Late to the Workshop

Two days in a row, same story, different tears… Here in Massachusetts, I have been giving workshops at Circles of Wisdom. Saturday was devoted to Aura Reading Through All Your Senses® while yesterday, Sunday, we filled the room with empaths, learning to make the transition from “merely” talented to skilled.

Both days, a participant came late by about half an hour. A lively learning game was in progress, with new concepts whizzing by faster than a golden snitch, and every student a brilliant seeker. “Nancy” and “Jean” both had brains and talent enough to participate in our communal Qwiddich (a version where everyone wins and nobody ever gets whacked with a bludger).Yet both of these latecomers had an experience she hadn’t expected. Over the hours, Nancy (on Saturday) and Jean (on Sunday) grew visibly teary. Inwardly she felt far worse than she showed. Why was I reasonably sure of this? While giving a workshop I turn my empathic gifts on quite strongly, so I could feel the turmoil of thoughts left unsaid and the pressure to hide distress.

“Let’s talk,” I told each woman at lunch break. Once we were sitting together privately, she began her tale of woe. Every tale of woe is different—as you have doubtless noticed about yours, and the same goes for me. Yet both of these tales began similarly:

“After I walked in late, I could feel that the group never accepted me. It was as though I didn’t belong, and I felt so left out.”

Tears flows, hugs were held. We discussed what would help for the rest of the workshop. By the end of the day, both Nancy and Jean had recovered beautifully. She had learned loads of new skills… and more. She glowed up like everyone else in the group. Besides that, her face looked clearer, even noticeably different from how that face had entered the room. I wasn’t the only one to observe, “You changed so much, you almost look like a different person from the one who first came here today.”

WHAT YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT WORKSHOPS

Every workshop builds up a group energy, shaped by the teacher’s personal agenda and energetic skills. My workshops, for example, are designed to nurture each student, impart a set of skills, help each person achieve his or her stated goals. Beyond that, I co-create with spiritual Source to help each participant grow.

This last part is hardly a brag. It’s more state-of-the-art for most people I know who give workshops.

Therefore, spiritual purification happens during workshops like mine. Will the participant know this? Usually not. He or she will be too busy dealing with thoughts like, “I arrived too late” or “The walls in the classroom are such a hideous shade of green” or “When my stomach rumbled, everyone heard it and now I will be disgraced forever.”

If this should happen to you in a workshop, suspend judgment until you leave at the end of the day. Of course, it is wise to voice any pedagogical concerns with the instructor. Maybe you need a particular kind of help. But also consider the chance that the real context for pain is a triumph.

Never does it feel good to dump pain. And only an exceptionally motivated student enjoys having boundaries smashed.

For that matter, only a seasoned seminar-taker knows why things happen like lateness from an otherwise punctual participant.

Purification starts from the minute you sign up for a workshop or personal session. If you should have the feeling you’re dragging in mud, while on the highway, or you just can’t get out of the house for some reason, maybe the underlying cause is that purification is BIG.

Be a good sport, that’s what I advise. Whether you call the game “purification” or “bad traffic,” whether you grin or gnash your teeth, while that grand game is in progress things really couldn’t be going better for you.

Imagine, personal growth could be an even more important game for you, long term, than Qwiddich.

Readers, do you have any stories about workshops to share with our community? What have you learned about the seldom-discussed art of “Being in workshop most productively”? Share your stories, your tips. I’ll be reading all the way from Massachusetts.