Listening to the Voice Within
To suggest the stork delivered me to the wrong house would be a bit of a misnomer. It was a trailer, actually. A trailer tucked away in the woods, just a few miles outside of Port Angeles, a small logging and mill town in the northwest corner of Washington State. I had been dropped into the boonies far from, well, everything it seemed to me. Certainly far from where the mysteries of life, love and the universe were unfolding.
Despite my despondence at being stuck there, I knew something was brewing. In fact, from a very young age, I knew I was God. This was a simple knowing, a matter of fact, without any lofty self-importance. Something much greater than “me” was directing this life, something profound and magnificent. I was a child, and children know these things.
As a result, I spent hours each night agonizing, yearning, praying to be released from my 7-year-old body so I could get on with the real work at hand. If people only understood the “truth” of their existence, certainly we could remedy the injustices of this world instantly. The declaration of my divinity (and everyone else’s) during Sunday school class was not particularly well received, however, so I eventually tucked this tidbit of knowledge away in the deeper part of my consciousness and set about growing up the way other kids do.
My youth was marked by a series of unpredictable but powerful “a-ha” moments that could only be attributed to this greater creative force (although by that time, I attributed them to my own brilliance). I would be plugging along on my current trajectory when – wham – a life-altering idea would come to mind. Whether it was the sudden flash of becoming valedictorian (not a cosmic ambition, for sure, but it had never occurred to me) or later the impossible thought of attending Harvard Business School (my rural, blue-collar town did not produce Ivy Leaguers), the inner voice would produce astounding notions never before considered.
I wish I could say these simple moments of creative inspiration were accompanied by fearlessness. Far from it. Knowing the path and being free from fear were two very different things. With each inspiration came a sense of overwhelming responsibility – a terrifying imperative – to live up to the calling. The burning desire I felt to get out into the world, the unquenchable passion to do something meaningful in life, was matched by an ever-present accompanying dread that I would fail to pull it off.
During business school, I was unexpectedly seized again by the inner voice, this time in the form of an entrepreneurial idea. I worked day and night on the idea, finishing HBS with $80K in debt, no job, no income, no home or car…but with a business plan! “I must do this,” I heard internally, despite the absurdity of what seemed infinitesimally small odds of pulling it off. I spent four grueling months schlepping up and down Sand Hill Road peddling my plan to venture capitalists. I was 25, naïve, inexperienced, and determined.
I was also terrified. Selling a vision requires resilience, an infallibility and extreme inner strength. While I donned my best mask of confidence, underneath I felt like a charlatan peddling snake oil. After many rejections and many agonizingly sleepless nights filled with doubt, I finally got a “yes”. I raised $7M in two rounds to fund InPart, a company providing internet-based design and sourcing solutions to the industrial marketplace. My father queried me incredulously, “Let me get this straight, they gave you millions of dollars to own a piece of a company that’s worth nothing?” Yep, pretty much.
Consuming but exhilarating, InPart was a true creation of love. We assembled a great team and gained prominence in our industry. Several fantastic years and 75 blue-chip customers later, we sold the company to Parametric Technology Corporation, a multi-billion dollar public software company near Boston.
It was a heady time -- I was 28, a multi-millionaire, and now running a major public company. I moved to Boston and became senior vice president for PTC. The team grew from 150 to over 1200 people. I keynoted major industry forums and traveled the world meeting global 1000 executives. It was a powerful, fast-paced life but it devoured my energy and all my attention. From PTC, I joined Siebel Systems. Again, it was grueling hard work, but I was attracted like a moth to a flame.
I worked myself to the bone, becoming irritable, tense, impatient, demanding. Like gorging on a meal with no nutritional value, I was being sustained by success while my soul was shriveling. After five years of 100K-mile frequent flyer status, I was resigned to waking most mornings in unfamiliar hotel rooms in unknown cities. Exhausted and numb, something was not working.
My mother would say to me during our infrequent calls, “I don’t understand your life.” I’m not sure I did either. Somehow during all this, I had learned to meditate. I could sit on my meditation cushion and attain great states of peace and clarity, even deep mystical experiences reminiscent of my childhood, but the frantic pace of life offered few moments for this luxury. Too busy and too tired to use the tools I knew would bring me deeper wisdom, I focused on ploughing through unending piles of work. Why was wisdom a luxury and not a necessity? What master was I serving?
In my journal I wrote, “For these past months I have felt a dullness and emptiness. Life feels slow and thick, tired. I have lost the thread of desire that connects me with my soul’s purpose for being here. At times I fear my longing will never find me again.”
And yet, even when we distract ourselves, our deeper wisdom is poised awaiting the narrowest entry. After years of focusing on the urgent but empty details of success…another “a-ha” moment.
The inner voice said, “Stop.” Simply, stop. From that pregnant pause came, “You can do anything you want with this life.”
