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by Wellness Coach Dan Ma
I was visiting New Renaissance bookshop in northwest Portland, Oregon, as I frequently do, to have a look around. Dan and I were curious what meditation cushions went for. It turns out, we might resort to making our own, because these are some gourmet cushions with gourmet prices. As I was looking across the display of crystals and semi-precious jewels and jewelry, I overheard a clerk say to a customer, “We have a workshop with author Daniel Pinchbeck today at 2 o’clock!” I immediately felt a surprising gush of uncharacteristic adrenaline in my body. I didn’t realize I felt so strongly about an author who wrote a book I really enjoyed reading over 7 years ago. I had a lot to do that day, so I didn’t sign up for the workshop, despite my weirdly visceral reaction (and by weird I employ both the original meaning of weird to mean magically affected and the contemporary use as in strange).
I went to my studio and worked steadily on a ceramic hand-building project for a couple hours, debating on whether to attend the workshop. The adrenaline didn’t subside. I discussed it with Dan who mentioned that perhaps the workshop would be beneficial beyond meeting an author and idea machine who I admire, either as something interesting to write about, or as an idea generator for my art practice.
I was oddly nervous, so nervous that I didn’t want to call the bookshop to sign up for the class because I didn’t want to talk to a stranger over the phone. I think I had performance anxiety. I looked forward to talking to Daniel Pinchbeck about a lot of ideas I’ve had in response to his previous books, but tend not to speak well in front of crowds, and Portland is full of a lot of brilliant minds who I’m sure would fill up this workshop. My chattering monkey mind reasoned the workshop would sell out and I wouldn’t have a seat.
So, Dan called and signed me up for the workshop. I walked the 7 blocks or so from my studio to the bookstore and browsed for distractions while waiting for the workshop to start, still trying to get a handle on my nerves. What in the world was triggering such nervousness? I thought I’d look at a book of bird’s eye view photos of the Earth to calm myself, but the book, as I flipped through, was about human impact on the Earth. Full spread aerial photos of strip mines, sprawling suburban developments divided into neat squares of green, agricultural grids, and shorelines cluttered with fishing vessels. Every image made me feel more anxious. I put the book back and doused myself with a rose water sample.



