surrender

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” ~ William Shakespeare

I took a bunch of improv classes back in the day and lemme just validate what you probably already know—improv isn’t easy.
If it were, everybody would be doing it—and they’re not. Most of my acting friends at the time said they would rather do stand- up, or sing a song at an open mic night than be stuck on stage for one hot second doing improv.
Reasons Given: There’s no set story, no plan. There are no parameters, no written lines to rehearse. To be any good you have to (gulp) surrender to the moment. And, you have to listen with your whole body.

Fuck no! They yelled as they ran toward serious drama. That shit’s too scary!

Me being me, I thought it looked fun. You just make shit up and everyone has to go along with it? Cool!  So I decided to try it. And just like you do when you find yourself committed to trying something completely terrifying for no rational reason and no money, I puked like a rockstar backstage before I stepped one fearful foot into the lights.

How bad can it be? — famous last words.

“You’re hard candy at the bottom of a grandmother’s purse!” Someone yelled. Oh hell no!  I thought, frozen in place. I’m not candy…candy can’t talk…what am I doing?…why am I here?…Jesus H. Christ, I feel naked…am I naked?…am I dreaming?…have I died?…where’s the exit?

The other actor on stage, the good one, really got into it. His candy had a backstory, a history. Separated from our wrappers and passed over by the grandkids, it was just the two of us, he insisted. Left to our own devices among the stray Kleenex, tiny envelopes of artificial sweetener, and our arch-enemies, THE COUGH DROPS — we had a shared destiny to fulfill!

I could barely hear the guy over the voice of my ego screaming inside my head. There must be an easier, less mortifying way to spend your time! It railed. Then fear took over.
My legs grew roots.
Paralyzed, I couldn’t move a muscle.
I tried to swallow but my saliva had turned to dust.
I’d also gone mute.
I’m sure this only lasted a minute or five, but it felt more like an hour as I stood on stage in a stupor, listening to this guy yammer on about his imaginary life as a purse candy.

Once the blood found its way back to my brain, I remembered the number one rule of improv: Say Yes. Always agree and SAY YES.

Finally, my hard candy comrade ran out of things to say. Having finished an impromptu five-minute monologue, he stood there glaring at me, every minty molecule of his being willing me to die play along. Rule number two: Don’t Deny. Denial is the number one reason things go south. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to override my ego whose pernicious idea it was to stand like an idiot deer in the headlights.
Like that wasn’t weird at all.
Like it was the lesser of two evils.
Like nobody would notice.

Epiphany #1 — What my ego was advising me to do was no less humiliating than acting like a candy!

There was somebody on the stage who was begging me to join him and it would be impossible to look any worse than I did right that minute. I went for it. Putting my hands on my head I teased my big eighties hair into a cotton candy frenzy. “Can I ask you a question?” I said, “How do you keep all of this purse lint from sticking to you?” Off we went…I can’t tell you what we did after that, or what was said, all I know is that was the moment the suffering stopped. That was the moment it got fun!

People laughed.
I didn’t die.
I learned a TON.
And in the future (yes, I kept at it) every time I overrode my ego’s impulse to make me hurl or bolt for the exit, improv got… easier.

Epiphany #2 — As I studied spirituality, meditation, and being in the moment— as I read all the Ekart Tolle books and Michael Singer’s The Surrender Experiment, I realized that most suffering comes from wanting things to be different than they are, instead of saying yes to what the universe, AKA the best improv partner ever, has put in front of you.

But it takes practice! I constantly have to remind my ego: Say YES. Let go of your agenda (don’t deny). Listen to what you receive and build on it. You can’t be wrong. Make your partner(s) look brilliant. Keep moving forward. Surrender, surrender, surrender.

Epiphany #3 — Life is one long improv sketch! You can listen to your ego and do everything in your power to keep from looking weird or making a mistake, which I have found is the quickest route to dullsville OR in a world full of choices— you can be the hard candy!

Epiphany #4 — Always agree with Stephen Colbert.

Carry on,
xox J

The holidays can be haaaaard you guys. And as much as I’d love to sugar coat it—I can’t.

I know, they can also be full of joy and wonder.

