The reason you think you’re here is not the reason you’re here.

Earlier this week I took the train from San Diego to Los Angeles for a two-day trip. The main reason I went up there was to take a flying trapeze class on my birthday at the LA branch of Trapeze School New York.

When I was up in Los Angeles a few weeks ago I learned that my very first trapeze coach, who I hadn’t seen in several years, would be coaching the Monday evening advance flying class on my birthday.

My weekly trapeze and trampoline practices have been the most difficult part of my New York life to give up while I’m on my current west coast adventure. Sometimes it takes being away from something for a while to realize how much you miss it.

I was looking forward to flying on my birthday and seeing my friend Rob after such a long time.

Of course, Mother Nature sometimes has her own plans. Monday evening was cold with spots of drizzle and extremely windy — not the kind of conditions ideally suited for flying. It was the kind of weather in which I typically get chilled to the bone.

There was a part of me — the mind — that wanted to fly that night, despite the conditions. After all, this is what I came for. It was the reason for the trip.

My body told me that it didn’t want to fight the wind and the cold, especially as it’s learning new mechanics for every movement. This was the type of weather that I came to California to avoid. My body is more likely to get injured in cold weather.

In the past, I would have listened to my ego mind.

What’s a little wind? I can push through.

In fact, one of the women in class said as much, encouraging me to “tough it out.”

In the 16 years that I’ve been flying, I’ve put in my time flying outdoors in cold and windy conditions. Those days are behind me.

Sometimes familiar situations arise to allow us the opportunity to shift a pattern, or to test the strength of our intention to shift.

I have a history of listening to my head over my body. And of doing things out of a need to prove myself.

I recently set the intention to release the need to prove myself to others or myself.

I listened to my body. I didn’t fly.

You might be wondering:

Wasn’t this the whole reason you went to LA? What a shame to go there and then not fly.

Yes, and no.

Even before the moment of decision — in fact on the way up to LA — I reminded myself of a familiar piece of wisdom:

The reason you think you’re here is not the reason you’re here.

This has come up so often on this journey it has become a mantra for me. Every time I’ve listened to my intuition, extended my trip, shown up where I’ve felt called, this has rung clear and true.

Each time I recite this mantra, it provide me with a measure of freedom, reminding me to detach from the outcome I desire and focus on the experience I am having.

It keeps me open to the gifts and opportunities in my path, and out of frustration and resentment when things don’t go according to the “plan.”

When I keep this in mind, I make decisions with greater ease, listening to my heart and body instead of the ego mind.

Had I been focused only on flying, that would have become the metric by which I judged the fulfillment and fun of my birthday trip. The entire trip would have been “ruined” by the wind and cold. By remembering that the reason you think you’re here is not the reason you’re here, I was able to widen my lens to see the bigger picture.

Flying was just one small part of the trip. I still got to see my friend Rob.

I connected with other friends. I spent time on the beach, a place that always makes me happy. I saw a glorious sunset through the clouds.

Flying may have been the catalyst to get me to LA, but it wasn’t the reason I was there.

By remembering this, I remained open to the full slate of experiences presented to me.

Instead of being a source of frustration, the wind was just wind. And while I didn’t fly this time, my spirit soared on the richness of my experiences.