creation

I can say in all honesty, with a straight face, that I don’t need a beach house to be happy.

I’ve made it this far in life without one and things have been pretty terrific so far.

That being said, when one is offered to me for a night I don’t hesitate to say yes. I’m not daft.

The house in question belongs to one of my husband’s clients. It is an architectural marvel that sits on the sand in a private cove of only six other homes. It cost in excess of fifteen million bucks and a famous rapper/music producer is living next door for the summer.

All of that makes your butt pucker, right? Me too!
Like how can I relax and enjoy the experience? I can’t handle the grandiosity, the smell of money in the air. I won’t be able to touch anything for fear of destroying something it would take me ten years to pay-off. Like red wine on a white chair. Or sand…anywhere.

This house and this couple are not like that AT ALL. They are gregarious and tons of fun. They have kids and dogs and everything in that house says, ‘Come on in! Relax! Have fun! Make a mess! Enjoy! Feel rich!’

What? Feel rich?

As you know, I’ve been trying that “rich” thing on lately.
I’ve told you of the hours I’ve spent on Zillow looking at homes for sale in Santa Barbara. Montecito to be exact. The hometown of Oprah. And to clarify even further—five to ten million dollar homes. With land. And nifty views.

So, the house this weekend could have felt intimidating, but it didn’t.

Not at all.

It felt like the next logical step in my search for a dream house.

And that’s when the magic started to happen.
Duh.

Hubby, Ruby dog, and I, spent Friday night enjoying stinky cheese and a bottle of my favorite red wine as we listened to Adele sing her sad songs of love gone wrong while the waves crashed and the negative ions had their way with us.

I could not have been happier. I felt rich in so many ways.

The next morning I went out to my car for something important (poop bag) and found a neatly folded twenty-dollar bill on the ground just behind the tailgate.

“You must have dropped this”, I said as I handed it back to Raphael knowing full well that Ruby only travels with hundreds and I had all of eight dollars left in my wallet after buying the cheese. (The stinkier the cheese the more it costs. Why is that?)

“It’s not mine”, he argued. “The only time I walked over there was at 5 am when I took Ruby to pee and contrary to stories you’ve heard, I don’t carry a wallet when I’m not wearing pants. It looks like it’s yours”, then he smirked in response to the look on my face as I pictured him balls to the wind, and went to make himself another espresso on the F-you espresso machine that lives in the kitchen.

“I’m rich!” I yelled, like Leonardo DeCaprio on the bow of the Titanic. (I know, he said I’m King of the World—just go with me here.)

Now I had twenty-eight smackers! Time to go buy some more cheese. Instead, we sat around all morning covered in dog hair, as a low, gray ceiling of clouds hung overhead making the view outstanding and the house impossibly cozy.

“I’m not leaving!”, I announced after he had laid out his plan for the rest of our day. Shower, lunch, drive home—and then what? He had plans that afternoon and all day Sunday.

I did not. I had no obligations. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

“I’m not leaving”, I said again out loud, just to hear the words a second time. Sometimes I just say stuff for dramatic effect. Like ‘I’m not leaving’ means ‘I’m having a good time’. Like that.

Was I serious?

“Fine. I love that”, he said looking at me kinda funny. “You’re keeping the dog—and what about your computer? Remember? You didn’t bring it. You can drive back in your car and get it. It’ll only be a three-hour round trip because it’s Saturday.”

I thought about it for a minute. I needed to post Sunday’s blog…but the internet sucked.

“Fuck that!” I exclaimed. Why would I kill my beach buzz?”

Sorry, but I shirked. I shirked all responsibility and sense of obligation and, and, and.
I was so relaxed at that point I was literally drooling.
I blame the ions. The ions made me do it.

“Exactly!”, he agreed, and he meant it.

In a spontaneous act of whatthefuckery, I called my friend Sally to come after work and partake in some of my stinky cheese, wine and mind altering ions. In an uncharacteristic act of selfishness—she said YES!

