Money, Power, Sex

On Halloween, I was alone in Hawaii and feeling like shit.

Which, frankly, felt like a particularly offensive place to feel like shit.

I had just come from my best friend’s wedding celebration at the Four Seasons, surrounded by beautiful beaches and people I loved. I had recently finished a silent meditation retreat. By any reasonable measure, I should have been grateful.

And that only made me feel worse.

For God’s sake, Aerin. You’re in Hawaii. How can you possibly be unhappy?

But I was.

So I decided, for once, not to reach for gratitude. Not to tell myself that everything happens for a reason. Not to remind myself how fortunate I was.

I wanted to know what was actually there.

My mind quickly produced three answers:

Money. Power. Sex.

Money

Since leaving my corporate career, one of the questions people asked me most often was:

Are you not worried about money?

Of course I was.

That day, I had received a large tax bill while watching my investment portfolio fall. Suddenly, the freedom I had felt walking away from my old career didn’t feel quite so free.

My mind started calculating.

How long can I actually keep doing this?

Part of me wondered whether I had been reckless. Whether everyone who had questioned my choices had been right.

Power

At the same time, I was preparing for my final internship before becoming certified to teach the Hoffman Process.

I wanted it badly.

Which meant I was terrified of screwing it up.

When I get anxious, I strive. I prepare more. I work harder. I try to anticipate every possible mistake before I can make it.

I wrote scripts. I practiced over and over. I asked my teacher increasingly microscopic questions. I even recorded myself presenting.

Then I watched one of the recordings.

Oh my God.

I looked horrible.

I sounded horrible.

I was horrible.

Or at least that was what my mind concluded.

I knew how to achieve. I didn’t know how to be a beginner.

I wanted to be good already.

I wanted someone to tell me I belonged there.

I wanted to feel powerful.

Instead, I felt anything but.

Sex

This one required considerably less analysis.

I was single.

I was alone.

It was Halloween.

In Hawaii.

BAHO: Being Alone on Halloween in Oahu.

Mic drop.

There they were: Money, Power, Sex.

My mind had built a very convincing case for why I felt terrible.

And I knew exactly what I wanted to do next.

Get a bottle of wine.

Maybe some chocolate chip cookies.

A couple of glasses to soften the frustration. Something sweet to take the edge off the anxiety.

This was familiar territory.

Instead, I went to yoga.

Not because I had suddenly become wise and disciplined.

I was still irritated. I judged the instructor. I couldn’t settle down. At one point, in downward-facing dog, all I could think about was a cold glass of Sancerre.

So much for enlightenment.

But somewhere toward the end of class, I noticed a little more space.

Not peace. Not transcendence. Just space.

Enough to notice what my mind had been doing.

Money had become a story about whether I would be safe.

Power had become a story about whether I was good enough.

Sex had become a story about whether I would be alone.

The concerns themselves were real. I didn’t need to pretend otherwise.

But my mind had taken each of them and traveled much further.

For a few moments, I could see that without needing to fix any of it.

After yoga, I went to the supermarket. I walked past the wine and bought sparkling water instead.

At home, I poured it into a wine glass and watched the last light disappear from the sky.

Nothing had been resolved.

I still had a tax bill to pay. I still had to teach. I was still alone on Halloween.

But for that evening, I didn’t need any of it to be different.

Apparently, that was enough.