But when they’re not—when you’re just struggling to keep your head above water because of a health crisis, or a death, divorce, or something else unimaginable has you down for the count—it is helpful to remember (at least it is for me) that no matter how famous you are, how much money you have, or influence you peddle, or how many self-help processes you keep in your back pocket, at some point, THEY WILL GET YOU DOWN.

Here in California, the wildfires that raged a mere two weeks ago have left a literal shroud hanging over the state. So many people have lost so much it’s hard to fathom feeling much Ho, Ho, Ho.

My BFF is navigating a mother who is deep into her Alzheimer’s long goodbye, and although she’s maintaining a stiff lip and a brave face, I can feel her sadness all the way from the Great Northwest. 

I’ve felt wonky for the past few months which led to me seeing a cardiologist about an arrhythmia caused by a jacked-up thyroid. As somebody who usually runs circles around the holidays, this “health situation” had made me feel anxious, vulnerable, and introspective. The old adage, “If you don’t have your health, you have nothing”, has turned from a blah, blah, blah thing that old people say—to the god’s honest truth.

So, in a nutshell, I’ve really had nothing funny or uplifting to say. (As a sidenote it must be said that if I lose my sense of humor, it’s time to take me to the doctor.)

Then, the other day, I came across this picture on Liz Gilbert’s social media and it gutted me. This is her first holiday season without her beloved Raya, and it shows her seeking solace in the lap of her friend Martha Beck.  I stared at it for a long time, crying the ugly cry because, number one—I’d been holding onto a lot of fear around my health and it felt good to let it all out, and number two—when I saw it, it reminded me of pretty much everyone I know right now, including, perhaps, The Statue of Liberty. It reminds me of exhausted surrender. A place I initially have a hard time finding–but know well.

Then, on Wednesday, Liz wrote this and I wanted to share it with you.

THIS I can do. I can hold the hearts who are hurting in my heart ( just as long as y’all don’t mind a bumpy ride!) You are not alone. You are not misunderstood. We can do this.

Let’s all hold each other hearts. We’ll know when it’s safe to let go. We’re gonna be alright.

I love you.
Carry on,
xox

Holding your heart in my heart if this is your first Thanksgiving after the death of a loved one.

Holding your heart in my heart if this is your first Thanksgiving after a divorce.

Holding your heart in my heart if you can’t be with your family this year.

Holding your heart in my heart if you are estranged from your family.

Holding your heart in my heart if you have a family member serving in the military, or if you yourself are serving.

Holding your heart in my heart if you have to work today.

Holding your heart in my heart if you a missing a loved one at your table today because of addiction or mental illness or sickness or anger.

Holding your heart in my heart if this is your first Thanksgiving in sobriety.

Holding your heart in my heart if you struggle with food, and you feel like nobody understands.

Holding your heart in my heart if family holidays bring up nothing but memories of suffering for you.

Holding your heart in my heart if you are alone, or if you are just feeling alone in the crowd.

Holding your heart in my heart today, all day long. Holidays aren’t always easy. But you are loved. Please know that you are loved.

Unclench your fist and lay your hand on your heart. It’s all gonna be alright.

We love you.
❤️LG

Bal·ance: noun

1. An even distribution of weight enabling someone or something to remain upright and steady.
“I tripped and lost my balance” (This is a very relatable example for me.)

2. A condition in which different elements are equal or in the correct proportions.
“Overseas investments can add balance to an investment portfolio” (Um…This example? Not so much. We have no money invested offshore AND —my right boobie is bigger than my left. Just sayin’.)

3. An apparatus for weighing, especially one with a central pivot, beam, and a pair of scales.
(Any allusion to weight or scales and I get squirrely and stop reading.)

So, 4. and 5. and blah, blah, blah… There are three more definitions for balance but I think we all get the picture.

The only reason I put this up was because of my meditation today. You see, while my mind went searching in its own kind of scavenger hunt sort of cleverly disorganized way for my newest mantra, which is SURRENDER, it came back to me with the word BALANCE.

That was not what I sent it out to find!

So, I fought it. You know, like you do during meditation.

I fought like a crazed spider monkey looking for a hidden peanut in a rainforest in Madagascar.
I wanted my word!
I wanted SURRENDER!
Not that it was working all that well for me, which seems fairly obvious as I type this. But damn it! I find myself lately in dire need of some surrendering, so I figure that if I repeat it enough times in that far away place that meditation can drop you into, all of my synapses will re-wire themselves and I will open my eyes and suddenly be…tranquil…Accepting…Surrendery.

