joy

Happy Independence Day to all Americans who are reading this far and wide.

Carry on you independent ones,
xox

GRUDGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bygones can never be bygones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It turns toxic and eventually soul numbing.

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

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

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

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

Carry on,
xox

SERIOUS F-BOMB ALERT!

On Sunday my friend Kim and I were sharing a Nutella sundae in a beautiful park in Beverly Hills and at one point she looked over at the obvious joy on my face (which went well with my vanilla gelato mustache) and asked me “If you could be any place in the world right now, where, and with whom would that be?“

“Right here, right now” was my answer and I was serious.

My go to happiness answer is always Italy — anywhere in Italy. A basement in the Vatican, some dark alley, it doesn’t matter — Italy always wins. But that day it kinda felt like Italy, what with the good company, the great weather, and the perfect Nutella gelato and all.

“Your joy ceiling is set pretty high” she said with a smile full of conviction.

I nodded emphatically, not sure what the fuck she was talking about as I scarfed all the pools of Nutella while she explained.

She proceeded to tell me about this video which explained the joy ceiling, and the fact that Jesus wept his was so low. (Don’t get your panties in a bunch, it’s a joke…or is it?)

Then she sent it to me. Thanks Kim!

Take a look — its short, its hilarious, and that broad of all broads Ellen Barkin says fuck a lot. What could be better?

Now lemme know what you think about the concept of a personal joy ceiling. I think its genius…and accurate.

Okay you guys, where’s your personal joy ceiling? (BTW mine is not always set high, it is VERY conditional, there has to be hazelnut and chocolate and gelato involved).  

Enjoy and carry on,
xox

Saturday I went against my better judgment, because I was gobsmacked, and I spoke up.

It’s not as if the Universe hadn’t given me a bazillion, (okay, four) chances to do it in the past. It just never felt right before and it’s not my nature.

Now, as you know, there’s not a lot that I would consider “against my nature”, but going up to a celebrity or public figure just isn’t my thing. Maybe because I dealt with celebrities when I was a jeweler and I’ve witnessed how even the most benign interaction can go off the rails.

Leave them alone, they know they’re awesome, keep walking, that’s it, look away.

Now, when I get famous and Meryl Steep is playing me in the movie of my life, PLEASE don’t hesitate to come up and tell me you love me. I’m someone who cannot hear that enough, let’s just get that straight right here and now.
Anyway…

There is a woman who works at the right hand of a major public figure.
As I watched a documentary series a few years back, about that public person and this woman, her Executive Everything, caught my eye. She really lit up for me. I watched how she conducted herself in meetings, her humor, creativity, smarts and general awesomeness really marked me. She was professional, yet approachable. She clearly adores said public figure, so she moves heaven and earth to make sure everything they want comes to pass.

She is a force to be reckoned with and I find her extraordinary.

Over the last few years it just so happens she has crossed my path, and into the orbit of my ordinary life.
Kind of feels like a Universal tease, right?

I see her in the airport, or in a restaurant, or get a seat a couple of rows behind her on a plane. Numerous times.

I always squeal when it happens and tug at my husband’s shirt.
There she is again, can you believe it!?
But I never approach her. I want to respect her privacy I suppose. Truthfully, I’m afraid I’ll get all tongue-tied and fan-girl stupid like I did with Liz Gilbert. AWKWARD…

So I relish the moment and then go on with my life without even a hello.

Saturday I went with a friend to see Abraham. I try to go whenever he/she/they’re in town. I have for over twenty years. Www.abrahamhicks.com

By the time we arrived all the prime real estate in the front by the stage was spoken for, so we literally walked the room until we decided two seats to the right of center would be just fine. As I arranged all my “stuff”, I looked to my left to see who I’d be sharing the next four hours with and…there she was, the extraordinary one!

