vulnerability

Mark Manson On Life Purpose

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* Happy Saturday Loves!
My sister sent this to me and…I LOVED IT, and I had to share it with you! And I soooo needed to hear it!
I think Mark may be my much cooler brother-from-another-mother.
Enjoy!
xoxJanet

“One day, when my brother was 18, he waltzed into the living room and proudly announced to my mother and me that one day he was going to be a senator. My mom probably gave him the “That’s nice, dear,” treatment while I’m sure I was distracted by a bowl of Cheerios or something.

But for fifteen years, this purpose informed all of my brother’s life decisions: what he studied in school, where he chose to live, who he connected with and even what he did with many of his vacations and weekends.

And now, after almost half a lifetime of work later, he’s the chairman of a major political party in his city and the youngest judge in the state. In the next few years, he hopes to run for office for the first time.

Don’t get me wrong. My brother is a freak. This basically never happens.

Most of us have no clue what we want to do with our lives. Even after we finish school. Even after we get a job. Even after we’re making money. Between ages 18 and 25, I changed career aspirations more often than I changed my underwear. And even after I had a business, it wasn’t until I was 28 that I clearly defined what I wanted for my life.

Chances are you’re more like me and have no clue what you want to do. It’s a struggle almost every adult goes through. “What do I want to do with my life?” “What am I passionate about?” “What do I not suck at?” I often receive emails from people in their 40s and 50s who still have no clue what they want to do with themselves.

Part of the problem is the concept of “life purpose” itself. The idea that we were each born for some higher purpose and it’s now our cosmic mission to find it. This is the same kind of shitty logic used to justify things like spirit crystals or that your lucky number is 34 (but only on Tuesdays or during full moons).

Here’s the truth. We exist on this earth for some undetermined period of time. During that time we do things. Some of these things are important. Some of them are unimportant. And those important things give our lives meaning and happiness. The unimportant ones basically just kill time.

So when people say, “What should I do with my life?” or “What is my life purpose?” what they’re actually asking is: “What can I do with my time that is important?”

This is an infinitely better question to ask. It’s far more manageable and it doesn’t have all of the ridiculous baggage that the “life purpose” question does. There’s no reason for you to be contemplating the cosmic significance of your life while sitting on your couch all day eating Doritos. Rather, you should be getting off your ass and discovering what feels important to you.

One of the most common email questions I get is people asking me what they should do with their lives, what their “life purpose” is. This is an impossible question for me to answer. After all, for all I know, this person is really into knitting sweaters for kittens or filming gay bondage porn in their basement. I have no clue. Who am I to say what’s right or what’s important to them?

But after some research, I have put together a series of questions to help you figure out for yourself what is important to you and what can add more meaning to your life.

These questions are by no means exhaustive or definitive. In fact, they’re a little bit ridiculous. But I made them that way because discovering purpose in our lives should be something that’s fun and interesting, not a chore.

  1. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF SHIT SANDWICH AND DOES IT COME WITH AN OLIVE?

Ah, yes. The all-important question. What flavor of shit sandwich would you like to eat? Because here’s the sticky little truth about life that they don’t tell you at high school pep rallies:

Everything sucks, some of the time.

Now, that probably sounds incredibly pessimistic of me. And you may be thinking, “Hey Mr. Manson, turn that frown upside down.” But I actually think this is a liberating idea.

Everything involves sacrifice. Everything includes some sort of cost. Nothing is pleasurable or uplifting all of the time. So the question becomes: what struggle or sacrifice are you willing to tolerate? Ultimately, what determines our ability to stick with something we care about is our ability to handle the rough patches and ride out the inevitable rotten days.

If you want to be a brilliant tech entrepreneur, but you can’t handle failure, then you’re not going to make it far. If you want to be a professional artist, but you aren’t willing to see your work rejected hundreds, if not thousands of times, then you’re done before you start. If you want to be a hotshot court lawyer, but can’t stand the 80-hour workweeks, then I’ve got bad news for you.

turd-sandwichWhat unpleasant experiences are you able to handle? Are you able to stay up all night coding? Are you able to put off starting a family for 10 years? Are you able to have people laugh you off the stage over and over again until you get it right?

What shit sandwich do you want to eat? Because we all get served one eventually.

Might as well pick one with an olive.

  1. WHAT IS TRUE ABOUT YOU TODAY THAT WOULD MAKE YOUR 8-YEAR-OLD SELF CRY?

When I was a child, I used to write stories. I used to sit in my room for hours by myself, writing away, about aliens, about superheroes, about great warriors, about my friends and family. Not because I wanted anyone to read it. Not because I wanted to impress my parents or teachers. But for the sheer joy of it.

