advise

“Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.”
~Will McAvoy The Newsroom

Bravo Aaron Sorkin. I LOVE that line.

I was re-watching last season’s episodes of The Newsroom. I have to do that to get reacquainted with the characters and story line for the upcoming season.
Oh fuck it. Who am I kidding, I have to do it because the dialogue is so rapid fire and smart, that if I blink or chew or fail to focus one hundred percent of my attention on it, I’m lost.

I’m IN LOVE with that particular piece of dialogue because that’s how I feel.

About all of us.

Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

We really are doing okay. 
Better than okay, but I can already feel you bristling, so I’ll stick with okay.

I know. It doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

Hey, except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

We’re all doing better than we think.

Listen, we show up everyday.
Our feet hit the floor and with some manner of enthusiasm.
We enter the arena.
We have neither Tom Cruise levels of couch jumping excitement, nor are we living under a bridge with trolls.
We are gamely in the game.
Whatever that means. You know what I mean.

We have shelter and something to eat.
You know how I know that?
Because we have a high speed internet connection, and in the survival handbook, that is third after shelter and food.

We have remorse for those things we did wrong.
Now our job is not to wear it like an anchor around our necks.

We are literate and educated.
I’m taking a leap here, but I feel pretty confident about that.

We’ve all dialed back our inner Neanderthal, serial killer.
We have been able to sidestep prison up until now. If you are incarcerated, tell me about it in the comments below. 

We have our humor.
That I know because you keep checking in each day to see what kind of an ass I’ve made out of myself. Or, what crazy vomit, note burning, vagina checking I’ve been up to lately.
Some of your emails just have Bahahahaha in the subject line.

We are all doing the best we can.
We are judging and criticizing less. We are meditating and attending to our yoga practice and our oral hygiene. I really can’t ask more from you than that.
Maybe cut your toenails?

You know you’re not alone.
Not in your hopes and dreams and not in your various neurosis. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time you should feel extremely reassured.
And incredibly normal.

We’re living responsible lives.
The bills get paid, the kids aren’t dead, the pets aren’t dead, the fish isn’t……

You’re striving to improve yourselves.
This is a spiritual blog at its core, so you’re reading and implementing any and all advise you glean from these pages (Indulge me here).
And, I’m intuitive so I KNOW you are all loving and kind people walking through the world, striving to live your purpose.
Aren’t I good? It’s a talent.

In closing: Except for the things we did wrong, we did everything right.

You’re welcome,

Amen.

Love yoooooooou!
Xox

You can only write me a comment if you’re currently in prison…

“When a woman rises up in glory, her energy is magnetic and her sense of possibility contagious.”
― Marianne Williamson, Woman’s Worth

That’s just so beautiful, so powerful and was SO freakin’ hard for me to learn.

I’ve been feeling SO incredibly proud of women these days.
In our groups, the Wednesday group, the Divine Feminine and others, we are reinforcing our connection to each other.

Women Empowering Women.

Shit! Talking about Marianne Williamson, she just ran for congress and Hillary may have a good shot at the presidency.
We are “in the arena” as Brene Brown would say.
Boy, are we ever!

This post is about the power of the feminine. 
Sorry guys.
The word vagina may even be bandied about.
You can either celebrate us, or take your balls and go home. ;-). I can say that because, for many years, my boss and everyone around me, swore I “had a pair.”

I kicked ass in a predominately male oriented business.
I was a fierce and ferocious negotiator. I could go toe to toe with the most grizzled, experienced diamond dealer, and he would finally call UNCLE, pay MY price and walk away, balls in hand.

Men were terrified of me.
I was all lipstick and lashes, but that was just to disarm them; then I’d go in for the kill.

BALL BUSTER was my middle name.

I used to swell with pride when I heard that. That was my admission to the boys club, whose glass ceiling I was determined to shatter.

I was also the enforcer.
Men would get that damp upper lip and lower their eyes when they saw me walk up to their booths at shows, to collect on their past due accounts.
They knew I would stand there until they provided me either a check or a credit card number. No excuses accepted.

