fear

Have you ever hugged a porcupine? Yeah me neither.
Although lately I could swear that I walk away from some hugs covered in quills.

I’ve developed the good sense to steer clear of the obvious porcupine people—the toxic, difficult, hard to love ones.

I don’t even own the suit of armor it took to get close to them anymore.
I think I sold it years ago at a garage sale.

Anyhow, lately I’ve suffered some pretty prickly encounters with previously un-prickly people.

Which surprised me. Then it didn’t. Because I had an Ah-ha.
Let’s hear it for those Ah-ha moments!

The other day while I was pulling embedded quills from my forcepts (ouch) I had time to think, and it occurred to me that certain people (The obvious porcupine people) wear their quills facing out, mostly as a defense, and after a while—people tend to leave them alone.

While others wear their quills on the inside—hurting only themselves in the process.

I saw a video recently of a snake that swallowed a porcupine whole. It was gross but kinda cool. Anyway, the poor mis-guided snake who never received the DO NOT EAT PORCUPINE memo died soon afterwards, the quills rupturing all of it’s internal organs.

Eventually, I suppose we all figure this out—because the pain gets too great …and we’re smarter than a snake.

We take our quills and turn them inside-out just before we discard them for good—as an act of self-loving transformation—in order to save our own lives. It leaves us raw and vulnerable, and some innocent (or not so innocent) people may be stuck by our pointedness in the process.

Note to self: Hug at your own risk. Oh, and use oven mitts.

I know for me, during times of intense introspection and change, as my quills work their way from the inside-out, I get pretty prickly, and if I’ve left a quill or five in your arms during a hug—I’m sorry (Raphael).

It’s all about empathy and compassion you guys. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go watch a video of a porcupine eating a pumpkin.

Carry on,
xox

Cartoon by: http://www.justzhm.blogspot.com

It seems everybody’s afraid these days.
Whether it’s Isis, the elections, or what will happen to your waistline if you eat that last piece of cake.

So…what to do?

Live a life consumed by fear? Hell No and no thanks!
What a hollow shell of an existence THAT would be!

We have to fight the temptation to give our lives over to this thing that is just an emotion.
Would you let lust run your life? Okay, bad example. How about anger? Really?
Come on you guys, who is calling the shots in your life? Who is in the driver’s seat?

Here are two interesting perspectives that I came across in the last few days, I like them both.
The first one is by author and entrepreneur extraordinaire Seth Godin, called The Power of Fear:

The Power of Fear

Fear will push you to avert your eyes.

Fear will make you think you have nothing to say.

It will create a buzz that makes it impossible to meditate…

or it will create a fog that makes it so you can do nothing but meditate.

Fear seduces us into losing our temper.

and fear belittles us into accepting unfairness.

Fear doesn’t like strangers, people who don’t look or act like us, and most of all, the unknown.

It causes us to carelessly make typos, or obsessively look for them.

Fear pushes us to fit in, so we won’t be noticed, but it also pushes us to rebel and to not be trustworthy, so we won’t be on the hook to produce.

It is subtle enough to trick us into thinking it isn’t pulling the strings, that it doesn’t exist, that it’s not the cause of, “I don’t feel like it.”

When in doubt, look for the fear.

This second perspective is by the author and speaker Elizabeth Gilbert from her new book Big Magic. Liz anthropomorphized FEAR which is something I like to do with emotions—it makes them easier to handle. You can substitute Creativity in this piece with Relationship or Career, take your pick—just make sure Fear stays in the back seat!

“THE ROAD TRIP is where I explain the conversation that I need to have with Fear, before beginning any exciting new creative project. I long ago came to accept that I can never get rid of Fear — that it follows me along wherever I go, and that it is especially provoked whenever I try to be creative. (This is because Creativity demands that we constantly enter into realms of unknown outcome, and Fear HATES realms of unknown outcome.)

