career

Goddamn, I love rituals. Beginnings and endings. Marking time. Rites of passage.

I figure that love seeped into my DNA after sitting in a smokey Catholic church inhaling Frankincense for pretty much my entire youth (it may also explain a ton of other crazy attributes I’d rather not go into).
What it DOES explain is my obsession with incense, focused prayer, incantations, and human sacrifice. Well, that and the fact that I’m certain I had a past life as some kind of mystical druid sorceress taken right out of the pages of Mists Of Avalon.
Or better yet, Merlin.
But more likely the medieval court jester who wore a silly hat, sported pointy shoes with bells and lived under a bridge with the trolls.

Anyhow, I decided to take everything that had to do with my failed business and burn it.
A perfectly legal Ritual Sacrifice. Of paperwork. Paperwork that held power over me.

2015 was the year of dealing with paperwork. I would have rather had a root canal without Novocaine.
I finally found it in me to throw what merchandise remained into an auction and dissolve the corporation which had been insolvent for several years but had retained a kind of sick sentimental place in my heart—like a shitty high-school boyfriend or a threadbare flannel nightgown.

I basically broke up with ATIK. It was time. Actually, it was way past time.

The relationship had become unbalanced. In a nutshell, it had become completely, horribly and totally dysfunctionally one-sided. I was doing all the emotional heavy lifting, holding the history of our love together while Atik went on an extended five-year vacation with a stripper named Trixie, forgetting my name and the fact that we once meant the world to each other.
Oh well, shit happens.

Once the litigation shitastrophy dust had settled I was left with a HUGE satchel that I’d been toting around for years filled with tons and tons of legal fuckery.
It was heavy in all the ways you can imagine and others you cannot. It lived in a shed in the backyard as physically far away from me as sadistic legal paperwork feels comfortable and even though it’s my office— I seldom went back there. I hated that thing.

So I decided to burn the contents as a ritual releasing of the old dragged-behind-a-car energy of 2009-2012 in order to move on.

2016—The Year of Unbearable Lightness. Burn that shit and get on with it!

So I did.

I had to let it go. Stop life-support. Kill it. Put us both out of our misery.

Time of death of Atik Inc. 12 p.m. December 26, 2015.

After quickly going through the toxic waste of debauchery to make sure I wasn’t, in my haste to dance naked in the flames, torching something important, I started the gas in my fireplace, set my intention “DO NOT EVER Darken My doorstep with your toxic bullshit AGAIN!” (I cleaned that up. It was much worse than that).

And then I said thank you to the worst thing that has EVER happened to me for all of the valuable insights and gifts it has delivered. I really did you guys but it’s taken me six years to get there.

Then I squealed with unabashed joy as I watched it go up in smoke. All of it.

My husband came in from outside and said the smoke smelled really bad. Oh, I bet it did.

That paperwork held so much sadness and failure and hopes dashed. It was filled with terse language and mean words. Horrible words. Words that cut me to the core. Words that human beings should never say to each other. Mad words. Words filled with rage wrapped in legalese.

I’m surprised the smoke didn’t get all Voldemort and come back inside the house and strangle me. I’m telling you, that was a satchel full of failure and it wanted to finish me.

But, I have already risen from the ashes—I am FREE.

I may have a had a little help with my pyro-ritual. There may have been a fellow recovering broken-hearted soul who was throwing his/her “annus horribilis” into the fire right beside me.

So now WE are free.

I cannot recommend this ritual highly enough.
Please, please consider doing this with anything toxic from your past. You don’t need a fireplace! I did it many years ago to free myself from a relationship whose grip I could not escape. I just put a large metal pot in the kitchen sink and lit a match burning all the old photos and letters. Many years later I did it again in my backyard on a rainy night (you may remember that post).
http://www.theobserversvoice.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=1877&action=edit

Fire is healing.
Smoke is healing.
Endings are healing.
Rituals are healing.
Starting a new year feeling lighter is healing AND freeing.

And I’ve come to realize I’m a bit of a pyromaniac.

Love you all & Carry on,
xox

Ruby supervises the process about half-way through.

Elizabeth Gilbert speaking out AGAINST passion? What? That’s right you guys.
If you’ve ever felt your blood boil when some famous, successful so and so advises you to “follow your passion”, do yourself a favor and watch this video.

