guidance

“You’ve arrived
It’s easy to fall in love with the GPS version of the universe.

There, just ahead, after that curve. Drive a little further, your destination is almost here.
Done. You’ve arrived.

Of course, that’s not how it works. Not our careers, not our relationships, not our lives.

You’ve always arrived. You’ve never arrived.

Wherever you go, there you are. You’re never going to arrive because you’re already there.

There’s no division between the painful going and the joyous arriving. If we let it, the going can be the joyful part.

It turns out that arrival isn’t the point, it can’t be—because we spend all our time on the journey.”
~ Seth Godin

Oh, brother Seth, where do I begin?

Did you write this just for me? Did a little birdy whisper to you how much I suck at the journey part of life?
Or was it the screaming, hair pulling, and the skywriting that said YOU SUCK JOURNEY! GIMME THE FUCKING DESTINATION ALREADY! —that gave me away?

It’s not that I haven’t improved—I have.
And it’s not that I haven’t reached some amazing destinations in my life—I’ve done that too.

But oh, mah, gawd, does it have to be such a slog?

Listen, it’s just that as zen as I try to be, as chill and non-attached as my facade makes me out to be, there is always an epic interior battle raging. A churning. A yearning. It’s the fucking Game of Thrones inside of me. And as hard as I try to quell it (and just to be clear, trying hard doesn’t stop a raging battle, trying hard are the foot soldiers, the ground troops) it looms ever larger in my brain.

And that’s the rub I think you guys. All of that striving and “are we there yet?” is in. My. Head. Not my heart. Not my kishkes, and definitely nowhere near where my intuition hangs out. It all goes off the rails when my head grabs the map away from my intuition and starts to second-guess everything.

“Do you think you should have turned left there?”

“Make a u-turn! NOW! I don’t care of it’s legal or not!”

“Oh, what a dumb move! Fine. Let me try and recalculate the route—but I have a feeling you’re wicked screwed.”

All of the second-guessing. Don’t you guys hate the second-guessing? God! I have been known to yell out loud to that wise guy second-guesser “Oh, yeah? Easy for you to say! Where were you when I was deciding what to do?”

Can you even have buyers remorse with regard to your ex? No? Then shut up!

And I have to report that THIS was a bit of a turning point for me. I set boundaries with the all of the mean voices inside my head who were making the journey a living hell. I told them that unless they had anything helpful, encouraging, or constructive to say—I didn’t want to hear it. Currently, my interior dialogue goes something like this:

“That was dumb…”
DON”T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!

“Are you sure you want to do that…?”
STICK A SOCK IN IT!

“They don’t seem interested in your…
SHUT THE FUCK UP!

“Huh, I would have done it differently…”
STOP TALKING. NOW!

See how that works? It’s self-care Tourettes.

Maybe you’re better at this than I am. Maybe you peacefully traverse your life like a passenger—holding a glass of champagne in first-class on British Airways. But I’m guessing you’re not because you’re here—you live on Earth so… I can’t guarantee it will work 100% of the time, and I have to admit that it gets exhausting, but it does help keep the clown car quiet. And that my friends is a definite improvement!

Carry on,
xox

How many of you are with me on this one? Come on, a show of hands!

How many of you guys thinks that’s an understatement? I know I do.

How many of you have a five-year plan? How about a ten-year plan? (Really? Wow.)
Now, let me ask you this and remember, don’t kill the messenger—how do you handle changes in those plans? Do you go with the flow, or hunt down and kill whoever fucked with your brilliant plan?

I’m getting better with the flowing thing (it’s about time!), although I’m still not great, and I can totally relate to the murderous thoughts at the slightest whiff of a plot twist.

Here’s the thing, we think we have life all figured out. We leave minimal if any room for improvement. That’s right, I said improvement.

Not every plan we make is foolproof—in retrospect, most plans of mine have been foolhardy.

I have actually come to not so much welcome, (I’m not that good—yet), but to be curious about why my plan was foiled and where in the hell LIFE thinks it’s taking me.

Yesterday, as I was talking with a friend, I was encouraging him to be more curious as to why all his plans had gone to shit and where he was be directed. When we brainstormed his shitstorm (whaaaaat? Best sentence EVER!), we both came to realize how many opportunities lay hidden (like little dolphins, or Nemo) just below the surface.

Was he really in the midst of a calamity—or was an unseen opportunity unfolding?