And then, for some reason, I stopped. And I don’t remember why.

We all have a tendency to lose touch with what we loved as a child. Something about the social pressures of adolescence and professional pressures of young adulthood squeezes the passion out of us. We’re taught that the only reason to do something is if we’re somehow rewarded for it.

It wasn’t until I was in my mid-20s that I rediscovered how much I loved writing. And it wasn’t until I started my business that I remembered how much I enjoyed building websites — something I did in my early teens, just for fun.

The funny thing though, is that if my 8-year-old self had asked my 20-year-old self, “Why don’t you write anymore?” and I replied, “Because I’m not good at it,” or “Because nobody would read what I write,” or “Because you can’t make money doing that,” not only would I have been completely wrong, but that 8-year-old boy version of myself would have probably started crying.

  1. WHAT MAKES YOU FORGET TO EAT AND POOP?

We’ve all had that experience where we get so wrapped up in something that minutes turn into hours and hours turn into “Holy crap, I forgot to have dinner.”

Supposedly, in his prime, Isaac Newton’s mother had to regularly come in and remind him to eat because he would go entire days so absorbed in his work that he would forget.

I used to be like that with video games. This probably wasn’t a good thing. In fact, for many years it was kind of a problem. I would sit and play video games instead of doing more important things like studying for an exam, or showering regularly, or speaking to other humans face-to-face.

It wasn’t until I gave up the games that I realized my passion wasn’t for the games themselves (although I do love them). My passion is for improvement, being good at something and then trying to get better. The games themselves — the graphics, the stories — they were cool, but I can easily live without them. It’s the competition — with others, but especially with myself — that I thrive on.

And when I applied that obsessiveness for improvement and self-competition to an internet business and to my writing, well, things took off in a big way.

Maybe for you, it’s something else. Maybe it’s organizing things efficiently, or getting lost in a fantasy world, or teaching somebody something, or solving technical problems. Whatever it is, don’t just look at the activities that keep you up all night, but look at the cognitive principles behind those activities that enthrall you. Because they can easily be applied elsewhere.

  1. HOW CAN YOU BETTER EMBARRASS YOURSELF?

Before you are able to be good at something and do something important, you must first suck at something and have no clue what you’re doing. That’s pretty obvious. And in order to suck at something and have no clue what you’re doing, you must embarrass yourself in some shape or form, often repeatedly. And most people try to avoid embarrassing themselves, namely because it sucks.

Ergo, due to the transitive property of awesomeness, if you avoid anything that could potentially embarrass you, then you will never end up doing something that feels important.

Yes, it seems that once again, it all comes back to vulnerability.

Right now, there’s something you want to do, something you think about doing, something you fantasize about doing, yet you don’t do it. You have your reasons, no doubt. And you repeat these reasons to yourself ad infinitum.

But what are those reasons? Because I can tell you right now that if those reasons are based on what others would think, then you’re screwing yourself over big time.

If your reasons are something like, “I can’t start a business because spending time with my kids is more important to me,” or “Playing Starcraft all day would probably interfere with my music, and music is more important to me,” then OK. Sounds good.

But if your reasons are, “My parents would hate it,” or “My friends would make fun of me,” or “If I failed, I’d look like an idiot,” then chances are, you’re actually avoiding something you truly care about because caring about that thing is what scares the shit out of you, not what mom thinks or what Timmy next door says.

Living a life avoiding embarrassment is akin to living a life with your head in the sand.

Great things are, by their very nature, unique and unconventional. Therefore, to achieve them, we must go against the herd mentality. And to do that is scary.

Embrace embarrassment. Feeling foolish is part of the path to achieving something important, something meaningful. The more a major life decision scares you, chances are the more you need to be doing it.

  1. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD?

In case you haven’t seen the news lately, the world has a few problems. And by “a few problems,” what I really mean is, “everything is fucked and we’re all going to die.”

I’ve harped on this before, and the research also bears it out, but to live a happy and healthy life, we must hold on to values that are greater than our own pleasure or satisfaction.1

So pick a problem and start saving the world. There are plenty to choose from. Our screwed up education systems, economic development, domestic violence, mental health care, governmental corruption. Hell, I just saw an article this morning on sex trafficking in the US and it got me all riled up and wishing I could do something. It also ruined my breakfast.

Find a problem you care about and start solving it. Obviously, you’re not going to fix the world’s problems by yourself. But you can contribute and make a difference. And that feeling of making a difference is ultimately what’s most important for your own happiness and fulfillment.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Gee Mark, I read all of this horrible stuff and I get all pissed off too, but that doesn’t translate to action, much less a new career path.”

