There is a story that has come to my mind frequently recently. It is about the American singer and actor Frank Sinatra who a few years before his death in 1998 was interviewed by a journalist. When he was asked when he would finally retire, Frank responded “when I stop being nervous before I get onto stage”. By then, Frank looked back on more than fifty years of singing and what might be thousands of live performances across the world.

Yet, Frank would, by his own admission, still expect to be nervous before he entered stage, even when he was in his mid-seventies. Still, he would apparently never, ever miss a beat. Literally.

I am certainly not a Sinatra. Not even close. And what I am doing now is not quite the same as performing for thousands of people. But I am nervous – and I think it’s good to admit it. In fact, there are moments at which I am seriously doubting the soundness of my decision.

Then, somehow, Frank’s story helps me stay on track.

Change, and the irony…

There’s a huge, humongous irony at play here. For almost twenty-five years I was hired often by large organisations to help them with change and transformation. I left my consulting tracks across Europe, the Middle East, South-east Asia, Australia, and New Zealand. I did a few weeks in the U.S. too.

I often say that I was paid to study human behaviour during all these years. My spiel was Group Dynamics – a practical boots-on-ground study of how humans operate individually and collectively. On so many occasions I was the proverbial Dr. Freud, sitting in some obscure out-of-sight seat at board room meetings to observe how attendees interacted and made decisions. I must have conducted thousands of one-one interviews with all kinds of workers. Retrospectively, I feel I must have spent more time on aircraft, backseat of taxis, and in hotel rooms than being at home with my family.

So, with that history in mind, you might rightfully say that I should be an expert on personal change by now. That I know what it’s like to transition from one career or role into another. You would say that doing all that myself – change, that is – should be a doddle. Yup, that’s what I thought too.

Reality, however, shows things to be different. It shows that personal and professional change – and notably my personal and professional change – is hard. Not just challenging or daunting. It’s hard.

Oh, the irony of it all.

I am being served a cookie of my own dough.

The phenomenal power of Personal Crises…

Two interrelated events propagated Advaya. The first was marked by an intention to move my attention from large groups of employees to the individual. My interests in collective behaviours had waned to make way for an intrigue in how we aim to function, thrive, and survive as individuals. I considered a career deviation into psychology, which then pulled my attention toward homeopathy, naturopathy, and osteopathy.

This is where the second event became instrumental, which was a rather shocking realisation that I knew more about other people’s behaviours than about my own. I had become a well-paid suit who travelled the world, with an ego and personality that very much matched the title on my business card. However, who that person really was turned out to be anyone’s guess, including my own. I had entered a Personal Crisis, and one that from then on continued to hit rather mercilessly.

My rather spontaneous decision to study Medical QiGong and Universal Healing Tao was initially nothing but an attempt to get myself back in my own saddle again. The plan was to sort myself out quickly – then to return to my old life as a new man.

The Universe, however, clearly voted against that intention, and wiped that blueprint quickly and with a swift sweep decisively off the table. A few months after my arrival I found myself wondering what it would be like to make therapeutic bodywork my new career.

That question grew into an idea, which then became a plan – before it became a dream. Finally, with its opening in 2017, Advaya had become a reality.

Learning to follow the signals

Since 2017 I had seven unbroken years of relearning how to follow my professional dreams. Things certainly moved in the right direction. From very small and humble beginnings, Advaya grew from a practice with only a few bookings each week to one with a steady and growing flow of clients daily. Following loads of additional study and ongoing practice, treatments became richer and more effective. By August this year, our treatment portfolio will expand yet again following the many requests we received from clients.

Just as exciting – if not more so – plans are brewing for Sammy to also board Advaya. She will bring her own powerful portfolio of skills, knowledge, and capabilities that will mature Advaya’s character yet again.

So, what’s not to like?

What is there not to look forward to?

Why am I still so wobbly about going Advaya 24/7?

Honestly, it’s because I am willfully ignoring our Universe’s signs and signals. And I know that I am doing it. I am totally aware of that. All lights seem green but I am still pretending that they are stuck on amber, and I am not sure why. I am stubborn in my hesitance, which I cover up with excuses. It’s all about mustering fear – fear that seems so misplaced but so real within me nonetheless.

There is, however, one thing at play – one that I am certain about. I am trying to get used to the really, truly loving what I do. I am trying to reconcile with the idea that it’s ok to be blessed with great and wonderful clients (and, yes, I absolutely mean that from the bottom of my heart!). I am making peace with the wonderful realities that have come from working at home, close to my family, and for myself.

No more airports. No more meeting rooms, endless report writing, hours and hours of spreadsheet checking, and lonesome hours in dull and boring hotel rooms. No more suits, having to be on my best behaviours constantly, and pretending to care about stuff that actually isn’t consequential to my happiness in any way.

I am smiling at the thought that whatever comes for Advaya next will literally be home-grown.

Growing Advaya: giving finally way to the feelings…

In as much as I have to deal with the discomfort of my own fear, hesitance, and trepidations, all the feelings I am feeling right now give mass to this change and personal transformation process. That mass makes it somehow more real than it probably is. Bigger. It gives my transition weight and thus some form of tangibility.

Truth is of course that Advaya is no longer an idea. Advaya has become more real than it’s ever been. It’s as much a true entity as it has been since its birth seven years ago. What may have been less true is my preparedness to fall fully into line with that reality. But that’s happening now. I am doing it, and there’s no way back. Because, in spite of whatever I am fighting with, I don’t want a way back. That door is closed. Advaya’s is wide open. I’ve just been sitting in the hallway, and I’ve only just now realised that this is where I’ve been.

Back to Sinatra – did he ever let the orchestra wait for him to finish practicing, without the intention to appear any time soon? He might have been nervous about entering stage all his life but, in the end, he always did.

From now on, it will all be Advaya.

I am so grateful that fear can be so beautiful.