gratitude

I don’t appreciate being pigeonholed, and I try not to do it to others, but honestly, as we all live and breathe, and the sun sets in the west, I’m an extrovert – right?

Ha! Not so fast.

I took a test back at one of those kookie workshops in the eighties, where the air was scented with sandalwood and body odor, and the leader was a fellow with grey dreadlocks and colored striped gaucho pants. Short Circus pants, really.

Since said test was administered toward the end of a loooooong day of chanting, drinking only carrot juice and nibbling on cacao covered coffee beans ( you can’t make this shit up, it was said to improve our “stamina”).
We were on a twenty-four hour, soul-searching quest to discover our true selves, using each other as mirrors, so I’m pretty sure all twenty people would have pegged me as an extrovert.

I can be a bossy pants, especially back then, when I was living my life as the Divine Masculine.

But the results of the test proved what I kinda suspected.

I’m a chatty, sensitive, loner, spotlight stealing, amalgamation of the two.

An Ambivert (which I thought he was making up, just like the validity of the cuisine he served; but it’s a real term).

Here are a few questions that can help you determine if you’re and introvert or extrovert:

Where do you gain or lose energy? (Crowds suck the life force right out of my husband. Me? Not so much.)

Introverts are drained by people and need alone time to recharge. (Only if I’m around the energy vampires)

Extroverts are drained by too much time alone. They need human interaction to recharge. (Ding, ding, ding, BINGO)

A smidgen of both? Welcome to the club.

See that beautifully enlightening graphic above?

It’s another one of those things that should be hanging in every schoolroom, outside every therapist’s office, in the bathrooms at Starbucks and taped to the front door of every party we attend.

Don’t you agree?

That’s just some common sense, good thinking…but I hadn’t thought of few of them.

Here are a couple corrected misconceptions:

Introverts aren’t just shy. They’re introverts. It’s about energy.

Extroverts aren’t necessarily the best sales people, as is often thought, they can be terrible listeners.

Give this some careful consideration. Maybe, in your haste to judgement, you mis categorized those close to you, and maybe even yourself. I know I did.

Let’s all take a moment of silence, and send some juicy gratitude to Gaucho Clown Pants Guy.

OMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I love when you comment! Let me know. Are you an introvert, extrovert or Ambivert? Did you learn something from that graphic? I did!

With love, whispered from the rooftops,

Xox

*Another unsuspecting victim. Sorry Hillary. Happy Sunday!

“I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, ‘cause I might not make it back
I been everywhere, and I’m standing tall
I’ve seen a million faces an I’ve rocked them all

I’m a cowboy on a steel horse I ride
I’m wanted dead or alive
I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side
I’m wanted dead or alive

And I ride, dead or alive
I still drive, dead or alive

Dead or alive

Dead or alive”

(From the song Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi /Songwriters Jon Bon Jovi, Richard Sambora. Published by Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC)

Call me crazy, but it seldom, if ever, occurs to me that I could die on the back of our motorcycle.

Jon Bon Jovi wailed into my ears while the sexy, steel string guitar licks washed over me as I hunkered down into my husband’s back, attempting to escape the fire hose strength deluge that had just broken loose from the sky.

That song is always in heavy rotation on the endless loop of music that occupies my mind on these long rides. It’s our anthem. A clarion call from the open road.

I usually murder it, loudly sharing the harmonies with Richie Sambora. “Waaaahhhh teddddd” …but not that day.

The rain came at us in sheets, slicing gray from every direction.
Somehow, it was finding its way UNDER my helmet, making it nearly impossible for me to see a thing. Racing down the two-lane highway in northern Montana at 60 miles an hour wasn’t helping.

The storm had left us no choice.
We were half way through another three hundred mile day of a 4500-mile loop.

LA to Glacier Park and back.

That day we were trying to make it through the Blackfeet Indian Reservation to St Mary’s at the base of Glacier Park. About as far north you can go and still remain inside the US.

The rain had stayed away… so far, which is why we take our longer rides in September; the weather tends to be reliable. Little did we know that this was an early start to one of the wettest, snowiest, coldest winters on record. The “Polar Vortex” winter of 2013.

