• I’m writing an ebook. I thought it was finished, then I discovered it wasn’t.

    It will be out later this year, and it’s called How to Market Your Art. So, as a little teaser, here’s a very practical description of some of the main ways I market my own art.

    First though, a quick word about ‘art’. When I say market your art, I don’t just mean paintings, or songs (although it could be those things). I mean your Creative Work – the expression of who you are through artefacts that move and provoke people.

    Everyone has their own art. It may be more or less visible. It may be more or less skilfully expressed. But your art is your art.

    And then there’s sharing it – marketing it. This is where ‘artists’ traditionally possess less skill, or more resistance. But it’s crucial. Because art doesn’t count if you don’t share it.

    So, here are the 3 main ways I share my art.

    I’m only going to write about three, because they’re the only ones I can speak to with lived authority. They are not the best. They’re simply the ones I find most aligned with my work (so far).

    1. I write on this blog

    As a writer, this is my most important platform. It’s where I put my most in-depth and rigorous work. I’ve written very long articles, and shorter pieces. I’ve written practical business articles and I’ve written poetry. If anyone asks about my work, this is where I always point them.

    I don’t have a strict publishing schedule. Normally every couple of weeks or so I publish a new piece. I’ve experimented with weekly. At the moment, I’m incredibly sporadic with publishing here due to the writing of the ebook, and various other excuses!

    I only write about the things I want to write about. I have an ongoing list of article ideas. Sometimes I pull one out and sit down to write. Sometimes I just journal and something comes out of it. Sometimes I plan something out heavily in advance. Sometimes something pops up and I have to sit down and write it out.

    Most of my writing will never be read in public, because most of it isn’t very good.

    I write for me first, and my audience second. Which doesn’t mean I don’t constantly think about what would help my tribe. But I’m an artist first, and unless I’m writing something because I want to, because I feel called, it normally falls flat.

    Sometimes writing for me first means the first draft, and then I reframe it during the re-edit. Sometimes it means writing the piece I really want to, and then writing a second one that addresses something I know folks are coming up against.

    Both aspects are crucial. Writing for me. And writing for others.

    Titles are important. I try to write article titles that do two things. Firstly, a title must represent the piece accurately. Otherwise, I’m being misleading or vague. Secondly, a title must be written to draw people in. Attention is at a premium. Write titles that really elicit curiosity for your tribe. Sometimes it’s hard, don’t sweat.

    These were some of the titles that really worked for me.

    The Most Powerful Question I Know

    Speaking Your Truth can be a Trap

    6 Stories that Stop Us Creating our True Work

    It’s a loud market place out there, and you do have to interrupt people. Here’s no way around that. Good titles interrupt people’s newsfeed scrolling…

    “Oh, that sounds intriguing…” *click*

    2. I email my tribe

    When I work with my clients on their marketing, this is the platform I almost always say is a non-negotiable. If you want to grow your tribe in today’s marketplace, a mailing list of the people in your tribe is basic necessity.

    It’s important because this is the place I get to speak directly to my core tribe. These are the folks that have given their explicit permission to speak to them. They want to hear from me, they want to be led deeper into the ideas that I write about.

    If you have an engaged list of several thousand people (which is no small tasks these days) that like what you offer, then you probably have a sustainable business (at least for you the artist).

    An email list is like your tribal meeting hall. Every time you have something you want to share with your followers, you can simply drop your words into an email, and suddenly, they all get it, direct to their inbox.

    I use Aweber for my email list, I’ve used it for years. Mailchimp is also good, and is free for the first 1,000 subscribers.

    When I email my list, I try to be very personal, very direct, and ‘un-markety’.

    You know those lists you’re on and every time their email arrives in your inbox, a voice inside your head says “Oh nice! I love their emails, let me go read it” – that’s what you want with your own list.

    Don’t write newsletters, write letters, like you would write to your friends. Don’t try and ‘sound professional’ just be your post-conventional self.

    “Hey Horatio, I wrote a thing about un-markety marketing. I’ve wrestled with doing good marketing without being an ass for a long time. And I had some interesting thoughts about it this week. I think it might help you. Here’s the link, I hope you like it.”

    There’s no formula for email. Everyone has to find their own groove. Here’s what I would advocate though.

    • Show yourself, write in the first person, don’t be ‘professional’
    • Tell people what you have for them and why you think it will be useful or interesting
    • Tell them what you want them to do. Be direct. “If you’re curious, click this link.”
    • Write to them consistently. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule, but these are your peeps, be in relationship with them.
    • Train them to expect good stuff when they open your email, or click a link

    Email lists are secure, private and powerful. The rules can’t be changed on you suddenly, like on Facebook or other centrally controlled platforms.

    Whatever your art, whatever you create and share, allow people to easily stay in close relationship with you. Have sign-up boxes on your website. Invite them in warmly. Tell them what they’re signing up for, explicitly

    “I’ll email you every couple of weeks with my new stuff. I hope it serves the shit out of you. Unsubscribe any time.”

    And then welcome them when they sign up. Maybe you want to give them a gift for signing up. Maybe you don’t. But welcome them. These are your people.

    3. I write on Facebook

    Facebook is a powerful and unique platform, if you use it the way it’s designed to be used. Facebook is not a marketing platform. What I mean by that, is…you can’t directly promote stuff on Facebook. Well, you can, but it will probably bomb.

    “Do you struggle to be productive when it comes to phalange making? Sign up for my free webinar: “Phoebe’s 7 secrets to powerful phalanges.” It’s free, but places are limited.”

    You might get a couple of ‘likes’ but mostly, people really dislike this stuff on Facebook. It’s like walking into a party and trying to flog your latest thing. People are there to socialize and share connection, not listen to your pitch.

    Here’s how I use Facebook. I learned this from Michael Ellsberg who is a fabulous writer and has a wonderful course on the art of writing for Facebook.

    1. Learn to notice when interesting ideas float past in your mind. Get used to grabbing them with a butterfly net. They happen naturally, practice seeing them.
    2. If an idea has a somatic feeling with it – a fizz in your chest, gurgles in your chest, excitement, fear – then stop what you’re doing and open up Facebook.
    3. Type right into the status update box (don’t copy and paste from Word), and share your thoughts. Reveal yourself, don’t self-edit. Don’t try and sound clever. Get vulnerable. Share what you’ve learned, or how you see something. Share your process or your story.

    Because people are bored of pitches, and inspirational quotes, and cat pictures, and political choir-preaching.

    They’re also tired of what Michael calls bliss fronting – showing only the good shit, in a dis-proportionate way, or an attention seeking way.

    “OMG. I just had the most amazing meeting. I’m blown away.”

    “I just love myself so much. Life is awesome. I’m awesome. Wow.”

    It’s the bliss front. What about the shitty backside? Show us. Why did the meeting impact you? Why do you want to share it? When do you also not love yourself? Tell me vulnerably how awesome you are. Or tell me what’s been really hard for you, and how you navigate it.

    I’ve used Facebook to push my edge with my writing. I write about anything that interests me. I’ve shared very tender personal things about feeling like a little boy who just wants everyone’s attention. I’ve written about politics and stirred dissent among many old friends.

    And that’s the thing about Facebook. It normally contains a pretty diverse range of people from your life. And it can feel almost unbearable to write things on there that you would really rather certain people didn’t know about you.

    Your edge is yours to find and flirt with.

    What I will say is that Facebook is an amazing space to practice self-revealing. If you can tell people on Facebook that you’re actually into BDSM, or Astrological therapy, or Libertarianism, or you’ve just divorced your partner, or your father died, then you can tell anyone.

    Some people may unfollow you. Let them. And new people will friend request you. Let them. You have no obligation to please your Facebook friends. It’s your party. If they don’t like your toasts, then encourage them to leave, with love.

    And then share your art there too. I post all my blogs on Facebook, along with a short message. I’ve had an awful of people find my work through Facebook. An awful lot.

    Just remember, it’s a social-network, not a marketing-channel.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • I was with a client recently. She’s an expert in her field. She’s been teaching her work for decades. And I was enquiring into the essential nature of her work, asking her what this work was really about, and how it moved people.

    She was in flow. She was transmitting. I couldn’t type fast enough to capture the wisdom pouring from her. It felt for me like a teaching from on high. I was learning as she spoke.

    And then she stopped.

    “I don’t know what I’m saying. Who am I to say such things?”

    Indeed.

    Who am I to declare myself a teacher in a discipline I have no formal training in?

    Who am I to speak of God and Spirit when I feel like a contracted schmuck most of the time?

    Who am I to teach others things that I myself feel in the midst of my own struggle with?

    Because we need permission

    Our entire education system is based on this idea. If I want to be an English teacher, I study English at University, and then do teacher training. Then I get a job in a school, where I’m given the rules and conventions about how I teach English.

    It’s about safety. We can’t have everyone going around proclaiming themselves a teacher can we? It’s dangerous.

    And so when we hear that voice ”who are you to…” we stop.

