Your life as a beautiful train ride.
Did I ever tell you about the time I hopped a train from Eugene, Oregon down to Roseville, California?
It wasn’t an Amtrak, in case you’re wondering.
No. It was a mile-long coal-powered beast of a freight train barreling along the tracks.
I didn’t run and catch it like they show in the movies. (That shit’s WAY more dangerous than it looks. Don’t try it. Seriously.) No. I actually hid near a bridge in some tall grass waiting for a train going in the right direction to stop for crew change.
Crew change is when the train stops in a trainyard for the workers to trade place. Guys on the train go home, and guys in the yard get on the train and start work. (Ok, there are some women train workers too, but I never saw any.)
So I sat there in the bushes waiting to get on the train. For hours. When a southbound train stopped in the yard, I waited, looked for guards, and got into what’s called a Canadian grainer.
The car looks something like this:
(Photo by Robert Taylor. Obtained from Wikimedia Commons.)
See that little hole on the right side there? You crawl up into that, and there are two more holes like it to the left and right. Once I crawled up in there, it looked something like this:
(Photo by Nathan Kane. Obtained from Flikr.)
I felt pretty crazed for the first few hours. It got dark. Rain poured down. I tucked my sleeping bag into a huge black plastic trash bag to keep it clean and dry, and lay there half-asleep all night.
I complained to myself for most of those hours about my discomfort, fear of getting caught and thrown off the train, and how much better it was to hitchhike, where at least I had more control over where I was going.
The next day, something totally unexpected happened. The sun came out and I felt the first glimmer of warm air creeping around my face–the only part of me sticking out of the sleeping bag–and finally, I smiled.
When I crawled out of the hole, the glory of what I saw almost knocked me off the train.
Endless fields of green waved to me in the winds from every direction. It was absolutely beautiful, and I felt absolutely free.
I didn’t have to talk to some half-drunk dude like I probably would have if I’d have hitchhiked. There was no one between me and the open skies. All I had to do was enjoy the view, with the absolute knowledge that the train was taking me where I wanted to go.
That really reminds me of my life now.
I haven’t hitchhiked or hopped trains for a few years now, but hopefully a point’s starting to dawn on you.
You’ve been on a roller coaster, right? No matter how much you complain or not, the coaster rolls forward…and takes you where it’s going to take you, whether you like it or not.
Once you choose to get on it, you just let go and enjoy the ride.
That’s a little bit like what life feels like once you’ve gotten deep with the undoing process.
You can relax in the absolute knowledge that your life is heading where it’s supposed to, and you’re there to enjoy the ride.
Just think about it. There’s no way to know where all of our desires, wants, and preferences come from–just like thoughts. They just appear at some point in our minds. Does that mean they have to come true? Obviously not.
But what you can rely on with certainty is what is. That means you can rely on your direct experience and what you can observe to be there for you to observe it. That might sound pretty silly, but it’s true.
Life is always an adventure. Why? Because you never know for sure what’s going to happen next. But, you can know with certainty that the train ride you’re on will keep going, until it doesn’t anymore. At that point, you won’t be around to worry about it anyway.
The only real problem is that we get so caught up in the desires, expectations, and preferences that we can’t see the train ride for the glorious adventure it really is.
Instead, we constantly compare it to our ideas of what we think we might want, and then constantly find things to complain about…never realizing the true freedom in letting go and simply enjoying whatever the hell happens to be happening.
I know. I used to complain like that All.The.Time.
But when you catch a glimpse of all this for yourself, you’ll never have another complaint–even when things don’t seem to go your way. You’ll be too busy enjoying the adventure that is your life.
So how the hell do you get there?
Well, that’s what all the CZ courses, workshops, and experiences are for: to help you stop living the manipulated, complaint-based life–and to embrace your own true adventure, already underway.
Now last week, I put together a huge Command Z MegaPack of courses and sessions, but you asked for a few more options. I know that 797 was a bit too much for some of you, so I’m putting together a better range of stuff so you can get started with your own undoing process, whatever you’re able to do.
Within the next week, I’ll add a couple more options at a better rate, just for you. The thing is, I don’t know exactly how much you’re able to pay for the courses, so please do let me know.
Leave a comment below and let me know, and I’ll do my best to give you more bang for your undoing buck than you can find anywhere else in the world.
It’s a train worth hopping, and when the sun starts to shine on your face–like it did on mine that cool, beautiful morning–you’ll watch your complaints evaporate in the face of your ferocious new smile as you relax deeply and take it all in.
Tomorrow, I’ll get into more detail about where all those complaints and expectations come from, and what you can do about it.
For now, just let me know what rate you’d like to see for a great undoing pack.
PS: Yes. I’m still taking down all the current CZ courses, including Undoing 101 and even the new body segments courses. It’ll all be going into the vault, and available by invitation only, except in certain rare circumstances.