Daring to Believe in Yourself

Finding the Courage to be Seen

Stepping forward to make a difference in the world beyond close circles of family, friends, and community requires a willingness to be seen—in particular, to be seen as someone who has something to offer. It sounds like such a simple thing, yet it can bring us face-to-face with doubt, hesitation, and some version of “Who am I to do this?”

Too often, that question holds us back and keeps us small. However, what if it’s an invitation to look deeper within? To discover and acknowledge who we are and what brings us alive. To know why we are here, to claim our gifts and talents, and to stand up for what is important to us. The size of the stage doesn’t matter. What matters is that we show up fully and authentically, whether we are with three people or in front of thousands. And it starts with daring to believe in ourselves—daring to believe that what we bring to the world can make a difference.

The American poet E. E. Cummings wrote:

We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that something deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.

To be sure, acknowledgment from others about who we are and what we bring to the world—our gifts, talents, and accomplishments—can help build our confidence and self-esteem. Acknowledgment is one of the greatest gifts we can give to one another. The more people believe in us, the more we find the strength and courage we need to step out into the world, to be seen, and make our contribution. And the more we acknowledge others, we give them the same gift.

Yet there is a catch. If we are not willing to be seen and to believe in ourselves, we make it difficult for others to acknowledge the value they see in us. A story from my own career path brings this idea to life.  

Photo by Eric Masur on Unsplash

My Story of Finding the Courage to be Seen

In 1997, I had finished writing my first book and was looking for a publisher. An acquaintance introduced me to a New York literary agent, he loved the book, and we signed a contract. I was incredibly excited and, looking back, incredibly naïve in my expectation of how it would all unfold. I imagined that he would quickly find the perfect publisher, I would receive a nice advance, the book would be released, my phone would start ringing (the pre-internet age!), and doors would open everywhere!

Let’s just say it didn’t quite turn out that way. A year and more than fifty rejection letters later, this project was going nowhere fast. Something was missing. And when I looked deeper inside, I realized that something was me.

The hard truth was that I was waiting for someone else to take my work out into the world. I was waiting for someone else to tell me the book was good enough—that I was good enough. I was waiting for someone else to introduce me and convince the world that I had an important message. In my naïveté, I thought that teaching classes and workshops in the intimate safety and coziness of my New York City apartment would be enough, at least for the immediate future. Surely someone else would do the rest.

I knew that my agent really believed in the book; I sort of believed in it. He really wanted the book to be published; I sort of did. But “sort of” doesn’t cut it. The reality was that I was only visible to my close circle of students and friends. I wasn’t claiming my own gifts, I wasn’t taking ownership of my work, nor was I taking it out into the world. To put it bluntly, I was hiding. That felt safer. Yet deep down inside, I knew I couldn’t just play it safe. There was no growth in that. I wasn’t living into my own potential and doing what was mine to do. I was pretending.

So, I called my agent and asked for a meeting. I was nervous, yet I knew the next steps had to come from me. I was open and honest with him about my fears, and he was incredibly supportive. After more than an hour, we agreed together that I should take charge of the project and publish the book myself.

Becoming My Own Publisher

Self-publishing was a very new thing in the late 1990s. In fact, it was commonly referred to as “vanity” publishing. If a book was self-published, people assumed it wasn’t good enough for a “real” publisher. Today, self-publishing has become mainstream for both new and established authors, and there is an enormous support industry to help you do it. But 25 years ago, there was almost nothing. The learning curve was incredibly steep; the required investment of time and money was daunting. Yet deep inside, I knew I had to publish the book myself.

Within a week after that conversation, I had borrowed $10,000 from the bank, established a publishing company, and set out to become a published author.

Through the process, I definitely learned a lot about the publishing industry. Yet more importantly, I learned a lot about myself. I acknowledged how much my life had changed because I was living what the book was about. And that gave me the courage to take ownership of the message I knew was mine to bring to the world.

It was probably the most challenging project I’ve ever undertaken—frustrating to the point that I almost gave up multiple times. Yet I didn’t. I stayed with it. And on a bright sunny day in the summer of 1997, the first copies of On Becoming a 21^st-Century Mystic arrived on my doorstep. The title had been my agent’s idea.

More than two years later and 2500 books sold, I was exhausted. I had no budget for advertising and marketing, but miracles big and small showed up, often when least expected. I continued pitching the book to publishers, yet still no offers. Financially, my self-publishing venture was quickly becoming unsustainable. Book distributors, notorious in those days for delaying payments to independent publishers, owed me upwards of $10,000. I had no cash to print more books.

Asking for Help Can Lead to Miracles

One evening, feeling totally frustrated and defeated, I sat in my meditation chair and yelled at the Universe. “I’m done. If you want this book to have a life, you’re going to have to help me. I can’t do this on my own anymore.” In truth, there were a few other expletives mixed in!

Three days later, I received a telephone call from Donald Weiser, the publisher at Weiser Books. It had been a year since I had sent him a copy of the book. He said it had gotten buried under a pile and one of their editors had just uncovered it. “We really like this book,” he said. “We don’t like the title, but we like the book. If you haven’t sold it, we’d like to buy it.”

That was 24 years ago this week—December 1999. Within a few days, I had a contract. About the title, I told him I was teaching workshops called Intuitive Living that were based on the book, so perhaps that could be the title. He agreed, and On Becoming a 21^st-Century Mystic became Intuitive Living. It was a great Christmas present! The book was published in January 2001.

Taking personal responsibility for putting my work out into the world changed everything. It set in motion a trajectory that led to writing six more books, founding the Center for Transformational Presence, speaking and teaching in 17 countries, and welcoming participants from more than 35 countries to our programs. Beginning in 2018, I have mentored 14 Transformational Presence graduates from eight countries to carry this work forward. Earlier this year, they established the Transformational Presence Global Foundation.  

Allowing yourself to be seen in the fullness of who you are—your true, authentic, real, human self—can feel vulnerable and scary. For me, it’s been a life-long learning. Every time I put myself out there in a new way, I peel away another layer of doubt and resistance. Yet taking each next step is how I learn and grow, and ultimately how I deepen my belief in myself and what I have to offer.

It helps, of course, when others believe in you—when they see and acknowledge your value. Looking back, I remember several keynotes and other experiences in front of large audiences that opened doors and helped me trust that what I was bringing to the world mattered. And there were moments of support and encouragement from people whose lives and work I held in great esteem.  

Yet in the end, I’ve learned that true belief in yourself only grows when you see and acknowledge and claim the value of who you are and how you show up—when you dare to take ownership of your work and do what you are here to do.

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Resources:

· The Center for Transformational Presence

· Meditations for Changing Times

· Books by Alan Seale

· Upcoming Programs in Transformational Presence

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