    We look out ahead of us in our life, and we see a big wide expanse of something we’ve never explored. We don’t know it, haven’t been there. We look behind us, at what we know, and it feels safe, solid. We turn ahead and see all the ‘experts’ already out on the field, with years or decades of experience behind them.

    “I’m not like them” we say.

    I’m in in right now. I feel my work starting to pivot. I thought I knew where I was headed, I had it mapped out in front of me. And yet I feel the undeniable truth. I’m being pulled off course. Pulled toward something I did not expect to be asked to teach, and I’m scared.

    Who am I to teach in this area I’ve struggled all my life? Who am I to speak of things that intimidate me? This discipline is in the possession of others who are wiser, better, much farther ahead than I am.

    Who is speaking?

    When my client was speaking, there was one thing that was abundantly clear to me.

    She was in flow.

    She had gotten out of the way. Her mind was soft and relaxed. She wasn’t trying to justify something, persuade me of anything. She was simple letting go and letting the words come.

    She was channeling something. It was coming through her.

    Where was it coming from? If it wasn’t come from her, what was its source? What is the source of that energy, that seeing, those words?

    The mystics would call it pure experience. The truth that is not meddled with. The wisdom that is not bent to fit something appropriate, but is allowed, as we soften and surrender.

    It comes from God. Spirit if you prefer. Or the universe. Your higher self even (which is just God personified).

    Don’t fuck with God

    Who are you to speak of these things? Who are you to teach of these things? Who are you to presume an illumination that was not confirmed by a senior teacher?

    When we feel that great doubt. “who am I to…” it is usually an indication of something easily misinterpreted. We think it’s an indication of unworthiness.

    It is actually an indication that you’re connecting with your higher self.

    You’re feeling your own higher potential, the power you already possess, but that is not yet embodied. You are not yet the one who calmly and powerfully lives that work. But you feel him, sense her. They want to come through you.

    Who are you to proclaim this vocation that wants to come through you?

    Who are you not to.

    The power, the truth coming through you is not yours. It’s God, working his way out through your willing vessel. To deny the validity of its emergence is to presume your wisdom outranks God’s wisdom.

    That’s a pretty big call to make!

    An enormous call to make. An arrogant call even.

    Speak what wants to be spoken

    And you will surrender to something more beautiful and more powerful than your gorgeously innocent humanity can yet comprehend.

    Teach what wants to be taught through you and you will submit to a service that the world thirsts for and your soul has been forged for.

    Who are you to…?

    One who is asked to.

    Answer Him.

    And then the real work begins…

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • Because if you do, you will gift to the world expressions and stories that only you can give. And we want them. Need them even.

    You see beauty that no one else sees. You hear truth that no one else listens to. You have a belief in the goodness of the world that is completely unique to you.

    And your mission, if you cease to refuse it, is to make it. And give it. And move people.

    That’s what art does. It moves people.

    It moves them into something deeper in themselves – a place of ungrasped potential, or dishonoured tears.

    They are moved into a different vision. They see life’s landscape through your eyes, and something touches them. And their world changes.

    What is your art?

    Your art is your expression of your inner world, in outer form.

    The medium is less important. Writing. Song. Public speaking. Film. Facebook posts. Sex. Massage. Carpentry. Whatever feels good. Whatever allows your expression to be woven into something potent.

    What’s important is that you practice channelling your expression. No one can teach you what your expression is. They can teach you technique. They impart principles of practice. They can give you maps for the journey. But the expression is yours. It follows no rules. Except the rule of authenticity, which is not really a rule at all.

    The practice of expression is very simple.

    1. Express yourself through art
    2. Repeat

    The greatest teacher is your own experience.

    No one can teach you your expression, because your expression is simply what happens when you sink into yourself, and make stuff.

    Just as no one could teach John Lennon to be John Lennon, no one can teach you to be more you. Except you.

    Making it

    Making it is very simple.

    You carve out time, and you make it.

    If you’re a writer, you sit down and write. If you’re a tantrica, you feel your desire and fuck. If you’re a dolphin whisper, you get in the water and talk to dolphins.

    The goal is not to make good stuff; the goal is to make stuff. Good is not in your realm of control. Making is. And more you make, the more goodness you will craft.

    If you paint a hundred paintings, some of them will suck ass, half of them will be below average, and a handful will catch something beautiful in a way you couldn’t have predicted.

    Doing it every day is best.

    Doing is whether you feel like it or not, is crucial.

    It doesn’t count if no one sees it

    Art is something that moves people. If you don’t share it, then no one can be moved, and so it is not art. It’s a thing you made, and then hid.

    Once you’ve made it, give it away.

    Then it’s not yours anymore. It never really was to begin with. You were its parent. And the time comes, when you must let that child go its own way in the world. You cannot choose its impact.

    You don’t have to share all of your art. It’s better to not share all of it. Because a lot of it is junk. But you probably need to share more than you think you should.

    Risk over exposure.

    Do not try to repeat your success

    Listen for the impact your art has. What struck a beautiful chord? What hit a bum note? Notice how it permeates the people that engage it.

    But do not try to ‘repeat your success’.

    Art is the expression of novelty. You cannot repeat novelty. If you try to replicate novelty, you will simply mimic the past, and that is not art.

    So listen, very carefully, and let your impact on others impact you. Ruminate on its lessons. Let it work you.

    And then when you sit down the next day to make your art, forget all of it.

    Your excuses mean something

    They mean it’s something important that your resisting making.

    “I don’t have enough time, I’m too busy.”

    “I’m not good enough, it won’t work.”

    “It’s not appropriate, people will judge me for it.”

    These are the voices of resistance. Resistance is the density you feel when you try to push through into an explored place, like cutting your way through a virgin jungle.

    Following the advice of your resistance is choosing the wrong guide. Resistance wants you to turn around and return to safety. So go deeper into the exact place resistance is telling you to avoid. That’s where your art is.

    The closer your art is to your soul, that bigger the resistance you will feel.

    Choose your art and make it

    Today, I’m going to carve out 45 minutes.

    I’m going to sit down, and write about things that want to be written about.

    Then I’m going to do the same thing tomorrow.

    I’m going to share more of my art than seems sensible.

    I’m going to listen for the feedback, and then I’m going to dismiss it.

    I’m not going to be lulled into believing my resistance.

    I’m going to touch people.

    In the way only I can.

     

    Now it’s your turn.

    Go.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • Sweetheart, you don’t get it.

    You don’t realize just how beautifully valuable you are. So very precious. So very special.

    Because you’re like me. You forget. You deny it. You disbelieve it.

    It’s not your fault. It’s not a pathology – something that went wrong. There’s a disease. Adyashanti says it’s an affliction of the Western mind. It’s the disease of chronic unworthiness.

    That no matter how well you do, how much people love and appreciate you for who you are, you have this doubt. This place deep inside, where you actually don’t believe you have any value. You’re not worthy.

    It shows up in everything you do.

    You’re confusing things. It’s ok sweetheart. I do it too. It’s not a mistake, it’s part of the path. But you still don’t get it.

    Value. Worth. Worthiness.

    It’s not all the same. There are two radically distinct kinds of value. And when you confuse them, it’s a recipe for existential crises, delusion and confusion.

    Which is never fun.

    So, let’s see if we can’t clear that up.

    Essential Worth

    You have this in complete abundance. And what’s even cooler, you don’t have to do anything to create it or prove it.

    You are one of the most conscious and beautiful beings the world has ever seen. So am I. And so is your grandmother, the wall street banker and Justin Beiber (yup, even Justin).

    You’re a human being. That’s already pretty fucking rad. It’s a precious, precious gift.

    The Tibetans say it’s very rare to be born as a human. They tell a story. Imagine the whole world is a giant ocean. And there’s a turtle that swims around under the surface. And there’s a golden ball, floating around in the currents. Now what are the chances of that turtle popping up above the surface and catching that golden ball in its mouth? Pretty darned slim. Well, that’s the same chance you have of being born human.

    You get born a human. Wow!

    And just like the snowflakes and the trees, every single one of us is totally unique.

    By definition of being uniquely human, you have essential worth. You have the most sophisticated biological hardware in the known universe. And you have a unique software system – your own consciousness – that sees things distinctly from every other human being.

    Essential worth. You don’t have to prove it, or stress about it because you were born with it. And it can never be taken away.

    Worldly Worth

    This one is different.

    When you’re born, your worldly worth bank account starts at zero. It’s something you must create. It’s your usefulness out in reality.

    Imagine Mozart was alive today. He had all his musical genius. But in this world he doesn’t compose or perform anything. He spends his life eating nachos on the sofa, beating off to expensive porn and never leaving the apartment someone else pays for. He has no worldly worth. In fact, he may even have negative worth. He consumes more that he creates. He consumes a lot of nachos, a lot of porn, and doesn’t create anything in return.

    Worldly worth must be created. It’s the value that is useful to other people.

    And this is what business is interested in. The market place.

    If I spend 2,000 hours learning the ancient art of cosmic monkey spanking, then I am valuable to all the people that want to spank their own cosmic monkeys, but don’t know how.

    And they will want to give me value in return for teaching them. They give me $100 a session, or special primal favours.