So I always explain to Fear that me and Creativity are about to go on a road trip together, and that Fear is invited to come along (since it always comes along, anyway!) — but that Fear is not allowed to drive, not allowed to make decisions, not allowed to choose the songs on the radio, not allowed to select the snacks, not allowed to suggest detours. Fear is welcome in the minivan, in other words — because I do not exile any of the parts of myself along the creative journey — but Fear must sit in the back seat.”

Love you! Carry on,
xox

Waiting to give or get some unsolicited advise? You can catch my latest Huffington Post blog here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/master-of-silent-advice_b_8333632.html
I’d love it if you would like it or tweet it or leave me a comment…or some advice 😉 xox

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/a-love-letter-to-my-divorce_b_8223504.html

Hi you guys!

Many of you have asked about the interview I did Wednesday with HuffPost Live on My Love Letter To Divorce. By the way, thank you! You guys are the best! Several of you even watched it live—in the middle of the day! My husband wasn’t even able to do that! THAT is above and beyond!

If you don’t have 30 minutes to watch, (because really, who does?) Huffington Post has put a very civilized 3+ minutes at the top of the article.

Please share this with anyone who you think might benefit from it and have a great weekend!

Carry on,

xox

The whole enchilada:
http://live.huffingtonpost.com/r/segment/huffpost-divorced-by-30-blog-series-interview-/5616c59599ec6d4da7000379

I was reminded by Facebook that three years ago this week my dear friend and I attended a Peter Gabriel concert at the Hollywood Bowl. I have a love/hate relationship with that feature on Facebook, but that is fodder for another story.

When I saw the photo of the group of us I was stunned. Had it really been three years?

I looked closely at her face in the picture. She is beautiful in a patrician Grace Kelly kind of way, blonde, cool and collected. But I could see the numbness behind her eyes, and I remembered the fear in those days. It was palpable.

She had been diagnosed with cancer just a week or so before if my memory serves me, and this concert was an early birthday—cheer-up—everything’s going to be okay, present.

I started to get transported back; to the days of chemo, radiation, watching her lose her beautiful long, blonde hair. Back to the day she shaved half of her head and sent us the photo just prior to going full-blown bald. Man, we all cried…until, fuck, wouldn’t you just know it, she had the most gorgeous scalp and perfectly shaped head imaginable! She wore the wigs until the stubble grew in at which point we begged her to dye it platinum and own it. Why the hell not?

She looked like a fucking runway model. I kid you not.
People who hadn’t seen her in a while and were in the dark about her diagnosis fell over themselves marveling at her beauty. I literally saw a guy fall over his own feet staring at her.

Once she found out she wasn’t going to die, the fear subsided. She started to glow from the inside out and not from the radiation.  She glowed because she wasn’t marinating in fear anymore.

Fear is a serial killer. Remember that.

Fast forward three years: Don’t you EVER grow your hair out! we all begged—and she hasn’t.
She rocks that short white hair like a 90’s Annie Lennox, something she would have NEVER done prior to the cancer.

She has been transformed in so many ways they are too numerous to count. It’s no exaggeration to say that pretty much everything is different about her than the woman in the picture—not only different—it’s better.

 I think she walks taller in the world. She waged a battle and beat a pretty nasty foe and she’s got the scars and the swagger to prove it.

She’s a hell of a lot more authentic. She’s becoming more and more who she really is—even occasionally flying her freak-flag—Above is a picture of her this year at Burning Man, a warrior Goddess, who fulfilled a lifelong dream and in the process realized she had found her tribe.

Courage is her middle name now, not Ann or Penelope or whatever it was. I think she should legally change it.

When you go through something like that you can’t help but grow up. She’s a grown-up now.

And a magician.
When she was diagnosed she had been unemployed for a while, broke, with no prospects on the horizon.
I’ve watched her these past three years manifest perfect health, money, a great job—and then a dream job. I just met her for lunch and she’s probably the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are bright and wise—her face—serene.