Big Love,
xox

http://www.supersoul.tv/supersoul-sessions/elizabeth-gilbert-flight-hummingbird-curiosity/

BEST
adjective
Of the most excellent, effective, or desirable type or quality.
“the best pitcher in the league”

The Best! What does that even mean anymore?

I’m here to downgrade the word best or rather the world at large has done that for me being that The Best doesn’t hold the same weight that it used to.

You did your best honey and that’s all that matters.
Those words could soothe my soul as a child. I knew, as the type A, perfectionist, driven for accolades, honor roll, and extra-credit-ass-kissing kid that I was—that my best had taken me hours, maybe even days, it had made me sweat blood, and I had left NOTHING on the table.
My best was enough.
Actually it was probably more than enough.

An “A” for effort. Right?

But over the years as we mature and grow and hopefully get a life—our best changes.

When I was five, just coloring inside the lines was the best I could do. By eleven I could color like nobody’s business!

I know I’m a much better wife than I was the first time around, although I would have assured you at the time, through gritted teeth, with a flip of my over highlighted blonde hair and a ton of attitude—that I was the best wife EVERRR (valley girl speak) and that he was lucky to have me.

Some people are so incredibly proficient that even on an off-day their half-ass work is better than most people’s best.
My friend can grade diamonds like a Mofo. Without a microscope. In the dark. With her eyes closed. And never get it wrong.
It’s a superpower what can I say?

So best is subjective. It morphs and changes. You have to consider all sorts of outside influences.

How many times have you been introduced to someone with the lead-in being: This guy’s the best________.”
Is he the best? In the world or in a five block radius? Who determines that? Did someone take a poll? Did his mother get to vote 17,000 times?

How do we ever really know if someone or something is The Best?

I am the best writer.
In.
this.
room. (which is currently void of other human beings).

Donald Trump is the best candidate for President of these United States.
Who says? He does. Loudly and often.
We, the voters will be the judge of that—so, is he doing his best?
I can’t tell.
If he wins he’ll say he did. If he loses the nomination he’ll say he was distracted, misunderstood, or that we’re too stupid to recognize greatness.
Either way, was his best good enough?

I suppose I’m becoming less and less impressed with the word best.
Best by whose standards?
Our own or society at large?

When we chase wanting to be the best at something what are we running after?

My best is constantly changing. These days I go more for a feeling.
Am I proud of what I just produced?
Also, is it unique in some way? Or is it the same old, same old, re-hashed, 2.0 version of somebody else’s best?

What do you guys think? Has best lost its sparkle? How do YOU determine if something is The Best?
Does that joint at the corner really have THE BEST pizza in town or is that just a marketing ploy?

You really are THE BEST readers of any blog EVER! (I know because I can feel it) and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

xox

This is one of my favorite places to meditate.

The back of the chair hits me just right, the leather is nice and worn in, it is wide enough for me to sit cross-legged and the arms are the perfect height for me to rest my hands on my knees. AND…I can make that room pitch dark if I want.

That chair’s intended purpose was to be the masculine, super groovy throne from which my husband can watch his uber-violent, spy/assassin/bad-guy-who-is-really-a-good-guy movies in our TV room.

The same chair—living a COMPLETELY different life of duality. *Note the crumbs on the floor from the crackers and cheese he enjoyed last night 😉

“I can’t meditate, I don’t have any quiet place in my house.”  That makes me crazy and I call bullshit!

Use your shower or bathtub‚ I do! (if yours is loud and crowded you have bigger issues than I can even imagine!), and in LA often the only place we can grab a silent second is in our cars.

I have incredible insights delivered to me while I sit in traffic. (My fantasy is that the majority of LA drivers on the freeway are secretly meditating, but sadly reality continues to prove otherwise).

How about sitting on the grass in your backyard or in a chair on your patio?

How about your bed? I tend to linger in that in-between sleep and awake state as long as humanly possible. Until the dog licks my face with her morning dog food breath or the mind chatter turns up the volume and gets all dark and snarky—That’s when  I know it’s time to get up!

What I’m trying to say here is: Don’t be precious about your meditation practice. It’s better to fit in a few minutes of quiet contemplation here and there than nothing at all.