Next time you’re unleashing a long string of obscenities ( have I told you how much I love you?), while you shake your fist at the heavens, remember this blog, unclench your fist and blow me a kiss. (Is it too soon to say I told you so?)

You’re welcome,

Carry on,

xox

I saw it when I opened the drawer to get my gardening gloves yesterday.

I was cleaning up after the wind. He has made quite a mess in both my front and back yards the last few days. A fine layer of dirt covering every surface. Leaves, twigs, feathers and discarded cigarette butts lay strewn around and piled up in corners.

We don’t smoke.

My Muse does, so I suppose they’re hers. I’ll have to look for the telltale red lipstick.

The wind always does this the day AFTER the gardener comes. NEVER the day before. He has a twisted sense of humor, he thinks it’s ironic.

It always starts the same way. I pick up a stray piece of trash that has found its way onto the porch. I’m usually in my morning get-up of a combination of pajamas, sweats and flip-flops. Next thing I know, it’s four hours later and I’ve cleaned the gutters and power washed the place. I loose complete track of time and ruin my manicure. This time, about an hour and a half in, it occurred to me to get my gloves.

Sometimes I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.

So…..I open the drawer of a little table outside.
It sits under the dining room windows and contains a trowel, clippers, gloves and other assorted yard taming junk.

And there it was……a perfect bird’s nest. Tucked inside this shallow drawer, next to a box of stick matches.(see photo).

My heart skipped a beat as I just about lost my mind with delight.

The thing is, I collect birds nests. I have a couple of hummingbird and five or six regular ones of various sizes.

I also believe they’re good luck. It’s a positive sign.
Protection…safety…being looked after.
Shit. Who doesn’t want that?

My husband just shakes his head.
Hey honey — Don’t be a buzz kill.

So many things crossed my mind as I gently removed it from its perfect hiding place.
The mama did a magnificent job.

It was big and warm and cozy. It’s a masterpiece, that nest-in-a-drawer. Truly one of Mother Nature’s miracles.

I remember seeing her, this tiny mama bird, outside the window, gathering bits of home building materials while singing her lovely melody. I’ve decided she’s my hero.

I sit every day writing, just on the other side of her temporary home. I could hear the babies. A couple of weeks ago, they were so vocal I went out and looked up in the trees for a nest. It never occurred to me to look in the drawer.

Note to self: I’ve GOT to develop an imagination. That bird has really raised the bar around here.

Two days ago I came across the body of a little tiny baby bird in another part of the yard. It was right under a tree and I could see the remnants of its nest high above my head. That baby had not fallen out. It was pushed. Probably by a crow.

The crows can be jerks. They dive bomb my dogs. I’ve seen them bully the smaller birds.

That made the nest-in-a-drawer even that much more ingeniously resourceful.
“Not on my watch, asshole” was the message it sent.

Don’t you love nature?
Don’t you love tenacious mothering?
Don’t you love gifts, beautiful little surprises?
I do.

This was a great reminder to appreciate the little things in life. If we are present and look closely, they are all around. These tiny wonders.

And….one more reason to love Saturdays.

Xox

Post Script: I’m reprising this post from last May because I opened the drawer this past Saturday to find she had built the second nest-in-a-drawer in as many years.(See below) I’m dying to meet her and take her for coffee. Honest to God, she’s my hero.
Carry on,
xox

Another giant masterpiece found this week. I am rich in bird’s nests.
(yelp)

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http://youtu.be/_waBFUg_oT8

Elizabeth Gilbert.

I love her. I devour anything she writes.

Her advise to help us navigate failure and success? You do the same thing for both. WHAT!?
Watch. It’s only 7 mins.
It applies to anyone….about any endeavor.
But now, as a writer, this has a whole new meaning for me.

Xox

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!

What do you think is the easiest ways to gather metal shavings?
Broom and dustpan? Windex and a paper towel? Magic wand?
How about a magnet?

Now apply that to gathering the right people for your new project.
Attracting the right partner.
Magnetizing money.

That’s right. Become the magnet.
Magnets have the ability to either attract or repel.
You know that guy at the office that you just can’t stand to be around? You are energetically repelled; so be prepared to say no when he asks you out…because he will.

Opposites may attract; but only for a short time, you just can’t override physics.

So, how do you become Magneto?

Here’s a trick I use.
I’ve done it since the 70’s, using it to help humanity by drawing in better fashion and hairstyles.

