A Wisdom Moment

My brother and I were on a long walk catching up. We were walking on a trail in a park, absorbed in our conversation since we had not spoken in a while. We noticed a group walking toward us. It was apparent they were drunk—like aggressively drunk. They were shirtless, stumbling around dancing, swearing to one another, and playing loud music on their boombox.

No one else was in the park with us; we would be alone when we crossed paths with them. I was doing a lot of “embodiment” practices during this time, focusing on my body rather than the mind. I was also experimenting with strength coach Charles Poliquin’s magnesium loading program:

HT: Sol Brah.

I was hyper-embodied, thanks to my practice stack. My nervous system was at peace, allowing greater intimacy with my body and whatever emotions were swirling within. Something occurs when I can "read" my body and its emotional landscape easily: I can also read other bodies. The following claim will sound like woo to some: this level of embodiment increases my empathic capacities to the point where I feel like I have "psychic" abilities. Instead of reading minds, I read bodies. It is in bodies where wisdom is found. 

The conversation with my brother quieted, and I felt his body tense up as the rowdy group approached. My animalistic side was activated, and I sensed the group would "prey" on us if they sensed we were tense. The preying could have been obnoxious insults, but given we were alone and outnumbered, it could have escalated to something else.

I felt his tenseness transfer to my body, and thanks to my hyper-embodiment, I knew I had a choice to let the tenseness in. I did not. I started dancing with my inner parts instead. The first dance partner was Judgment. I felt strong judgment toward the group approaching. I did not engage in the thoughts that emerged from these judgments; I just danced with the sense of judgment itself. I honored its moves, kissed it on the cheek, and moved to the next dance partner.

Once Judgement was absent, Fear loudly announced it wanted to dance. Like Judgement, I knew it wanted the best for me, so despite its loudness, I danced with it with all my heart, then twirled it away with love. A surprising dance partner followed: Play. I must have been influenced by the group closing in because their music was getting louder, and I sensed their play. Sure, they were ill-considered of everyone else's enjoyment around them. Still, amongst themselves - their "social field," as some embodiment practitioners call it - they were having a blast.

I fell into their abandoned play, tapped into the vibe of their music, and started dancing toward them. My moves were pure and true, lacking any self-consciousness; they conveyed no sense I was making fun of them but displayed that I was one of them. I was like Anthony Quinn in Zorba the Greek teaching a man how to dance, and the man I was teaching was me. 

While I was passing by, one of the guys said in a judgemental tone, "Look at this fancy guy!” I turned around while dancing and gave him the dorkiest and most disarming thumbs-up I ever gave, which compelled the following response: “Just joking, keep dancing, brother!” After the moment was gone, my real brother said: “Wow, what just happened?” A wisdom moment happened. 

I am having more of these moments because I am chipping away at my foolishness daily. These moments cannot be theorized or engendered by following a framework; they must be stumbled upon and cherished with a full-bodied remembrance. Collecting wisdom moments is my passion now. I want to get good at them because I want my life to be a playful non-self-conscious dance.

Daily journalling is one practice to chip away at foolishness, which I do at “Collective Journalling.” If you’d like to join me, a description of the practice is below, and the Zoom link is on the other side of the paywall.

Collective Journalling is a communal practice that started in May 2021 during Rebel Wisdom’s Becoming a Live Player course, continued to live on at The Stoa, and will now live with Less Foolish. The sessions happen via Zoom and are 90 mins, with check-ins in chat at the beginning and an opportunity to connect with fellow journalers in breakout rooms at the end. The session concludes with sharing a passage in the chat. Most of the time is spent in silence together, individually inquiring about what matters most. A beautiful group of people has formed around this practice. The practice occurs on weekdays @ 8 AM ET.