That’s the thing about life you guys. If we only had a crystal ball during the shitstorms that could show us the future—our future.

That not only does everything work out, it works out better than we could have ever imagined!

I’ve always told myself,(because we all know I don’t reside in the real world too much), that after a particularly difficult time—the Universe rewards me. It showers me with magic. I’ve seen it happen over and over again and now I’m seeing it with my sweet, courageous friend.

So let this be your crystal ball. Hang on. Have faith. Be brave. Magic is on the way. I promise.

Carry on,
xox

*I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done—This is for everybody who draws a breath, who has loved and been loved; who has tried and failed…and it makes me want to cry!
xox

MANIFESTO OF THE BRAVE AND BROKENHEARTED

There is no greater threat to the critics and cynics and fearmongers Than those of us who are willing to fall Because we have learned how to rise.

With skinned knees and bruised hearts; We choose owning our stories of struggle, Over hiding, over hustling, over pretending.

When we deny our stories, they define us.

When we run from struggle, we are never free. So we turn toward truth and look it in the eye.

We will not be characters in our stories. Not villains, not victims, not even heroes.

We are the authors of our lives. We write our own daring endings.

We craft love from heartbreak, Compassion from shame, Grace from disappointment, Courage from failure.

Showing up is our power.
Story is our way home. Truth is our song. We are the brave and brokenhearted.

We are rising strong.
~Brene Brown
#RisingStrong

Brenebrown.com

I wrote about this a long time ago, but I’m going to tell it again.
Partly because there are so many new readers, and also because its come up a lot lately—and besides, it’s a fuckin’ great story.(*Also because as of tonight 9/16/15 there is another tsunami watch in the Hawaiian Islands after a large earthquake in Chile).

If you’ve heard it before, go make yourself a sandwich. And don’t give away the ending.

In the spring of 2010 I went to Hawaii with my friend Wes to get some clarity about which direction I should take my life after Atik (my store) died.

Oh who am I kidding. We went to drink Mai Tais, eat like escaped death row convicts, sit on the white sands of Waikiki Beach all day gossiping and people watching—and get massages.

All we did was laugh. Well, he laughed, I cried—then he laughed at my crying. Then I cry-laughed. It was wet and sloppy. Lots of running mascara and snot-bubbles.
You get the picture.

About mid-way through our seven-day trip I got the sense there was going to be a tsunami.
You know—like you do…
That evening when Wes met me at the bar for happy hour I voiced my concern. “I want to move to a higher room in our hotel. I think there’s going to be a tsunami and I’m not going to be safe on the second floor.”

“Did you start without me? How many drinks have you had?” he was laughing, flagging down a waiter in order to join this crazy party he figured I’d already started.
“I’m serious. You’re on the third floor, but I’m not even sure that’s high enough. Let’s look into moving.”
All I could see in my mind’s eye were those horrible videos from the tsunami in Thailand.

His eyes said: Have you lost your mind? But in order to calm my fears he immediately whipped out his phone and started to look up Hawaiian tsunami.

“The earliest on record was reported in 1813 or 1814 — and the worst occurred in Hilo in 1946, killing 173 people.” he was reading a Wikipedia page.
“So it happens kind-of-never; and I’m okay with those odds.” He raised his drink for a toast “To surviving that rarest of all disasters—the Hawaiian tsunami” We clinked glasses as he shook his head laughing at my continued squirminess.

“But if it does happen, which it could, ‘cause you’re pretty spooky that way— it will be one hell of a story”.

The first week of March the following year, 2011, our great friends, the ones who ride the world with us on motorcycles, asked if we wanted to join them at their condo in Maui. I was printing our boarding passes before I hung up the phone; you don’t have to ask me twice to drop everything and go to Hawaii.

On the beautiful drive from the airport to Lahaina, the air was warm and thick with just a hint of the fragrance of rain as we wove our way in and out of the clouds that play peek-a-boo with the sun all day on the Hawaiian Islands. With a view of the lush green mountains formed from the ever-present volcanos to the right, and the deep blue Pacific churning wildly to our left, that place really felt like Paradise Lost.

