as really I care to muster in this wild, unfamiliar state, I spit back at him, "This—is not—a spectator—sport!!!" His eyes grow wide and he moves his cheering elsewhere.
I turn back to Lynn, and when he raises the board up to my face I simply crumble like an imploded casino. "You're breaking though these fears tonight!" he insists with genuine care in his voice. Honestly, right now my biggest fear is breaking my hand. I get into position and commit my hand to the board with a loud and shocking thwack that does absolutely nothing. It doesn't really hurt, but I do feel the sting of more adrenaline than I've had in my veins in a long time. I also experience something new: I'm pissed off. Oh so very pissed off that because of my age-old fears, I'm having a ridiculous, embarrassing, time-consuming breakdown.
Well, I don't have time for this shit anymore!
I quickly settle once again into the board-breaking stance. But this time when I move, my focus is not on the board right in front of me but rather on the blank void beyond, the one that I can't even see or fathom right now because I can't see past those fears. Finally, I catch onto the metaphor and the value of this task in a nauseous wave that makes my feet go numb and my eyes slip out of focus. This time, when my hand travels through the wood into that void it is with a satisfying pop, and I go momentarily blind.
The next thing I know I am being crushed in a bear hug by Lynn, and the Jack Russells have returned to pat my back and high-five. They're really big on high-fives here. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" I hear them chant. At my feet, my greatest fears lay smashed in a heap of junky wood, unable to defend themselves or to derail me ever again. And that is where I intend for them to stay.
Exuberance goes hand in hand with Tony's program. Not so much a motivational speaker as a life coach, Tony has directly impacted the lives of over 50 million people in 80 countries through his audiotapes, books, live appearances and "digital delivery" seminars where previously recorded live appearances are facilitated by a staff of very energetic Anthony Robbins practitioners. As it says on his website, "think of Anthony Robbins as your personal trainer who will hold you accountable and help you build the emotional muscles you need in order to achieve at the highest level." And I've definitely been lacking in the muscle area.
When I arrive for Day 2 of the seminar I am already a bit sore from the day prior—not because of the exercise, but because of my reaction to it. I am determined to get the most out of this, but I'm having a really hard time with the jumping, verbalization and the interacting with my neighbors. So when I jump—an exercise that puts us into a "peak state" for whatever's to come—my arms are clamped firmly to my sides. Still, I'm jumping, damn it! "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
With a deep breath and a smile that is at first forced, I continue to ease into Day 2. On the big screen in the conference room, Tony is hilarious and real, so real, in fact, that I almost forget he's not here in person until Laura, the facilitator, turns on the lights. We learn about taking massive actions to create momentum in our lives, something which I know I am suffering from an acute lack of. We learn a five- step process for deciding what these massive actions should be, then for committing to them and resolving the issue by taking that action. So far I am very happy with this process and make definite plans to implement them ... someday.
But I am entirely unprepared for the real purpose of today: activating that five-step cycle by pushing aside the lies we tell ourselves and admitting to two things in my life that must change. Not "should" change, but must. Period.
I had done a little goal-setting on my own before the seminar and intended to work on my tendency toward procrastination, on getting my energy up and on reinforcing my decision to quit smoking. But through the course of the day I watch in horror and surprise as my familiar façades and trusty excuses fall away like the layers of an onion till all that's left is the tender, exposed heart of the matter. In my current state of mind, the news is not good: I have some hard work to do on myself and my life in areas that I had not quite anticipated.
Already we've spent 23.5 hours in this room, and when I arrive at 8:30 a.m. for Day 3, another 14.5 hours lie ahead. I am both dreading it and yearning for it to begin. Tony, the volunteers and facilitators have all been telling us that Day 3 involves something very important called the Dickens Process, and that it's "the biggie," the hardest and most important day of them all. Considering that I've already been crying for two days, I'm not sure how I feel about that.
I've already identified and faced my greatest fears. I've stopped lying to myself about what I want and what I don't want my life to be. I have essentially ripped myself open and need to figure out what to do next. The bottom line is that I can't undo it; I can't un-have this realization. As Tony says, "Life will never be the same again." The Dickens Process makes certain of that.
The process is a somewhat uncomfortable visualization which takes you to the very brink of your emotions, to the depths of despair, anger, sadness or wherever it is you need to go to get to the answer you already know is there. Guided by Tony's cavernous, supportive voice, we begin.