I know for me when I say I don’t have time for meditation—is exactly when I need it the most.

Love you guys to bits,
Carry on with your Saturday,
xox

https://youtu.be/Rzu6zeLSWq8

Here’s to the crazy ones.

Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.
~Apple Ad 1997

Carry on you crazy ones,
xox

Hey you guys,
This is new territory for me.

I’m a mover, I’m a doer. A striver. I strive to MAKE things happen.

I will ignore a closed-door, swim a moat, or hunt you down, to get to where I think I need to go.

At least that’s been my M/O in the past.
These days?… I get still.

Mostly when I’m stuck—ESPECIALLY when I’m stuck.

I wait to be inspired.
What?
You heard me.
Inspired action. I wait to take inspired action.

I check in with my gut. What is it saying? Is there excitement? Is there enthusiasm? Am I meeting the right people? Seeing the signs? Am I observing things moving into place?

Then there’s my answer. Hell YES!

Otherwise it’s a Hell No.
Too fucking easy, right? I’ve got to say, I’m tired of swimming moats, I’m really beginning to embrace easy.

Have a lovely, easy, Labor—free week,
Carry on,
xox

GRUDGE

grudge
ɡrəj/
noun
1. a persistent feeling of ill will or resentment resulting from a past insult or injury.

synonyms: grievance, resentment, bitterness, rancor, pique, umbrage, dissatisfaction, disgruntlement, bad feelings, hard feelings, ill feelings, ill will, animosity, antipathy, antagonism, enmity, animus;
chip on one’s shoulder

verb
1.
To be resentfully unwilling to give, grant, or allow (something).

synonyms: begrudge, resent, feel aggrieved about, be resentful of, mind, object to, take exception to, take umbrage at

I used to work for someone who was the King of the Grudge Holders. He was brilliant at it.
If you had a grudge you needed held, you could count on him to do it for you.

His family used him over the years as their sanctioned grudge holder.
That left the rest of them free to live an unfettered, happy life.

He held a grudge toward his brother for being a dick to him as a teenager, you know, like older brothers are. It’s a right of passage — let it go.
Nope. Over twenty years later and they barely spoke.

It got to the point where he didn’t even know why he hated someone — he just did because his dad had told him the story of some slight back after the war. Not the Vietnam war, that would have been bad enough, No, we’re talking WWII — the 1940’s for god sakes.

I watched my boss act as cold as ice to a seemingly very nice older gentleman who came into our store, and after he left I questioned him about his behavior. “What the hell was that?” I said in a tone reserved for people who kick dogs.
“I don’t want that guy in here” he responded defensively, “Besides, he’s got a lot of nerve. He and my dad got into a bar fight once over a girl.”

“Uh, really? When? The Neolithic period? Your parents have been married for over fifty years, I think the statute of limitations on post war fights over girls who are now almost eighty has been reached.”

He wasn’t having it. He folded his arms tight, pursed his lips, and stomped away.

I used to joke with him, “Give me the list of who you’re not mad at, suing, or holding a grudge against — it’s shorter.”

Bygones can never be bygones.

And that’s the thing with some people. They have a dog in every fight. They’ll latch onto a story they hear about something gone awry and they’ll run with it, holding the grudge long after the situation has rectified itself.

“That guy owes Jerry money.” he sneered as he walked by me to put something in the safe.
I looked up to see some nondescript someone I didn’t know writing a check to another dealer in the building. “How do you know that?” I decided to bite, it was a welcome distraction from all the paperwork.
“He told me in Miami” he was standing at the counter starring the guy down. I could feel his blood pressure rising.
“That was over six months ago, maybe he’s paid him, besides I can see the line of people who owe Jerry money from here. You guys all owe each other money. Shit, Jerry owes YOU money!”

He just grunted and mumbled something under his breath, (I was still breathing so fortunately his wish hadn’t been granted) and sat back down behind his desk.
Dog in someone else’s fight.
Nose in somebody else business.
Mood ruined.
Grunge held.
For Jerry.

He really should have charged for his services. His obituary will read: He never met a grudge he couldn’t hold.