    When we make that trade, the world literally gets more valuable.

    Worldly worth. You have a bunch of it already, but you can create more. You must create more, if you want to do your true work in the world.

    We confuse these kinds of value

    If you deny the existence of essential value, like the modern marketplace often does, then you will spend your live striving to prove your worth by building immense worldly value. But its fruitless, because you’re trying to prove your humanity, your essential value, and that can never be proved.

    If you deny the existence of worldly value, then you become impotent. You wait for your work to ‘emerge’ (often spiritual speak for naïve inaction), believing your natural inner unicorn will be recognized if you ‘trust’ in it. But it’s crazy making, because your worldly value has to be created. It doesn’t just pop along magically.

    When I put out new stuff, the fear is that my heartfelt offer will be met with indifferent silence. No one gives a shit. No one wants to accept my invitation.

    And when I’m not watching, the undifferentiated scripts start to wind their suffocating bodies around me.

    “If no one pays you for this, it’s going to confirm that you’re actually worthless Ewan. I know you think you’re special and unique, but the evidence will be there fuckwit. You’re worthless.”

    What it would actually confirm is that my worldly worth in the particular area I just created something in, is not what I thought it was.

    And the antidote is simple. Either I’m offering my worldly value to the wrong folks, in which case I find the right tribe. Or I don’t have enough value in this area, and I just need to put the work in to get better.

    Usually it’s just fear and doubt though. And it can be so insidious. “Maybe it was all a delusion. Maybe I’m actually not worthy.”

    And of course, the irony of it is that the more we trust in our essential worth, the easier it is to own and create our worldly worth.

    Do you invest in your worldly worth?

    You can’t invest in your essential worth. It’s not a thing that can be increased or decreased, only felt or denied.

    But your worldly worth can be increased indefinitely. If you want it to be.

    And that’s where you and I tend to struggle isn’t it? In our noble attempt to transcend the materialistic absolutism of the modern marketplace, we throw out the worldly baby with the greedy bathwater.

    But worldly worth is the root of service and making a difference in the world.

    The math is simple. The more you invest in and develop a worldly capacity, the more it’s worth.

    I’m a more valuable coach today than I was 3 years ago. Because I’ve run the cycles on it. I’ve clocked up hundreds of hours of coaching, and it shows when I sit down with someone to help them.

    How seriously do you invest in your worldly worth? Do you put your money on the line?

    Often we shy away for paying for our own growth, because we doubt the value.

    “Oh, it looks interesting, but $2,000 for a 5 day falafel workshop? That’s too steep. It’s not worth it.”

    But you love falafel! It’s your life, your passion, your love!

    The absence of value lies not in the promise of the program. It lies in you. You don’t believe you are worth $2,000 of investment.

    “I’m a falafel amateur. I’m not ready for spending that kind of money. It’s above my level.”

    It might be true. But more often than not, we doubt our worth. We don’t trust our essential worth, and so we shy away from investing in our worldly worth.

    We believe the story in our head, that’s compounded by a confusion about the nature of value. Because what’s the point in investing in myself if I’m worthless in the first place?

    Then it’s like pouring champagne in a toilet full of piss.

    I’m in your corner

    Sweetheart, you don’t realize just how valuable you are. And how valuable you can be.

    It makes me sad. It’s sadness at my own doubt too.

    I was told “whatever you do Ewan, it’s wonderful. It doesn’t matter how good it is!” It was progressive at the time. Now it’s painfully lopsided.

    Because we hold back don’t we? We don’t trust we can do it, create it, own it. We doubt it will turn out well if we really own our essential value, and step forth and develop our value in the world.

    But that’s why we’re here. If we couldn’t grow and serve, and leave the world better than when we came in, we wouldn’t be here. That’s the whole point sweetheart.

    You’re so fucking valuable. Never believe the doubt that you are. You already know how much worth you possess.

    And go forth, and build a level of value in your world that matches that inner knowing. That is what will enable you to leave your beautiful mark on the world.

     

    If you’d like to go deeper into this mission – your mission – and learn how to courageously step out into the world, then take a look at my new small group program: Emerge.

    There are still a few places left.

    Take a look here.

    And if you do feel called to step in. Do so. You’re worth it.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • Sometimes when I sit down to write these more instructional posts – the one’s where I’m trying to teach you something that practically helps you – I assume a position.

    I hear myself with this haughty voice in an upper-class English accent.

     “I, Lord Ewan, in my superior consciousness, and infinite generosity, I will impart the knowledge which you, dear muggles, have yet to command as I have. Now, listen carefully.”

    I’m sorry. It’s my way of covering my own insecurity. It’s been a life-long habit.

    Because in reality, the topic I’m going to tell you about here (honestly, like all of the things I write about) is one I still consistently trip over. I’ve studied and practiced marketing for 7 or 8 years now. And yet I’ve always done so with a slight begrudging tolerance. And I wrestle with it continually.

    I have some nasty marketing allergies. Perhaps you do too. And if you do, I want to offer you and I some anti-histamine.

    Because marketing – when done right – is powerful as fuck. And too many of us are turning away from that power, because we don’t know how to grasp it both honorably and effectively.

    If that resistance to wielding the power of marketing is something that affects you, then I hope this article will help.

    So here are five of the most common marketing allergies and beliefs I see. And how to heal them, so you can get on with the work you’re here to do.

    (And you may notice that a lot of my imaginary marketing examples have do with sex. It’s apparently on my mind a lot at the moment.)

    1. Marketing is immoral and manipulative!

    “Buy my six secrets to sandwich sex and you too will have the life of your dreams”

    And if I’m feeling lost, desperate, and a yearning to have the kind of sandwich sex I fantasize about, I grasp onto the promise. And if the promise does not match the reality, I feel played, tricked. You told me I’d have the life of my dreams! And I did everything you told me to, and I’m still impotent. The cheese and Gherkin baguette alludes me still.

    Marketing – like any form of communication – can indeed by manipulative. But simply because we have a lot of internet-marketing vacuum salesmen, it does not therefore mean all marketing is manipulative.

    Let’s think of a scale. On the extreme right is manipulation. A deliberate inflation and misrepresentation of the truth that is designed to generate maximum short term sales.

    On the extreme left is apology. A contracted deflation of what is offered, to minimize sales through fear. I’m afraid that my product is not worthy or good, and so I downplay it. Which is just as manipulative, it’s just bent the other way. And incidentally, this is often far more comfortable a manipulation for those of us with marketing allergies.

    The centre point is persuasive translation. I’m going to be honest first and foremost. I’m not going to deliberately misrepresent the truth. I am however, going to try and persuade you of the value of my offer, in language that you can understand.

    You have to spell it out, and convince them of the potential value. You have to overcome their limited understanding, and educate them.

    “Why would I need to buy a jewel encrusted butt plug? My regular rubber one is fine. It does the job.”

    “Well, you probably don’t need it. But my experience of this plug is really different. When I use it, I feel like a queen. It feels regal and classy, and it helps me overcome my shame of using such a “seedy” thing in the first place.”

    “Oh, that sounds cool. I like that. Ok, I’ll try it out!”

    2. Marketing is inauthentic and shallow

    If I market myself, I need to put on some kind of persona. I need to look like those other chaps who are great at marketing. With snazzy squeeze pages and red arrows, and bold promises that sound too good to be true.

    So much of marketing is outward focused. I call this deterministic marketing. It’s what we normally think of as marketing. We determine who our target customer is, we determine what our product is, we determine what our brand is, and then we go out and enact strategies that get those target customers to be attracted to the brand and buy our stuff.

    As I’ve written about before, there are real problems with this approach, particularly if you’re at early stage of your business. But even if you’re a seasoned entrepreneur, this approach often runs into inauthenticity anyway.

    Because if you spend all your energy trying to determine the right models and brand for your customers, it can be easy to forget your own self, the way you naturally show up or say things. Which is why you need to counter-practice with the flip side of marketing.

    Revelational marketing is the practice of showing yourself as you are, and allowing the tribe that naturally fits you, to find you. It’s the opposite of determinism. It’s surrender to current reality. Reveal who and how you are, and see who organically resonates.

    Both are important. And when you marry the ideal (deterministic marketing), with the real (revelational marketing), you get a very powerful partnership.

    Many ‘experts’ teach only deterministic marketing, and it can indeed look very inauthentic. Probably because it is. It misses the subject. You.

    Show yourself, over and over again, and you will discover deeper and deeper layers of your own authenticity, and the way you creatively want to market your offerings.

    3. Marketing is trashy and cheesy

    “Hi, I’m Yousef Yaffle, CEO of yousefyaffle.com, and today I want to tell you about my new free ebook: “Seven steps to conscious consultant success sex” (actual value $74,497). Sign up below for free, and you too can fuck your clients consciously, and make six figures, and lose 20 lbs, just like I did.”

    I literally gag sometimes when I read people’s marketing pitches. It’s the snob in me. I’m an artist, and aesthetically ugly prose makes me turn my nose up, and climb up on my high horse.

    It can be a bad habit.

