I was coaching someone yesterday on an Accountability Call who is going to Italy, and it reminded me of something I wanted to tell you about my very first trip to Italy this past summer.
While I was in Italy, I posted on the Bright Line Eating Facebook Community. It was the morning of our last, long day of tours and I wrote this:
“My beloved Bright Lifers: I haven’t done this in a long time, but am posting because I need support. I’m in Italy with David on our 25th anniversary trip. Long days, in the hot sun, powerless over when we stop for lunch. Lots of watching people eat NMF (not my food) and drink NMD (not my drink) and my knee hurts and I’m feeling run-down. We are in Florence and have one more 10-hour day of sightseeing. Tomorrow is a day at sea, with time to journal, make calls, and recharge. I told David this morning that I’m depleted. I cried. I’ve posted like this in the past and have been buoyed up by the flood of support that comes in. I’m breathing, and praying, and trusting that I can make it through this day. It feels so good to be Bright no matter what. Thank you in advance for your love and support.”
I was thinking I might not go that day, skipping out to rest and recharge. I think the day before in Rome had really weakened me—it had been a hot, long day with a disastrous tour guide. I was exhausted.
After I posted, though, David and I joined the tour. And then a miracle happened. The tour guide was amazing: organized, calm, and clear. The day was laid out beautifully. I felt calm. I kept checking my phone and finding comments of love and support—dozens of them. They urged me to hang in there and keep moving forward.
It was the easiest day I’d had. I had so much reserve in my tank. Putting that post out to the world and letting the love flood in gave me tangible support.
It reminded me of another time in my life when I put out a call for support and found myself living and floating on peoples’ prayers and support. That was when our twins were born prematurely. A nurse practitioner in the NICU told me they were the sickest of the 54 babies currently there, with a four percent chance of survival. My heart was breaking. But the substance of the prayers we received was so palpable.
Last night I went for a walk with a friend. It was a bright, hot summer evening. As we turned a bend, the sun had set and the sky was the most gentle, pastel colors. It was a precious light-filled moment. The moon was almost full, hanging on the horizon, and the air was gentle.
That’s what the air felt like in Florence when I was walking through the day supported by all those prayers. Suddenly, the quality of the day turned gentle, positive, and fresh. The Duomo was so beautiful I wept. I was so glad I didn’t miss that day. It was incredible.
I bring this to you because an SOS post in our online community gets so many responses. And the results are not what you might expect. It’s not that you get advice. Instead, it activates mysterious forces that change the tone and tenor of what you’re facing, that melt difficulties and buttress your strength.
The reality is that, sometimes when we’re living Bright, we’re content to watch people eat and drink stuff that we don’t eat and drink. And sometimes, it wears us down. An SOS post to our community activates a flood of responses that generates energies that my scientific brain is convinced have spiritual and physical substance to them. Something happens to make it possible to get through gracefully and Bright.
The next day on that trip, I was fine. I was buzzing from what a great day I’d had in Florence. So if you’re one of the 400+ people who posted, thank you. If you said a prayer or sent strength, thank you. If you do that for anyone in our community, thank you.
And if you post an SOS post, thank you for allowing us to show up for you, to rearrange the molecules for you. We are there for you.
This is another tool in your tool belt when you’re feeling worn down. Ask us for help. We’ve got your back. Always.