The problem with holding a grudge …is that your hands are then too full to hold onto anything else.
-Seth Godin

In my observation of chronic grudge holders (I did almost twenty years of research) what they are incapable of holding because their hands are full of …grudge… are joy and gratitude.

It turns toxic and eventually soul numbing.

It was physically impossible for him to feel appreciation and gratitude. That chip was missing.
We used to be able, with the help of copious amounts of alcohol, to coax an uncomfortable “thank you” out of him after trade shows.
He had a good life. A successful business, healthy family and money in the bank, and I watched him year after year take it all for granted. Like it was owed to him.

And for many, many years I witnessed a complete lack of joy. Actually all the higher emotions were missing. I never really saw love, empathy or compassion shown toward anyone.

But over time I learned to cut him a break. I understood. After all — his hands were full.

We are still friendly but when I thought of the word grudge he immediately came to mind. Who do you think of when you see that word?

Carry on,
xox

* This is a brand new post by my latest astrology addiction: Kate Rose.
As I read it I just kept saying: AMEN and I think you will too.
We are all MORE than ready to make the changes required for our futures to begin — Can I get an AMEN?
Carry On you guys,
xox

NEW MOON IN GEMINI — WE ARE FINALLY READY FOR A CHANGE!
BY KATE ROSE

This new moon in Gemini on June 16th is all about finally being ready to embrace change!

We have had some very powerful full moons the past few lunar cycles, and while they tend to be most noticed because of their obvious effects on our lives, new moons are just as important because it is here that the seeds of change are planted.

New moons are very special times in astrology. While full moons call us to action and to step outside of our comfort zones, new moons tend to have us retreat and become more introspective. This is the time when we may crave solitude—especially enjoying quiet moments in nature.

It is also during the darkened skies that the seeds of change are planted.

This new moon on the 16th is very special, it comes right after our full moon in Sagittarius that was all about new beginnings. But new beginnings can be scary, and sometimes our egos question us as to if we are ready.

Next week, we will not only think we are ready—we will know we are.

We have been gathering information in the past few weeks since the last full moon, but because Mercury has been retrograde we haven’t been able to take what we’ve learned and either communicate that to others, or make the physical changes necessary to manifest it.

All that is about to change.

Gemini is about taking information and channeling that into positive action. Once Mercury turns direct we will begin thinking more clearly about all that we have been absorbing and learning the past few weeks. Topics that most likely will come up are long-term career goals—especially of an entrepreneurial nature, and romantic relationships.

Gemini is a sign that is quick-thinking and independent, they also are great self-starters, and usually do best multitasking. In combination with the new moon energy and Mercury just having turned direct we are going to be inspired to set off on our own career path. Maybe we’ve been considering starting up our own business, or begin working on a creative endeavor such as a writing a book. This new moon is going to give us the confidence and the get-up-and-go initiative to make our dreams a reality!

Gemini is represented by the twins, and embodies the ying/yang energy––it is also the sign of Twin Flames. Even the symbol of the sign is identical to 11, which is an important numerology aspect of the Twin Flames. This moon has the ability to shake things up a bit romantically; it’s best to take the next week or so and enjoy life as it currently is because things are about to change––and in a big way!

The ruling planet for Gemini is Mercury which turns direct on June 12th, but Mars will also be hanging out in that same sign. Get ready for some fireworks! Mars is the planet of passion, of decisive action and urgency. We are sick of being patient and in a week or so, it will be nothing but a distant memory (alleluia!).

Sometimes, we like to make quiet slow changes, like the past full moons. They were deliberate, mature, rational decisions. This time though, we will have grown tired of waiting, and realize that there isn’t much point in it any longer.

We will want the future to begin today!

For the first time in a long time we actually feel ready for change! Not only that, but we are clear about why we want it, and how best to manifest it. There is no sitting on the fence about this, our heads and our hearts are clear about what direction we need and want to move in…and we will feel the confidence in doing so.

We have been asking a lot of our hearts lately. We have been digging to the depths of them, removing the cobwebs and seeing what makes them tick. It’s been frustrating this past month because we haven’t been able to take our thoughts and feelings and put them to words. All that is coming to an end as Mars in Gemini is going to give us the drive and passion to say exactly what we want and what we are feeling.