    I sometimes shy away from really pitching people. I shy away from owning my own value. I hide behind a sheen of mystery, because to my artistic mind it feels so much cooler.

    But marketing does not have to be vomit inducing. What’s the alternative? Beautiful originality. Not the same old landing page. Not the same old hook. The same images of folks standing on cliffs with their arms out.

    But here’s the kicker. You do have to learn the rules before you break them. I see a great many folks who want to already do ‘next paradigm’ marketing when they haven’t even succeeded with traditional paradigm stuff.

    Philosopher Ken Wilber would call this a pre/trans fallacy. There’s a developmental direction to learning. When you’re new to something, you don’t know the rules and best practices. You’re pre-conventional. Before conventions. This is step one. Then you read some books, get some coaching, and learn how to run a product launch. You learn the rules. You get the conventions. This is step two.

    And then you can break them. You can be trans-conventional. Beyond conventions. You know the rules, and you consciously break them, the final step.

    The problem is that step one and step three – ‘pre’ and ‘trans’ – can look very, very similar, because neither one is conventional.

    And there are a lot of people claiming to do conscious, authentic, new paradigm marketing, but they’re not. They actually don’t know what they’re doing, because they haven’t gone through the hard yards of learning the core principles of marketing, and understanding why those conventions have existed for a long time.

    You do have to learn the art of copywriting, and communicating the benefits of what you offer. You do have to learn the nature of strategy, and how to build pathways that your tribe can follow. You do have to learn the art of headline writing, and calls to action.

    Marketing doesn’t have to be cheesy and pukey. It can be intensely creative and beautiful. But if you don’t learn the rules before you break them, you’re curse will most likely be ineffectiveness. An artistically original sales page that doesn’t help people buy your thing is beautifully useless.

    4. Marketing promotes greed and selfishness

    Because it’s designed to generate revenue, sales, and money….for me!!!

    Unfortunately, so many of us still have bullshit neo-marxist narratives around money.

    “Money is corrupt, or evil. If I earn more of it, I’m taking it away from someone else who may need it more than I do. Me earning money creates inequality.”

    These stories are based on a shitty understanding of economics, and they really get in the way of you making a difference to the people that need you.

    I apologize for any rudeness and condemnation you find in my words. I’m still disidentifying from my own bullshit money narratives! And there’s a wee-bit of resentment still, that I believed them unquestioningly for so long.

    Because money is not what we think it is.

    Money is a neutral indicator. It’s like feet and inches. Except it’s not measuring physical length. It’s measuring value. As I get better at coaching, I put my prices up, because I’m creating more value, and it’s worth more to people. It keeps everything in balance and flow.

    But still the narratives of greed and selfishness swirl.

    “It’s selfish of me to market my stuff. I don’t want to annoy people, be too salesy, have them slam the proverbial door in my face.”

    And that’s part of the game. You will annoy some folks. Especially the ones with strong anti-money narratives. They might send you rude messages.

    The antidote to the selfishness story is this…

    Who are you not to tell people about what you offer? What if your stuff could really help someone, but they don’t know about it, because you didn’t want to self-promote?

    A friend told me a story. He was at a conference for spiritual teachers. And one of the shallower and gregarious teachers had latched onto some very interesting folks who had asked for help. He was pitching his stuff to them shamelessly. And another teacher, a deep and honest one complained to my friend. He condemned the self-aggrandizement. And my friend chastised him.

    “You would be a much better teacher for those folks. But they don’t know about you, because you’re sitting here with me feeling disgusted. And they’re gonna end up working with that other guy, because he’s not afraid to pitch his services. And they’re gonna get burned. And that’s your fault.”

    So long as you’re honest, unmanipulative and authentic, then your self-promotion gives other people a choice. If they know about your offer they can choose you, or they can choose someone else.

    If you rob them of that choice by staying silent, you’re being selfish.

    (Boy did I write this section for myself…)

    5. Marketing is for attention seeking narcissists

    “Look at me! Look mummy, I can do a headstand! Look! Look!”

    “Look at my website everyone! I made an amazing workshop, it’s amazing! Look! Look!”

    I feel that part in me that wants people to see me. I want to feel adored. Loved. Liked. I want to banish the trauma of primary school, when I struggled to fit in. When people would pick me next to last for the football game. Or when I was the only one left without a partner for the science experiment.

    Maybe if I get lots of people to look at me though my work I’ll finally feel loved.

    This one kicks my ass. It’s so insidious.

    I’m scared of to death of too many eyes being on me. It’s why I avoid public speaking, it’s why I hated performing as a musician. It’s so exposing. I feel naked. Vulnerable to their disdain.

    And yet, I want people to see my work. It feels so good when I get recognition.

    The paradox.

    The fear of being seen.

    The desire to be recognized.

    Pulling at each other, twisting me around. I probably shouldn’t write about this one. I’m still in it up to my neck in it. But at the heart I know it’s simple.

    Yes. I want your attention. I want you to look. Because I think what I’m saying could help you. And if there are a million people who would be served by my words, then I want a million people to read them.

     

    Let’s take my own medicine.

    Sometimes we can’t do it alone. We’re at some kind of juncture, we’re called to step out into the world more fully, or we want someone to help make our next big offering as successful as possible.

    You’ll recognize the feeling if this is you. It will be whispering, or shouting to you right now as you read these words. “It’s time. Reach out to someone who I just feel could help.”

    If you feel I could be that person, let’s chat.

    I offer a 6-month Liberation coaching package. This would be a good fit for you if you’re called to a new level of yourself. You want to crack out of the old, and step into the new. Clients who work with me in this way often don’t have a clear idea of why they want to do it. There isn’t an obvious tangible goal. They just feel an intuition. It’s time.

    I also offer a 3-month Launch coaching package. This is specifically for people who have a new product or offering they’re wanting to design and launch. I help guide you through the stages it requires to effectively and authentically get your thing to the people that want it. Starting where you are, and finishing when your enrollment is complete. I’m there every step of the way as an advisor, coach and thinking partner.

    You can read about some of my previous client’s experiences here.

    If you want to learn more or jump right in, email me at ewan[AT]therealizedentrepreneur[DOT]com

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • You probably have an idea that you haven’t made and shared yet.

    I don’t know exactly what it is, but if you think about it, you probably have a bunch of reasons why it’s not time to share it with the world yet. Maybe it’s an idea for a course you want to make, or a workshop, or a painting, or a show, or a book, or even an entire business.

    The process of turning an idea into a real thing can be an arduous one. Especially if the idea is dear to me. In fact, the more exciting the idea, the more important it feels, the more confronting the prospect of actually manifesting it usually feels.

    And while our procrastination is utterly understandable. It is also, I believe, unnecessary. And I want to tell you why, and how you can take a different route to the creation of your inspiration.

    The day I drunk my own medicine

    I’m about to lead the final session of a group coaching program I’ve been running for the last 7 months. It’s been a special experience for all of us.

    The group looks little like the vision I had in my head when I conceived it. It’s not even the promised program that I enrolled people into.

    It started with an interview I did. Towards the end of the interview I was asked what final piece of advice I had for people watching. I said “launch before you’re ready.”

    I’d been practicing the principle for some time with my writing – publishing things despite my insecurity wanting to endlessly tinker with them. I’d published more regularly than my perfectionistic ego felt was safe.

    I’d launched my website the previous year before I felt ready as well. I’d procrastinated for months, and so in the end, after some help from a friend, I launched, with simply a front page. It had the name on it, an evocative picture I’d found, some prose and vague promises and a sign up box that offered free updates (I didn’t mention the fact that I didn’t really know what I’d be updating you on).

    So when I answered the question, and said “launch before you’re ready”, I contracted for a moment. I realized I’d just busted myself. Because I was thinking about launching a group program for the first time, and I was procrastinating, and I wasn’t taking my own medicine. I confessed this to her. And I said I’d follow my own advice.

    “If you are not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” – Reid Hoffman

    And so the very next week I followed through. I put a small note on the bottom of a blog article I published. It said…

    “If you want to really dive into this, I’m going to be running a new small group coaching program called Creating The Work You Were Made For.

    I’ll be inviting 6 people to work with me closely for 3 months, and learn how to connect to, create, share and sell their essential work. Interested?

    Write “I’m interested” in the comments below and I’ll email you more details.”

    And a bunch of people did. And I enrolled the program from that group of folks.

    You don’t need to pretend you have all the answers

    I tell you this story, not to demonstrate any competence that I may possess. But to try and illustrate a point. That if you have something you’ve been thinking about creating and sharing, there is a way to succeed, without having to know all the answers, or plan the whole thing exhaustively, or know where it will end.

    If you instead use your authentic ignorance as a part of the launch itself, something very powerful is allowed to unfold. Because you do not hoard all the creativity for yourself, you allow your followers or clients to participate in the creative process with you.

    I didn’t know exactly what my program would look like, I didn’t know exactly what the curriculum would be or how I was going to structure it. I had a theme and a rough skeleton, but little more.

    But the seed of the idea was clear. It was a group program for 6 people, over 3 months. And it would be about helping people create and share their own true work. So that’s all I said.