I was not well liked. But that was alright by me. I was respected and I didn’t care if people liked me, I was there to do my job. To make money.
In our unspoken, boss/employee, good cop/bad cop routine, I was happy to take the fall.

That did not bode well for my romantic life.
I was killing it at the store, but it was crickets in the bedroom.
Great quality men have since told that they were intimidated by me. Flirting was OUT. OF. THE. QUESTION. too vulnerable. (which is hilarious, because now, I LOVE to flirt; just try to stop me)

In my world, surrounded by a sea of men…NOT ONE ever asked me out. In almost twenty years, I never dated anyone in the business.
I dated younger men because they didn’t mind my tough exterior. For some reason, I didn’t scare them.

They did all have one thing in common, every one of them had an extremely well-developed feminine side. WAAAAAAY more than me.

I actually learned a thing or two about sensitivity from them.
THAT is the kind of man who is attracted to a woman who has a highly developed masculine side.
Makes sense…

After living my thirties as a man……

I decided to soften up. To feminize.

At first it felt fake and contrived. I wore my vulnerability like a straight jacket. One size does not fit all. And, I felt like a weak suck; but I was determined to “fake it until I could make it”
Often I went overboard, as you tend to do before you swing back to the center. I know I did. Thank God there was no social media around then to capture any of that shit for posterity.

I took numerous seminars.
I drummed and chanted in all female prayer circles and sweat lodges. I laughed, cried and divulged all my secrets at weekend retreats in Big Sur.
At one evening class that was recommended by a “friend”; twelve strangers practiced nude hot yoga and were then given hand mirrors to go into a tent to look at our vagina, and report back our observations. A minor detail this friend had omitted from her endorsement of the class.

I’m pleased to report, contrary to popular belief, that NO balls reside between these legs.

For the love of all things holy……There I sat, in our discussion circle, naked and in full “church laugh” mode, (silent, with just my shoulders violently shaking) thinking this had to be, hands down, the craziest night I’d ever spent, and what a great cocktail party story this was going to make.

That is, until two women who were rape survivors spoke. That was one of those moments.

It was the start my deep ADMIRATION of women.

Year after year, my studies continued. I read SO many great and enlightening books about getting in touch with my inner Goddess. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant was one of my favorites, I read it three times….in a row.

With time, I began to soften my approach, my tone, my hair color, my clothes, EVERYTHING.
Slowly, l let my guard down. I learned to smile and even laugh at work. I have Sally and Steph to thank for that.

“A queen is wise. She has earned her serenity, not having had it bestowed on her but having passed her tests.
She has suffered and grown more beautiful because of it.
She has proved she can hold her kingdom together. She has become its vision.
She cares deeply about something bigger than herself. She rules with authentic power.”
-Marianne Williamson

Authentic power is rooted in collaboration, compromise and kindness.
The wise woman, the Queen, has authentic power. The princess, not so much.

That was the problem, I was still a girl…whose misguided thinking…led her to try to be a man.

What struggles have you felt trying to balance your male and female? What helped you to find that balance?
Please join the conversation, I’d LOVE some of your insights.

With love,
Xox

“If you settle for less you are making a powerful statement to the Universe about what you believe in.”
Leo Knighton Tallarico

Ouch. That’s harsh, but true.
I’ve written many a cautionary tale about about accepting the scraps.
My advice? Don’t you dare do it.

Everything you see in front of you started as dream, an idea or a fear.

Settling is safe, I’ll give you that, and that can be….nice. Not a lot of drama, but not much stimulation, growth or excitement either.

Settling is motivated by fear.
The fear that what you see in front of you is as good as it gets.
“Don’t take chances or try new things; you may FAIL“, fear leaves on post it notes all around your house.

“Oh yeah, this job or relationship isn’t what I’d hoped it would be and it feels like it’s run it’s course, but….”

