A parable

Imagine that you are ten years old and in the fourth grade.

You like school. You like your teacher. Your parents are loving and protecting. Life is pretty good.

One day at school, you don't do well on a math test. There is a parent-teacher conference, as a matter of course, some days later. Your parents and your teacher look at the one math test with concern.

Your teacher is kind and tells you and your parents, "Perhaps your child should focus on reading. He's a great writer."

Your mother, who never liked math herself and reads voraciously, agrees. "I think he could be a best-selling author someday." They all smile at you warmly and you feel wonderful.

Maybe not at that exact moment, but as time passes, you begin to be more interested in reading and writing. For a while you can still feel the warmth and wonderfulness of their approval, and every time you read a book or you write an essay, you are happy. And every time you work a math problem or take a math test, you feet a bit uneasy.

As time passes, you focus more and more on the actions that bring you this bit of happiness. And eventually you forget why reading and writing are so wonderful and why math makes you uneasy.

And the original feeling of approval diminishes and becomes part of the backdrop of your life. But in your conscious mind, reading and writing are agreeable, pleasant, fun, rewarding, even joyful activities. And math is uneasy, difficult, hard, boring, or even frightening.

Years pass and you are now an adult.

Every time you need to sit down and balance your checkbook, you get anxious or bored. Your third book was just published and received mostly good reviews.

One afternoon, you wander by your desk at home and uneasily think, "How much money is in the checking account?" But then your attention is captured by the new novel you bought that morning. You pick it up and thumb through the pages. You feel the weight of the book. And you can't wait to sit down and read it.

The checkbook can wait until tomorrow. Isn't Monday a holiday? It can wait until Tuesday really.

At dinner that night, you are telling a story about your fourth grade teacher. Suddenly you remember that you used to love math. "It was my favorite subject. But now I can't even balance my checkbook," you say. "I guess I'm a literary person. I'm like my mom. I don't do math." Everyone chuckles knowingly. After all, you are always bouncing checks.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have a vague sense that your love for math and your fourth grade teacher are connected, but you can't quite remember how.

What Happened?

The unconscious part of your mind created a protective and helping belief when you were ten years old. Three people whose job it was to protect, nurture and love you told you something about yourself and then showered you with approval, praise, and love. Naturally, you aligned your beliefs with their beliefs.

As time passed, you forgot all about the connections and maybe even that exact moment. But your unconscious mind never forgot.

As you became an adult, this belief went from being helpful ("they love me!") to being limiting ("help! I can't balance my checkbook!"). The belief stayed the same. But you changed.

If we look at this limiting belief, we can almost imagine it taking the shape of a very smart, well-educated literary woman who is really above the common things of life. We might even notice that she looks a little bit like your mother.

Her job has been clear: keep you focused on reading and writing. That's where your glory lies. As your mother said to you many times, "You are going to be a best-selling author one day. My little Proust!" This belief makes sure you never get distracted by such mundane things as math.

The Shift

In the Re/Transformation process, we look at this belief. We see the magnificent work she has done for you all these many years. And we consider the vast wisdom she has about you.

After all, she has been around for a long time. And she has been very busy keeping you protected and safe from, well, math.

First, Re/Transformation recognizes this limiting belief and sees it for what it actually is: an old and outdated vision of your mother as someone who was just a little bit better than everyone and couldn't really be bothered by balancing a checkbook. But who was also an avid reader and a captivating storyteller.

Second, Re/Transformation brings this limiting belief to a place where it can integrate into the higher and self-actualized self. It becomes a helping belief with a new mission that draws on its unique awareness and wisdom of who you are and what you need.

She is now free of the job of protecting you from math. And what a relief. Now she can completely focus on helping you become an even better writer.

And since she is no longer just a little better than everyone else, you notice that your next book sells many more copies than the first three. The critics even say that your work has now matured and that it's somehow more accessible. Your audience broadens and you are able to touch many more readers than ever before.

Finally, Re/Transformation substitutes a new helping belief to do the job of the old limiting one. Instead of the false dichotomy of writing versus math, you can add a new helping belief that keeps you on track with all things mathematical.

We might imagine a brilliant mathematician now doing the job. He's hip, and he really digs working with numbers, and he never puts off what needs to be done. Before you know it, you're balancing your checkbook like a pro. Bounced checks are a thing of the past. Particularly since more money is coming in from your new book's increased sales.