    Now let me be clear, there is a difference between telling people about your thing before it’s finished, and there’s dumping a big pile of confusion on people and expecting them to sort the quality from the chaff. The first one takes courage, the second one laziness.

    But our tendency so often, is that we wait too long. The ripe fruit is not shared, we think it needs to mature further, until it begins to go black. So that’s what I decided to do. I shared the fruits of my idea.

    If no-one had commented on my invitation, I would have binned the whole thing right then. It would have stung my ego for sure. But at least I would have got real feedback immediately. It would have stung a hell of a lot more had I spent 2 months designing the program and writing extensive marketing materials for it, and then no one had commented.

    But as people began to tell me they were interested, I went to the next level of detail. I sat down to brainstorm ideas, and then the same day I wrote a letter direct to all the people that were expressing their interest. I tried to tell the truth.

    If you’re reading this page, you must have told me you’re interested in the program I’m running. I’ve launched this program in a somewhat unconventional way. I announced it before I knew exactly what it would be.

    So, from reading this page, you should get a really good sense of what this program is about, but you won’t get all the details. Because I’m actually still designing it, based on who registers!

    In fact, to be even more accurate, if you decide to come and be a part of this, you’ll be designing it along with me, as we go along. It will be alive, organic, unplanned (apart from the meticulous planning I will of course do behind the scenes because I’m a perfectionistic idealist who wants to serve the shit out of you.)

    I told them everything I did know about the program. And I told them where I was vague. And I told them things would definitely change.

    And they did.

    The design process continued throughout the entire enrollment

    The first time I sat down with one of the potential participants things changed. We had a really powerful conversation, I understood more deeply where she was at and what she needed. As we talked about it I realized the time frame felt too short.

    “I have a feeling 6 months would fit better for this thing, how would that be for you?”

    “Actually, that really relaxes me. Yes it feels much better.”

    I checked it out with other possible participants, they agreed. So I changed it to 6 months, not 3.

    Because I’d been explicit in that first letter about the experimental nature of the program, it gave me the freedom to change my mind as I talked with people. Those enrollment conversations were as much about discovering what they needed as they were about me inviting them to participate. I learned so much.

    If I had simply made it all up on my own and then presented it fully determined, I would have missed so much.

    And that is what I love about this principle. That by being explicit that you’re experimentally discovering the nature of your creation, as you create it, it loosens the habit we all have, of pretending we know more than we do, and telling people how it is.

    Launching before you’re ready conquers your resistance

    I’d been procrastinating on the group program idea for a long time. I’d first brainstormed ideas for it 9 months before. Though to be honest, I’d had the desire to run my own small group program for years, and never pulled the trigger.

    “It’s not quite time, I need a bigger following first, or at least a bit more experience.”

    “I don’t know what I’d teach, let’s just let the more mature ideas emerge organically.”

    “The prospect is really hard. I’ll just not put my attention on it so I don’t have to deal with the fact I know I’m stalling because I’m afraid.”

    We justify it to ourselves. “I’m not ready.” Or to be more accurate, I don’t feel ready. We’re trained to prepare and know all the answers. In school exams, or business presentations, or interviews, we’re demonstrate our competence by giving intelligent, comprehensive responses. “I don’t know” is seen as a sign of incompetence.

    By deliberately launching before I was ready, I cut through my resistance in one fell swoop. Once it was out, I couldn’t take it back. Or I could, but I’d look like an ass, which I’m always determined to avoid.

    And all it took was 3 sentences on the end of a blog post.

    Us human beings don’t like looking stupid in front of our peers. So once you let other people know what you’re committed to, it’s a hell of a lot harder to back out.

    And we back out all the time. We have an idea, an exciting idea, we’re inspired, and then we think about how far away it feels, so we back out. And we justify it to ourselves. We say we’re not ready, or not worthy.

    But most of the time, that’s just resistance. It’s your safety zone trying to maintain its integrity. It’s current reality trying to preserve itself. It’s your ego wanting to keep things just the way they are.

    Resistance is cunning as fuck. And insidious. It will take any form it needs to stop you in your tracks.

    You don’t have to wait. You could do it today if you wanted.

    Do you have something?

    Maybe it’s been simmering in the background. Maybe you constantly think about it, and dream of the day when you’ll be ready to actually make it real. Maybe it’s a new idea that feels precious and fragile.

    What’s in your way? A story probably. One that says you need to be more prepared. One that says it would be irresponsible or inappropriate to launch that thing today. One that says you’re not qualified, or that no-one will give a shit if you put out an invitation.

    You may be a lot more ready than you feel. You may know a lot more than you believe.

    Your idea might be vague, or detailed. It might be just a name and an inspiration. It might be nameless and mapped out in structure. It doesn’t really matter. As long as you have something that people can say yes or no to, that something probably is enough.

    “I’ve been thinking about offering sessions for people that want to do naked pole dancing. I’m so passionate about it, I do it all the time myself. Are you interested? Email me at fuckyeah@nakedpoledancingamsterdam.com”

    Because once you release it to the world. It’s not just yours anymore. And it takes on a life of its own. And it takes you on a ride that you could never have mapped out in advance.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • It began to dawn on me, the innocence of my heart.

    I was biking home from a date with a woman. It was sweet. Surprising. Confronting. I’d fallen for something in her. And then I’d got a little burned. More than my rational mind said was appropriate.

    “Dude. C’mon You don’t even know her. You’re overreacting here. Wtf?”

    But it hurt. My heart ached. I felt foolish.

    From somewhere inside, a breath came. A moment. I smiled inside and gave myself a dose of self-administered love serum. I relaxed. And then another voice spoke to me.

    “This is your super-power Ewan. You’re pure. You never doubted you were loved. Your parents wanted you so deeply. They had a lot of fun conceiving you. You have an innocent heart; you just love people. It’s powerful. And it’s also your greatest challenge.”

    I watch the cheesiest shit on TV and start quietly blubbering.

    I listen to a particular song, and my whole chest creaks and tingles and I remember times when I felt the way the song feels.

    I fall for women before I even really know them, and my heart opens, and they receive me, and sometimes I don’t notice that I’m about to get hurt. And maybe they are too.

    So I want to speak about the heart. My heart. Our heart. The most beautiful thing God ever created. It has one simple mechanism, the eternal mechanism.

    To open. Or not.

    The heart is the centre

    The place where heaven and earth meet. The only place we feel the beauty of separation and intimacy.

    And behind it all – the elusive primal memory that we’re not mortal. We come from on high, angels fallen. Not because we turned dark, but because here in this human life we find the only place where we connect with one another. We meet because meeting is gifted to us through our agonous separation.

    This is the only place where we can taste and live life. It’s different up there. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is right. Nothing is separate, nothing is together.

    But you and I sweetheart, we are mortal. We will die. We know it, and it is that urgency that drives us toward our own realization.

    “Your heart is the centre young one. That is where mortality and divinity meet. It is where your true nature is held.

    And it will break. A thousand times before it finally opens. It may take you a thousand lifetimes. It may have already taken more.

    But this is why you chose to come here. Why you chose your parents; you chose this life. Because it is the most precious gift that can ever be given.

    To love, to hurt, to merge, to break-apart, to entwine in something never before felt.”

    I’m sorry I wasn’t there more

    It hurts. I can’t help but open to her. She’s so beautiful, and unique, and soft, and loving. She beckons to me, like the mother I never had. I want to go to her. Love her. I want to suck at her nipple, and feel safe. Hold her in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be ok.

    And it hurts when she leaves me. When I’m all alone. And I return to the doubt. Maybe I’m not lovable. Maybe it was a mistake, and I have to be alone now.

    I miss her. It was the most powerful 3 years of my life. She changed me. And I’ll love her forever, she who captured my heart. A woman so beautiful, I still cry when I picture her and all we shared.

    I’m sorry dearest, that it had to end like this. But didn’t we have fun? Wasn’t it beautiful?

    And all the women I was with before her, and the ones who stand before me now. A harem of sacred women, who have taught me that which I could never know. And loved me in places I dare not see.

    Thank you. With everything I have.

    I’m sorry that I wasn’t there more.

    Yet, He knows this is the most wondrous of gifts

    “This is what you asked for my boy.”

    “Yes. I know. I prayed for it. The trial of the heart. And yet I squirm and whine. Because it’s hard. And I have to reveal myself, and sometimes I’d rather be in bed, with the covers over my chin.”

    “And isn’t that the innocent dignity that all of you have? To be scared of what you dare not fully love. Isn’t it the most wonderful of gifts? To be in human form, with the unique invitation to feel another. To make love with another. To unify the two hearts of God, into this one Heart.

    “Do you miss it J? Being here?”

    “No. Because I am It. I am You. I am Here. There’s nothing to miss.

    And yes, I miss it. I miss the taste of Mary on my lips. Her Being entwining me in the love I never imagined could exist. She says she doesn’t mind that her story was lost and horribly twisted. But I feel so sad that people have forgotten that it was Our Love that changed the world.”