Sunday morning as I sat bathed in the wealth of my weekend, looking around at the house on the beach, the one with dog slobber on almost every wall and knee high handprints on the bank of windows that looks out over the endless expanse of Pacific Ocean, I received a text from a dear friend. That alone was a mini-miracle due to the shitty WiFi.

You see, a mystical, magical project I’m working on has to be delivered to just the right people.
Or I’m fucked.
Until I could guarantee that, I’ve been sitting on it. Praying. Trusting the powers that be to pull a rabbit out of someone’s ass. That text, that Miracle in Malibu text, held the answer to my prayers and it was so implausible that if I told you—you wouldn’t believe me—and you’d have me arrested for public drunkenness.

I’m tellin’ ya. Being irresponsible, selfish, and acting rich has gotten a bad rap. It really worked magic for me this weekend.
You should try it.

Carry on,
xox

*Sally and Ruby-do in the ‘Bu

In case you want to try this yourself:

http://www.zillow.com/santa-barbara-ca/

An original doesn’t conform to expectations — they change them forever.

“It is better to be a pirate, than to be in the navy.”
~Steve Jobs

Being an original is not easy.
As Abraham says: “There is never a crowd on the leading edge.”

So for those of you starting a new, well…anything — listen up.

Unless you have a huge budget for skywriting, a Foo Fighters concert at your book signing, free Sprinkles cupcakes, and car giveaway; there may be crickets a first.

Seriously annoying nothing will happen. Day after day.

“I want the most unusual, badass store in the Valley, someplace with one-of-a-kind stuff that I would buy. Hey, listen if I don’t do it two guys from West Hollywood will and I’ll go in there and feel bad as I hand over my American Express card again, and again knowing that I had the idea first.”
~Famous Last Words

I remember days at my store where the phone never rang and no one came in. When I got home I had to clear my throat to speak like you do in the morning when you wake up because I hadn’t used my voice in over nine hours.

Your blog; book; store; talk; product or whatever, will need some back story to be understood, but don’t go overboard with that.
Keep it simple and come from the heart. Heart-Full people will eventually find you and the others, well, they can start their own tribe thank you very much.

Don’t spend too much time explaining yourself
Not to your friends, your wife or potential investors. As you attempt to get validation from the peanut gallery your brilliant creative ideas will get watered down by popular opinion.

If it was easy, made perfect sense, was a sure thing or a slam dunk — there’d be a line at your door and believe me — someone would have already thought of it.

You’re an original.
Original means new, never before attempted.
Uncharted, pirate-infested waters. No map, and oftentimes not all the answers.
Jesus others, what part of original are you not getting?

New Mantra: 

People will not be able to pigeonhole you and they will hate that about you. They will also despise you for not conforming.
Happy, creative people doing what they love are annoying to others.

Others also get uncomfortable with square pegs in round holes and if the world is made of round holes and you decide you are a square peg — Grow a thick skin — and don’t say I didn’t warn you…it’s gonna get awkward.

The urge to conform will be seductive.
It will drunk-text you late at night and fill your head with lies.
At one point (or seven) in your endeavor, it will convince you that you fucked up, it will beg you to come back to the fold for an easy ride — and it will be right. It would be easier to conform.
But you will die the very slow death of a thousand paper cuts. And we all know how much those fuckers hurt.

You can’t make everyone like you or that thing you’re doing.
Unless you’re Beyonce or Mother Theresa. It’s an impossible goal so give it up right now Goddamnit.

People will attempt to copy you. Don’t worry about it.
They aren’t you so it will be a lousy karaoke version of your concept. And since it wasn’t their passion, their up in the middle of the night writing new ideas burning desire — they’ll get bored during the crickets phase and drop it.

Imitation has absolutely NO stamina.

Go ahead and exceed what people expect from you — but not to make a point.
Just give your creativity an outlet. Let it flow. Like blood. All over the place.

I post every day. That smokes most bloggers. I do it because I love it. And I didn’t know any better when I started.

Listen, if it was expected of me I know I’d say, “fuck it”.

Many others have given me permission to cut back and some days I do, but I have already exceeded what was expected and as a result that created consistency, trust, and then relationships followed.

