Gary Zukav lives an hour from me. We’ve spent some time together—Gary and his spiritual
partner, Linda Francis, and Nancy and me—at my home in Southern Oregon. He told me
over dinner once about how, ten years before, he’d written The Seat of the Soul. Of course, I
was familiar with the book, and had read it shortly after it came out. He also wrote The
Dancing Wu Li Masters. Both were big sellers, and Gary was suddenly a celebrity. Except
that he was not. In his heart, he felt that he wanted to be treated just like everyone else. But
authoring bestsellers does not always allow that, so Gary had to make a conscious effort to
move himself out of the spotlight. He “disappeared” for a few years, declining lecture
invitations and interview requests, retreating instead to a quiet place to mull over what he had
done. Had his books made a real contribution? Were they worthy of all the attention? Had he
added something of value? What was his place in all of this?
As Gary was sharing his process, I realized that I had not taken the time to ask myself those
same questions. I’d just plunged ahead. I knew I’d have to learn from those who have
granted themselves a longer look at deeper issues, and I set my intention to do so—though I
didn’t know how or when I would be given the opportunity.
Jump ahead ten months. I am hopping on a plane to Chicago. As I turn the corner into the
cabin, there is Gary Zukav. We “just happened” to catch the same flight, and be seated in the
same section, though we were going to the city for entirely different reasons—and we
discovered while chatting across the aisle that we were booked into the same hotel. Okay I
said to myself, what’s going on here? Is this another one of those “coincidences”?
When we got to the hotel, we thought it might be nice to have dinner together. I was in the
process of producing the book you are now reading, and it was not going well. Everything
had come to a complete halt. As we scanned our menus, I was sharing this with Gary. I told
him that I was worried, because I was including stories from my life in the book, and I didn’t
know if my readers would be interested.
“What they are interested in is truth,” Gary said simply “If you tell anecdotes just to tell
anecdotes, they have limited value. But if you describe experiences in your life in order to
share what you learned from them, they become invaluable.”
Of course, he added quietly, you have to be willing to show yourself completely in order to do
that. You can’t hide behind a persona. You have to be willing to be authentic, transparent,
and to say things the way they are. If you’re not responding to a life situation from a place of
mastery say so. If you’re falling short of your own teachings, admit it. People can learn from
that.
“So,” Gary said, “tell your anecdotes, but always include where you are, and what you have
learned. Then we can stay with your story because it becomes our story. Don’t you see?
We’re all walking the same path.” He smiled warmly.
Gary Zukav had returned to the public eye by then, of course, accepting invitations to appear
on Oprah, and even going out now for book signings and lectures. And his book about the
soul is a bestseller all over again. I asked him how he was dealing with his fame. He
understood, of course, that I was really asking for some advice on how I might deal with
mine. And so he thought for a moment. His eyes glazed over just briefly, and I watched him
go somewhere else. He spoke, quietly again.
“First, I have to find my center, my inner truth, my authenticity. I search for this every day I
seek it actively I went looking for it before I answered your question. Then, I try to move from
there in everything I do, whether it’s my writing, or a media interview, or a book-signing
somewhere. If I’m on Oprah, for instance, I try to forget that I’m talking to 70 million people.
I’ve got to keep talking to the people right in front of me, to the audience right there in the
studio. And if I never abandon my center, I stay in tune with myself, and that allows me to
stay in tune with others, and with everything around me.”
Surely this must be what is meant by living life “harmoniously.”
My authentic truth is that life has been exciting since the Conversations with God trilogy was
published—and one of the exciting parts of it has been learning that most people of fame and
importance are not inaccessible and unapproachable and self-inflated, as I sometimes