Gut Time is an occasional series in which I talk with my gut — my figurative gut (as in, the place where gut feelings come from) and my literal gut (as in my somewhat broken digestive system). Because, in mindful business and in life, knowing yourself is important.

A month ago I gave a presentation to a group of teenagers with IBD (inflammatory bowel disease). I had so much I wanted to say, it was hard to decide what to leave out. That’s probably the greatest challenge of any speaker or writer — letting go of almost everything so that what is left is clear and unemcumbered.

What was left with is partly to do with IBD, but mostly to do with life. It’s what I’m still learning everyday. This is what I talked about…

IBD (read: a lot of stuff in life) SUCKS
and no amount of positive thinking will change that.

On the day, everyone in the group shared their number one suckiest thing about IBD. And nearly every example was different (one person’s sucky can be another person’s OK, and vice versa).

We all have really hard days. And it sucks. (Knowing that other people have hard days too in no way reduces your own suck in that moment. People who tell you to ‘think positive’ also suck.)

I’ve lain on the floor of my shower and cried from the pain. Nothing will make that suck less.

I’ve felt angry. And helpless. And alone. I’ve felt sorry for myself and wanted to give up. And that’s OK. Now, I try to let myself feel that way and stay there for as long as I need.

Then, at some point, when I’m all cried and raged out, I roll over onto my back, open my eyes and think, “I’m still here, I’ve still got IBD, what am I going to do next?”

We’ve got one life on this amazing planet

I’m not trying to be all Monty-Python-Always-Look-On-The-Bright-Side-Of-Life here, but when you think about the whole globe and everything in it — the cities, the wilderness, the oceans, all the creatures, all the sunrises and night skies, all the people, all the experiences you can have; and you think about your body which, for all its faults, keeps going and it holds you and allows you to move around in this world and do so many different things; and you think about you, thinking about you, aware and creative and sensitive… well that is pretty freaking amazing.

On the day of my talk, everyone shared three things that don’t suck (for me it was my cats, beautiful days spent watching clouds go by, and chocolate – just for starters!).

This does not make the sucky stuff suck less. But it’s useful to remember that there’s also a lot of stuff that doesn’t suck.

This is your show.

It’s up to us what happens next. But it’s really hard to remember that all the time. We feel limited. By our bodies. By other people. By our circumstances.

Yet we always have choices. And that is not an easy thing. When we get that it really is our show, it’s a big thing to live up to, all that possibility. When we do stuff because of other people, in reaction to what other people are saying or doing, we lose a bit of that bigness, we make ourselves smaller.

I’m not talking about doing the ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ thing – I’m talking about making conscious choices. I’m talking about being in charge of your own show and deciding what you want to do with the amazing life you have on the planet.

Like I said, it’s hard to remember we have this power, because we feel limited. And here’s the reason…

We always have choices except when we think we don’t.

There are conversations happening in your (and my) head. You know, when you are deciding whether or not to do something, or thinking about something already done, and a certain kind of response pops into your head:

I have to be strong and do this by myself.
Because of ______ I’ll never be able to ______.
Why do I always mess things up?

And then you debate it. Who’s doing the debating? They’re the voices, stories, beliefs, assumptions, standards we carry around with us, often without even realising it. And the most powerful thing we can do is take part in these conversations. And ask questions. And push back… gently.

I limit myself far more than any sucky disease ever could.

I know this.

And it has everything to do with those voices, stories, beliefs, assumptions, standards I carry around with me.

But I can’t fight them or hate them or drive them out (well I can try, but not much good will come of it). Because they are part of me. And in a beautifully crazy-making kind of way, I can see that beating on any part of myself is just another story, another standard, that’s keeping me limited, that’s keeping me from realising my BIGNESS.

So my final advice to the lovely people I met on the day of my talk, and what I try to remind myself (not always successfully) every day is:

Please, be gentle with you.

(And make friends with your gut.)

When I left the corporate cube to start my own business, I didn’t realise that the challenges and rewards would be as much personal as professional.

In the J.O.B., when stuff got tough, I could detach. I could tell myself that I was just following the rules (do what you’re told, be happy with what you have, work hard, play safe) and if that didn’t feel great, well, so what? Welcome to the real world.

I could easily blame whatever frustration, unhappiness and impotence I felt on the situation, and the fact that I was subject to the decisions of others.