Glad you asked…

  1. GUN TO YOUR HEAD, IF YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, WHERE WOULD YOU GO AND WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

For many of us, the enemy is just old-fashioned complacency. We get into our routines. We distract ourselves. The couch is comfortable. The Doritos are cheesy. And nothing new happens.

This is a problem.

What most people don’t understand is that passion is the result of action, not the cause of it.

Discovering what you’re passionate about in life and what matters to you is a full-contact sport, a trial-and-error process. None of us know exactly how we feel about an activity until we actually do the activity.

So ask yourself, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to leave your house every day for everything except for sleep, how would you choose to occupy yourself? And no, you can’t just go sit in a coffee shop and browse Facebook. You probably already do that. Let’s pretend there are no useless websites, no video games, no TV. You have to be outside of the house all day every day until it’s time to go to bed — where would you go and what would you do?

Sign up for a dance class? Join a book club? Go get another degree? Invent a new form of irrigation system that can save the thousands of children’s lives in rural Africa? Learn to hang glide?

What would you do with all of that time?

If it strikes your fancy, write down a few answers and then, you know, go out and actually do them. Bonus points if it involves embarrassing yourself.

  1. IF YOU KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DIE ONE YEAR FROM TODAY, WHAT WOULD YOU DO AND HOW WOULD YOU WANT TO BE REMEMBERED?

Most of us don’t like thinking about death. It freaks us out. But thinking about our own death surprisingly has a lot of practical advantages. One of those advantages is that it forces us to zero in on what’s actually important in our lives and what’s just frivolous and distracting.

When I was in college, I used to walk around and ask people, “If you had a year to live, what would you do?” As you can imagine, I was a huge hit at parties. A lot of people gave vague and boring answers. A few drinks were nearly spit on me. But it did cause people to really think about their lives in a different way and re-evaluate what their priorities were.

What is your legacy going to be? What are the stories people are going to tell when you’re gone? What is your obituary going to say? Is there anything to say at all? If not, what would you like it to say? How can you start working towards that today?

And again, if you fantasize about your obituary saying a bunch of badass shit that impresses a bunch of random other people, then again, you’re failing here.

When people feel like they have no sense of direction, no purpose in their life, it’s because they don’t know what’s important to them, they don’t know what their values are.

And when you don’t know what your values are, then you’re essentially taking on other people’s values and living other people’s priorities instead of your own. This is a one-way ticket to unhealthy relationships and eventual misery.

Discovering one’s “purpose” in life essentially boils down to finding those one or two things that are bigger than yourself, and bigger than those around you. And to find them you must get off your couch and act, and take the time to think beyond yourself, to think greater than yourself, and paradoxically, to imagine a world without yourself.”

Footnotes:
Sagiv, L., & Schwartz, S. H. (2000). Value priorities and subjective well-being: direct relations and congruity effects. European Journal of Social Psychology, 30(2), 177–198.
Wrzesniewski, A., McCauley, C., Rozin, P., & Schwartz, B. (1997). Jobs, careers, and callings: People’s relations to their work. Journal of Research in Personality, 31(1), 21–33.
Newport, C. (2012). So Good They Can’t Ignore You: Why Skills Trump Passion in the Quest for Work You Love. Business Plus.

http://markmanson.net

Her Own Secret Santa

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*This is a guest post by my dear friend Jeanne Sullivan. We were roomies at that badass writing retreat I had the privilege to attended in August. http://bookmama.com

One of the advantages of sharing a room with a writer besides staying up late, talking and laughing, is the telling of great stories. This is one that she told me that weekend, and it has stayed with me ever since, because it is that good.

I could SO relate as I had been a mostly unattached single woman for about a million years – and I’m sure a few of you can too.

I think this is genius self-care, and I wanted to share it with you.

Jeanne is such an amazing woman. Smart, funny, warm, compassionate, a killer business woman, and a single mom.

I know you’re going to fall in love with her – just like I did.

Take it away Jeanne!

Just last Christmas I found myself on Christmas morning without presents under the tree.
We did our usual exchange with the family between my mom and sisters, but mine was a gift certificate that arrived via email. My kids, not yet of driving or earning ages, hadn’t contributed to the pile of wrapping under the tree. And my on again, off again relationship was off again. All that to say, I thought it wouldn’t bother me; I thought I didn’t care. I thought I wasn’t such a materialistic person. But when 2 pm came, my boys went to their dad’s house; and I had a good cry about it. Then I moved on.

Flash forward to February, and I’m laughing with my son at breakfast about how I’d ordered a flash drive for him at Christmas and forgotten about it. I’d come across it cleaning out my office the day before in a box with something I’d bought for myself: a Bamboo stylus I had been so excited about! Apparently, so excited that I completely forgot about it for two months while it was sitting in an Amazon box on top of my bookcase.

