Recently, I had the blessing of seeing my dear friend and teacher, Arun, in person.
That’s cause to celebrate. Even though, as the crow flies, he isn’t very far away, visiting him can be an all-day journey.
So when he called and told me he was going to be in my neck of the woods, I couldn’t jump in the car fast enough.
Of course, I wanted to clear the outing with the family.
Spending time with him is important to me. It’s important to Sarah, too, and more and more, it feels like it’s important to the girls.
And when they said, “Yes, of course. Go visit your friend,” I felt grateful. Seen, heard, and understood.
They understood how much this mattered to me.
So I hopped in the car and headed down to the beach.
〰 ♥ 〰
A little sidenote: the family and I had been out very late the night before. I hadn’t slept much, and I got up early in anticipation of seeing Arun.
And on the drive, something strange but lovely showed up in my voice.
I’m like many of you—I love to sing in the car. Well, I love to sing just about anywhere. And yes, there have been a few occasions when the location was probably less than appropriate.
But that morning, I was all alone.
You know that low morning voice you sometimes wake up with? Well, mine had decided to come along for the ride.
I found myself singing down in the bass range, which isn’t my usual territory.
And out came “The Bare Necessities.”
There I was, heading toward the beach, singing about letting go of life’s worries.
Anyway, back to Arun.
I parked just off E Street and was immediately flooded with memories of the night Arun and I went to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.
What a night to share with someone who has seen Bruce too many times for me to count.
And let’s be clear: I can only count to twenty—and I have to be barefoot to do that.
〰 ♥ 〰
As I walked down the boulevard, Arun texted me where they were having coffee.
There’s something magical about meeting a friend when you’re both away from home. You step out of your usual surroundings, and there they are—a familiar face in a different place.
That’s what I felt as I walked up.
Perhaps you know that feeling of being next to someone who makes you feel seen, heard, witnessed, and understood.
Well, it got even better.
Arun was visiting a friend, a wonderful woman with a deep practice and understanding of health and well-being.
And both of them turned their attention and curiosity toward me.
One of the things I love about spending time with Arun is that he knows me so well. But we’re always changing, and there’s always something new to notice.
Our bodies have a way of communicating the state we’re in.
We can see when someone’s eyes look tired. We notice their posture, their expression, the way they carry themselves.
But these two were paying attention in a way that invited me to notice more, too.
〰 ♥ 〰
So there we were at this little café. I’d gotten up early and skipped my usual coffee and food because I wanted to have my pulse read.
If you’ve ever had your pulse read by someone like Arun, you’ll understand why I look forward to it. For me, it’s an experience of being listened to in a very different way.
I handed over my wrists, and he did what he does.
Listening, pressing, reflecting, discerning.
He shared some thoughts about my health and well-being, then handed my wrists over to his friend.
And she did her thing.
Pressing, releasing, touching, reflecting.
Then they started talking back and forth like I wasn’t there.
And I loved it.
I’d given them something to talk about.
There’s something fascinating about watching two experienced practitioners discuss what they’re noticing about you while you’re sitting right there.
I can try to hide what’s going on. Put on a good face. Carry on.
But my body still has something to say.
If you’ve ever stood in your underwear during a physical while the doctor pokes, prods, and listens, you might understand the feeling.
Except I was sitting at a café, right there on the boulevard.
I almost felt like I was in my underwear—or less—for everyone to see.
Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable.
And curious.
〰 ♥ 〰
The experience reminded me that our bodies are always trying to tell us something.
They show us when we’re tired. When we’re a little depleted.
And often, we find ways to keep going without really listening.
I’d been increasing my caffeine to deal with my tiredness. A little more coffee to get through the day, while the tiredness itself went unattended.
I love my naps, but this was getting a little out of hand. It felt like I was fighting something—physical, mental, emotional.
Arun would say they’re all related.
Hearing their observations, I knew something needed to shift.
I did not need to keep increasing the GDP of Colombia to support my coffee fix.
What these two lovely beings shared with me echoed much of what I’d been experiencing.
They were putting words to things I already sensed but somehow needed someone else to say.
That happens to me.
My body tells me something, and my mind starts negotiating.
A little more of this. A little less of that. Don’t worry about it. Throw your shoulders back and step forward.
But when a trusted friend, advisor, or confidant notices something I’ve been feeling, it gives me pause.
That second voice helps me trust what I’ve been hearing from within.
And perhaps give it the attention it’s been asking for.
〰 ♥ 〰
Now, we may not all have someone who can make us feel stripped down to our underwear on a public street and give us a checkup.
But perhaps you have someone who really sees you.
And if it feels like you don’t, that deserves some attention, too.
Where might you begin to find that connection? A friend, a community, a healthcare provider?
And as those relationships grow, can we be courageous enough to be vulnerable?
To say, “I want to be seen.”
Something happens for me when I feel seen and begin to feel understood.
My body settles.
And even while we’re finding people who can understand us, we can begin offering some of that attention to ourselves.
〰 ♥ 〰
I remember something Arun told me one day.
“Danny, take your pulse.”
And I’m like, “I don’t know what I’m listening for. You’ve got that fancy three-finger pressing and all that fancy stuff.”
He said none of that mattered.
When you take your own pulse, you’re telling your body that you’re listening.
That stayed with me.
I didn’t need to know how to interpret everything. I could begin by paying attention.
So maybe when it feels like there’s nobody there to listen—
Because I’ve felt that myself.
Maybe when it feels like nobody understands you—
Because I’ve felt that, too.
Maybe when it feels just a little too hard to look at ourselves—
Because I’ve been there as well.
Press your fingers to your wrist and listen to the rhythms of your life.
〰 ♥ 〰
ROAR with Love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