Except look who showed up instead. Fucking BALANCE.

Okay, show of hands, who here has achieved balance in their life? Uh huh. Uh, huh. Just as I suspected. Billy…put your hand down. Don’t make me come over there…

We all have moments of balance. Maybe even a day here or a month there and then that pesky thing called life gets in that way and fucks everything up.

Regardless of how convinced I am that my shit is together, there’s always a stray hair, right? Or a loose thread that’s threatening to unravel my delicate sweater of a life. Or a sudden wind set to blow down my house of cards.

If you’re anything like me (and I know you are), I always think I need to chill out more. Things are too hectic. Running, running, running. Planes, trains, and automobiles. Oh, my! Then, after I have relaxed for, I don’t know, three days, I get the itch to un-wedge my ass from the beach chair, grab a scooter and rob a bank because I’m SO FUCKING BORED!

Who’s with me?

BALANCE, HA! That means things are humming along nicely, right?  T’s crossed and I’s dotted. Duckies all in a row.

Very rarely (never) are my duckies in a row. My duckies are scattered to the wind, skittering across the pavement. My duckies are distacted by shiney objects and since they all wear tin-foil hats—it’s a mess. I’m under the impression that you need perfectly lined up duckies to achieve balance.

Am I wrong?

When I’m home I feel wanderlust. I want to be traveling the world and when I’m traveling I want to get home. When I’m eating kale I want it to be pizza. If I’m writing I want to be playing. I ask you, is that balance?

My girls and I went to Nashville to work. To hunker down and finish stuff. All of that unfinished stuff that tortures us at 3 am. To write our asses off. To brainstorm, and make calls, and answer emails and…“Can we go out? Can we go back to that hipster bar tonight so I can flirt with that bartender Kenneth again?”  I started whining at 5 pm.

I was done. Cooked. The unfinished stuff would have to wait for another day.

BALANCE!

I have none.

None!

So, I guess the voice in my head knows me better than I know myself.
SURRENDER will have to wait…or will it?

Carry on,
xox

I lost something very important to me last week. I squirmed. I obsessed. I bargained with God. The very minute I stopped caring…it came back to me.

Pass it along…
xox

In the beginning of her book “Eat Pray Love”, Liz Gilbert finds herself in the middle of something she has no control over which is causing her a great deal of angst, worry, anxiety, and despair. In her case, a contested divorce. It has come to the place where it has the potential to consume yet another year of her life by tying her up in court, not to mention wasting every dime of their money on legal fees.

Are you guys with me? Anxiety? Despair? Loss of control? Can you relate?

She feels hopeless and out of control and while on a drive through Kansas with a friend, she expresses her desire to write a Petition to God, you know, to inject some Divine Intervention into a situation which seems beyond repair.

Once she drafts a copy in the car, she and her amazing and very willing friend, add imaginary (energetic), signatures at the bottom. “My parents both signed it!” her friend exclaims. “So did mine! And so did my grandparents!” Liz replies. “St Francis of Assisi just signed it!” her friend yells excitedly, pounding the steering wheel for emphasis; and the exercise continues for well over an hour raising Liz’s spirits and bolstering her resolve.

Later, still in the passenger seat of the car, she grabs a quick nap and is awakened by her ringing phone. “You’ll never guess”, her attorney from New York exclaims without even saying hello, “He just signed the papers!”

God, I love that scene! Because I love magic, and I believe in the Physics of Quests, clues, and signs, and our right to Petition God or the Universe to take the wheel on our behalf, and so it dawned on me that I should write my own Petition, regarding my own crazy brave,crazy, brave, batshit crazy endeavour, and send it to my tiny inner circle—my tribe—so I did last night.

“Just like in the book I’d love it if you could sign it energetically (or literally) and send it out to others in the aether, living or dead, and let me know who we’ve got working on this.
I’ll put mine at the bottom.

I love you all more than words can express.
xoxJ”

And all day the names of the signatories have been pouring in!
Lucille Ball, Charlie Chaplin, Jackie Kennedy, The Obama’s…
Even the Pope signed it! What??!!