“Oh my God, it’s you!” I blurted out loud.
Apparently my editing reflex shut down due to the close proximity of greatness. The look on her startled face said: Do I know you?
There she was, next to me at Abe, I couldn’t be stopped.

“You don’t understand – I see you everywhere, and I never say anything, because I don’t want to bother you, but look at this, here you are, right next to me – at Abraham of all places, ha, go figure!”

It was an avalanche of emotions too powerful to be held back any longer. I stuck out my hand, “I’m Janet, so great to finally get a chance to meet you.” Or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what I said. I could feel my mouth moving and I know words were coming out, but I was hovering out-of-body, somewhere up near the ceiling.

Her friend came back from his errand and interrupted our little meet and greet, THANKFULLY.
Otherwise, I think I’d still be there gushing away.
She was as gracious as can be,(of course she was) and I composed myself enough to come down off the ceiling and take my seat.

Let me just say this: I LOVE when famous people, or famous adjacent people (friend, spouse, etc.) are down to earth, and normal. Don’t you? She couldn’t have been kinder.

I LOVE that the Universe conspired to surprise me with a visit from “her” in the MOST unlikely of situations.

I LOVE that my authentic joy overrode my “cool”. FINALLY!

And most of all I love that I got to tell her at the end of the day, when I had recovered my wits enough to pull down my freak flag – that I felt she was extraordinary.

She took it in and we hugged.

Because honestly, what was I ever afraid of? Who doesn’t want to hear that? Even from some crazy lady at Abraham?

Carry on,
Xox

Ah, perfectionism – you rat-bastard.

You are the behind the scenes ruin-er of every event.
You are the “I told you so” inside every mistake.
You are the “It could have been better, you should be thinner, I’m a freak, a fake and a fraud” whispered in my ear at the end of every day.

In short, you are the cause of so much grief.

Perfection, like a 22-inch waist, a man who asks for directions, and delicious vegan cheese—is literally impossible. It is a myth and an illusion.

Perfectionism starts in childhood.
The dolls lined up perfectly on the shelf, school papers stacked in neat piles, worn thin by rigorous erasing. I should know.

Perfectionism stifles creativity.
They cannot co-exist; creativity is messy, I don’t care what anyone says. When you’re in the flow, you can just throw perfect punctuation and grammar to the wind.

Have you ever seen a painter’s studio when they are creating? It is a catastrophe! There is shit everywhere – Empty coffee cups, brushes and tubes of paint in heaps, tarps, stacks of ideas, even some paint on the ceiling (?).

Perfectionism would never be caught dead in the swirling vortex of creativity – it might mess up its perfect hair!

When you take perfectionism to the office; well, yeah, good luck with that.
It is the bully in the room, taunting you with thoughts of inferiority, assuring you that you’re not good enough.
Work harder, be better, PROVE YOUR WORTH, it sneers.

Perfectionism sabotages joy.
It’s a punk. It steals its lunch money and gives it a wedgie. Perfectionism hangs out with those two thugs, anxiety and stress.
It is my belief that perfectionism is complicit in every nervous breakdown. Most especially, the ones suffered during the holidays.

I can speak to this with authority.

I am a retired perfectionist.
It started to wane when I got married again. Perfectionism doesn’t compromise, and compromise and relationships arelikethis.

The exact time of death of my perfectionism occurred when we decided to live in our house during a remodel. Any last vestiges that remained hit the road, (along with the tiny bit of modesty I possessed.)
You reside in so much chaos, dirt, and destruction; I can remember wiping 4-5 inches of plaster and drywall dust off random surfaces in order to sit and drink the coffee we made in the bathroom. The refrigerator was in the dining room and we were sleeping in the garage.

It got so bad I actually started to throw trash (gum wrappers, receipts) on the floor, fuck it, what’s the use, it’s a disaster, I’d tell myself. The upside was that I’d never in my life felt so FREE! So I ran with it, and I haven’t looked back!

Living in a construction zone is like aversion therapy for perfectionists.