That’s when it hit me. I turned down the radio of the rental car that was blaring some five-year old, Top Forty song.
“We’re going to have a tsunami.” I announced.
It didn’t feel like if — it felt like when. A certainty.
“I think we’re more likely to have a volcanic eruption than a tsunami.” my hubby replied nonchalantly, turning the radio volume back up.

Damn I love my husband. He cohabitates with all the voices in my head without batting an eye. Most men would run for the hills.
He just stays rational. A volcanic eruption in the Hawaiian Islands is…the rational supposition.
God love him.

I had never mentioned my premonition from the trip the previous year—too odd; but I let loose for the remainder of the drive, wondering aloud about what floor their condo was on and worrying if it would it be high enough. Neither of us had any idea and I for one breathed a sigh of relief when the answer came via text. The sixth floor. Their condo was on the sixth floor, overlooking the pool, facing the ocean.

We spent the next week eating and drinking amazing food and wine, snorkeling, swimming, driving around, and whale watching. As a matter of fact the ocean outside of our resort was a veritable whale soup.

There is a passage between Maui, Lanai, and Molokai (both which we could see in the distance), that the whales like to use instead of the open ocean, and we could see them breeching from our balcony. They were present in high numbers and especially active. It was extraordinary. The guys on the whale watching boats agreed with our friends—they’d never seen a year like that one.

Two days before our departure, on the eleventh, it all seemed to come to a screeching halt.

The ocean was as passive as a lake. I hiked down the beach to a cove that was supposed to be like “swimming in a tropical fish tank”—nothing. Literally no fish. People kept remarking how odd it seemed. The guys on the whale watching catamarans were perplexed. Suddenly,no whales.

That night after my shower I turned on the TV in our room for the first time the entire trip. I’m still not sure why.
We made dinner in that night and I was just the right amount of sunburned, buzzed, full and sleepy.
As I got dressed and dried my hair I casually flipped around the channels. American Idol, Baywatch re-runs, CNN. Then I saw it.

The bright red BREAKING NEWS banner at the bottom of the screen: Japanese Earthquake and Tsunami.

I screamed something incoherent as I ran out into the family room, half-dressed, knocking things over, becoming hysterical.
“You guys, Turn on the TV! Oh my God! Turn on the TV!” I grabbed the remote, but it looked like something that powers the International Space Station, so I threw it toward my husband.

“Oh, I don’t want to watch TV…” I heard someone say, but Raphael could tell something was wrong. He said later it felt like 911 when everyone was calling and the only thing they could manage to say was: turn on the TV!

“CNN. Find CNN!” I was so freaked out I could barely speak.

When the images came up on that big screen HD TV they were even more terrifying.
It was a helicopter shot, high above the coastline of a small city. There was a wave with a white cap as far as the eye could see. it looked like it spanned almost the entire coastline and it was headed straight for cars, boats, houses…and people.

Now we were all transfixed. Silently glued to the screen with the frantic sounding Japanese commentary running in the background. This was all happening LIVE.

The CNN anchor sounded reassuring, telling us that Japan had one of the most advanced tsunami warning systems on the planet. Sirens had started sounding a few minutes after the large off-shore earthquake, warning the population to make their way to their pre-determined evacuation points on higher ground.

We watched in horror as churning brown water began rushing onshore with a ferocity that was nauseatingly familiar.
It just kept coming and coming. Undeterred by the breakwater…and the thirty foot wall they had built to withstand a tsunami.

“God, I hope they had enough time” I whispered.