And just like that, the idea hit me.
If it was that easy for me to forget about the stylus, I bet I’d also forget about a new pair of boots, a sweater, and a brand new iPad.

Here was my plan: I’ll order myself a Christmas present every month between now and then. I’ll pay the extra $5 to have it wrapped and follow my son’s suggestion to lock them in the attic like I do their presents. I’ve had a smile under my hat about it ever since, part grin and part gratitude. You see, at other times in my life, I might have thought: “there’s no way this would happen again” or “I’m sure I’ll be in a relationship next year.” Or my favorite denial strategy:

“By next year, I’ll be so mature that not having presents under the tree won’t bother me at all.”

Those ways of thinking were for back then, when I wasn’t yet forty and cared a lot more about what other people think. Back when I wanted to be better than wanting a pile of presents under the tree. And, life might be short, so just in case, I decided to plan differently for this year.

Last February, I conceded that things could change: “Maybe I’ll be in a great relationship with a man who showers me with gifts by December 25th this year. Maybe I’ll cultivate a huge circle of friends who have nothing to do but think about their single sister’s supply under the tree. Maybe my kids will work all summer mowing lawns just to put a few gifts under the tree for mom.”

While I’m as optimistic, maybe even more so, than the next person – I sure am glad I took matters into my own hands. At this very moment, I have no shame in sharing that I have the MOST presents under the tree – ten to be exact. The final present to myself, from myself will arrive on December 23rd from Stitch Fix. This was, ahem, the same strategy I used for buying my own birthday present this year, and it worked out very well.

Vulnerability, like good wine, is always better with friends.

Won’t you to share your insights, fears, stories and dreams with me in the comments below?

Which holiday is hardest for you? What could you do to make sure it’s better this year, even if it seems silly or selfish?

Jeannie Sullivan

With a pocketful of entrepreneurial dreams, Jeannie left her VP corporate gig in the middle of the recession to launch her own consultancy. Within her first year, she was leveraging a revenue mix to bring home six figures annually doing work that she loves. Her coaching practice attracts professionals who are ready to create commerce on their own terms by starting a business, innovating their business strategy, or unleashing their true talents on the world. You can learn more about her at jeanniesullivan.com.

Why Do We Act So Cool?

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Cool Is An Emotional Straightjacket. I’m Going To Take It Off.
Brene Brown

Why do we play it so cool?

I am at my long awaited, kick ass writing retreat/workshop in Carmel as I write this.

This is my tribe. I could tell by the peals of laughter that met me at the driveway, and guided me inside this lovely house, to sit with these lovely people.
I’ve come to work hard, with a side of laughter.
If I were to write down my recipe for a happy life, that’s what it would be.
Hard work – with a side of laughter.

A good belly laugh is the anecdote to “cool”.

Anyway, I decided in the car on the way up, that I would be as authentic and vulnerable as I had the courage to be, otherwise…why bother?
It’s like the people who go into psychotherapy and pretend that their world is round when it’s actually square. It’s not doing them any good and it’s a colossal waste of time.

I will be and act excited when I’m excited (which was all day yesterday) lost if I feel lost ( mid morning) happy when that occurs (dinner last night) and cry if the mood strikes me (today when it was my turn to read).

I will not pretend that this is not the once in a lifetime experience that I know in my heart it is.

I have done that in similar social situations where I’ve felt intimidated or out of my league. It is my virtual armor, and it has repeatedly short changed me.

I know I’m not the only one, I see it all the time.

So…what if we show people exactly how we feel? Would they laugh or sneer or run away? If you can believe it, none of the above. They’d feel relieved.

I was born in LA, which is the Capitol of Cool.

Not if you’re born here – that’s just winning the weather lottery.
It’s where all the cool people that stand outside clubs and check out their reflections in the shop windows on Robertson Boulevard or Rodeo Drive have ended up. The earth is literally tilted in such a way that the “too cool for school crowd” rolls into California via every mode of transpiration imaginable; and Los Angeles in particular.

There is an air of abject “so what” that hangs over this city as thick as smog.

You feel proud of a promotion, raise, engagement ring, new house or car?
SO WHAT. BIG DEAL. BE COOL.
You can throw a rock and hit someone with a better job, bigger diamond, fancier car and more square footage.

When I worked in the jewelry business and celebrities would saunter in, we, the shop girls, all had to act like it was just another day at the office, lest we frighten those fragile, skittish, individuals away.

But a couple of us decided to be real.

We cracked jokes, fetched them vodka from the fridge and encouraged self deprecation, and you know what? They came back again and again.
They wanted a real connection. Not ooglie eyed, start struck, adoration, and not indifference. They ARE, contrary to popular belief, human beings after all. They wanted to laugh and kid around and eat cookies and talk smack about the paparazzi.
We were happy to supply that for them.