I heard the weather warnings on my way back to the bathroom at the rickety little joint where we had stopped for lunch. They crackled from the ancient portable radio that wore a coat hanger as a hat and was sitting on a chair in the bar. That sinister weather alert tone followed by the robotic voice that droned on and on, full of dire predictions.

Our guys got out the maps and basically informed us that we had no choice but we still took a vote—we’re democratic that way.

The vote said GO but go NOW!

The storm had used the morning to turn into a motherfucker.
Barreling across the plains, the ominous, dark, ground level clouds and distant thunder felt like a herd of stampeding black horses rolling in behind us, giving chase.

“It’s all the same, only the names have changed…”

In my imagination, as we rode the eight to twelve hours each day, WE were part of that wild herd.

A couple straddling the back of a wild stallion.

Cherokee, Apache, Navaho, Sioux, it didn’t matter. We were feral; mad with love and wanderlust, wildly riding the Great Plains bareback, looking for the next great adventure. Our deep brown skin glistening in the sun, our long black hair whipping in the hot Montana wind. That was the spirit of who we were then….and who we are now.

“I’m a cowboy on a steel horse I ride.”

The four of us were determined to outrun it. We were convinced we could.

I’m tellin’ ya, we’re badass.

Have I mentioned yet that I’m riding on the back of my husbands BMW 1200GS Adventurer, and we are accompanied by our trusty fellow riding couple, JT and Ginger? After meeting them in Spain in 2005, we have ridden the world with them.

I’ve been writing this blog since November 2012. Almost two years.
Up until this past September, it was NOT in my own voice.
I was too timid to come out of the shadows. A spiritual coward (my own label).
It was your run of the mill, generic, spiritual wisdom.
No humor. No personal stories and definitely NO F-bombs.

I know VERY few of you were readers back then. I know that because I had 23 followers, all friends, and family who were kind enough to hit follow after I sent them the I have a blog email.

Back to Montana and that freaking storm.

I wrote what happened next in Total Loss of Control (it’s in the archives).
We narrowly escaped being killed by a passing truck.

“Dead or alive”

But this post isn’t about that, it’s about what happened afterward.

Something did die that day. The part of me that wanted to remain in hiding.

When I checked in with the Muse that night to write the blog, I suggested like an idiot, that she might want to write about the harrowing experience of earlier that day.
You know, find the message in the mess. Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Hey, you should really write about me almost dying today, that was pretty intense.

Muse: You write about it.

Me: Well, I don’t really write this stuff in my own voice. I just kind of download the wisdom and give it my best shot…but I think there could be some really good shit in that story.

Muse: It didn’t happen to me. I happened to YOU. YOU write about it.
How you felt, your thought process...

Me: Uh…yeah, here’s the thing..I don’t write.

Muse: Don’t interrupt me.

Me: Sorry.

And that’s when I started writing in my own voice, with my own personal stories and my “take” on things.
I even apologized in the first few posts.
“Oh hi, sorry, it’s just me here again”

Lame.
Timid.
Living small.
As far from courageous as you can get.
Shirking all responsibility.
Impersonal.
Total lack of vulnerability.

“I play for keeps, ‘cause I might not make it back
I been everywhere, and I’m standing tall
I’ve seen a million faces an I’ve rocked them all”

I can’t see your faces….but I know you’re there. I can feel you.
There’s so many of you now, and if I look at the analytics, you all started to read from September to today. When I started to write.

Changed my life.

Thank you. You keep me pure and true and courageous.

Much love and appreciation,
Xox

Several of you have been lamenting lately about the fact that you’re having trouble finding gratitude these days. You’ve looked over every rainbow and things still look like shit.

Does that happen to me? Um…..hell yah.

There are days when saying “I got up on the wrong side of the bed” is a colossal understatement. They can happen in succession, which then becomes known as “The Week From Hell” to myself and anyone who breaths my air.

I am to be avoided at all costs.

On those days, I can ONLY tell the cold, hard truth, and if “you can’t handle the truth,” as Jack Nicholson so famously snelled (which is a sneer and a yell) to Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men, don’t call me or come over. Don’t ask me if your butt looks big in those jeans, if your bangs are too short or if I like your new boyfriend.