    “I think we’re realizing that now J. I think those of us who are treading the path you marked for us can feel that. This is not the solo path. This is the relational path, con-joined love. Divine partnership.”

    “Thank you youngster. My heart is opened by your words. And I’m so proud of you. Never forget that I love you.”

    “I do forget. I’m sorry J.”

    “I know. And you are always already forgiven my love.”

    Never stop your heart

    I know he feels what I feel, more than I do. He feels it all, and that’s why I love him. Because his anger is given without agenda. And his devotion is given without condition.

    He sees the future, he is the future. And he’s chosen me, like he’s chosen you, as the disciples of a very different world. Not one of his making. One of Our making.

    I love you.

    I don’t know you, but I love you.

    Even though I’m afraid to really tell you, I do. I love you. You, who are reading these very words. For you show me how beautiful we really are.

    Never stop.

    And I’ll promise the same.

    Let us open one another, like a Heart cracked by the fingers of God.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • In the first part of this article I talked about shame and how we’re carrying so much of it, and that it is the root of sin. Not in some old clichéd Catholic sense, where we come from some original bad stock.

    We’re ashamed because we’re struggling to find the courage to step out and show the world just how fucking good we are.

    This is the greatest sin of our times.

    To turn away from what is asked of you – the true work you know you came here to make. To pretend it isn’t that important, or that you’re not good enough to be it. And we’re struggling to face this great sin, because the very notion of sin is something we’re no longer comfortable with.

    But just as the toothache doesn’t go away because you don’t like dentists, sin doesn’t go away because we don’t like the Church.

    And because we have banished sin, we have also banished the means to work with sin. We have forgotten that there is an ancient tradition that can guide us through this gauntlet of shame, guilt and unworthiness.

    This is the lost technology of spiritual transformation. And it is what this article is all about.

    We’re all sinners

    Not the way we were told when we were children. No, we’re all sinners because this is a time like no other. A time when the old rules really are crumbling to dust. We have more freedom than at any other time in the history of the world.

    We’re free to have sex with people we want to have sex with, without the fear of roasting forever in hell. We’re free to write and speak whatever we want without the threat of being burned at the stake. We’re free to rise above our upbringing without social castes to slam us back into place. We’ve even been freed from the industrial imperative to be efficient, safe and predictable. We’ve been freed to speak the deepest truth we have.

    This is the age of the great level playing field.

    And God is calling for all great people to come and play the new game. The one where we win when we each create our own beautifully unique puzzle piece of life. And together, we create a new picture of society.

    And when we inevitably pretend to not hear that call, we sin.

    “Who the fuck am I to start a global foundation for women leaders? I don’t even feel like a leader myself. It’s just a pipe-dream. Life is more complicated.”

    “I may have a passion for mystic muff diving, but I can’t make a living out of that! That’s crazy! I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing and hope one day I’m rescued.”

    “Just because I dream of writing best-selling books, doesn’t mean I can, or am allowed. That’s for the talented people, who live of mummy and daddy’s millions.”

    It’s easier to numb out. So we do, and God’s call becomes like the buzz of the refrigerator, and we continue for years pretending it’s not there.

    But it’s not that simple is it?

    You block your ears, so you don’t hear the call. And then you don’t hear other stuff either. You don’t hear your friends telling you how talented you are. You don’t hear your lover telling you how beautiful you are.

    So you block your heart too. Because it’s too much. And then you block your balls and your pussy too.

    And then you’re a drone. Doing society’s bidding. Being a good soldier. While you quietly die inside.

    And maybe I’m being dramatic. And maybe it hasn’t got that bad yet. And maybe it never will. But what if it already has, and we haven’t noticed, because we can’t even feel how numb we are.

    And I’m numb too. I’m as big a sinner as you are.

    This is written for both of us. I’m not preaching from a position of privilege. I’m writing this because I’m calling myself out. And maybe you at the same time

    And I’m writing it because there is a way out.

    Repent, and ye shall be set free

    “When they said repent. I wonder what they meant.”
    – Leonard Cohen

    And well you might Leonard, because it’s another confusing term, like sin. But repentance is the way out. And as Robert Frost said, the best way out is through. And repentance takes you through shame, into love, into integrity, into deeper truth.

    But I get ahead of myself. What is repentance?

    Repentance usually means regret. When I repent I feel deeply sorry or remorseful.

    “I’m really sorry Mrs. Jones. I didn’t mean to crush your prize rose bed.”

    But this meaning is only half the story. Once again, we have a translation issue, though this time it’s the issue of Greek into English.

    The Greek world that was translated into ‘repentance’ in English was the world metanoia. Which means something rather different than regret. Let’s play detective for a second, because it’s going to get interesting.

    Metanoia has two elements. Meta means ‘beyond’, or ‘change’. And noia comes from noos which means ‘thought’ or ‘mind’. So it essentially means to ‘go beyond one’s thoughts’. It means to change one’s mind, change one’s way of seeing, to go beyond how you thought it was.

    This is the original meaning of repentance.

    And it is also the very subject of this article. The practice of repentance is the lost technology of spiritual transformation.

    Connect with truth, and step beyond

    Repentance is the decision to turn back toward what is asked, and engage honestly and truly. To repent is to surrender your insecurity and shame, and face what you know you are avoiding.

    Repentance is coming back into right relationship with truth. And it has four steps, which I’m going to lay out for you.

    Confession. Forgiveness. Penance. Restoration.

    Now, we’re going to run into language issues again. I’m going to use words that may have strong connotations for you. But just like Sin, and repentance itself, I’m going to invite you to cast off the meanings you were given, and feel into the primordial meanings, the original meanings, before they were distorted by time.

    Because this model of repentance represents a beautiful mapping of a natural cycle, one that is designed to deepen the bonds of what matters, and what is true. It is a process that transforms shame into guilt, into connection, into intimacy, into new action, into new depth, into new truth.

    This is not a formula. It is a dance of karma, intimacy and dignity.

    The Four Steps of Repentance

    1. Confession

    Confession is sharing the thing you don’t want to share. It’s calling your best friend and admitting that you’re really struggling. It’s telling your lover you’re feeling attraction for someone else.  It’s praying to god because you feel so lost.

    It’s the sharing of burdens, a friendly shoulder upon which to rest, as you confess your difficulty. And it works. It’s what all good therapists do for their clients, what great parents do for their children.

    It is a place to reveal our deepest secrets in safety.

    Brené says that shame can’t survive with words around it. She says shame needs 3 things to survive: secrecy, silence and judgement. And that the moment we share the object of our shame, the virus starts to whither, and the heart begins to open.

    This is sharing.  This is confession.

    This is the first step.

    I was born to do magnificent and important things in the world.

    I know it. But to confess how deeply I feel this destiny is to also uncover the deep shame I carry for not knowing how to live into that greatness. And the deep fear that I may be mistaken, and delusional.

    “You could touch a million souls” the whisper says to me.

    And it’s getting louder.

    “You’re one of the old souls that lived a thousand lives and opened a thousand hearts. You were there, when we stepped out of the Garden. You were there when we spoke on the mountain. You were there after they hanged him. Don’t you remember?”

    Am I crazy? Something tell me I shouldn’t we writing this. But it feels like a relief to get it off my back. To share it with you. To confess to you.

    2. Forgiveness

    I love you, and I forgive you. I know you’re trying your best. I know you’re a good and beautiful person. I know you don’t mean to. I love you. Everything is ok.

    This is empathy. And compassion. It’s universal love.

    Regardless of what you do, I still love you. There is nothing you can do or be that would stop me loving you. You have no choice in the matter.

    They said Jesus will forgive you all your sins, and they said it because Jesus represents the force of this universal love. And in His heart, you are always already forgiven.

    It’s what we need from others, from God. And it’s what we need from ourselves. Self-love, the first love. Because it’s all the same love. It is This Love.

    I know you. I love you. I forgive you.

    This is step 2.

    My sweetheart, I understand.

    You want to stay safe, hidden, in the dark warm folds of familiarity. Of course you do sweet man. They told you this was the way to live your life. That’s what kept you safe in the school playground when the other kids would tease you for your difference. And in another time, when they killed you for your insolence.

    You are my sweetheart and I love you. You have such pure intentions. I’m always here for you ok? I know it’s not going the way you want. The way your father wants. But you don’t have to apologize to me. You’re always already forgiven. You are always already loved.

    But thank you for telling me. I’m here whenever you need me. Always.

    3. Penance

    And. Words are not enough. Not meaning to do it, is not enough. Apology is not enough. Forgiveness, alone, is not enough.

    You must do penance.

    Penance is not punishment, or healing. It is not saying a thousand Hail-Marys.

    Penance is restorative action. It is right-action. Doing what you know in your heart is good and true. It is doing what you need to do, to bring relationship back into the moment, enlightened by a new consciousness, entwined by a new depth.

    It’s clearing up the mess you’ve made.

    Whether this is with yourself, with those around you, or with God, the intent is the same: to repair the fabric of our inter-connected relationship, and allow depth to transform us.

    This is step 3.