I look back and realize that we would have missed some really great moments, with some amazing people if we had played it cool, and I think that’s the moral of this whole story.

Like Brene Brown says, it IS and emotional straightjacket, and one that I’m no longer willing to wear.

In which situations do you put on your “cool.” What would it take to remove the straightjacket?
Much love, 
The writing Queen 😉 
Xox

I Feel Like Shit, I Think I’ll Sing

I FeeI Like Shit...I Think I'll Sing

*This is reprise of a popular post from November of last year, so it will be new to many of you. Enjoy your weekend!

Standing and staring at my naked reflection in the Nordstrom’s dressing room mirror (that in its previous life was a circus fun house mirror.) I’m cringing under that hideous fluorescent lighting that is so bright you could preform neurosurgery, yet somehow, it still manages to cast perfect shadows on every lump, bump and divot my thighs possess; I suppress the urge to cry as a Cadillac sized lump forms in my throat.

I am not trying on swimsuits, although that form of torture is just as necessary an evil.
I’m standing with a pile of Spanx at my feet, racked with waves of intense vulnerability even though I’m the only one in the room. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m a tougher self critic than a thousand Joan Rivers’.

But everyone can relate to that…right?

Oh, what about singing alone on stage?
Is that vulnerable enough?
Under the unforgiving gaze of a spotlight on a pitch black stage, I’m positive everyone in the front row can see my lips trembling…
Deeeeep breath…can they smell my flop sweat?

But all of this is my own damn fault.

When spring had sprung back in 2010 and I realized, shit,
who am I now that I don’t have a job, let alone a career?

Life appeared black and white to me, drained of all color.
I fell into a funk. it was deeper than a funk actually, it was my own personal, dark swirling edie of despair.

During that long summer, I would sit at the computer in my pajamas at two in the afternoon (something I NEVER do unless I’m ridiculously ill, in which case I don’t troll the internet, I watch I LOVE LUCY reruns) and I would search the World Wide Web for something to make me happy.

I’d spend hours watching silly cat videos, and babies laughing at tearing paper.

What brings me joy? I would ask myself.
Myself thought the question was rhetorical, so it just kept putting different searches into Google.
What makes me happy, besides what I’ve done all these years?

Who AM I without that?

Singing used to make me happy, I thought one day, remembering the ancient history of that time long, long ago, before I turned 30.

MUSICAL THEATRE ADULT WORKSHOP

I had sung and done theatre from the age of about 7 until I turned 30.
That was the day I became a grown up.
Better said, it was the day I realized I wanted to live above the poverty level. I wanted to have more than $50 in my my bank account.
I wanted to see the world, AND I also realized that if I worked as long and hard at something else, Anything else, I could be a success.
So I did, and I was.

Cut to: 
20ish years later, 
no store,
No career,
Epic debt,
What’s a girl to do?

I decide to sing again.
Cause THAT’S what people in dark swirling eddies of despair do.
They make GREAT decisions AND they break into song.

I hadn’t sung a note since quitting all those years ago, my husband, having met me in my 40’s, didn’t even know that side of me.

But the fear that came up when I thought of getting back on stage, was different than the fear I had been experiencing around the loss of the store.
It felt familiar, like an old friend somehow.

And the pounding of my heart and the stage fright,they brought me back to life.

So I hit SEND on the application, and left it up to the Universe.

Six months later, as a Christmas present, I got an email back.
They were doing CHICAGO, and was I still interested?
Hell NO! CHICAGO!!! Really!?
I can’t dance, and I hadn’t sung since Jesus was a boy.
And those skimpy little costumes? I’m over fifty.
NO WAY!
FORGET IT Universe. Nice try. Jeez.
I just want to ease back in, stick out my toe, not dive off the deep end.

Above is a picture my talented sister took during the show.
That’s me in the middle, I’m Velma.
So…you’re starting to get me now huh?
I can’t do anything half way. When I jump…I jump!
See that woman?

No more black and white, back to a Technicolor life.
That’s a picture of me, Janet, finding her bliss.

*much love to Amanda,Jules,Mark and Jeremy for their immense talent and endless patience

Check Out This Body Wisdom

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At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are, and what you want
~ Lao Tzu

I can remember doing this exercise in one of Diana’s meditation workshops years ago after I had read about it in a book from my long distant past (please don’t ask me which one, that I can’t remember) I just remember being gobsmacked over the realization that the cells of my body may collectively know more than my brain, how I actually feel about things – so we tried it.

We being the women in the Wednesday group, and no men, you don’t need a uterus to try this exercise although it IS about observing the reaction your body has to certain words.