Suddenly the CNN picture was minimized as the anchor’s face for the local Maui station took up the entire rest of the screen.
“Good evening”, he read off the cue card, “The entire Hawaiian Islands have been placed on tsunami watch due to the large earthquake off the coast of northern Japan. We will keep you posted as scientists get the readings off of the tsunami buoys that dot the span of the Pacific Ocean from the coast of Japan to the west coast of North America. If it looks like a tsunami is coming our way, the watch will turn into a warning.” He swallowed awkwardly, “Stay with us for further instructions.”

The screen was again filled with the escalating destruction in Japan.

I started to shake uncontrollably, my eyes filling with tears.

I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye. It got my attention and when I looked his way his face looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
With the remote still in his hand, my husband turned toward me slowly, deliberately.
His mouth dropped open, his eyes were full of…questions.

Then with no sound; his eyes locked on mine; he mouthed my prophesy from earlier that week: We’re going to have a tsunami.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

The shrill wailing of the Disaster Alert Siren brought us both back to reality.
It was official—the tsunami was imminent.

To Be Continued…

IMG_0910 (watch this)

CONTEMPT IS CONTAGIOUS

The only emotion that spreads more reliably is panic.

Contempt is caused by fear and by shame and it looks like disgust. It’s very hard to recover once you receive contempt from someone else, and often, our response is to dump it on someone else.

If you want to be respected by your customers/peers/partners/competitors/constituents, the best way is to begin by respecting them and the opportunity they are giving you.

And the best way to avoid contempt is to look for your fear.

Seth Godin

This is from Seth Godin’s blog and the title resonated…deep. Contempt is contagious.

Have you ever had someone look at you this way? I have; although at the time I wasn’t altogether sure, so I mistook the first few times as indigestion or constipation. Eventually it became clear. Yep—it was contempt alright.

You know why? They could smell my fear with its side of shame.

Fear. Shame. Contempt= The Shitstorm Trifecta.

If you’re in it, you know it—you can smell it.

Right now! Quick! Are you the dumper?—Or the dumpee?

I’ve been both and I can guarantee you—either way, it sucks.

Looking for the fix? What’s the alternative?

Expose your fear; shine a light on the shame; brush yourself off; gather your wits; show some SELF  RESPECT FIRST and keep moving forward.

It’ll be all right.  You can take it from me, a “Silkwood Shower” and some Visine works wonders to wash away contempt.

I’d love to hear YOUR thoughts.

Carry on,
xox

Who out there is experiencing a high level of stress these days? Show of hands? Yeah, I thought so.

Well, you’re not alone. I had three—count ‘um—three Level-Five (Level Five being, there aren’t enough mantras, pharmaceuticals or fucks-to-give that can remedy this shitstorm)—stressful situations to handle before noon today.

That was AFTER I talked my husband down off the ledge.

So I feel you. I know what you’re going through, and I have one piece of advice. (Which I had to remind myself of every ten minutes).

Me: Mother of god, my mind is racing and it’s driving me nuts!

Better Part of Me: Stop and listen to it. That dialogue, diatribe, or sorry-ass monologue that the devil wrote and is repeating on an endless loop in your head right now? Ask yourself this:
Is it helping you—or hurting you?

Me: Shit. Thanks. I almost forgot.

Better Part of Me: Is it calling you names and telling you how much you fucked up?

Is it kicking you while you’re down?

Is it making shit up? Terrible; awful; life-or-death shit?

Is it making this problem seem like it’s the worst thing that’s happened in the history of the world; or since Donald Trump decided to run for President?

Then it’s NOT helping you and you need to tell it to “SHUT THE HELL UP!”

That voice is the voice of your childish, fear-filled mind. And it has NO IDEA what it’s talking about!

Would you take advice from a scared child? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Take a walk.
Take a nap.
Take a drive.
Play some music.
Pet your cat.
Read a book.
Meditate.

Do anything you can to change the station. You will never find the solution inside the energy of the problem.

After a while the little brat will get tired; and then I’ll take out my earplugs and finally be able to get a word in edgewise.

That’s when the good ideas will come.

That’s when you find the missing piece to the puzzle.