Do you believe you can have or more importantly, DESERVE more?

Me being me, I can’t stand mediocrity, and settling feels like a whole lot of mediocre, TO ME.

There’s a great big, juicy, beautiful world out there, ripe with possibilities and filled with potential. The potential of more.

I’m not saying I go through life dissatisfied, on the contrary, gratitude for what I have in front of me has always been the springboard for change. Most days I’m even grateful for my “failures.” Most days.

It’s ironic and counterintuitive but true.
Bless what you have and where you are in life, then believe you can have more.

If you’re in a dead-end relationship with a descent guy, feeling kinda…meh; thank the Universe for the time you’ve shared and all you‘ve learned, including the fact that he’s just not right for you.

Same goes for a career. In the past we used to stay at jobs/careers for thirty, thirty five years, retire and die. There’s an epidemic of career professionals, not slackers, deciding “There must be more to life”, and having the courage to re-invent themselves in their forties and fifties and beyond.

Here’s the thing: It’s like that game we played as kids, where one person has their eyes closed as the other person lets them know how close they are to the desired object by telling them if they are “warmer or colder.”
You can let the Universe know if they are “warmer” by being grateful for the current man in your life. He’s kind and tall and loves his mom.
He may not be EXACTLY right, but damn, he’s a lot “warmer” than the last three guys you dated.
“WARMER” you yell, as you walk away.

Same game with that last job interview. It all sounded great on paper, but after meeting and getting more details it felt “COLDER.”
It may be too much like what you currently have or moving in the opposite direction of your dreams altogether.
“COLDER” you yell to the Universe as you ditch the pantyhose and loosen the ponytail.

Hey, it’s okay to yell, the Universe loves the feedback.

So….
You can continue your daily grind of dissatisfaction and living a life of subtle disappointment OR you can send a new powerful statement to the Universe about what you believe you deserve to have.
Start seeing in front of you, a life created not by fear, but by your ideas and dreams for more.

Words to the Wise:

It won’t be easy peasy. Pack lightly (no baggage allowed)

Things may move sloooooooowly at first so, bring some books on tape.

Circumstances may take sharp right turns or accelerate to super sonic speeds. Buckle up to avoid whiplash.

It won’t feel safe, boring, mundane, habitual, typical, ordinary, redundant, secure, normal, common, familiar or routine. 

If that’s what you crave, bravo…… just quit reading this right now and breathe a sigh of relief, because rest assured, your tomorrow will look exactly like your yesterday and today.

Can you think of any situations where you need to either yell “warmer” or “colder”?
Where are your circumstances showing you you’re headed, and is that enough?
I’d love to hear some of your insights in the comments.

Xox

My dad.
The enigma.

He passed in his late sixties from cancer in 2005.
Too young.

For most of my adult life we maintained an uneasy truce, where we agreed to disagree on pretty much everything.

He got a kick out of me and my sister when we were small and sang our camp songs, and wore our hair in “piggy tails.”
I loved to make him laugh.

He expected good grades, clean rooms, and no sass.
Oh well, two out of three.

His blood runs through my veins, so I know that’s where I got my work ethic, ability to fix stuff, love of science fiction, his colossal sweet tooth, temper, love of cars and driving, his goofiness, skinny legs, boney feet, blue eyes, control issues, and lack of respect for authority, and tolerance for stupid people.

I actually feel him more and have a better relationship with him now that he’s on the other side. It’s just the two of us, so it’s so much less complicated.
From that perspective, he “gets” me.

Happy Father’s Day Dad! Love you.

Xox

This past Wednesday night, at the women’s group that I so dearly love, the topic was intimacy, and the fact that, as Brene Brown has found in her over twenty years of research:

Vulnerability is essential for intimacy.

According to BB there can be no emotional, spiritual, or physical intimacy without vulnerability. 

Well…then…… shit.

Vulnerability is haaaaaard (said in a teenage whiney voice)

It leaves you open to emotional annihilation.