I wasn’t going to share it but then I realised that you guys are my tribe too! Below is what I wrote so you can use it as a template for your own Petition.

Then, I had what I thought was a great idea! I wanted to offer YOU this: If you want to write a short sentence in the comments about something that needs some energetic surrendering—start your own Pettition—I (we) will add our names and the names of others to it and up that juju factor.

How about it? Wanna try it? What do you have to lose?

I love you all more than words can express!
Carry on,
xox

Dear God, Universe, Nora, Nixon and All,
It is now time for you to intervene and facilitate the making of this “darling” screenplay into a movie. I humbly and respectfully acknowledge that I haven’t the faintest idea of what comes next or how to make this happen, and I am well aware of the fact that if I attempt to meddle in matters this far outside my paygrade, well, let’s just say ‘I’ll fuck it up’.

I realize that you may have more pressing things on your agendas like Chinese and North Korean diplomacy, Syria, finding a great karaoke song and looking for other ways to demystify death, and that helping me to ‘mind my own business’ seems like an insurmountable challenge, but we’ve come this far and worked so well together—that I beseech you to try.

Please attract only those to this project who are lifted by its message. Let it easily find its way to the best and the brightest. May the making of the movie be surrounded by as much love, light, fun and magic as the writing of the screenplay has been and may those that lay eyes on it see beyond what was written on the page. May it live to touch hearts and soothe souls.

Thank you for your kind consideration,
Respectfully,
Janet Bertolus

Picasso
Diane Sawyer
Mike Nicols
James Cameron
Elizabeth Gilbert
Oprah
Gayle King
My dad
Tom Hanks
Rob Bell
Erma Bombeck
Dear Abby
Clark Gable
Eva Gardner
Frank Sinatra
Andy Williams
Bob Fosse
Hemingway
Mark Twain
Martha Stewart
Mama Cass
Stevie Nicks
Joni Mitchell
Cameron Crowe
Ron Howard
Bryan Lorde
Rob Lowe
Prince

This week needed its own anthem and thanks to a friend of the blog, Billy, we have one!

Fuck This Shit I’m Out!

This past week at our house has been an interesting mix of tomfoolery and shit.

We had a surgery, a completely fried computer hard drive, a kitchen drawer full of rat poo, doctor visits, three FULL glasses of a liquid that got knocked over and spilled EVERYWHERE! (The last time I spilled a full glass of anything was when I was five.) We also have a blown sprinkler that shoots so high into the air that it waters the moon, a little dog with breath so bad you want to slap your mama—a bar-b-que that’s on the fritz—and a migraine. Not to mention Friday is tax day!

On the upside, nobody died, I have blue/purple in my hair again and got to power wash the outside patio area in anticipation of new furniture. Yip.

So, yeah.
It may only be Thursday, but Fuck this shit I’m out!

How about you?
Carry on,
xox

Ahhhhhh clarity…my elusive friend.

Trial and error. Success and failure. Happiness and despair. They all bring clarity.
After I thought about that for awhile I made a list:

I got disappointed into clarity
I got frustrated into clarity
I got angered into clarity
I fumbled my way into clarity

I ran toward clarity
I commando crawled toward clarity
I skipped joyfully into clarity
I’ve been dragged into clarity

I found my footing on my way into clarity
I danced my way into clarity
I stumbled my way into clarity
I lost my footing on my way into clarity
I fell headfirst into clarity

I prayed myself into clarity
I chanted my way into clarity
I meditated my way into clarity
I hiked my way into clarity
I exercised myself into clarity

I lost friends on my way into clarity
I made new friends on my way into clarity
I lost jobs on my way into clarity
I got hopelessly lost on my way into clarity

I cried my way into clarity
I shouted and screamed my way into clarity
I slept my way into clarity
I got scared into clarity
I lost money on my way into clarity

I resisted my way into clarity
I argued my way into clarity
I changed my mind to find clarity
I took advice to gain clarity
I shunned advice on my way into clarity

I read books to find clarity
I listened to talks, music and Oprah to find clarity.
I reinvented to find clarity
I talked my way into clarity
I found out who I really was to gain clarity

I had luck on my side on my way into clarity
I hustled, whined and begged in order to gain clarity
I had magic with me to show me clarity
I laughed my way into clarity