I imagine in my mind’s eye all the projects and people who I admire.
These days it would be:
Brene Brown, Liz Gilbert, Anne Lamott, Maire Forleo, Richard Branson, Daniele LaPorte.
The TedTalks, Hay House Conferences, OWN Network. Various Writing and Philanthropic groups.
All the big publishing houses, filled with their über creatives.
The smaller publishers hungrily looking for talent.

Then I bless them all. I send them love and light.
I imagine myself in their company. I belong there. I am their peer.

As I do that, I imagine the rearrangement of my molecules.
They become charged to the same frequency as the things I am imagining, and the metal shavings start their slow dance in my direction, so to speak.

Shipping containers, cars and refrigerators start flying my way…..Kidding.
(How cool would THAT be?)

But it’s fun to imagine being magnetized so that you can attract to you the people and circumstances you desire.

It’s my own personal super power.
I used it to attract my husband. Shhhhhhhh, he doesn’t know. Let’s just keep that between us.

I KNOW energy can do that.

It delivers control of the seemingly random aspects of life back to us.

You gotta love that.

I do this while I fall asleep, in the car, (no,no, not at the same time), walking the dogs and at the gym. Basically any time I don’t want my mind to wander into the minefield of my negative thoughts and doubts.

Give it a try for fifteen days.
Then report your results back to me.
Much love,
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

“I want to live my life in such a way that when I get out of bed in the morning, the devil says, “aw shit, he’s (she’s) up!” 
― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

I can feel it. The dry wind and rolling tumble weeds of change signal it’s departure.
Like a ghost town in an old John Wayne western, the town of Smallville is fast becoming deserted.
It wasn’t a bad place, there was simply no room to grow.

One by one, its inhabitants are leaving their old, timid and fearful ways behind and hitching a ride out of town.
They are breaking old habits, daring greatly, and living LARGE.

The part that has floored me is that it’s happening so fast….to so many.

Here are the tales of just three:

One of the residents of Smallville took a consulting job recently at an hourly rate in the three figures. She was approached because of her level of expertise and honesty. It doesn’t interfere with her day job since it was arranged to be done on her free time.
She has previously been approached but never agreed to do this. The townsfolk of Smallville had convinced her she wasn’t an expert, and that she didn’t deserve that kind of money.
But she’s grown so much and is now very aware of her worth.

She’s gonna have to look for new digs, the fit is wayyyyyyy too tight for Smallville.

Another resident also did something she’d never done before.
I’m telling you, THAT is when you can call the moving van to whisk you the hell out of Smallville.

She flew to another city for the weekend for classes that will take her to the next level of certification in her field.
Not bad for an already successful forty something woman.

She’s kicking ass (and tumble weed) and taking names on her way out of town.

“Live your truth. Express your love. Share your enthusiasm. Take action towards your dreams. Walk your talk. Dance and sing to your music. Embrace your blessings. Make today worth remembering.” 
― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

Then there is the story of one of Smallville’s life long inhabitants.
I don’t think she’d mind me saying that.
She’s played it safe, making sure she wasn’t too loud or too bright along the way. She tried not to rock too many boats, because when she had in the past, other people had problems with the choppy seas.

But she’s over sixty now, and as the world is fast finding out, you can’t keep a wise woman (with the winds of maturity and bravery at her back) down.

She is using her beautifully strong voice, fueled by integrity, to rally her community for a noble cause. She is taking a stand, as others around her are too scared to speak up.
This is very unlike her, so it is the first time for such a courageous act.

Last week she was on the front page of the paper in a large metropolitan city. (I know!)

The picture shows her, like an Amazonian Guardian of the Gate, standing firm but feminine in her conviction of the cause.
Not only has she outgrown Smallville, I’m not certain if her huge city can contain her now.

Too-da-looooooo Smallville!

“The Bhagavad Gita—that ancient Indian Yogic text—says that it is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection. So now I have started living my own life. Imperfect and clumsy as it may look, it is resembling me now, thoroughly.” 
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

How are you living small? Are you ready to leave Smallville? I know you have ideas. Tell me how.
I’d be so happy to hear about it below!

*Welcome to the tribe Mauritius, you crazy little island nation, you. I had to look you up. Aren’t you a beautiful place?! Thanks for following.

Much love,
Xox

“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us.  Between the two stands Resistance”
~Steven Pressfield “The War of Art.” 

“The War of Art” is one of my all time favorite books on creation, life, love and well… what else is there?

In my humble opinion, it should be a textbook in every school, on every hotel nightstand, next to the Bible, and reduced to liquid form and added to the water supply.