We’ve all been there. You’re completely and totally won over by someone who seems to meet you at the steps of intimacy. They hold your heart with their slippery hands and you give that unreliable soul the keys to the kingdom, or as Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Friday on Facebook, the keys to a small hidden lockbox.

She writes:
My girlfriends and I were talking about how all of us have a small lockbox hidden deep inside our souls, in which we keep the most fragile, frightened, innocent parts of ourselves.

If somebody loves you (and loves you WELL) they will come to learn what’s inside that secret lockbox of vulnerability, and they will be so careful to never use that information against you — to never manipulate your vulnerabilities, or mock them, or use the knowledge of your frailty as a weapon of power or diminishment.

My friends and I were talking about times in the past when we have opened ourselves up in love (or even friendship) to the wrong sorts of people — to people who found our most secret vulnerabilities and — instead of saying, “Oh, dear one, now that I know this about you, I will always protect you so carefully” — they said, “Aha! Now that I know this, I can really start messing with you!”

Then the betrayal happens, which along with the breach of trust and connection, is one of the major blocks to vulnerability. 

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that we talked about it this week and she posted her amazing post about it today.

In living rooms, yoga classes and cafe’s all over the world right now, women especially, are craving intimacy and learning the role that vulnerability plays.

Society and certain jobs (military, law enforcement, hospitals) discourage it.

But we women are getting courageous. And we realize that we are desperately in need of more human connection.

We are ALL in this together, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
Here’s another great piece of wisdom from Brene Brown:

When we loose our tolerance for vulnerability, we loose our tolerance for joy.

Because; we loose our courage to be joyful.
It is such a daring act, because it is so fleeting.
It is over in a minute or it can be taken away just as fast.

Think about that. We will sacrifice joy, in order to keep safe, the secrets in our lockboxes.

Bottom line…..life is fuckin’ risky.

It’s ALL a risk. Love, intimacy, vulnerability, connection, joy.

The whole shebang.

But it’s a risk I think we all should be willing to take.

Be kind to yourselves this lovely weekend.
Xox

RESILIENT
re·sil·ient
adjective
(of a substance or object) able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching, or being compressed.
synonyms: flexible, pliable, supple

The world around us is moving at a breakneck pace. It’s becoming a colossal challenge to stay current; to keep up.

It seemed like, in the “good old days”, you could count on the solid footing that the status quo provided.
Those days are gone for good, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Many, many of the changes are for the better.

I just get nostalgic for some of the things that have gone the way of the rotary phone and Drive In movies.

I remember my dad grumbling under his breath, about the price of gas during the 1970’s gas crisis, when it had the audacity to hedge closer and closer to the one dollar a gallon marker. He was crestfallen when suddenly there was no attendant to check his oil and tire pressure and wash his windshield.
Shit, he even had to pump his OWN GAS!

It was hard for me to understand his consternation, hey, this was progress, after all.

But now I totally get it.
For the life of him, he could have never imagined something that had been 17 cents a gallon his whole life, would EVER cost him a dollar.
Un fathomable.

What about the days when we had one, MAYBE two telephones, connected by wires TO. THE. WALL. in our homes. You had to stand in one place while you held a conversation, and sometimes (gasp) it just rang and rang, with no answer machine to take a message.

Deep philosophical question alert: If a phone rings (in the forrest) and no one answers, and no message is left….. did the call actually occur?

However did we manage to live life?

My girlfriend and I were lamenting the fact that we aren’t ever alone anymore.
Like an ever present stalker, our cell phones lurk nearby, keeping us connected to the world, whether we want to be….or not.
Try unplugging for a day. It is harder to kick than crack cocaine.

I for one, do appreciate all the new technological advances in the last twenty years.
I love laser printers, smart phone cameras, texting, fax machines, email, my iPad, the ability to buy virtually ANYTHING from my bed, in my pajamas, at 2:30 in the morning.
I have worked hard at becoming resilient to change.