Eyes shut tight, and standing all the while in the dark room, he guides us deep into our own minds, into a state of emotional pain, and then intensifies it to the point of utter anguish. His voice booms in my ears, as do the mounting sniffles, sighs and mumbling of the rest of the participants around me as they get into their own state. I take all of the unsatisfactory situations in my life that I want to change and I imagine myself doing absolutely nothing about them; I experience in real-time the hurt, the self-loathing and the disappointment and then take that feeling five years into the future, then 10, then 20. The sounds around me turn to cries and even to outright screams or shouting. Others, like me, stand erect, concentrating silently. I cover my ears till only Tony's voice cuts through the dark.
And just when I think I can't take it anymore, a small voice—my own voice—comes to me with the ultimate answer, and I honestly think I'm about to faint. Tony didn't tell me what to do; he only put me in a position in which the answer became evident. I would laugh at the simplicity of it all, but right at this moment I can't, so instead I cry. I cry for every time in the last six months that I've held back those tears. I cry, feeling sorry for myself, and then I just cry for feeling anything at all. I cry for where I was, and for where I know I need to be. I just cry until I can't cry anymore. Then, silence.
Softly at first, Tony draws us out of that state and we envision instead change in our lives: action, energy, relief, love and joy. We bring these feelings on just as intensely as the pain and then increase them even more. Now, not only do I know what I want and what I need to do about it, I know I can do it! While I wouldn't say I'm committed or resolved yet, I've made my decisions and I know that I'm on the precipice of a big leap of faith. We jump, shout, cheer and rejoice. And this time when I jump, my hands are stretched up toward the ceiling! "Yes!" we shout. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
When we sit back down I grab my notebook and begin to write. I continue to write like mad until I've explained the whole situation to myself in my own words so that should I ever begin to doubt again, I can have something concrete to refer to documenting my breakthrough. The feeling is at once euphoric and frightening. I have to take massive action in my life, and that scares me to death.
During a break, I share my feelings with our facilitators. They take one look at me and know that I am, and have been for a long time, a certifiable wreck. Laura lays me down on the floor and firmly presses a few places on my ribs, my stomach, my chest and my abdomen. "You're sad," she says. "And very angry. You don't let any emotion out of your body and it's making you physically ill, right?" She diagnoses in two minutes what it's taken doctors months to still not be able to figure out. Thanks to my emotional state, I have made a mess of my whole digestive system. Acid has eaten away at me, literally and figuratively. I am not surprised at her words, only angry that I didn't figure it out sooner.
The closing exercise, in which we fill ourselves with feelings of love, is a torturous one, as at this point I simply have no love left to give myself. Sereya comes to my aid and gives me all the love she has with just her eyes. When I make the long walk back to the parking garage that night it is on legs shaky as a newborn gazelle and with emotions as exposed as a turtle that's lost his shell. I have lost my shell.
I barely even make it in for Day 4. I am exhausted and somehow still trapped in the Dickens Process—and not in the happy, euphoric part, either. I've already taken some drastic action since last night and now am at a loss about where to go from here. "What do I do now?" I keep asking myself and anyone who will listen. While the rest of my classmates celebrate their new and improved lives today by focusing on their health, I sink further back into that terrifying state of despair and uncertainty. This time it is Tina who pulls me out of my personal quagmire. In the hall, while the class listens to Tony about diets and the right way to exercise, I try to encapsulate for Tina this experience and what it has meant for me.
"I must be a little slow on the uptake," I say. shaking my head, "because I'm just not where the rest of the class is." The previous night's exercise, meant to heal our wounds, really exacerbated them instead and showed me just how wounded I really am. I leave that afternoon with more questions than answers and with all of life lying before me like a big, empty canvas. Hmm, I think, maybe that's as it should be ... I spend the rest of the night with the seeds of new emotions multiplying inside me: hope, opportunity, freedom and optimism. They are familiar but not prevalent in recent times.
My sleep is restless and filled with the sights and sounds of the day, all the intensity of all the emotion that a body can handle. My dreams continue with Tony's voice ringing in my ears, daring me to "Step up!" Yes, we shout, Yes! "Defy the odds! Set a new standard! Step up! Step up! Step up!" I see the love in Laura's eyes when she tells me to let my emotions flow through me. I hear the concern in Sereya's voice when she asks me what limiting beliefs are stopping me from succeeding and her assuring smile when I am able to articulate—even in my dreams—what I'm already doing to crush those negative beliefs. I feel Lynn and Tina's unflagging confidence in me. Moreover, I feel confidence in myself.
When I wake on Tuesday morning, I feel something I haven't felt in what seems like eons: ready. Yes, Tony, yes. Thank you. "Now I AM the Voice. I WILL lead, not follow. I WILL believe, not doubt. I WILL create, not destroy. I AM a force for good! I AM a leader!" Yes! Yes! Yes! YES!!!