Really. I won’t be kind.

On those days the “truth” as I see it is tragically skewed.

All my eyes can register are the flaws and fuck ups in life.
Not the big heavy, real stuff. Those things are glaringly evident.
I’m talking about finding fault with the little shit, and the way those things can pile up and send you over the edge.

We’ve ALL had those days.

A beautiful table, but I can only see the tiny scratch.
My husband comes out in a new shirt he loves; I zero in on a loose thread and a possible stain.
My hair is too soft. (What?)
Why isn’t it hotter/colder?
Why are they always out of my favorite _________?
The garden looks okay, but why aren’t there more roses? There are usually more roses this time of year.
And on and on and on.

Yep, I do that.

Those are the days when I have to literally force myself to practice gratitude.

I do practice gratitude on a pretty regular basis. I teach it after all. I send a daily gratitude text to friends and I write a list, because I know I have a ton to be grateful for.

But…..some days. I have appreciation for nuthin‘.

So a month or so ago, I remembered an old exercise that I used to use, and I thought I’d start again, so that the next time I felt I was grappling with gratitude, I could stop and be reminded. Sometimes I just need a physical anchor to my practice, otherwise it gets too airy fairy and I won’t do it.

It’s simple and easy, and it works.

Here goes:
Get a stone or rock. Something you’ve collected or something from around your environment. It can even be a crystal or your Maya heart stone (wink).
The point is, it has to feel good in your hand.

Kept it next to your bed, and before you go to sleep, think back to the BEST thing that happened to you that day. Hold the stone while you replay how good that experience felt.
Wallow in it.

Then say Thank You to this thing for making your day.
Really say it all the way from your big toe.
Three times usually does it for me.

If things are going well in your life, you’ll know exactly which thing to dwell on. There may even be a few. (Lucky you).
But when you have to rack your brain……..Awww man, I feel ya, it sucks, but this is an important exercise to give you some impetus toward the turn around.

I know it’s hard when you’re not in a good place, so it can be stuff like:
The sweet relief of getting off work.
You got your period.
Realizing you had fifteen more minutes to sleep.
The cleaners was still open when you got there.
Your boss is on vacation.
There was an extra roll of toilet paper in the cabinet.
They got your lunch order right.
Your car started.
Your coffee was hot and how you like it. (Along with that, the barista actually wrote YOUR NAME not some bastardization of it on the cup.) I’ve been Hammit, Jammit, Jnae? , Jane T. , Jana, the list goes on. Some funny, some not so much.

You get the gist.

Feel the gratitude for the mundane things that DO go right.
Get your bearings.
Give up your quest for the flaws.
Search for the BEST thing.
Anchor how good that feels onto that stone.

The energy of gratitude feeds on itself. It will give you more and more things to be thankful for. It’s really crazy how magical it is.

But some days you’ll need the stone staring at you on the nightstand to remind you, and you’ll have a tinge of gratitude for me ( wink, wink).

Then go to sleep knowing you’ll have a better tomorrow.

Sending love,
Xox

*Nope, that’s not an anaconda, that’s just a small portion of the root ball that came out of the drain….damn.

We’ve had a drain blockage in the backyard for…….ever.

It worked like a charm for the first seven years and then these last three years it’s been slowwwwwwwwing down, until this past month, when I did my spring power wash,(which I love to do, BTW, I love instant gratification!) the water never drained.
It just collected and sat there like a little lagoon.
It created its own Eco-system. Wildlife started to gather at dusk and dawn.

Never one to put the kabosh on the yard self-landscaping, ( it often has better ideas that any of us), a lagoon so close to the bar-b-que was less than desirable.
And we needed a functioning drain on the patio.

At the same time the guys were working on clearing and re-routing the drain today, the cable guy showed up.

It was a miracle of sorts, because the wait time window was reasonable, (11-12) and he actually showed up inside that window.

Our cable signal gets wonky every year and a half or so, because the squirrels decide to chew, floss and jump rope with our Time Warner cable line.
So up the pole the cable guy goes, to splice and dice the line, and leave a cease and desist notice for the squirrels.

