Divine Joy: Finding Light in Leadership's Shadow
Dear Beloved Soul,
In my evening reflection, amidst contemplating the weightier aspects of purpose and impact, a different kind of wisdom emerged - one that sparkled with unexpected lightness.
It came wrapped in memories of my mother's accented English, her unintentional humor, and the profound truth that sometimes our greatest spiritual teachings arrive disguised as laughter.
The Sacred Art of Lightness
In a world that often equates spirituality with solemnity and leadership with seriousness, we've forgotten something essential:
joy is not the opposite of depth - it's often the gateway to it.
Like my mother's infamous "F*CK machine" story (which I'll share in a moment), sometimes our most human moments become our most divine connections.
When Light Pierces Shadow
Let me share a story that transformed my understanding of joy's role in leadership.
My mother, a woman who survived war, loss, and displacement, carried within her an unexpected gift - the ability to make us laugh, often unintentionally, even in our darkest moments.
One day, while being my typical curious self (a trait that served me well in later years), I was looking through my mother's phone book. There, in bold red letters, I found "F*CK" written with an 800 number underneath.
Confused and slightly shocked, I turned to my mother.
"Mom, what's this?"
"Oh, f*ck machine," she replied matter-of-factly in her thick Asian accent.
"What?!" I couldn't believe my ears.
"F*ck machine!" she insisted emphatically for what felt like 10 minutes, completely unaware of what she was actually saying.
My brain worked overtime trying to comprehend what was happening until finally, it clicked – she meant "fax machine."
I burst out laughing and couldn’t resist teasing her about it.
The moment was too precious to keep to myself. Later, at our family dinner – a sacred ritual where my mother's cooking brought us all together despite our differences – I couldn't resist sharing.
"Hey, guess what guys!? Mom has a f*ck machine!"
My father, usually stern but has a good sense of humor, burst into laughter, repeating "Fck machine! Fck machine!" in an exaggerated accent.
My mother turned beet red, repeatedly telling us to "Sha Up!" (her way of saying "Shut up!"), which only made us laugh harder.
These moments weren't just about humor – they were portals to connection, to healing, to the kind of authentic presence that no amount of careful curation can create.
Through her unintentional wordplay and genuine reactions, my mother taught me something profound about leadership:
sometimes our most powerful moments come not from our polished presentations, but from our perfectly imperfect humanity.
The Sacred Power of Being Seen
Years later, when I shared another story about my mother's accent – her transformation of my friend "Leslie" into "Lookli" – I realized something profound: these weren't just funny moments.
They were sacred instances of pure authenticity, moments when pretense fell away and real connection emerged.
My mother's inability to hide behind perfect English forced her into a vulnerable authenticity that, paradoxically, became her strength.
Her cooking might have brought us to the table, but her unfiltered humanity kept us there, creating spaces where genuine connection could flourish.
The Alchemy of Laughter
What I've discovered is this:
When we allow ourselves to be both sacred and silly, both profound and playful, we access a different kind of power. It's a power that doesn't demand perfection or perpetual seriousness. Instead, it embraces the full spectrum of human experience as holy.
Leadership's Lighter Side
Many of us carry the weight of our roles heavily:
The pressure to maintain a serious image
The belief that vulnerability diminishes our impact
The fear that lightness might compromise our authority
But what if our capacity for joy actually deepens our impact?
What if those moments when we let our guards down become the very moments when we're most powerfully ourselves?
The Divine Dance
Here's the sacred truth that emerged from my reflections:
Joy isn't just an emotion - it's a portal to presence.
When we laugh authentically, when we allow ourselves to be seen in our perfect imperfection, we create space for others to do the same.
This is leadership at its most transformative.
A Practice of Sacred Joy
Consider these invitations to weave more light into your leadership:
Notice the moments that naturally bring you joy - they're whispers from your soul
Allow yourself to be seen in your humanity, including your accents, quirks, and imperfections
Look for the divine humor in challenging situations - it's often there, waiting to be discovered
The Wisdom of My Mother
My mother never meant to be a spiritual teacher, but her unfiltered authenticity - from her mispronounced words to her unintentionally profound observations - taught me something invaluable:
sometimes the most powerful way to lead is to simply be human, gloriously and unabashedly so.
A Final Whisper of Joy
Today, as I hold space for others in their leadership journeys, I carry these lessons from my mother: that our accents – whether literal or metaphorical – are not barriers to connection but bridges to it.
That our human moments, our imperfections, our unguarded laughter might just be the most divine gift we have to offer the world.
An Invitation to Lightness
Your journey of leadership doesn't have to be all heavy lifting.
Yes, there will be moments that require your gravitas, your wisdom, your strength.
But there must also be space for joy, for laughter, for the kind of light that can only shine through the cracks of our perfect imperfection.
If you're feeling called to explore this lighter side of spiritual leadership, to discover how joy can amplify rather than diminish your impact, I invite you to join me.
Essence Unveiled Workbook
Explore the full spectrum of your authentic expression.
This sacred companion guide includes practices for embracing both your gravitas and your grace, your wisdom and your wonder.
With joy in the journey,
Visheka ✨
In loving memory of my mother, whose unintentional wisdom still lights up my path.