That’s when you’ll be able to take a deep breath (I know this, and I still walked around blue, holding my breath for an hour).

That’s when you see the light.

That’s when you find forgiveness.

That is when you realize that you’re on a tiny blue planet, spinning in an insignificant part of the galaxy—and none of this shit really matters anyway.

Me: Whew! What a relief!

Carry on,
xox

Photo by Roberto Melotti
http://www.robertomelotti.net

* This was a poem I wrote last summer when everyone and everything was going to shit—Hey, wait a minute, that feels a lot like this summer! WTF?
Take a look, know that we’re all in the same leaky, stinky boat together, and that This Too Shall Pass.
Change is a constant, remember that.
Now go have yourselves a crazy-ass weekend!
xox

There side by side they stand,
Faith and Hope, on the other side of Fear.
Beckoning me to come toward THEM.
Back MY way they won’t come, that’s clear.

I scream prayers but they don’t listen,
I yell and don’t make sense.
This new way has not been christened,
I weigh my options, I straddle the fence.

Insisting I take a step forward,
reassuring me, guiding me home.
They never waver, they won’t judge me,
no matter how off course I roam.

“Don’t you dare suggest forgiveness,
when my heart is broke in two!
Never talk of “new tomorrows”.
Look through MY eyes and see THAT view!”

But come with me they wouldn’t,
down my dark and twisted trail.
They explained they really couldn’t,
if I wanted healing to prevail.

“You can only catch a glimpse of us,
there inside your angst.
To really see us, drop defenses, mend those fences,
practice gratitude – then give thanks.”

“For inside every dilemma,
every horror known to man,
lies a nugget of redemption,
You’ll find it, we know you can!”

Faith and Hope stood side by side,
at the end of that dark trail.
They had walked a ways ahead of me,
THEY had done it first – so I couldn’t fail.

Hang in there loves,
xox

What in the hell was going on? I had unwittingly been given a front-row seat to a disaster that I’d known was going to happen for a year!

Why the hell was I in Hawaii again? What was my part in this tragedy?

I never wanted to be someone who predicts disasters. Seriously Universe? Give me another job. Anything.
Something else. Something not so fucking scary.

Be careful what you wish for. Now I talk to dead people. But not the scary ones. Funny ones. The bossy but kind ones.
Thank God (Scott) for small favors.

Anyway, the local anchor came back onscreen to inform us that one of the deep ocean buoys had registered a tsunami fifteen feet high and getting larger, with a velocity of over five hundred miles per hour, headed directly toward the Hawaiian Islands.

It would get to us in five hours.
3 a.m.
Of course it was coming in the middle of the night! Fucking three a.m!
The witching hour. The time when nothing good ever happens. Oh, and by-the-way, dark water is one of my biggest fears.
I was petrified.

Ginger was feeling sick and went bed. The guys opened another bottle of wine and started playing cards, remaining lighthearted, partying while waiting for the inevitable.

I went back to our room, shivering with anxiety under the blankets, glued to the TV while the disaster siren wailed in the background.

Right around midnight they got the second buoy reading. The wave was larger and picking up speed as it headed our way.

Suddenly the intercom came on inside the condo. Nobody even knew there was an intercom connected to the main resort which was run by Marriott.

A voice cleared it’s throat.

An extremely nervous young man’s voice, shaky, cracking and squeaking, blared loudly throughout the condo. Haltingly, he instructing everyone in units below the fifth floor to evacuate to the roof. “Bring blankets…pillows…water and, um, your shoes, it’s going to be a long night”. His anxiety was palpable.

Uh, okay Voice of Authority.
Didn’t they have anyone available with a more mature tone? Something deep and fatherly? A voice that could console us and instill calm.
This kid’s voice and delivery were comical to me. In my imagination he was the pimply faced nephew of the lady who fed the stray cats behind the parking garage. One minute he was doing his calculus homework, the next, he was behind a microphone, advising hundreds of tourists during an impending disaster. He was the only one that was expendable in an emergency. Everyone important had a task.
Holy crap, he was the best they had.