It’s time to join me and retire from perfectionism. Take off the twenty-ton shield and fly.

Maybe you want to talk about how you kicked perfectionism’s ass, or how you’re still struggling? Either way, I’d love to hear about it in the comments below. Don’t be shy. It doesn’t have to be perfect. 😉

Xox

It’s not cool to be giddy about Christmas and the holidays.
I KNOW!
Relax!
I get it.

I’ve already confessed that the shopping gives me a buzz; as do the white twinkle lights, the tree smell, the carols, the eggnog lattes, and just the general festiveness of the season.

But I still get those looks from those people, (you know who you are) the ones that want me to put a lid on my joy.
To them it is ridiculous, and frivolous – and it makes them uncomfortable.

But why should I?
Why should any of us let others, especially the haters dictate our happiness?

EVER.

I get that the whole commercialization of Christmas has gotten insanely out of hand; yet, I can’t help but smile when I see whole families in those God-awful Christmas sweaters, little kids on Santa’s lap at the mall, the gorgeous, giant tree at the Grove, and houses covered with lights.
 
There is one house at the end of our block that looks like Christmas barfed lights and reindeer all over it; but damn it, I still smile when I come around the corner.

The store windows get me too; I LOVE them.
I have several friends who put great thought and immense creativity
into their store windows, so I know what goes into assembling those mini masterpieces.

The ones in New York reign supreme, but take a walk down LaCienega, Melrose, or Beverly Hills – it’ll blow your Grinchy little minds.

One year, when I was in New York for the holidays, I ran to see the Bergdorf windows, and let me tell you, they did not disappoint.

My chin hit my chest with wonder and amazement. It is definitely true – more is better. There was a window with hundreds of moving parts. There were dioramas and gemstones and an entire window whose contents were painted silver – I was trembling.

Just when I thought I couldn’t feel anymore inspired; that I had reached my quota of Christmas joy, I looked next to me and there was a little kid, with a tiny peppermint candy cane stuck in his hair,(true story) holding his grandma’s hand. His mouth was agape too.

I caught our reflections in the window, and it took all of my willpower not to burst out laughing.

Then, just as I was having the time of my life, a pinched face lady walked briskly by, not even turning to look, but shaking her head with disapproval just the same.

REALLY lady?
You’re gonna kill our buzz?
Don’t judge our joy!
It’s frickin’ Christmas!

Here, have a peppermint candy.

Xox

I’ve always been fascinated with death and what happens on the other side AFTER we die.

Religions teach pearly gates, heaven and hell sorts of scenarios.

Some schools of thought say there’s a celebration, the likes of which we’ve never seen.

Others teach that the birth process is actually harder on our souls, since death is re-emerging back into the energy from whence we came.

Even the people who have experienced an NDE (Near Death Experience) are only allowed to go so far – turned around at a certain point, and sent back.

It seems no one with an All Access Pass has ever been inclined to leave the party and report back to us poor slobs, just exactly what’s going on over there.

That has always intrigued me.

I really liked one school of thought I heard many years ago, about a kind of life review process. No heaven or hell; just a movie.

Now if you’re my husband you’re thinking: Well, that sounds like hell, how long is it? Is there popcorn? Are there previews? Where’s my seat exactly?
Settle down big guy. (He’s actually had an NDE so he has NO fear of death whatsoever, as long as there’s no loooong, drawn out movie to sit through).

This is how it was explained to me: Just after you die, you watch a review, in the form of a movie of sorts.

It races past you, as an IMAX type of experience – and it is the Movie Of Your Life.

There is no soundtrack, actually there is no sound at all – there is only emotion.

You see, you get to feel the emotions you evoked in everyone around you. In every second of your life.

Wha-What!? Well, that’s just…horrifying!

Can you imagine? All the times you made someone sad, hurt their feelings, infuriated them, even made them cry?