I made mistakes on my way into clarity
I fucked up big time on my way into clarity
I may have gotten fucked on my way into clarity
I got better glasses in order to find clarity

I gained insights on my way into clarity
I was loud on my way to clarity
I was silent on my way to clarity
I realized I didn’t know shit on my way into clarity

I’ve had great, inspired ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve had sucky, horrible ideas on my way into clarity
I’ve been funny on my way into clarity
I’ve been completely humor-free on my way to clarity

I’ve been exhilarated on my way into clarity
I’ve done the “dead man walking” Zombie limp into clarity
I created my way into clarity
I destroyed my way into clarity

I got annoyed into clarity
I joined the crowd on my way into clarity
I bucked the status quo into clarity
I became still enough to find clarity

I loved my way into clarity
I followed the signs into clarity
I ignored the signs on my way into clarity

Then I lost it…
And every single time—I started over.

Carry on,
xox

* Oh, bless you, The Divine Danielle LaPorte! We’ve been addressing this A LOT in my life as of late.

Take a look and then get out there and enjoy your weekend my loves,

xox

Yoga isn’t going to make you impervious to criticism — because criticism bites.

Meditation doesn’t make divorce less brutal — because divorce is rough no matter how it goes down. Green juice won’t keep the creep at work away — creeps like to creep. And prayer will not make your illness less intense to deal with — physical burdens are…burdensome.

For a lot of self-helpers, and juicers, and cosmic troopers who have been at it for a while there comes a pitfall — and you can trip into it on your first hot yoga class, or after ten years of regular meditation and fervent prayer. It goes like this: If I’m doing all this spiritual work, why does shit keep happening?

Variations include, but are not limited to: I’ve worked really hard to get my ego in check, why am I still so jealous of her?… I’ve had so much therapy, why aren’t I over this yet?… Been doing my abundance mantra for 40 days, but I’m still freaked about money… Take my supplements religiously, but I keep getting sick… I totally opened my heart chakra in that weekend workshop, but like, I still think he’s a total asshole.

Spiritual practice won’t stop shitty things from happening. Here’s the truly holistic picture: Life is full of shitty things, circumstances, feelings, emotions, and people with crazy-shitty motives.

You can still get your heart broken when you’re enlightened. Illumination doesn’t spare the body — pundit Jiddu Krishnamurti dealt with wretched migraines, the beloved Thich Nhat Hanh recently suffered a debilitating stroke. Tragedies strike. Tsunamis engulf. Life hits, heals, caresses, and batters every one of us — the saints, the do-gooder’s, in sun salutations, and in repose.

But this…

Here’s what soul practice does: It helps you handle the hard stuff when it comes. Every conscious in-breath/out-breath you take carves out space in your being for the ineffable mystery. And you really need to leave room for mystery if you want to stay sane. All of your dancing, and asanas, and sweaty finish lines are making it much easier to unfold, rather than grip and grind. The prayers, the declarations, the incantations… they’re an IV drip of grace, streaming into your nervous system.

Spiritual practice won’t make you super human. But it will help you fall in love with your humanity.

You get to choose your response to even the things you can’t prevent. When you’re down on yourself because you can’t get over it, when the Creepy Creepertons are on your very last nerve, when you’re tired of being tired, or your heart is in pieces…the best

Danielle LaPorte

http://www.daniellelaporte.com/?inf_contact_key=0c40520a67c0c00592ae82ccb6d9d8984e2ec4480c14ca5f6143d580ca3d4517

It’s noon on Monday the 21st and I should be on my way to the airport as I write this. Instead, I’m eating a peach (which looks and tastes suspiciously like a cookie), and pondering the fact that we postponed, (a much more accurate and less sad-sacky word than cancelled) our motorcycle trip to Italy last week.

As I think back on the last seven days, it’s hard to deny—many, many miracles have occurred.

By Wed—Thurs of last week, almost as if by magic, reports came back from various friends and family members; “I’m feeling SO much better!” they all enthused with great…enthusiasm.

Whew, that came as such a relief.

Because they had no idea how much their health and wellbeing had been weighing on me, and the fact that I was about to go off the grid for two glorious weeks (oh, did I write that? I meant to just think it), had tied me up in knots.

So of course when we canceled, postponed the trip—everyone miraculously recovered.