As a matter of fact one of my male friends says his butt puckers up.
Ha! I’ve got ya now…….keep reading, you’ll understand in a minute.

Words carry energy, on that we all agree, correcto?

Certain words can either feel expansive or contracting.

Expansive words/energy have to do with keeping your heart open, being receptive, being vulnerable.
Arms uncrossed, face and upper body open.

Contracting words/energy are all about fear, suppression, closing the gate, hoisting up the drawbridge and filling the moat with water – and a dragon.
Gathering in, armoring up and closing down.

Try this out, it’s visceral, the change may be subtle, but you will feel SOMETHING,
And that feeling is what you want to be on the lookout for.
Here goes. Say the word aloud:

Cancer
Money
Vacation
Commitment
Puppy
Deadline
Hospital
I Love you
Snake
Failure
Hate
I’m proud of you
Idiot

Did you feel it, that very subtle, or not so subtle opening and closing reaction as your body feeeeeeeels the energy of each word?

If you’re a doctor the word hospital probably won’t trigger you negatively, although, if someone says to you: They had to rush Timmy to the hospital!
I doubt you’ll feel nothing.

The same thing with money. It can have a very expansive feeling for some, and make others want to jump off a bridge.
That word has felt different ways to me at different times in my life, same word, just different energy.

Puppy is a mixed word for me nowadays also. 😉

Snakes? Snakes make me shiver. ‘Nuf said.

Remember: Language is a powerful thing, it can harm people as efficiently as a weapon, or raise someone’s soul to new heights, so be careful – really.

It can also give you the insight you need when your mind is chewing on a problem like a dog with a bone.

Say the word or words that coincide with what you’re thinking about out loud, and see how it feels in your body. Voila! There’s your answer.

I quit
I’m pregnant
Marry me
Let’s move
I’m leaving
I’m sorry

It’s a good one, I know!
Keep practicing and you’ll get better and better at figuring out how you REALLY feel about things.

If you feel inclined to comment, please do below. Remember the tribe learns a lot when you share from the heart.

Much love,
xox

Eggs, Toast, Bikini’s And Helen Mirren

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Today I met a couple of girlfriends for a leisurely late breakfast; I hesitate to use the word brunch because that word implies Mimosa’s and Bloody Mary’s, pots of hot coffee and the fact that it’s the weekend.

This was simply an egg, toast and tofu rice bowl breakfast, sans the alcohol.
In other words, a Monday.

We hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks, so there were lots of hugs, laughter, stories, and sharing of pictures on our phones.

One of my friends showed us a picture of the cute rainbow-colored, teeny-tiny little bikini that she’d just had the courage to purchase over the weekend. She is a stunning forty-year-old, who, in my humble opinion should be wearing her bikini to the Post Office and Trader Joes, but this was a big step for her.

No more modest little one piece for HER this summer.
She’s gonna rock a bikini, loud and proud. I applaud her for that.

Here’s what Nora Ephron had to say about that:

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Anyhow, my friend had been noticing scores of, for lack of a better word, average women, with their lusciously voluminous bellies and boobies, and their jiggly thighs, walking up and down the beach with heads held high, like they were freaking Heidi Klum, and she thought: Hey, why the hell not?

Why not indeed!

I love what she said next. I think I’m going to embroider it on a pillow.

“If people don’t like me in my bikini, they don’t have to buy my calendar.”

Bahahahaha!
After we all got done laughing our asses off, my other friend told us the story of her holiday a few years back, in Italy with her friend Luigi. They were in some steamy southern Italian city and decided to go to the local beach.

Because it was Italy and you can’t be held accountable for anything you say, eat or do there, she was also wearing a bikini. (Italy is where Vegas got their slogan, I think Marcus Aurelius said it first)

Somehow, she and Luigi found themselves together on a raft, (this part of the story gets murky. There must be one hell of a reason behind this because my friend is not a “share a raft” kinda gal). Anyhow, there they are, paddling around in the warm, deep blue, Mediterranean Sea.

Luigi suggests that they paddle (I’m still wondering about this), over to a small island nearby (what?), to visit a couple of his friends on the beach. As they approach, one of the women, as my friend tells it, literally unfolds herself, slowly moving from seated to standing on her towel.

Luigi, Mio caro!” she exclaims, waving her hand in the air. She then slinks toward the shore to greet Luigi in a warm embrace. (Okay, now I get it.)

Luigi is 5’3″.

She is 6′ tall and shaped like a ripe pear, with large heaving breasts and curvaceous round hips—all the color of mahogany…oh, and she is topless.