Beyond what the title implies, this book is not strictly written for artists and writers.

As you’ll glean from the list below, Resistance isn’t particular about which endeavors it sabotages. The only thing they have in common is our desire to become fully realized. Whether that be through artistic pursuits, the Paleo diet, Fab Ab Bootcamp, that non-profit you want to start or marrying Scooter.

Up until Steven set us straight, we thought we were all just dumbass, procrastinating losers.

Nope, that’s just Resistance talking smack and taking the wheel, leaving us eating its dust and only dreaming about our unlived lives.
It will always stand in the way of our growth.
It’s a law; like gravity. That explains sooooooooooo much.

Assbite.

But…what I know for SURE….Resistance only has the power WE give it. 

“The following is a list, in no particular order, of those activities that most commonly elicit Resistance:

1) The pursuit of any calling in writing, painting, music, film, dance, or any creative art, however marginal or unconventional.

2) The launching of any entrepreneurial venture or enterprise, for profit or otherwise.

3) Any diet or health regimen.

4) Any program of spiritual advancement.

5) Any activity whose aim is tighter abdominals.

6) Any course or program designed to overcome an unwholesome habit or addiction.

7) Education of every kind.

8) Any act of political, moral, or ethical courage, including the decision to change for the better some unworthy pattern of thought or conduct in ourselves.

9) The undertaking of any enterprise or endeavor whose aim is to help others.

10) Any act that entails commitment of the heart. The decision to get married, to have a child, to weather a rocky patch in a relationship.

11) The taking of any principled stand in the face of adversity. (Pam, wink)

In other words, any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health, or integrity. Or, expressed another way, any act that derives from our higher nature instead of our lower. 

Any of these will elicit Resistance.

Excerpt From: Steven Pressfield & Shawn Coyne. “The War of Art.” Visionary Press, 2012. iBooks. 
This material may be protected by copyright.

I’d LOVE it if you’d tell me: 
What beautiful thing has Resistance been talking you out of doing?
Do you agree that we have two lives, the one we live and the unlived life?
Much O love O
Xox

Once upon a time, angels descended onto a beautiful planet to play in physical form.

That planet was Earth.

Trouble was, as gorgeous as this place could be, it presented a certain kind of unexpected danger to these playful angels.
They were so used to being non-corporal, that they made unwise choices, tons of them, in the thrill of the moment, which led to hurting or actually destroying their bodies.

Shit, I hate when that happens.

So a call went out and a brilliant plan was devised
.
This plan involved enabling an aspect that would accompany the angels into the physical.
It would relate so completely to the body that it would protect it at all costs.
For all it knew, it was ONLY the body; it couldn’t remember that it had ever been an angel.

Like an unseen bodyguard, it did a really admirable job.
Angels stopped jumping off cliffs without bungee cords and breathing underwater. They developed concern for the wellbeing of their vessel.

This invisible bodyguard is called the EGO. Its operating principal is fear.

Fear is what keeps us alive.
Useful, I would say; one hell of a plan.

To a point.

After awhile, tens of thousand of years to be exact, the beloved EGO started to feel the effects of emotional pain in the body as well.

To the EGO pain is pain, so, like any good bodyguard, the EGO triggered fear of this pain, so it could be avoided at all costs.

Skip to the present, and these angel’s adventuresome, joyful and playful spirits have been hijacked by the EGO.

You can’t blame the guy, he’s programmed to keep us alive and block us from any pain, but in the process, as our bodyguard, he has stepped out in front of, and blocked so much joy. All because it looked like it was attached to some potentially dangerous feelings.

The moral of the tale is this:
The Ego is NOT your amigo.

Do NOT make the EGO your wingman. He gives shitty advise.

He is your bodyguard, not your friend. And as such, he views every situation through the lens of the ever vigilant secret service agent of your life, scanning each situation for threats.

Life, love, it all looks dangerous….to him.

He’s not a bad guy, he’s just doing his job, keeping us away from ANY and ALL pain.
His job description, from the beginning was to keep us alive, but what kind of life is it when we have become imprisoned by him……through fear. 

Now that you know the story, put him back in his place, tell him to lighten up, drop the earpiece and dark glasses and let you live your big, bold, beautiful life.
Give him some vacation time, a day off.

If you get hurt in his absence…..so be it, at least you’re having some fun.

Wasn’t that the point?

Did this change your perception of the Ego? Even just a little bit? Do you believe in fairy tales?
Have a great weekend!
Much love,
Xox