You’ve gotta show up. Day in and day out.
When I’m walking around and I stumble upon some cool new shop or cafe that is beckoning me to enter, I can never understand why in God’s name, in the middle of the day, they are CLOSED.
No sign, no hours posted, no nothing.
I don’t care how cutting edge and original you are — show the fuck up. Be open, be accessible, so I can share in your awesomeness.

You may fail. Like big time, skid marks on you face fail.
Think Steve Jobs being fired from his own company. You may taste public humiliation. It’s a bitter pill but you will survive, and most likely flourish.

In closing:
Try not to be an arrogant dick.
Again think Steve Jobs. He was revered — but not well liked — and I know I said people may not like you but when they fire you from your own company…

Often nonconformists have absolutely zero social skills. Mark Zuckerberg for example.
Listen, develop some, break that mold too.
Be kind to others, crack a smile, have some fun.

Be a kind, fun-loving pirate. Think Captain Jack Sparrow — or Sir Richard Branson.

Carry on my square peg pirates,
xox

Welcome to another Jason Silva Sunday!

With all of the cosmic shenanigans happening around us as I write this, portal openings, alignments, energy shifts and new potentialities –– this is true now more than at any other time…the edges of what is real are blurring and boundaries are being dissolved.

xox

PROCRASTINATE

synonyms: delay, put off doing something, postpone action, defer action, be dilatory, use delaying tactics, stall, temporize, drag one’s feet/heels, take one’s time, play for time, play a waiting game
“fear of failure often causes people to procrastinate”

For the last several years, on the date of the Winter Solstice, Darling Diana holds a meditation. It is my favorite one.

Held on the evening of the longest night of the year, it manages to be dark, moody, sacred, and festive all at the same time.
If you can imagine that.

There is always a huge turnout, hugging of old friends, crystals glistening in the candlelight, and this year a Christmas tree.

One of the traditions (and I love a good tradition) is to intuit a word during the meditation and then write it down.
This will be your defining word for the year.
No pressure.

She cautioned us not to overthink it. “Just empty your mind and let the word come to you“, she advised. “It may not even make any sense, just stay with it.”
And off we went; into that dark mid winter’s night meditation deep.

Never one to be able to just follow a simple assignment, I got TWO words that kept repeating. No matter how many times I shouted “NO!” at them.
“Hey, follow the rules you guys, besides, those words suck.” Wow, even my meditation voice is snarky.

I would write them on imaginary paper in my head and then wad it up and throw it away. Still there.
I would scratch them out with a big red circle/slash. No use, they kept coming.
Not only were there two words, one of them scared the shit out of me. It literally made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It gave me a headache.

My words: Aligned Conception. WTF?!

Conception is a loaded word for me, since I’m someone that is of the childless persuasion; and at my age, and in my circumstances, it would be a colossal fuck-up – and a medical miracle.
The act of conceiving a child is something that I have actively avoided my whole life, sooooo I’d have a lot of fast talking and explaining to do – to my body – to my husband – to our doctors – and our future.

For about three minutes, in the grips of a deep panic, I fought that word tooth and nail. I did, I bit it and clawed at it.
It was an epic battle between ME and me.

Then I just gave in. Fine. Fuck you, Conception. (pun intended). You win.

But what I’d been overlooking in my immediate and strenuous, jumping to conclusions, was the word aligned that had preceded it every time.
Aligned conception – idiot.

Aligned Conception. What a concept. Now I love my word(s)!

Aligned, meaning to line things up. BEFORE you make a move.
I tend to be impetuous, so daily, no, make that hourly, I’m attempting to think before I leap.

Well played Universe.

Waiting to be inspired, which I’m doing more and more.

Creating or conceiving ideas or concepts, as they line up, make sense, feel right.

Noticing that if you’re aligned, all the right people, places, ideas, and inspiration will beat a path to your door. Impetuous not so much. It can’t find your door because it couldn’t take a minute to write down your address.

Taking the time to align, sounds a lot like procrastination – well, yeah, it is, except it’s Divine Procrastination. With it you’ll take Inspired Action, you’ll experience Aligned Conception.