We cause others pain during our lives, but I’m willing to bet that a good portion of it is unintentional.
The rude remark, the overheard gossip, the accidentally-on-purpose forgotten Valentine’s Day.

I was assured that we will all be surprised and shocked by the emotions we’ve unknowingly caused in those around us.

The cure for that is waking up. Be conscious of the “wake” you leave behind you.

Are you jackass? Cut it out – or be prepared to be appalled, your movie’s gonna suck.

I for one, intend to do better.

But the reason this whole concept is fresh in my mind these days, is because I was recently reminded that it does work the other way.
We can also cause someone JOY unintentionally.
Yes, we do that too!

Every now and again, someone will relay a story that will swell my heart with this unintentional joy; and I don’t have to wait to die and watch the movie!

Remember those Agapanthus stalks from my garden that I dry and put outside in a bucket marked “Free Magic Wands” during the summer?

If you’re new to the blog, I wrote about it here: http://www.theobserversvoice.com/2014/08/spread-your-magic-however-you-can-with-audio/

The other day one of the neighborhood dads stopped and asked me if I had any more of my “magic wands”. (I don’t, summer is over. I hand the magic over to Santa for the winter).

He went on to explain that his six-year-old son had tied one onto the handlebars of his bike, and had ridden around with it for months.
“It just disintegrated last week, which is why I’m asking.” he said.
“My son loved that thing; he told all his friends he was like Harry Potter, that he had a magic wand” the dad went on to tell me. “He sent all his friends here to get one.” (That explains why I kept running out!)

I just stood there, listening, picturing the wand working it’s magic in that boy’s life. Holy Cow. It felt AMAZING.

Go Figure. I had gone the whole summer clueless, basically doing it for my own amusement.

That’s just a little thing, but it really made someone happy – behind the scenes. We ALL have those, of that I’m certain.

Think about it. I wonder what YOU’VE done lately that unintentionally touched someone’s heart? A hand written thank you note? A spontaneous love text?

I saw a hipster dude stop and put down his coffee to help an elderly gentleman down some steps yesterday. It almost made me cry.

You may never know…until the movie!

I’m wagering that the ratio for most of us, good to bad, joy to sadness – is ten to one. I’m just that much of a Pollyanna.

NOTE TO SELF: Send a mental note to the cosmic editor of MY movie, that he can go ahead and cut that scene – I already felt it!

One is interesting – Both are true.
Have a great Sunday everyone!

Xox

Morning Loves,
I love Ted Talks and I LOVE when I see someone have such a good time delivering one.
This is a Ted Talk and subsequent article from my new hero, Michael Neill. There are so many people out there talking about this new way of thinking, I just like his delivery SO MUCH.
So of course, I HAD to share it with you!
Great information with lots of fun and humor. Please take the time to watch or read. It’s the weekend for chrissakes.

Big mid-summer love,
xox

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr6VawX2nr4

Michael Neill is an internationally renowned success coach and the best-selling author of The Inside Out Revolution, You Can Have What You Want, Feel Happy Now!, the Effortless Success audio program and Supercoach: 10 Secrets to Transform Anyone’s Life. He has spent the past 22 years as a coach, adviser, friend, mentor and creative spark plug to celebrities, CEOs, royalty, and people who want to get more out of their lives. His books have been translated into 13 languages, and his public talks and seminars have been well received at the United Nations and around the world

http://www.bornhappy.co/michael-neills-formula-for-happiness/

Pain can only feed on pain. Pain cannot feed on joy. It finds it quite indigestible.
~Eckhart Tolle~

You will touch joy and suddenly realize that you have never felt joy because it requires abandon. It grows from gratitude and cannot exist where there is mad cynicism or distrust.
You will touch this joy and you will suddenly know it is what you were looking for your whole life, but you were afraid to even acknowledge the absence because the hunger for it was so encompassing. 

—Eve Ensler, In the Body of the World

Loose your fear and touch joy today…..Happy Sunday!
Xox