WHAT “GAIL” TAUGHT ME ABOUT TAKING A BREATH AND ASKING WHOSE PURPOSE I’M REALLY SERVING

Am I serving God’s purpose or my ego’s? I often forget to stop and see the difference. I’m running too fast or feeling too busy or too consumed with my mental chatter to pause and take a breath’s beat.

As a student of A Course in Miracles, I’ve learned that I should go through my day constantly asking three questions: What would you have me do? Where would you have me go? What would you have me say and to whom? And then look for the answers. God, the Universe, our Creator—whatever you call the Source from which we all originate and are all connected through—gives us to-do lists for every moment. I try to pay attention, but I miss many of them and ignore even more. My ego’s list usually takes precedence.

Sometimes my list includes helping others see what they’re doing wrong. Who doesn’t love that kind of help? Take the careful note I composed one day to a friend. She had invited me to her company’s wealth webinars, repeatedly with the salutation, "Hi Gail!” My name is Amber, not Gail. I laughed the first time I got one of these and deleted it. Then it happened again. And again. Her email merge had a serious sync-up problem.

It dawned on me that I was doing her a disservice by ignoring the error. She didn’t know, and my neglecting to tell her equated to letting her walk around with a blueberry in her teeth or her skirt tucked up in her underwear.

I crafted a thoughtful reply to the latest evite and felt rather Mother Teresa-like about the selfless generosity I was about to bestow. But before I hit send, a break occurred in my mental stream of self-righteousness, and I heard a small voice in my mind: Hold up, look again.

I scrolled down and read her salutation clearly for the first time: "Hi Gal!" Gal, not Gail. “Hi Gal!” like a ubiquitous bartender greeting. Not a professional faux pas or a wrong I needed to right. She did not need my charitable chicken soup for her soul. I hit delete and laughed out loud at myself.

This small, ridiculous incident underscored for me how habitually I push out words without stopping to ask whose need they really serve. I see only the point I want to make rather than the truth of the matter. A single breath and pause can create enough space for me to hear that small, quiet voice: Hi Gal. Hold up, look again. The truth is, Reality often doesn’t need me to say anything or get involved. It’s rarely about me.

Yet my ego loves to tell me otherwise. Next time she tries to drown out that quiet voice with her big one, I’ll know better. I’ll see Gail coming.