This is foreign to me. Fish out of water foreign. I’ve never been a procrastinator. Ever. Ask my husband, oh wait, he’ll tell you later. He’s a pro, and it works for him. I had to break it down to understand it. Here’s how I think it works.

I always thought procrastination was a dirty word, with a negative connotation. It was a habit of the fearful and the lazy. It can be, but it’s also a tool of the wise.

Let me explain.

How many times have you made THAT call or answered THAT email, when you weren’t lined up (aligned)?
You hadn’t taken the time to breathe, get centered, take a walk, or kick the dog. How did that go?

Light-yourself-on-fire shitty, right?

How many projects have you started when the funding was dicey, the players weren’t lined up, your ducks weren’t in a row, your i’s were not dotted, your t’s were not crossed – and your gut told you to wait?
KA BOOM! Crash and burn, right?

I may know a thing or two about this, being as impetuous as I am/was.

What if I had only procrastinated? Waited for the “gut green light”?

If it doesn’t feel right. I won’t do it. I’ll Wait. I’ll Align. Then I’ll Conceive.

Got it!

I don’t know about you, but I think Aligned Conception just kicked Impetuous’ ass.

Xox

Hey Loves,
What are the ideas you’re putting out into the world?
What are you excited about, posting, hitting “publish” on?
As Jason explains, we are paying it forward, putting it out there and creating the future. you up for that?

I am.

Happy Sunday,
xox

Creation!
Think about it.
This world operates on a kind of cosmic auto-pilot where Divine Order prevails.

Buds turn into flowers, acorns to oaks, tadpoles to frogs and an egg and sperm into a human being.
It is automatic, pre-programmed alchemy, mixed with a dash of abracadabra and a pinch of magic.

If you’ve ever planted a garden from seeds you’ve witnessed this.
One day there is dirt. Then maybe some dirt and fertilizer. Later, you throw down some seeds, quite randomly actually, trying your best to duplicate Mother Nature; add some water and sunshine and voila! In a few days, from what was previously barren earth, little green sprouts start to peek their way into existence.

You, with a lot of help from the Universe, have created SOMETHING from NOTHING.

That never ceases to amaze me when I slow down long enough to actually let it sink in.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Ideas become real, caught in third dimension, for eyes to behold, scholars to ponder, haters to hate.
We cannot help it, residing in this world of creation.
It is everywhere.
Bee hives and boobies, birds nests, coral reefs, ant hills.
Nature is constantly showing off. Her cycles of birth, life and death, showing us the way.
It’s that ashes to ashes thing she does so well.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

The earliest men and women stared at the blank walls of their caves and after dinner and dishes, they drew with ash from their fire what they saw around them.
It’s in our genes.

A blank canvas calls the painter to it, like the marble summons the sculptor.
Aren’t we all glad the marble didn’t summon the painter, the canvas the cook?
Divine Order is savvy that way. An acorn doesn’t become a rosebush any more than we hatch from eggs, it’s all been worked out and it’s perfect.

SOMETHING from NOTHING

It’s the same with writing.
I start with a blank screen. Some days it taunts me with its blankness, but then the Muse starts to talk, and when she talks I listen – and I write.
Soon, that blank screen is filled with five hundred words. In the old days I would have been engulfed in a sea of crumpled rejects, these days if something doesn’t jell it’s as easily forgotten as delete, delete, delete.
I know I’m no different from every other writer when I confess to being as surprised as anyone, that the ideas actually make it to the page.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Cooking.
Random ingredients, spices, oil, water, et al, gathered into an empty pot, simmering, beckoning for recognition. An hour ago this dish ceased to exist. I’ve said it before – add the final ingredient, LOVE.
It’s freaking alchemy. I’m telling you.

If you make jewelry, it all starts with an idea. Then add gold, stones and artistry.

If you build a house – idea. Then add dirt lot, lumber, elbow grease.

If you write a song, it’s an idea that attaches itself to music. How about THAT.

Every Corporation, company, great cause, charity, invention, started as an invisible idea.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

As I see it, it goes:
idea, intent, execution…..stand back……repeat.