The astrology lately has been about re-visiting blockages and seeking clarity.

I know it to be true, because Tosha Silver says it’s so, along with a thousand others.

So….(wiping hands together) done, and done!

We killed two birds with one stone today.
Well, it may have been two stones, and no birds died today, although I did have my eye on some squirrels…..but you get the picture.

We cleared the signal AND the blockage.

As above; so below.

Metaphorically speaking; I feel SO much better.

*I must admit; I do miss the lagoon.

Have you recently cleared something up that’s been blocked? Have you noticed a difference in how you feel?
I’d LOVE to hear about it.

Xox

Intimacy
I invite you to read the word “intimacy” as “into-me-see.” We create intimacy with others when we allow ourselves to be seen.
~Christine Hassler~

Who sees you clearer than your friends?
Not the acquaintance at the office, or the barista who makes your coffee every morning.
No.
Your REAL friends. The ones that you can’t even remember not knowing.
The ones that GET you. I mean get you, in the deepest, most soul stirring, tear jerking way.
They know every hair style you’ve ever had, and they told you you rocked it.
But, they wouldn’t let you leave the house in those God awful green pants.
They are brave enough to tell you he’s not good enough for you, and almost more thrilled than you are, when you find someone who is.
You’ve had dinners where you’ve talked until the candles burned down, and New Years Eve’s that were hilarious disasters and days on vacation that were magical. Those experiences are etched with a permanent groove in your brain and make you weepy when you replay them.

Intimacy is the capacity to be rather weird with someone – and finding that that’s ok with them.
~anonymous~

They are on your speed dial (now speed text) for those three in the morning, pillow punching, holy shit, “will you just talk to me until I fall asleep” nights.
You’ve shared clothes, bathing suits, a toothbrush in a pinch, recipes, even candid details of the fight you had with your mom on her birthday, or the bad sex you had with that someone who you thought was “the one.”
You hold hands at funerals, weddings, baby showers and the Sunday farmers market.
When they lost the baby, you were there, to hold their hand. When they had the baby, you were in the room, to hold their legs.
When you’re an ass, they feed you, because they know how you get when you’re hungry.
When they hurt, you hurt.
When you laugh, they laugh louder, and longer, which makes wine come out your nose.

In-to-me-see is earned.
It is doled out judiciously. We are not transparent to the casual observer. Not to the blabber mouth or the revealer of secrets.
This kind of friendship, this kind of bond feels ancient and epic, almost older than time.
We carry it wherever we go, even into death.

Cherish these people. Hold them close to your heart, no matter how far away they may be. They’ll feel it. Then consider yourselves lucky to be accepted and loved that way.

Xox

The Lost Art of Humility

I saw an interview recently of a young, huge hit maker, music industry mega star. I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. For the sake of this post I will call that malady: menopause brain. It is similar to pregnancy brain, or so I’m told. I used to have total recall, but since 50 that has gone the way of perky boobs and flat abs.

Here’s a funny or sad story, you decide. I was talking to a friend the other day, on my cell phone, while rifling frantically through my purse, looking for my cell phone. I told her I had to hang up and try to find my phone, so could she please call it so I see if I could hear it ring? There was just silence on the other end. I’m sure she was dialing 911 on her land line. When I realized what was happening, I laughed so hard I almost pee’d my pants. Ugh… I’m turning into my mother.

Anyway….this young guy displayed a trait you don’t see much of these days in the mega famous. Humility. It was so refreshing, it was like a glass of ice water in hell.
He was asked how he felt about all his success, and he said: I would not be here if it weren’t for the people around me.

What?!

