Who Gets A Seat On Your Inner Board?

Last night at sangha, we were talking about gurus. We began by exploring what the word itself conjures: wisdom, guidance, control.

There’s quite a lot held in those three words. The possibility of learning from someone. The relief of having a guide. And the question of how much authority we give another person over our lives.

I have this idea that we each have a board of gurus in our minds. An internal gathering of voices we turn to when we’re unsure, stuck, or trying to make sense of something. And perhaps we have more say over who sits on that board than we realise.

Some seats might be occupied by people we’ve met. A teacher whose words stayed with us. A friend who asks the question we’ve been avoiding. Someone who showed us, through how they lived, that another way was possible.

Other seats might hold people we’ve never met, whose writing or ideas have shaped us. One chair might belong to an amalgamation of all the books we’ve read: a slightly unruly guru who occasionally contradicts themselves and has an excellent turn of phrase.

There’s room for that.

There might also be a chair for a past version of ourselves. Someone who remembers what we’ve survived, what we once loved, or what we knew before we learnt to doubt it. We can be quick to dismiss who we used to be, as though wisdom only ever arrives with age. But an earlier self may still have something to teach us.

And a future version of ourselves might take a seat too. We can imagine what they would notice about this moment, what they might encourage us to make time for, or what they would gently suggest we stop postponing.

The board doesn’t have to agree on everything. I suspect a useful one wouldn’t. Sometimes we need compassion; sometimes perspective; sometimes someone to say, with affection, “You know what you need to do here.”

What matters is whose counsel we trust, and why.

Enter the 'shitty committee'

Of course, many of us already have another gathering in our minds.

The shitty committee (apologies for the bad language, but the wordplay pleases me).

These are the voices that tell us we’re not good enough. That we’ve embarrassed ourselves. That everyone else knows what they’re doing. That it’s too late, too risky, too much to ask.

They can be remarkably efficient. One small uncertainty and the amygdala (our internal alarm system) sounds the alert. Before we know it, the shitty committee has called an emergency meeting, circulated the agenda, and reached a unanimous verdict on our inadequacy.

Some of those voices may sound familiar. They might echo things we were told, expectations we absorbed, or judgements we’ve repeated to ourselves so often that they now pass for facts.

Some may be trying to protect us. If they can stop us from taking a risk, perhaps they can spare us rejection. If they point out every possible flaw first, perhaps nobody else will get the chance. But a protective intention doesn’t automatically make someone a good adviser. And being loud doesn’t qualify you to chair the meeting.

So who holds the power?

For me, this is where the board of gurus becomes useful. It gives us somewhere else to turn when the shitty committee gets going.

We can ask: who else has something to say about this?

What would the friend who knows us well remind us of? What would the teacher who combines honesty with kindness ask? What does our past self know about getting through difficult things? What might our future self hope we’ll try?

This isn’t about assembling a board that approves of everything we do. Wise counsel can be uncomfortable. It might ask us to apologise, change direction, take responsibility, or admit that we don’t know.

But there’s a difference between a voice that helps us face a mistake and one that uses it to condemn our whole character. “You need to put this right” gives us somewhere to go. “You ruin everything” leaves very little room to move.

I want the voices with enough wisdom and care to help me move forward to hold the power.

The shitty committee may still turn up with heavy, bursting files of evidence. It may have concerns worth hearing. But it doesn’t get to make every decision simply because it arrived first.

Curating our board is an ongoing practice. We can notice whose advice we keep reaching for, and whether it still serves us. Someone who helped us through one part of life may no longer be the person we need to consult at every crossroads. We can be grateful for what they offered and make room for other voices.

We can also leave a chair empty. There is more to learn, and we don’t yet know who we’ll learn it from.

So thinking about your own board of guru's. Who has earned their place through wisdom, honesty and care? Who has simply been there a long time? And when a decision matters, who do you actually listen to?

So perhaps next time the shitty committee calls a meeting, you can take a moment before accepting its conclusions.

I came away from last night’s sangha feeling nourished and deeply grateful to the women who shared the evening. Some come every week, others whenever life allows, and some were joining us for the first time. Each brought her own inner gurus, her own experience, and wisdom, support and compassion to offer our circle.

Together, we make a space where we can listen, learn and feel held. I’m so grateful to everyone who has helped make our sangha what it is. And together we support local charities, as all profits after room hire are put into a charity fund. Our next beneficiary will be decided over the next week or so.

Sangha is a welcoming space for all women, and you can book online or message me.

Much Love

Vicki x