We all do this in so many aspects of our day to day life, I think it’s important to recognize the alchemy and be appreciative of the fact that Divine Order exists.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

What do you think? What have you created today?
Do you take the time to notice Divine Order in nature?
I’d love it if you told me what you create from nothing – Share it with us!

If you’d rather listen than read, I get it, here you go:

https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/something-from-nothing

Big love,
Xox

If it sounds like writing…rewrite it
~Elmore Leonard~

We all come in with a purpose.

But because we’ve forgotten to remember, we spend the majority of our lives searching for it.
Unless you’re incredibly lucky and come in as a child prodigy….or angry cat.

Once we make our connection with God, the Muse, Source, or whatever you want to call it, our ONLY job is to remain a clear and unbiased vessel.

When we do finally connect with our purpose, it becomes more than a job.
It becomes a calling.
All we need to do is enthusiastically show up every day.

The purpose itself will create opportunities for its accomplishment.

What?

You mean I’m not the only one who controls how this work gets out in the world?

I feel solely responsible for what happens to anything I create, after the initial process is finished.
I want to write the pitch, I want to orchestrate the meeting, I want to call the shots with every i dotted and every t crossed…..by me.

Yet, if we can trust the Muse to co-create our purpose, can’t we trust her to place it just where it needs to go?

She’s got a much broader vision than we’ll ever have, and her contacts are legendary. Back in the day of Rolodex’s, she had fifty of them lined up, side by side, crammed with every mover and shaker across the planet.

Nothing escapes her radar.

Her ideas have ideas.

We have thoughtfully and tenderly brought her masterpiece to third dimension; she’ll take care of the rest.

If we muck up the trajectory SHE has in mind with our ideas of how WE think it should play out…..crickets.

Here is the story of J K Rowling’s (if you’ve been living under a rock, she is the author of the Harry Potter series of books) rise to fame.

After being rejected twelve times by every major publishing company, one of the manuscripts found its way into a pile on an office shelf. End of story, right?

It could have been. It should have been.

What happened next could have come with a swish of Harry Potter’s wand.
(Muse magic?)

In the spring of 1997, struggling English producer David Heyman’s secretary, Nisha Parti, picked up a manuscript from the shelf marked ‘low priority’.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was yet to be published. She took it home to read over the weekend.
Monday morning they had their meeting and David asked if anyone had read anything good. Nisha said, “Well I’ve read this book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“That’s a rubbish title,” he said. What’s it about?”
She said, “It’s about a young boy who goes to wizard school.”
Intrigued, he took it home and read it in one night.
And the rest is history.

So…..
What if J K Rowling had stopped after three rejections, or seven, or ten?

We have no idea which manuscript ended up on the low priority list in that producer’s office.

What if she had listened to the criticism that boys don’t read books?

What made his secretary pick THAT manuscript to read? Who marked it low priority, so that it ended up in her pile?

What if she’d released them as short stories, because people were telling her the books were too long and wordy?

What if she was against film adaptation? Some authors are.

Someone came up with the release date parties held at midnight in bookstores across the globe. They created a marketing frenzy. That was a completely new concept in book publishing/marketing at the time. Whose idea was THAT?
(That has the Muse’s fingerprints ALL over it.)

What if she’d wanted a more well-known producer, or more money?
The list goes on and on.
I think you get the gist.

I really love the concept that all we have to do is sing, write, paint, create; then listen for instructions on what comes next and not have to drive ourselves nuts figuring out the rest.
You get that we can’t possibly know what comes next, right?

Finish your work. Say a prayer. Let go of the wheel.

Let the source that wrote the screenplay, line up the appropriate people, and then pitch it.
She’ll tell us what day and what to say. She’s proud of her work, that Muse, and so naturally she’d love it to get as popular and touch as many people as possible.
Doesn’t that make sense?

Due diligence, yes. Thinking we have all the answers, no.

The purpose itself will create opportunities for its Accomplishment

It’s worth repeating.

Do you have projects you need to let go of and trust the process? I’d love to hear some stories of how the Muse took a project where it needed to go.
Tell me in the comments!

Xox