Emotional shitshow on Friday—postpone trip on Saturday—Wednesday—Miraculous recoveries all around! Yeah.

By golly, isn’t that just so..so..

The same was true on hubby’s job front.
Inspectors who swore on their mother’s grave that they could not possibly show up before he left—did. These same stone-hearted men who were impervious to bribes and copious amounts of tears and shameless begging; called out of the blue—all chipper and accommodating—showed up on time the next day (gasp) and passed not only the rough electrical—but the framing as well. (You have no idea what a big, hairy deal this is. I called the Vatican to have this miracle sanctioned, only to be told the Pope is really busy right now—something about Cuba).

Anyhow, refunded vacation money started to show up in our accounts.
Wait.
What?
Refunded money you say?
I know! We even got $1000 of our motorcycle deposit back. From Italians. All the way in Italy.
Miracles #2, 3 & 4.

Long suffering lumber showed up. Drywalling commenced. Lions and lambs lay down together and I lost three pounds!
Tuesday it even rained a big, sloppy, tropical rain—in California.
Well, now you’re just showing off.
More miracles?
Will it never end?

Laughter even made a brief appearance in our home over the weekend. (Don’t get excited, it was a guffaw really—we’re not out of the woods yet).

But it sure started to feel like it.
How about this unexpected side effect? So many things started to right themselves that it made it hard for disappointment to enter the picture.

Here’s the thing you guys, we made one really hard decision.
We stopped the bleeding that was killing the lead-up to our trip.

We called it. (I’m big on doing this now when something ends because I think attention must be paid)

Our Splendid Italian Vacation. Time of Death: 8 a.m. Saturday September 12, 2015.

Another miracle? Did it resurrect in three days? Nope—The vacation will have to wait—But our life did.

It turned its badass self around and starting behaving more like our wondrous, well oiled, things-always-work-out-for-us life again.

“Things are going so well, maybe we shouldn’t have cancelled”, hubby announced over lunch on Saturday.

Is he fucking kidding?

If we hadn’t called it quits I’m convinced the shitshow would still be in town.
And if we were still flying out today—I can guarantee you that the wings would fall off the plane.

Carry on,
xox

When you hold a book up next to your face on video; a book on surrender, and you tell all of your readers how you’re committing, to the best of your ability, to live your life that way — to let the “Hand of Life” call all the shots—said life immediately turns into a three-ring traveling shitshow and you end up canceling your Italian motorcycle vacation at the last-minute.

Yep. So that’s how I spent my Saturday. Canceling plane reservations, hotel rooms and motorcycle rentals.

It was the next logical step. All hell was breaking loose on several of my husband’s construction jobs and we couldn’t in good conscience, just leave town.

Arrivederci! See ya in two weeks!
Yeah, not gonna happen.

I saw it coming, (if i’m honest with myself; which I almost never am), about three weeks ago.
Everything that could go wrong—did.

But you know how you’ve made deposits—both financially and emotionally? Ones that you just can’t bring yourself to give up?

So we stayed the course until there was flaming hair, crying and name-calling (those were his clients, not me), and ended up canceling at the worst possible time. The last-minute.

So. What would I do differently, if I had it to do over again?

That’s just it. Nothing.

I called bullshit every step of the way. You know, like a good wife does.

My French husband, bucking the stereotype, refused to surrender.
Alas, there are two of us in this couple, and he sincerely thought he could make things right before our departure date. He is a magician after all, always pulling rabbits out of hats.
But as that date drew near, “The Hand of Life”, depending on where you were standing, either made the decision easier for us—or gave us the finger.

It’s still too soon to tell.

I can honestly say that at this very moment I’m not disappointed in the least. (Check with me in a week when I should be lounging on the Amalfi coast, tanned, drunk, and being attended to by a handsome waiter named Marco.)

Surrender. Who in the hell said this was a good way to live? Oh yeah, that would be me.

So you guys, here’s what I learned from this:

All the sleepless nights;

All the 3 a.m. walks around the block to clear his head;

All the angst filled conversations;

All the lists of pro’s and con’s;

All the endless vacillating.

All of that misery came from fighting the inevitable.

And after the surrender came a tiny nugget of a gift. Instead of disappoint; I feel peace. (I’m not sure my partner’s there yet. He still has a lot of magic to perform).

Carry on,
xox