Yet true success demands that we turn our wobbling hesitation or even shame into self-acceptance and conviction. Self-honesty is wicked strength. Because your true identity has more power than the identity that you are trying to preserve.

Let me give you an example.

Years ago, I was speaking in Los Angeles and a high-end client came to see me speak. I was doing a free talk at a New Thought church, not one of the talks where I’m on stage with a jumbo screen behind me. Mr. Litigator, I’ll call him, worked for a law firm with miles of black slate in the lobby, and had attended my alma mater, Harvard Law School. His “casual” sports jacket cost more than I’d ever make from selling books at this talk—or possibly any talk I’d done to date.

His eyes slink around the room. I start imagining what he’s seeing.

Of course, that day some volunteer steps up to make announcements and she is Rainbow Mama on rainbow crack and maybe Lemurian crystals. I’m not talking about someone who just wears Birkenstocks and has ten cats. No, she is talking about the Goddess, Mother Earth, extraterrestrials, baby seals, and she’s clearly more at home in Atlantis than here.

I stare at her ragged skirt and listen to her disembodied voice as she “affirms” how abundant we all are. I don’t believe that she believes. Sure, I’m a tiny bit insecure and judgmental. But her “affirmation” reminds me of a flickering neon psychic sign in a sketchy part of town. Or sushi at the 99 cents store. Yeah, something fishy.

I stare at Lawyer Man and at Goddess Girl, and painfully, I accept that I am having my own little psycho drama moment in public, two extreme versions of myself duking it out. The sassy, professional worldly me. And the one who is creative and spiritual, and who likes essential oils.

I am both of these. I have a razor-sharp critical mind that freely shreds fake cheer, escapism, or over-reliance on gurus. But I also believe in a higher reality. I believe in an unlimited consciousness that is sweet and divine whether science can prove it or not. I do believe our thoughts influence our reality. And I’m open to anything that helps people find their truth, even if it’s systems I might not understand like the Akashic records. Money isn’t my benchmark of success. And yeah, I wouldn’t mind saving some baby seals.

But that day many years ago, I realized, and I’m not proud to admit this, I wanted to be in Lawyer Man’s club. I wanted to rest in the hushed halls of money and power and social validation. I didn’t want to appear naïve or goofy and off the rails. I felt bad that I felt bad about some of the people who spoke my language.

But back then, I wanted to limit this part of myself that followed her heart and chose to walk off the mainstream path. When I imagined my world from Mr. Litigator’s eyes, I felt embarrassed to be part of this chakra opening, polar bear loving and mala bead club though I secretly embraced the values with all my heart. But if asked, I might disavow any knowledge, hide an oracle deck or two, and quote The New York Times.