    I know my innocence does not excuse me from what is asked. God has called me out.

    “I love you. And my love is so strong, that I won’t stand by and let you be less than you really are.”

    He is turning up the heat. He is asking me to go and speak. He is calling for what I have to say. He is beckoning me to stand amongst those who would listen, and gift from your heart, that which I see and love.

    “You must choose to step out of what you think you know. And commit to the path you do not know. To come back to me. And love through me. With all your naked heart can bare. Do you accept your penance?”

    I do. I am afraid, but my faith is stronger. Yes my dearest Lord, I do.

    4. Restoration

    We are brought to a place of greater intimacy with ourselves. With truth. With God. With goodness itself.

    We have followed the mystic injunction, and allowed the hand of our own hearts, to steer us.

    We have restored the circle.

    We have joined hands once again. But this time the grip is warmer, stronger, and more true.

    And more joyful.

    For this is the siddhic beauty that shame invites us toward. Joy. True, and pure.

    This is the final step, before it begins again.

    Welcome back my love. I missed you. But this time we feel different. My hand rests deeper in your hand. My step moves more elegantly with your step.

    This is the path into alignment. This is the never-ending quest into our own eternal embrace. This is the place you are called to, that I am called to, that we are called to.

    This is what is asked. And you have answered.

    Shall we dance, just one more time?

    Final Thoughts

    They say that great artists steal. If one day I can with all honesty call myself a great writer, I will know I stole well, and with grace and novelty.

    And so, to stroke that potential, I confess to you now that this article, indeed all my articles are taken from the mouths of many others.

    For this particular article, I borrowed generously from a single book. It’s an amazing book by the equally amazing Barbara Brown Taylor, called On Speaking of Sin. And if any of my ideas have spoken to you, I wholeheartedly encourage you to read her work. She is a true preacher of truth.

    And I leave you with the words of another. Words that have haunted me this year. Beautiful words. Godly words perhaps. I leave you with Rumi.

    The breeze at dawn has whispers to tell you.
    Don’t go back to sleep.
    You must ask for what you really want.
    Don’t go back to sleep.
    People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two world touch.
    The door is round and open.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    Ewan Townhead

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  • We’ve thrown out sin.

    It’s gone, along with religious guilt, dogma and other old dusty concepts that clash with our modern sense of freedom. It’s gone because it was a moral label from a by-gone past. Or at least, that’s what we think.

    But I’m going to tell you a story that I never expected to tell.

    That not only is sin not what they taught us it is, but that it’s a vital part of the spiritual path. Or just the creative path. The one where you become yourself, and create the work you were made for.

    Sin is not the old sin of the Catholic Church, or Bible class, or violating the Ten Commandments, or screwing your neighbour’s wife. It’s something real and vital. Something at the very root of a life of wholehearted fullness and authentic success.

    Sin is a good thing, an important thing, a powerful thing. And that’s what I never expected to say. So, this article is about sin. And not only sin, but about the greatest sin of our times.

    And it begins with shame.

    I’m ashamed

    I’m ashamed of stealing money from my parents when I was a kid. A friend and I were building an elven army from little lead figures that we painted. And they were really expensive. So we stole money.

    I’m ashamed about the way I’ve treated some of the women in my life. I’d promise them my heart, and so they’d open. And then I’d realize I’d compromised my freedom too much, and I’d leave them. And they’d get hurt.

    I’m ashamed about the way I’ve manipulate people to get what I wanted. I did that with my first business. When my business partners got in the way, I played a nasty political game to try and get rid of them. They still don’t talk to me.

    I’m ashamed about all the messes I’ve made, that I didn’t go back to clear up.

    And I’m ashamed of not going after my dreams as hard as I could. I tell people I’m here to do big things. I feel like I am. I wrote recently that I felt I should be famous. Not because I want fame, but because I want to impact the world. I feel I’m here to make a big difference.

    And I feel ashamed that I don’t live up to the magnitude of that ambition during my day. I get scared, and play online pool, or read novels, or eat sugar, or smoke pot. Because it feels safer, because it insulates me from the increasing volume of life’s call.

    And that is the modern sin. The greatest sin of our times.

    That we are not truly listening to what is asked of us.

    That we are turning away from the path we know we’re meant to walk.

    That we believe we’re unworthy of the great mission that burns inside our hearts.

    The original nature of sin

    I was not brought up Christian. I was never baptized. I never went to church as a kid. We had the occasional bible reading from Miss Bathmaker at school. I was brought up as an atheist, with a sprinkling of new-age.

    I thought religion was a crock of shit, until my 20s when I became interested in the work of spiritual philosopher Ken Wilber. And I got into meditation, and Buddhism, and mysticism, and Rumi. Then over the last couple of years, I’ve been drawn increasingly into the mystical teachings of Christianity. And I’ve written about the guidance I’ve found through my friend Jesus.

    Earlier this year I was reading some letters. They were private letters that my mentor Rand had generously shared with me. They were written to him, from his spiritual coach. And in one of them I discovered a discussion about sin. And I was pulled in.

    It’s such a cultural-laden word. What do you think of when you read it?

    Sin.

    Naughty little girl? Stealing. Men fucking men. Abortion. Murder. Worshipping the wrong god?

    That’s always what I thought it meant. An old, out of date word that Christians used to shame people, so they got in line. And I think that’s exactly how it’s used a lot of the time. But sin doesn’t originally mean ‘doing bad stuff’. The original meaning is something so much deeper.

    To learn why, we need to go way back in time at least 2,500 years to the original Hebrew Bible. This was the book that got turned into the Old Testament (the really old, pre-Jesus bit of the Bible). In this original Hebrew text, there were three words, that when translated into Greek, were translated into a single word, in English – ‘sin’.

    But these three original Hebrew words don’t mean ‘bad’. No, what they represent are different degrees of being out of relationship with God.

    Not evil. Not wrong.

    Out of relationship with reality.

    Missing the mark of where you’re meant to be, want to be.

    I felt a giant shiver run down my spine when I first read it. And I’ve told the story many times to friends since. And I still get a shiver each time.

    Sin is disconnecting from your own truth. Sin is violating the principles we live by, and refusing to come back into relationship with reality.

    And a lot of us are doing that. Especially with big things that really matter to us. Like living the purpose we know we came here for. And when you turn away from that truth for long enough, you start to feel something grow in the centre of your being. Something that twists and hurts.

    Deep existential shame.

    Because you know you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing. This is why it starts with shame. But shame is a tricky thing.

    The inauthenticity of shame

    A couple of years ago I was staying in a friend’s apartment, and was shooting videos of myself talking about some ideas I was excited about. And the same thing kept happening.

    I’d be in full flow, excitedly talking, gesticulating, emoting. And then mid-sentence I’d slow down to almost nothing. And my head would drop. And I’d close the laptop lid. And sit there. And pretend it hadn’t happened, and go do something else.

    And on the fifth time I actually noticed it.

    “What the fuck was that?”

    I opened up the laptop again, turned on the video and started spontaneously coaching myself on what had just happened. I even moved position in my chair to play both interviewer and client.

    “Wow, so what happened for you there Ewan? That looked intense.”

    “Yeah it was. I don’t know. I was just talking, and then my gut got really tight, and I felt hot, and exposed. It was like I was getting pulled down into something.”

    I discovered the shame spiral.

    I feel ashamed about something. And then I feel ashamed about feeling ashamed. And then ashamed about feeling ashamed about feeling ashamed. Ad infinitum.

    And the weight gets ever heavier and my identity ever smaller, as I’m sucked down into the blackness of unworthiness. But this time I’d seen it. And got curious.

    What is shame?

    I looked it up. It’s an old word. It means literally a “feeling of disgrace”. I was enthralled. Dis-grace. A feeling of not having any grace. And then I clocked it. Shame is not an emotion. It’s an assessment. Something happened, and now you can’t feel your own inherent grace. You’ve lost touch with it. And so you think you don’t have any.

    “I’m worthless. I’m such a bad person. I not good for anything. I give up. It’s all fucked.”

    Shame is a shitty thing to feel, because, I would argue, it’s not an authentic experience in and of itself. The feeling is real, the somatic weight is real, and it’s pointing to something real.

    But the experience of shame is predicated on the belief that you’re inherently bad, and without grace.

    And that’s simply not true.

    Now, shame is not bad. It’s inevitable. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel it. And what it does, is show you where you’re out of alignment with your own truth. It shows you where you’re out of relationship with God.

    It shows you where you’re in sin.

    Shame is the start of the trail back out of sin, and into deeper relationship with truth.

    The invitation toward a deeper truth

    The Catholics got it right. Sin is about shame (and guilt). But not in the way they thought. The traditional teaching is that shame is a consequence of sin. Something like this…

    You sin, and so you feel shame as a consequence. Which is good. But makes you feel bad. Because a sinner should feel bad. Because sinning is bad. And maybe if you feel shitty enough, you won’t sin again. And you’ll get into heaven.

    So, when you sin, we forgive you, punish you, and then you’re saved.

    Which is a nice attempt.

    But created some damaging results.