My friend recounted how Luigi’s face was buried in this woman’s smoldering Italian cleavage for the duration of the embrace and no one even flinched. As a matter of fact, all the woman were older, voluptuous, tan and topless.
Mama Mia!

Not a body issue to be found.

In that moment my friend was thrilled she wasn’t all covered up in her chastity inducing, Grandma Moses one piece swimsuit.

OMG! That’s SO Italian! Actually that’s SO European. What’s OUR Yankee doodle problem?

If we’re over a certain age, or don’t have the bodies of super models, why can’t we have the courage to flaunt what God gave us and rock that bikini?

Didn’t the paparazzi capture this picture of Dame Helen Mirren looking fucking awesome in a red bikini a few years back? Isn’t she over sixty? Fuck! I worship her for that.

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We don’t have to walk around, with boobs a flyin’ like those gutsy and gorgeous Italians, but some body confidence couldn’t hurt.
I say let’s all get over ourselves, and buy bikini’s, or a least something flattering that plays up our good assets.

Come on, Guys too.
Doesn’t have to be a speedo, but it can be trunks that hit above the calf.
Most guys I’ve met, even if they have a belly, have GREAT legs.
Flaunt um!

When we look back at pictures from twenty years ago, we were HOT and we thought otherwise at the time.

We’re never satisfied, so let’s love and embrace what we have.

I’m not certain I’ll be able to comply. I can’t be expected to hold in my stomach for more than half-hour increments, and if I eat more than one grape, it’s impossible altogether.

But….now I have my new motto:
If people don’t like me in my bikini, they don’t have to buy my calendar.”

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Too much?
Xox

Several Steps To Helping The “Strong Ones”

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When I walked up to my husband I had tears in my eyes. That is NOT a common occurrence, so he looked at the picture I had in my hand, that I had walked over to show him. It was the photo above. He’s a “major weeper” around me, so he became a puddle in seconds.

You know why?

We are both “strong people”and no one EVER asks us how we’re doing or if we’re okay.

Does that happen to you?

It’s really not that people don’t care to ask you, they just don’t think of it.

We know that about the world, so we ask each other, with the promise that we aren’t allowed to answer with the obligatory I’m fine, if that’s not the the case.
Complete honesty is required. We have earned each other’s trust, so it releases us of any reservations about letting our guard down.

Being strong is a blessing and a curse.

I’ve had some really nasty shit happen to me in my life, and basically everyone around me just assumes I’m going to be “fine.” I always am, so they’re right. 
But……

I have screamed, in anger at whomever was in the room, “what do I have to do? Bleed? Does blood have to pour out my eyes in order for you to see how much emotional pain I’m in?”

The response was always the same. “I just figured you were okay.”

I love that I instill that level of confidence in people, but for Gods sakes, ASK me if I’m okay.

Ask me how I’m feeling. Ask me how it’s going, or if I need help, because I’m a big girl and I’ll let you know if you have overstepped my emotional boundary, although that’s pretty hard to do.
I’ve talked recently to many other strong people I know, to ask them what they need when something goes down.

I’m going to give you a few simple steps in my GUIDE TO HELPING THE STRONG:

Sometimes us strong ones, we need a hug. If you’re too uncomfortable to talk to me, hug me. I promise, I won’t ever push you away.

Just a simple “I’m here for you” when you don’t know what to say to us, is beyond appreciated.

We’ve heard “You’ve got this” all our lives, and we do, because we’re the strong ones, so please don’t say that.

If we ever get from you the opportunity, willingness to listen and the space to vent, please let us. We won’t self indulge and stay there long, we’re the strong ones, it just helps us process.

We will NEVER call YOU in the middle of the night, that has not been OUR role. WE get the calls. So, if you know something has just gone down, like a death or a huge loss, firing, humiliation, fight, whatever….call us.

If I cry, let me. I promise, it’s not the end of the world.
Don’t try to get me to stop, or tell me I’m overreacting.
I can assure you, I’m not.

People HATE to see strong people vulnerable. It scares the fuck out of them.

I KNOW several of my love affairs have ended because I showed vulnerability and upset the dynamics of the relationship. I was supposed to be the “strong one.

If you’re one of the the strong ones, you’re welcome; and…..email this to all your friends and family, because they are at a loss as to how to handle you.

If you know a strong one, please take this to heart.

You strong ones, do you have anything to add?
What helps you?
Do you have a strong one around you? Did this help you to understand how to navigate them better?

I’d love to hear about what YOU think.
Much love, 
Xox

Vulnerability is Haaaaaaard…

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This past Wednesday night, at the women’s group that I so dearly love, the topic was intimacy, and the fact that, as Brene Brown has found in her over twenty years of research:

Vulnerability is essential for intimacy.