The interviewer pressed on: Well, what about this great thing, or that great hit? That’s just talent, right?
The very humble star continued: I had a music teacher in middle school that saw something in me, if he hadn’t, who knows where I’d be. I wasn’t good in school, I would have fallen through the cracks.
I had a mom that believed I was special. If she hadn’t, I might still be back in Virginia, doing who knows what.
I had a mentor, a producer that took a chance on my first CD. It wasn’t successful, but it allowed me to learn. If I hadn’t had that experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Those people changed the trajectory of his life and he is forever grateful.
I fucking love that.
There are too many stars, too many successful people, that buy into their own hype. They start to forget how things began, how they evolved, and all the people and the steps it took to get to the top.
They have no desire to pay it forward. They pay tribute to no one. They are legends in their own minds, because everyone tells them they are. They are surrounded by “yes” men and women who are all on the payroll.
They can’t find the time to mentor; they’re too busy looking in the mirror.

We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
I’ll take it a step further. We are all CONNECTED.
As one person is raised up, we are all raised up.
Come on people, let’s all remember to look back and lend a hand.
To pay tribute to those that saw our potential, even when we couldn’t.
To affirm humility above bravado.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bravado when it’s earned, but for God’s sake, if you had a mentor; and you probably did; mentor someone in whom you see potential.
Pay it forward.

Success is tenuous and delicate. Don’t take it for granted.
I’ll say it again. We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
You know who they are. They give you the support, the confidence, the love, the big breaks. Give them some props man.

I had a music teacher, Ed Archer, who saw vocal potential. I had a sixth grade nun, Sister Mary Gabrielle, who instilled the love of learning and books. My mom said I could do anything, she was my mom so I believed her. My husband thinks I’m funny. He’s French and they think Jerry Lewis and the Three Stooges are funny and I don’t; but I’ll include him anyway. These are the ones that immediately come to mind, I know there are more. Stay tuned…

Tell me whatcha think. Who changed the trajectory of your life?
Who has been your biggest champion, believer, mentor?
Who saw/sees your potential?
I’d love to hear from you!

XoxJanet

I love our Wednesday Women’s group. We get together after a long day, notebooks in hand, and settle into our sacred circle with the intention to transform our lives. We let loose the habits shaped from our pasts, divulge an occasional secret dream, and bask in the fertile conversations of our lives reimagined. Even though Saturday put up a good fight, Wednesday is now my favorite night of the week.

This week we discussed gratitude. I LOVE me some Gratitude, and its sister, Appreciation. I truly believe they are the stepping-stones to a happier existence. I’ve witnessed how they can literally transform a life.

That being said, when terrible things happen in life, and they do; the losses, the failures, the disappointments and the heartbreaks. You do yourself a disservice by immediately slapping a happy face bandage over the feelings.

Back in the day at the start of the “New Age” movement, it was taught that everything could be solved with a positive affirmation and a side of gratitude.
“Be grateful that your life is in shambles, you’ll be a better person. Now say this affirmation: When shit rains down on me, I will smile and grab an umbrella”.

So, that’s what a lot of us did.

I did.

I was the poster child for laughing through tears. I had notes with positive affirmations stuck all over my house. I had them written in lipstick on my bathroom mirror.

I firmly believed that I could “positive think” my way out of every sad, sucky situation. But there was no feeling behind my gratitude, it was all lip service. I was hurting and the last thing I held in my heart at that moment was appreciation for the situation. I could have tattooed an affirmation on my forehead, that still wouldn’t have made it so.

When you know this stuff as well as I do, you think you should implement all the teachings you have in your back pocket to navigate your pain. All you do is delay it. Pain, anger, grief and the rest of the crew HAVE TO BE FELT in order to dissipate.

Then, and only then, can the gratitude flood in and fill the void.
But not one minute before.

Oh shit.
I messed that up for over thirty-five years.

I’ve had “delayed reaction syndrome” regarding my darker emotions. Sadness hits me months later. I can throw a dinner party with balloons and sing with the band minutes after terrible news.

I’m THAT girl.

I misunderstood the directive: This too shall pass.
I never let it pass me, I ran faster, in my endless race of avoidance.

I used to feel guilty for feeling sad and wanting to cry all day. I thought I should be able to rise above it. I would gear up with my pad of Post Its and search for the silver lining every time life took a terrible turn. But often that lining is buried deep under multiple layers of anger, pain and resentment. You have to really get in there and mine for it. Otherwise, a positive affirmation scab can form, and everything just festers underneath.