    Chronic unworthiness. Institutional sexism. Screwing under-age choir boys.

    I’m being slightly unfair here. Because these ideas were actually revolutionary and transformed culture as we know it. The problem is that the revolution happened a couple of thousand years ago. And things have moved on rather a long way. So like I said, nice try, shitty results.

    And to understand why, we turn to the research of the brilliant writer and researcher Brené Brown. Brené makes a crucial distinction between shame and guilt.

    Guilt is “I did something bad”.

    Shame is “I am bad.”

    Guilt is about behaviour. Shame is about identity.

    And people who feel one or the other lead incredibly different lives. Her research is unequivocal in its findings. Large levels of shame in a person are highly correlated with high levels of addiction, depression, aggression, suicide and other really fun stuff. High levels of guilt are inversely correlated with those things.

    In other words. Guilt is really good for you. Shame fucks you up.

    I think shame is guilt that has no outlet toward transformation. It’s guilt that has rotted and gone bad. Or it’s guilt that has been smashed into a hard shameful truth by some religious hammer.

    Shame is an amazingly big assessment to make. Something happens that you don’t feel good about, and you extrapolate out, and make some sweeping statement about the infinite truth of your infinite existence.

    I watched porn.
    Bad people watch porn.
    That means I’m a bad person.
    And a bad person is worthless.
    I’m worthless.
    Period.

    You take a black mark and decide to tar your whole human existence with it.

    So while shame is in some sense, an inauthentic feeling, its root is not. It’s a beacon, and it’s pointing toward greater relationship with ourselves. And the journey winds through guilt.

    The great gift of guilt

    Being out of relationship with god, out of alignment with your truth is inevitable. It’s what happens when we live. And guilt is this amazing gift. It’s what we feel when the alignment slides out of whack, when we’re out of integrity with our code of truth. It’s our higher self smacking us on the ass.

    “Hey buddy. That doesn’t feel good does it? In fact, it hurts. Change direction.”

    It’s like a series of little lights, guiding us down the path of greater truth, greater goodness and greater beauty.

    But when we don’t listen to that feeling. When we don’t let it penetrate us, hold us to account and spark our discomfort, then that guilt starts to toxify. It goes stagnant, and it turns into shame.

    Shame is toxic. And it stops us from acting. Because if I am bad, then I’m powerless to do anything about it. I’m a victim of my own rotten core. Shame feels final. It’s not, but it feels like it. The gift and the power lies in embracing your sense of guilt.

    In part 2 of this article, I’ll go in depth into the basic principles of working with shame and guilt, and how to transform them into deeper truth.

    But for now. I want try and summarize the nature of sin.

    Here’s the basic recipe

    1. Sin is what happens when you get out of alignment with your own truth.

    So, sin is not smoking pot. Sin is smoking pot if you know you have a lot of important work you want to do, and you ignore your sense of integrity, and get high anyway.

    It’s sin, because you violated a deeper truth. Not because you ‘broke a commandment’.

    1. And when you enter into sin, you feel guilty.

    Not because someone said you should, or because bad people smoke pot. But because you know you’ve violated your own integrity. True guilt is yours.

    1. And if you don’t honor that sense of guilt. And take action, then it will start to rot. And the guilt turns into shame.

    Shame is a nasty fucker, who eats up a whole bunch of stuff. But is actually trying to help us by turning up the volume on our suffering.

    Because many of us are sinning. And there is one sin that is standing out. Head and shoulders above the rest.

    It’s a great sin.

    What is being asked of you?

    You have a great body of work to express. It’s yours. It’s unique. It’s precious. It’s fragile. It holds untold power. And God is asking you about it.

    What is being asked of you?

    Only you know. And you do know. Maybe it’s being shouted in your face. Maybe it’s that insistent whisper that you know is always there, and that you dampen with busyness, or television, or bravado.

    What is being asked of you?

    If you’re truly honest with yourself, you’ll likely find a place where you’re not listening. We’re all doing it. It’s the greatest sin of our times.

    There has never been a time like this. When the barriers to sharing our work with the entire world are gone. Completely. The internet and the information age have shattered the barricades of tradition and hierarchy.

    The only blocks now are yours.

    It’s your fear. Your terror of truly showing yourself. Of not wanting to fail. Of not knowing how to do it right. Of not wanting to be rejected by everyone. It’s my fear too.

    And when we don’t listen, we suffer. Because however much we practice numbing out, we know deep down that we’re more powerful than we can bare to imagine.

    And I know you’re ashamed.

    And I am too.

    And this is the invitation.

    For both of us.

    To listen to what is asked.

    And come face to face.

    With that which calls us,

    In every moment.

     

    This article is the first part in a 2 part-series. In part 2 – The Lost Technology of Spiritual Transformation – I explore an old and powerful practice that people have used for centuries to work with shame, and transmute it into greater depth and greater truth.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • I was reading Brené Brown again the other morning as I was eating scrambled eggs with avocado.

    Brené (I don’t actually know her so as to be on a first name basis, but like to pretend I do) was talking about barriers to vulnerability.

    She was talking about masks. The masks we wear.

    The things that we put on, so that we look like the personality we think we need to be. So people like us. So we don’t rock the boat. So we fit in. So we’re not alone.

    I’m an expert, and you should listen to me

    I was trying to write something on marketing. And it wasn’t really working. I noticed an unpleasant feeling. It was familiar.

    I’d always assumed it was the effect of not finding my flow. I can’t write, so I feel contracted,

    But I realized it wasn’t. I realized it was the cause. I wasn’t in flow, because I wasn’t writing. A mask was.

    So, I put the mask centre stage and let it write. This is what it said.

    “I’m an expert. And you’re not. Listen to me, because I know. Be quiet and you may actually learn something.”

    And it’s said in this slightly bored voiced, like really you should know better, but since you don’t, I’ll grace you with my superior wisdom. Though I’m making it clear it’s begrudging. But not clear enough that you could comment on it.

    I’ve christened him Bartholomew Snooty III.

    I remember being on a personal development course years ago. The leaders had offered me a free place because I’d started an audacious business that professed to be a hub for the kind of work they were teaching.

    I thought I was better than them.

    I’d silently critique their teaching from the back of the room.

    And I ended up pissing some people off. Because I wasn’t committed, and I dropped out, and broke some promises I made. And even though I felt ashamed underneath, I covered it by looking down my nose at them, and dismissing their quaint complaints.

    And that’s how he works. He covers my insecurity with indifferent arrogance.

    Meanwhile, I’m still lonely.

    Oh! Look how vulnerable I am!

    I have another one. It’s the “I’m vulnerable” mask.

    The one where I pretend to be vulnerable. Because it’s a deep value of mine (the vulnerability not the pretending). And I think I need to be like that all the time.

    “I did this thing. It was really vulnerable. But look at me, I’m so brave to be sharing it like this with you. How good am I?”

    I remember a couple of years ago. I was having a fight with my girlfriend, and my best friend Joel was there too. And I got really upset, and started crying uncontrollably.

    Joel didn’t buy it.

    He said he understood I was upset, but it seemed like I was making a show of it.

    I froze.

    “This is a matrix moment Ewan.” He said.

    And he was right.

    It felt so real. And I was hurt, but even more, I was trying to get seen.

    And maybe that’s why I do it more often.

    Don’t see me

    Don’t look at me. Because if I show you the real me, you’ll reject me. Like you did when I was innocent, and didn’t know about masks.

    I never fitted in at school. Maybe none of us do.

    I had the wrong shoes. And no Nintendo. And brown bread sandwiches with cucumber and vegetarian pate.

    I stood out, like a weird thumb. And the other kids, with their Nike trainers wouldn’t let me join in.

    So I started fashioning some masks. So I wasn’t so lonely.

    Maybe you did too.

    And none of us realized that we were all wearing masks, and participating in an invented stage play. All secretly wanting to fit in.

    And I’m still doing it.

    “Like me! I’m really good at writing! Can I play with you?”

    I wrote that on facebook the other day. That I still felt like I was 5-years old trying to get people to be my friend.

    And lots of people said they would be my friend.

    And it was lovely. But it didn’t really change anything.

    The naked truth

    Because it’s not about winning friends. It’s about saying what I have to say. The real one, who nakedly says the things that he can’t help but care about.

    And it would be really shitty if that meant no-one likes me anymore. But even that I’d endure. If that was what my art demanded.

    Walt Whitman was like that. Most people hated what he wrote. And he didn’t get huge thanks or success. And then he died. And then everyone realized how brilliant he was, and how beautiful his writing was. And how revolutionary.

    I hope that doesn’t happen to me. That would suck.

    But I’m realizing how it’s really not about getting friends. That little 5 year old has lost his chance.

    It’s about speaking the truth.

    I can feel the masks start to melt. And as more of the naked truth starts to reverberate around my world, I realize I’m no longer in control of the plot.

    So I cross my fingers, and hope it all has a happy ending.

    And I’m stacking all my chips on this. The belief that if I keep speaking what wants to be spoken, then something will happen. And that ending will be the happiest one.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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