The time for waiting has come to an end. Even though we usually tend to be more relaxed and calm at new moons, don’t be surprised if in the next week you find yourself unable to sleep. We are antsy at the exciting changes that we can feel are just on the horizon and within reach.

Although we feel peaceful and relaxed because we have taken the necessary steps to learn all we can, and to process whatever that means for us, we simply can’t wait any longer.

Not only are we ready for change, but we want it now.

New Moon Ritual:(You know me I LOVE a good ritual-JB)

While we can plant seeds of change in our minds and hearts during this time, it’s actually a wonderful time to manifest these dreams and wishes out into the universe.

What to do:

On the paper write your intentions or wishes that you would like to come true––write from the heart. Then take the paper and fold three times, and tie the twine around the paper. Bury it into the dirt, plant your seeds and then water.

As your actual seeds begin to grow so will your intentions that you set. Be aware that most of the seeds of change that are planted like this take at least three lunar cycles to manifest, so have patience with yourself and with the universe.

*Kate Rose is an artist, free-thinker, lover, writer, passionate yogi, teacher, mother, rule breaker and rebel. She can usually be found walking barefoot in the moonlight between worlds with the dreams of stars still hanging in her hair while swaying her hips to the music of life; smelling of sweet bourbon and honeysuckle. She lives for adventure and wakes each morning with the excitement of a new day waiting to unfold at her feet. She truly believes the best is yet to come and waits, with bated breath, to see what it may hold. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram, and find more of her words on her website.

http://wordsofkaterose.com

The feeling in the air lately.

You too?

That feels exciting!

Have a mystical, magical weekend you guys,
xox

“If you build the guts to do something, anything, then you better save enough to face the consequences.”
― Criss Jami

Things that never happened because I didn’t have the guts.
The list is long. Like longer than Taylor Swift’s legs long.

How do I know for sure what could have happened?
I don’t. But my regret does.
I’m sure you know what I mean.

My regret is an artist who paints with broad strokes. Large, majestic scenery, filled with full-color landscapes of stories that never happened.

It also is a master in the art of persuasion.

Those stories look spectacular.
They seem amazing.
They are fucking fairy tales.

In these scenarios, my gutless self is replaced by another person. Someone who is risk averse; the acrobatic chance taker/failure dodger. For instance:

I’m a Broadway actress with a shelf crowded with Tony awards.

I’m a rock star, or the wife of a rock star (take your pick), who continues to tour and performs to sold-out crowds.

I’m a mother. Twin boys and a girl.

I’m an entrepreneur who shattered the glass ceiling and owns six companies that are all publicly traded.

I’m a seasoned lecturer and public speaker.

I’m someone who looks refreshed and rested, at least ten years younger (but whose wallet is twenty-five thousand dollars lighter.)

I’m the winner of Dancing With The Stars, The Voice, the Apprentice, and Jeopardy (the celebrity edition).

I’m a mentor on America’s Top Model after having my face grace more magazine covers than any other living human being.

I am resting on my laurels.

~OR HOW ABOUT~

I’m an aging hippie who lives off the land up in Oregon.

I’m an aging New Ager who lives off tips in Hawaii.

I’m the aging owner of a brothel somewhere tolerant of that sort of thing.

I’m busking on the corners of Santa Cruz.

I’m the ex-wife of seven men.

I’m someone who never married, looks thirty-five and owns dozens of Siamese cats.

I’m living in a Villa in Italy after cashing out, buying a one-way ticket, and hooking up with a guy named Paulo.

I have photo albums filled with pictures of me bungee jumping, sky diving and formula one racing, climbing Mt. Everest, Deep sea diving and waving my certificate that states I am the top of my class in NASA astronaut training school.

I’ve changed my name to Solange.

After surveying this list. The list that was supposed to summon that pit in my stomach. You know, the one that makes you feel bad about yourself and feeds regret?

Instead I had an epiphany.

What if those things didn’t happen not so much because of a guts deficit — but due to a keen sense of the obvious as far as knowing what I was capable of — an inkling of my life’s trajectory — a ginormous helping of common sense?

Ha! Take that regret!

P.S. I HAVE done many things in my life that required a shit-ton of guts, and so have YOU—but THAT my friends, is a list for another day.

Got any regrets?

Carry On,
xox