I stopped. I quit my job. I booked a ticket to India.
In India, everything changed…
What inner voice do you follow? Please join me next week for the unfolding tale…
Despite my despondence at being stuck there, I knew something was brewing. In fact, from a very young age, I knew I was God. This was a simple knowing, a matter of fact, without any lofty self-importance. Something much greater than “me” was directing this life, something profound and magnificent. I was a child, and children know these things.
As a result, I spent hours each night agonizing, yearning, praying to be released from my 7-year-old body so I could get on with the real work at hand. If people only understood the “truth” of their existence, certainly we could remedy the injustices of this world instantly. The declaration of my divinity (and everyone else’s) during Sunday school class was not particularly well received, however, so I eventually tucked this tidbit of knowledge away in the deeper part of my consciousness and set about growing up the way other kids do.
My youth was marked by a series of unpredictable but powerful “a-ha” moments that could only be attributed to this greater creative force (although by that time, I attributed them to my own brilliance). I would be plugging along on my current trajectory when – wham – a life-altering idea would come to mind. Whether it was the sudden flash of becoming valedictorian (not a cosmic ambition, for sure, but it had never occurred to me) or later the impossible thought of attending Harvard Business School (my rural, blue-collar town did not produce Ivy Leaguers), the inner voice would produce astounding notions never before considered.
I wish I could say these simple moments of creative inspiration were accompanied by fearlessness. Far from it. Knowing the path and being free from fear were two very different things. With each inspiration came a sense of overwhelming responsibility – a terrifying imperative – to live up to the calling. The burning desire I felt to get out into the world, the unquenchable passion to do something meaningful in life, was matched by an ever-present accompanying dread that I would fail to pull it off.
During business school, I was unexpectedly seized again by the inner voice, this time in the form of an entrepreneurial idea. I worked day and night on the idea, finishing HBS with $80K in debt, no job, no income, no home or car…but with a business plan! “I must do this,” I heard internally, despite the absurdity of what seemed infinitesimally small odds of pulling it off. I spent four grueling months schlepping up and down Sand Hill Road peddling my plan to venture capitalists. I was 25, naïve, inexperienced, and determined.
I was also terrified. Selling a vision requires resilience, an infallibility and extreme inner strength. While I donned my best mask of confidence, underneath I felt like a charlatan peddling snake oil. After many rejections and many agonizingly sleepless nights filled with doubt, I finally got a “yes”. I raised $7M in two rounds to fund InPart, a company providing internet-based design and sourcing solutions to the industrial marketplace. My father queried me incredulously, “Let me get this straight, they gave you millions of dollars to own a piece of a company that’s worth nothing?” Yep, pretty much.
Consuming but exhilarating, InPart was a true creation of love. We assembled a great team and gained prominence in our industry. Several fantastic years and 75 blue-chip customers later, we sold the company to Parametric Technology Corporation, a multi-billion dollar public software company near Boston.
It was a heady time -- I was 28, a multi-millionaire, and now running a major public company. I moved to Boston and became senior vice president for PTC. The team grew from 150 to over 1200 people. I keynoted major industry forums and traveled the world meeting global 1000 executives. It was a powerful, fast-paced life but it devoured my energy and all my attention. From PTC, I joined Siebel Systems. Again, it was grueling hard work, but I was attracted like a moth to a flame.
I worked myself to the bone, becoming irritable, tense, impatient, demanding. Like gorging on a meal with no nutritional value, I was being sustained by success while my soul was shriveling. After five years of 100K-mile frequent flyer status, I was resigned to waking most mornings in unfamiliar hotel rooms in unknown cities. Exhausted and numb, something was not working.
My mother would say to me during our infrequent calls, “I don’t understand your life.” I’m not sure I did either. Somehow during all this, I had learned to meditate. I could sit on my meditation cushion and attain great states of peace and clarity, even deep mystical experiences reminiscent of my childhood, but the frantic pace of life offered few moments for this luxury. Too busy and too tired to use the tools I knew would bring me deeper wisdom, I focused on ploughing through unending piles of work. Why was wisdom a luxury and not a necessity? What master was I serving?
In my journal I wrote, “For these past months I have felt a dullness and emptiness. Life feels slow and thick, tired. I have lost the thread of desire that connects me with my soul’s purpose for being here. At times I fear my longing will never find me again.”
And yet, even when we distract ourselves, our deeper wisdom is poised awaiting the narrowest entry. After years of focusing on the urgent but empty details of success…another “a-ha” moment.
The inner voice said, “Stop.” Simply, stop. From that pregnant pause came, “You can do anything you want with this life.”
I stopped. I quit my job. I booked a ticket to India.
In India, everything changed…
What inner voice do you follow? Please join me next week for the unfolding tale…
posted by Stacey Lawson at
4:46 PM
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