It’s not pretty, I don’t recommend it.

I do believe you can “Fake it, till you make it” which is affirming a behavior as you learn it, but not until the underlying issues are resolved.
Oh yeah….that.

I hold such deep admiration for those cultures where it’s accepted to wail with grief. Men AND women, what a relief that must be. They just give into it, and let all that emotion out. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Seems so much healthier.

I’m always afraid the sadness will be so deep it will swallow me whole, and my wailing will never cease. Dogs will continue to hear it for weeks and pray for sweet relief.

So this is my cautionary tale of not reaching for gratitude too soon.

We discussed this at length on Wednesday, because we are all about transition through transformation. We all agreed that we would not cheerlead someone out of their pain. Myself included, because I am the biggest offender. We would hold the place for them to feel through the layers until the onion is peeled.
We won’t let them wallow either. Tightrope walking, I know. But so do-able in this group, and for that I am TRULY grateful.

Are you someone who can process your emotions in real-time, or are you more like me with “delayed reaction syndrome”. Let me know in the comments below.

XoxJanet

Have you ever given that much thought?
The fact that we’re trying to maintain our balance on a planet made mostly of liquid, that is spinning at 1000 mph? Then imagine that big wet blue ball hurdling through space at 67,000 mph.
No wonder I fall down so much. Just thinking about it makes me wanna hurl.

I know science says it all has to do with centrifugal force and gravity and stuff.
But I think it’s a miracle.
This Goldilocks habitat, in the middle of a vacuum. How did I get so lucky?
When I contemplate all the places, all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the worlds, where I could have ended up. I must have drawn the long straw, because I could have been born as a gnat on the ass of a Wookie.

It’s my belief that we volunteered to come here at this time in Earth’s history.
We waited in line. We knew things wouldn’t be easy. But we knew they wouldn’t be boring either. It would be a time of great change, and we knew we could make a difference. It would be a challenge to fit all of our magnificence into a body. It’s uncomfortably tight at times. Like squeezing into two sizes too small skinny jeans.
And those emotions! How the hell do they work?
They looked really fun from an outsider’s perspective.

But the beauty. My God, the beauty.
Purple mountains majesty, trees of green and sky’s of blue.
I’m in awe whenever I see an elephant or a whale, or a wild wolf. Watching hummingbirds in my backyard or starlings flying in formation.
The smell of cut grass, and orange blossoms and puppies.
Those are just a few of the things that help me maintain my balance here.

I KNOW we all came in with a purpose. God, or whomever, does not make extra people. That’s not the way the Universe works.
No one and no thing is superfluous. And all life is connected.
Remember that the next time you’re feeling lonely, unsettled and out of balance.

Then open your eyes and look around. Take a deep breath and realize how freakin’ lucky you are. How lucky we ALL are.
Then get to work, you with your mad skills.

XoxJanet

I like the word appreciation over gratitude.
It’s cleaner,
It’s clearer,
It feels better to me.

Gratitude can still have the energy of overcoming something attached to it.
“God! I’m so grateful THAT is over”!

Thankfulness can carry a similar energy to gratitude.
“I’m so thankful to be done with THAT”!

Don’t get me wrong, reaching for gratitude and thankfulness,
can pull you up and out of the sticky tar of hate, fear and anxiety.
But I have found that through the years, as my gratitude journals
evolved, I could read back and feel in those words of gratitude, 
the wounds that had not healed, 
the fear that I was trying to banish.

It felt like gratitude and thankfulness were part of the healing
process, part of the energy working to sooth me.

Appreciation feels like the finish line.
It feels like the wind is at my back, the past is far behind me, and
I am reaching that line, having stopped to heal along the way with:
1) forgiveness
2 gratitude
3 thankfulness.

So…currently the clean air of appreciation stands waiting for me at the finish 
line, with a towel and some Gatorade.

Try it and see if you can feel the difference.
XoxJanet

Good morning God,

Please deliver me 

FROM CHAOS TO CALM
FROM ANGST TO ACTION
FROM UNFOCUSED TO UNSTOPPABLE

Thank you,
And keep up the good work.