Now, there’s nowhere to go but me

As an entrepreneur, I now create my path from minute to minute. And the choices I make reveal, on a daily basis, the ocean of beliefs, assumptions and behaviours within me – stuff that I had never really explored, let alone questioned, before I went out on my own.

For me, business is personal.

I guess it’s not that way for everyone but it is for a growing number of us who might be called creative entrepreneurs, artists of commerce, innerpreneurs or mindful business founders.

Inner work: awesome, but not much fun

I believe (for a bucket-load of reasons that I’ll probably talk about in more detail later) that giving attention and care to what’s going on inside – your thoughts, feelings, energy and physical state – is, to put it simply, awesome.

Awesome for you. Awesome for your business. Awesome for the world.

Unfortunately, it’s just about never easy, or fun. It usually involves dealing with something that’s stuck, and stuck for a good reason. Probably (at least in my experience) because the unsticking involves some pain, some loss, some uncertainty, some fear, some risk – yep, all of our favourite things.

I’ve found that this inner stuff can be so stuck, and the avoidance filters so effective, that I can’t even see it properly. All I see are the surface effects – things not working as they should (or how I’d like), or feeling out of balance / blocked.

Finding a way in

Fortunately, I know a Destuckification Pirate Queen, Havi Brooks. And one of the many very cool things she does is show us how to talk to our inner stuff.

Or perhaps, to describe it more as I’ve experienced it, how to join in on the inner conversations already underway.

Because they are already talking.

Who? You know, them. Your blocks and monsters and fears and critics. They’re all having their say so you can either try to ignore them (see avoidance filter above) or get chatty on their ass.

So now, I have conversations with them.

Like my recent chat with a mumbly old man

I was seriously jammed up about some work. It didn’t seem like a particularly tricky project, I’d already done most of the hard thinking, and yet I found myself doing just about anything (snacks, housework, TV) to avoid the actually sitting at my desk and writing part. My mind was jumping from one thing to another.

Recognising the symptoms, I realised it was time to talk.

This is where it gets a little kooky

The way I start the conversation most of the time (and everyone has different ways) is to be still, close my eyes, and go to my meadow.

The meadow has soft, not-too-long grass, and is surrounded by a scattering of trees that no doubt get more forest-y the further away from the meadow you go. I always enter the meadow from the same direction, and I know that if I continue walking down I’ll come to a stream. It’s usually a sunny but not-too-hot morning when I arrive.

I sit or lie down in the meadow and ask for whoever has something to say to come forward. That’s it.

And this is what happened…

At first, not much. Usually someone will just speak up, but all I could hear was wind through the tree-tops. Then I realised that it wasn’t rustling leaves, but voices, and a lot of them, swirling around and around the periphery of the meadow.

Finally, an old man stepped out. He was stooped and mumbling to himself – it was a constant but quiet mumbling that sounded like a lot of voices going at once. He seemed worried.

Me: Hi

Mumbly: There’s a lot to be done you know, no time for small talk.

Me: Actually, it’s not a really busy week. We’ve had time to take breaks and relax.

Mumbly: Exactly! Which means we must be behind on everything now!

Me: Uh, OK. Well, maybe it would help if we made a list of all this stuff we have to do?

I make a quick list of everything outstanding.

Me: OK, that’s a pretty big list, but a lot of these are just small follow-up things and there are others we can’t even start on right now. Really, the best thing we can do is finish this project I’m trying to work on right now… the thing is, your mumbling is really distracting and annoying.

Mumbly: Oomph, that hurts! Do you think because I’m old I can’t be helpful? That you don’t need me?

Uh oh, getting him upset isn’t going to help.

Me: Absolutely not. You’re on my team! I know the mumbling is you helping me remember what I need to do, but I have the list now thanks to you, and as soon as we finish this project I’m going to knock off a few of those quick tasks. It’ll be great.

Mumbly looks at me suspiciously

Eep! How can I keep him occupied and quiet? What about…

Me: While you’re waiting, why don’t I get you a nice cup of tea and plate of ANZAC biscuits*?

Mumbly: Yes!

*Extra chewy sweet biscuit popular Down Under.

Mumbly got to chew on his biscuits and I got to get on with my work.

Pacifying your disruptive internal task master with a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea? I warned you it was going to get a little kooky, but it works for me.

Joining the comment party?

Wonderful! As you might guess, this inner work can expose some tender spots. Let’s make this a safe space to share what we’re learning about our stuff (I’d love to hear if you have a mumbly old man). If that’s not your cup of tea, then this probably isn’t the party for you.