But here’s the thing. I need to mourn some of my favorite things that have been lost along the way.

I miss the Borders Bookstore on La Cienega. I loved being a single loser and losing myself with all the other single losers on Saturday nights.
We would purchase our pre-requisite coffees at the coffee counter,(which were pretty descent) and proceed to roam the self help aisle. I’d eventually make my way to the music section (that was the cool thing, they had a music section) where the cute hipster guys hung out.
Then, as I left, I’d grab a People, Vogue, and Allure magazine from their incredibly comprehensive magazine WALL.
If I felt sophisticated, or was trying to impress someone nearby, I’d add an Italian Vogue…….Ciao Borders.

I miss the neighborhood bookstores. I miss the smell. I miss Borders. I’m going to mourn it before I order from Amazon again. ( which will probably be in the next twelve minutes.)

Both my beloved high school and the place I worked for close to twenty years cease to exist. They were both destroyed by God. My high school by the 1994 earthquake and Antiquarius Antiques was burned down about six years ago.

*The former entrance to my beloved Alemany High School

Whenever I drive by either of those sites, where I lived out large chucks of my life; I feel slightly melancholy.
In my minds eye I can still picture how they USED to look.
Current reality is very different. One is a perpetual construction site and the other is just ruins inside a chain link fence.
They reconstructed the school across the street. It’s lovely…..meh.

I like to think I’m flexible, pliable, and supple (what?) to change, and I can be.
But what I think we all need to do (because I know I need to), as the world continues to whizz past us, is take a minute and mourn the loss of the things we loved that have gone bye-bye.

That will keep us stretchy and resilient.

okay, your turn. What are the places or things that have left in the name of progress? What do you need to mourn?
Tell me about them below.

xox

This is a reprise of a popular post from earlier this year. It’s a cautionary tale in the form of a poem, about that rascal Ego. Have a great Sunday!

XoxJanet

When Ego whispers in your ear,
“Psssst buddy, come on over here.”
Quick; turn and run the other way,
’cause he’s got nothing good to say.

He’s not a chum, he’s not your friend,
His words won’t have a happy end.
He’s only got himself in mind,
A more selfish dude you’ll never find.

What ego thinks is a good idea,
Will fill you later with dread and fear.
You don’t want hear what he has to say,
Just tell him nice, to go away

The Ego has a strangle hold,
on those who do what they are told.
He has sold his bill of goods,
by selling “wants” and “needs” and “shoulds”.

It just won’t play, it won’t suffice,
when heeding Ego’s bad advise.
To say you’re “feeling” anything,
To this bad guy, the head is king.

His dictums are complex and sly,
You must beware if you comply,
he’ll lead you down the garden path,
then laugh as you suffer bad choice’s wrath.

He has an agenda all his own,
his methods are proven, his skills well honed.
You needn’t curse, don’t waste a good cry,
he’s doesn’t care, he’s not that guy.

You can try to beat him at his game,
Living with soul can end his reign.
It won’t seem fair,
He isn’t nice, plus….

The Ego gives really shitty advise.

Realization number three in my ongoing unraveling brought on by this 5000 miles in 17 days motorcycle trip!

Really!? MORE?

Yep, it has become the gift that keeps on giving.

It feels like shit at times, but it really is a gift.

Some of you have heard the story of our close call on the plains of Montana and some of you have not.
For those that have…go make yourself a sandwich while I re-tell it.

So…plains of Montana, trying to out run a giant storm that is quickly bearing down on us.
Two squalls of rain ahead, with a space in-between.
My husband yells back at me over the rumbling thunder, “We’re gonna thread the needle”, meaning, try to make it between the squalls.
We are traveling on a two lane highway at 85 mph.

Now I digress, for those of you from the mid west, you are familiar with these storms.
They are an anomaly to me.

I’m from SoCal, when it drizzles there, we go on “Storm Watch”.

There’s immediate and unbelievably loud thunder that accompanies the lightning – ground lightening (what the hell?)

