Here I am, merrily tripping along on the coattails of 36 years of intense introspection, thinking I know where all the buttons and dead bodies lie.
Writing a definitive text about the ego, (and having a great agent and publisher to go with it) everything in my life was sewn up tight. What else was left to do?
Sell.
Get out there and SELL THE BOOK.
And yet I’d put everything I had into The E Word. What else did I have to give people?
I refused to simply regurgitate the material. BOR-ing. And I was revolted by all the frantic New Age sales hype surrounding the apparently endless flow of well-meaning-but-derivative vanilla pudding “teachings” that pass for wisdom being shoveled out to women and men desperate for substance and real change.
Which is why I’ve been on the road for over seven months, following the sometimes vague sometimes definite inner impulses opening me up to new ways of thinking and being re: my life and books, delving deep to see what I actually have to offer people other than, “Please, buy my book. I promise you’ll be glad you did.”
Which has landed me in a small RV graciously offered by a love-filled woman called Ranjita who runs a beautiful, energetically healing retreat sanctuary in Sedona, Arizona called Your Heart’s Home. www.yourheartshome.com
I hadn’t been on her property two days before she handed me a book called The Essential Enneagram. And though I’m bored with navel gazing, I’m consciously trusting what shows up. (Knowing my intent, it‘s my whole life right now!) So, I read the book and came to the same conclusion as the other 2x I’d dipped into the material: I’m a Type 3: The Achiever/Performer. Duh.
Gently Ranjita coached me to “Check out Type 4 and see what you think.”
I hated it instantly. Type 4? The Romantic/Idealist? But doggone it, the more I read, the more obvious it became that the dynamic of Type 4 was basically “me” – the deeper ego Cate “me” than the more superficial ego/Cate “me” I’d been identifying with for so long.
Essentially, Type 4’s have forgotten their deep connection to life and others and are always seeking the ideal situation/circumstances to make them feel whole again, making sure they’re not missing out on all the things they’re sure they’re missing out on.
To compensate for feeling abandoned, Type 4’s do everything in their power to be heard and seen as significant. They avoid being rejected and feeling they don’t measure up AT ALL COSTS.
Ha! So, what are all my books about? Finding our essential connection to life and one another. And what career is perfectly designed to make a human being feel rejected, insignificant, and not good enough? Being an author.
The vast majority of authors never get published. Ninety-five percent of those that get published don’t sell even a thousand copies of their book. The world basically ignores them and the book they bled their souls onto the page 16 hours a day for a year to create. And if they get paid $1/hour for their work, they’re ahead of the game.
Although both my books have sold more than a thousand copies, I am far far far from being a best-selling author. Worse than that, I’m far far far from achieving the sales numbers my agent and publishers expected (and wanted!) to see. Thus, I have not considered myself a success. Instead, I have seen myself as a failure. Insignificant. Unheard. Unseen. Rejected.
Now, for the good news.
We can’t heal and live outrageously liberated lives unless we face our deepest core wounds. For the last four years (ever since Unearthing Venus came out) my nose has been rubbed in my core wound. And I never saw it because I was too busy racing around, feverishly working hard on the next thing and then the next, striving to be a success so I could be seen, and heard, and acknowledged.
Wow! What a setup! What magic! What an amazing creation on life’s part! I get to address my core wound while at the same time creating something beautiful to give to the world and help other people. (No matter how many or how few.) And then I get to move on.
I am not a failure. I have assiduously sought liberation. And life just keeps on handing me the keys.