One of the delights of my current life is working with a variety of teachers from all over the world. They often inspire my daily epistles - I swiped today's Subject line off a Texas gal just 10 minutes ago. (Thanks Julie, now put that gun away.)

Why do these teachers and students come?

Not to get rich. None of us are rich. Are you rich?

Perhaps we are philanthropists masquerading as professional teachers…

Here's what you've most likely already given:

I was in New York and it was the penultimate Christmas eve.

I was relaxing in Bill Walsh's Soho studio - site of many an interesting AT workshop - when I realized it was time to get to the airport.

I'd left it too late.

Miss this flight, and I'd lose out on a special Christmas with Michael, Lena, Rowan and his sweet son John-Michael (who later died) in California. It was a special invitation, and it turned out to be the last time I ever saw two of them.

Since I invited Pecs Minor to the party, man are "my guys" having fun or what?!

Don't know what I am talking about?

Pecs Minor is a muscle: one of "my guys" = Pectoralis Minor. Pecca for short.

Thanks to Don (not Burton, Weed, but the Burton started all this 40 years ago) I recently discovered my little Pecca.

My little Pecca is behaving in scurrilous manner, getting away with all kinds of mischief for a number of years now.

How's yours behaving?

Here's how you find that out…

***

Have you got $30,000 to spare?

Then maybe you can build this machine and start proving to folks that Alexander was really on to something.

Not for everyone, but Tim Cacciatore keeps plugging away, finding hard science to back up the fluffy claims people like me spread about.

Find out about his new machine here…

Back in the 1980s, I negotiated a deal with an upmarket Chiropractic Centre in Neutral Bay, a suburb full of married woman who practised Yoga because they hadn't heard of Pilates yet. Luckily, Alexander was in vogue back then, so I could demand my terms.

I told the Manager: I can pay you when I teach, that's it. No monthly rent, sorry.

I was happy to walk away from the deal.

*** SIDE BAR ***

That's the simple secret to being strong in a negotiation. As English billionaire Felix Dennis puts it in 88 The Narrow Road:

It amazes me that anyone finds teaching groups difficult.

And I get it. I worried once too. So what's difficult about standing in front of a group of people?

TWO THINGS:

1. The trash in your head
2. Not knowing what to do

---

1. THE TRASH IN YOUR HEAD

It's not what is happening in the room that makes it "difficult" - it is what is happening in your head. You look at them all and think: "What do they think of me?" And because you can't possible know that - (can you read minds???) - then you make it up:

How do you feel when people cheer your work?

If you love that too much, you're in trouble.

Why?

Because what happens when they DON'T like your work?

:(

EXACTLY.

***

You need a replacement plan for your addiction to praise.

When you are standing in front of a group of people, your mouth dry, terror in your heart and wondering "Will they like me? Will I do well tonight?" that's when you pull out your replacement plan: a list of things you must do to meet your own standard.

When I first started my school in Japan, I once wanted to die.

Not suicide, but almost. Because something happened…

And I reacted badly to it.

I was washed away by a tsunami of emotions so brutal that, for a moment, I wanted to drown. I wanted to escape from a darkness so overwhelming, it took my breath away.

I was co-teaching a workshop in Kyoto, in 2001.

A few weeks ago I was violently berated by one of my staff.

He didn't hit me or anything - I just rarely encounter real, live and angry people.

Then last night I was berated again for the same reason. By a different staff! At some point it's necessary to think - perhaps they have a point? If they have to shout to be heard, maybe I am not listening.

So what did I hear?

My daughter Angelica was relieved to finally get her driver’s license.

It had been a long time coming, with some bad luck along the way. Last month she finally passed.

However, her bad luck was to continue…

Once she got her license, she already had a car to drive. It was a vehicle passed down through the family, but quite old. She lives in Mullumbimby, which proudly claims it is “The Biggest Little Town in Australia” on a big sign you see when you come to the turnoff.