Thank God something was funny.

One of trembly, squeaky, scared guy’s announcements advised us all to fill our bathtubs in order to have plenty of drinking water in case the sanitation plant was wiped out.

Intermittently he’d come back on with further instructions,”Anyone with a vehicle in the lower garages, please move them to higher ground behind the main hotel.” he advised, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears.

Not long afterwards I heard voices, car keys, and the front door slam as the guys went to move our cars.

In the dark from our balcony, I watched the groundskeepers running around like headless chickens rushing to clear the sand and pool surround of hundreds chairs. Then they emptied the rental hut with its kayaks, snorkels and fins, inner tubes and dozens of surf and boogie boards.

If you watch the Thailand tsunami videos it is those seemingly innocuous beach toys that become deadly projectiles in fast-moving water. You may not immediately drown, but a surf board or a beach chair coming at you at hundreds of miles an hour will kill you for sure.

It was too much. The destruction in Japan was too much for me to handle.
I watched multi-story buildings get washed away like they were kids toys. We were so close to the water. Could our building withstand the rush of the initial wave? How high up would the water come?
The third floor, the fourth—or higher? What was going to happen?

I turned off the TV, the room was dark and quiet and instantly I felt a drop in my anxiety level. You can get sucked into the endless loop of death and destruction—its like a drug.

I unhooked the CNN IV, grabbed my phone, inserted my ear buds, pulled up a meditation, and started to calm my nervous system down. Slow…deep…breathing. In…and out… after a few minutes I could feel my shoulders drop and my face relax. I’d been unconsciously clenching my jaw for hours.

My mind started to unwind. The siren went way, fading into the distance, the boy’s terrified voice becoming a muffled form of white noise.
I actually relaxed into a half sleep state. Aware of my surroundings, but extremely relaxed.

The meditations came to an end. Silence. I was still okay.
No longer spinning in fear. No longer afraid.
“What’s going to happen, how bad will this be?” I asked no one in particular.
Just a question I needed answered.

Here’s where the magic happened.

A very loving, clear and calm voice answered back:
What do you want to happen? How bad do you want it to be?

What? I get a vote? This answer left me flabbergasted. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this felt extraordinary.

Somehow, instinctively I knew that I couldn’t say make the tsunami go away—there are some things we are powerless to change.
What I could change was MY experience of it. What did I want to happen to me, to us?

Script it the voice said, and that has changed my life.

Okay…I said in my head, remembering the videos from Thailand, you can come up to the palm trees that line our pool area and define the boundary between the beach and our resort. That’s it. To the palm trees only, not into the pool and not into our resort.

No further conversation was needed. No idle chit-chat, no more Q & A.

I fell asleep. A deep sleep rich with meaningful dreams that I can’t remember
Inside one, a muffled voice that felt like it was underwater warned: Stay away from the ocean, Do NOT get near the water, We are on lockdown, stay inside your rooms.

It must be happening crossed my mind, but I was too deep to care.

Only as far as the palm trees…up to the palm trees…

When I finally opened my eyes I could see daylight. Raphael was asleep next to me and I could smell coffee.
Obviously the tsunami had come and gone—and everything seemed…normal.

These are pictures of the waterline the tsunami left behind. It is still waaaaay up the beach at this point, about three hours after it came ashore. It surged forty feet UP the beach, over dry sand, and stopped right at the palm trees that line the pool, and our resort.

Script it. Imagine it. Feel it. Ask for it. Relax.

That proved to me, without a doubt, that we can script our circumstances. There are things we can’t control, but there are so many that we can.

Get calm, and set boundaries. How bad/good do you want it to be? What do you want to happen?

We have control over our immediate circumstances.
Script it.

This changed my life–I hope it changes yours.

Carry on,
xox

IMG_0914 (check it out)