Then there’s rain. heavy, heavy, rain. Giant wet drops the size of quarters.
One minute it’s dry, the next it’s like someone turned a fire hose on us.

Seriously.

And hail.
Machines that rely on the centrifugal force of two six-inch wide spinning rubber discs, don’t play well with hail. Things get real squirrely. It’s like someone upstairs has thrown slippery, wet, marbles on the road in front of you and is having a laugh while you try to stay upright.

As luck would have it, the eye of the needle closes, and the squall moves over us.
Rain so heavy, I can’t see out my visor…at all…even when my hand becomes a windshield wiper.
All I CAN see are the blurry headlights of the cars in the opposite lane.

I digress once again.
Let me explain something here.
My husband is a giant guy.
6’3″. 230 lbs
My seat is a bit higher than his, so I mostly look over his right shoulder.
He does buffer most of the weather and wind, but he also obscures my view of what is directly ahead of us.

Let me also say he is an AMAZING rider.
Over 40 years of riding, he teaches off-road riding with 600 pounds of bike and gear, rides all over the world with me on the back.
Has followed the DAKAR in So America twice, and rode thru
South Africa and the Namibian desert just this year.
He’s not a poser, that weekend rider on a Harley.
He is a certified bad ass.

It is his passion, he is very skilled, and I trust him. 

Okay, back to Montana.
Rain, wind, and as I am straining to see anything.
What I do notice are headlights…in our lane.
A car is passing in the on coming lane, at over 60 m.p.h in a torrential rainstorm.
I tap hubby’s shoulder and point. Are you seeing that?

He nods slowly, staring straight ahead, no break in concentration.

Thank God!
Because what comes next is where I lose my shit.

After that car completes his pass, right behind him, also passing and in our lane, is a pickup truck with a trailer.
There is not enough time or space now for him to pass safely.
He is in our lane, coming at us at 60 m.p.h. – in the rain!

Total loss of control

I’ve never thought I was about to die before.
This is where the screaming came in.
This is where ten thousand bazillion thoughts go through your mind in one second, and the entire scene goes into slow motion.
And this is where another realization came and tapped me on the shoulder.
“NOT NOW! CAN’T YOU SEE IM BUSY!”

I’m standing straight up on the pegs now, which you don’t do, because it destabilizes the whole arrangement we’ve all made, me, my husband, the weather and the bike, and all bets are off.
I’m screaming hysterically,my slasher movie scream, knowing I’m about to become a splat on the windshield of some jerks truck – in the middle of Montana.

I have NO idea how to get out of this!
But my husband does.
I can’t see an escape route, a way out.
He can.
I can’t contain my hysteria, because I’m totally and completely NOT in control

Of-My-Fate.

I’ m going to jump off on the right into a culvert and barbed wire, to try save myself.

It actually seems at the time like a better bet.

My husband, from years of experience, training, skill and guts,
remains completely calm.
Steady and still.

I can’t see from the rain, the speed, and the incredible turbulence as my husband goes around the truck and trailer on the right, on a sliver of asphalt that remains.

I continue screaming as I position myself to jump.
The right side of my body in motion, the left side decides to stay.
We slip beside him with less than two feet to spare.
The turbulence knocks our left hand mirror down, and buffets us for what seems like forever.

Total loss of control

The realization I’ve had is this:
In life, when we don’t have clarity,
Sometimes we’re barreling towards uncertainty,
When we don’t have the facts,
When we can’t see our way clear,
We panic and make decisions based in fear.

We can swerve or slam on the brakes on a slippery surface.

Most likely, to our detriment.

If we surrender to the part of us that does know,
That does have the wisdom, the skill and the steadiness to bring us thru the storm, we may give up control, which is terrifying, but it enables us to come out unscathed on the other side.

*side note
My body is still jacked up, because in every way except the physical
I DID jump off that bike.
The left side which stayed, is in so much pain,
The right side is fine.

I have yet to integrate the two.

Xox