According to BB there can be no emotional, spiritual, or physical intimacy without vulnerability. 

Well…then…… shit.

Vulnerability is haaaaaard (said in a teenage whiney voice)

It leaves you open to emotional annihilation.

We’ve all been there. You’re completely and totally won over by someone who seems to meet you at the steps of intimacy. They hold your heart with their slippery hands and you give that unreliable soul the keys to the kingdom, or as Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Friday on Facebook, the keys to a small hidden lockbox.

She writes:
My girlfriends and I were talking about how all of us have a small lockbox hidden deep inside our souls, in which we keep the most fragile, frightened, innocent parts of ourselves.

If somebody loves you (and loves you WELL) they will come to learn what’s inside that secret lockbox of vulnerability, and they will be so careful to never use that information against you — to never manipulate your vulnerabilities, or mock them, or use the knowledge of your frailty as a weapon of power or diminishment.

My friends and I were talking about times in the past when we have opened ourselves up in love (or even friendship) to the wrong sorts of people — to people who found our most secret vulnerabilities and — instead of saying, “Oh, dear one, now that I know this about you, I will always protect you so carefully” — they said, “Aha! Now that I know this, I can really start messing with you!”

Then the betrayal happens, which along with the breach of trust and connection, is one of the major blocks to vulnerability. 

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that we talked about it this week and she posted her amazing post about it today.

In living rooms, yoga classes and cafe’s all over the world right now, women especially, are craving intimacy and learning the role that vulnerability plays.

Society and certain jobs (military, law enforcement, hospitals) discourage it.

But we women are getting courageous. And we realize that we are desperately in need of more human connection.

We are ALL in this together, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
Here’s another great piece of wisdom from Brene Brown:

When we loose our tolerance for vulnerability, we loose our tolerance for joy.

Because; we loose our courage to be joyful.
It is such a daring act, because it is so fleeting.
It is over in a minute or it can be taken away just as fast.

Think about that. We will sacrifice joy, in order to keep safe, the secrets in our lockboxes.

Bottom line…..life is fuckin’ risky.

It’s ALL a risk. Love, intimacy, vulnerability, connection, joy.

The whole shebang.

But it’s a risk I think we all should be willing to take.

Be kind to yourselves this lovely weekend.
Xox

Allowing Joy To Enter

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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

The Symptoms of a Heart Attack

The Symptoms of a Heart Attack

Okay! Now that I’ve got your attention!
In this month of the heart.
I’m not talking about the symptoms of a broken heart, or a dis-eased
heart, but rather an attack of another kind, that of an open heart.

What are the symptoms of a heart opening attack?
Can you guess?
Do you think you’ve felt them?
Let’s see…

Unprovoked crying.
You know the kind, sentimental commercials, cute babies, puppies. And for the brave few that can walk the earth this way; any exchange with another human being. A smile, a nod, just looking into another’s eyes, can cause tears. These are tears of recognition. You see the Divine in that person, and it touches you with its ET finger. and goes straight to your heart,

Grace.
Your life is dry without it. Your heart must be open to attract it. May be mistaken for luck or some innate ability. Don’t be fooled. Grace, true grace, helps you navigate a heart opening.

Generosity. 
When in the midst of a heart opening attack, you may feel unusually generous. You’re thinking money, and it can be about giving money away.
Dr. Wayne Dyer tells the story, that on one of his recent birthdays, he gave away cash all day. He was compelled to do it, and reported that it was his best birthday EVER!
But generosity has many faces Time is a precious commodity these days and we can all get pretty stingy with doling it out. How about sharing time with your spouse, your kids or a friend. Really being present, listening and laughing together can go a LONGGGGGG way!
It also assists in opening their hearts.

Bliss.
Un warranted bliss. Now THAT’S an advanced symptom.
Feeling blissfully happy…for no apparent reason. Giddy, slap happy, giggly, with a silly grin on your face…like the Dali Lama.
Yep. All symptoms of a heart opening.

Touch.
A kind of secondary symptom is wanting to touch people. In a good way, in a kind way, in a loving way.
Hugging, hands on shoulders, holding their hand, even touching someone’s face, which is sort of social taboo. Have you ever marveled at how soft another person’s skin is?? Even a man’s? That’s crazy, isn’t it?…And pretty wonderful.
A shaman once told me that it was important to be touched by another human being every day if possible. Otherwise your skin does not remain soft, it starts to harden.
Touching people in a kind way, is a sign you’ve really turned critical.
Your heart opening attack is in full swing!

Vulnerability.
SO great that this way of being is getting the respect it deserves these days.
Thanks to the daring Brene Brown and others, it is becoming okay, and even desirable to show vulnerability. The ability to do so, shows you are in the advanced stages of your heart opening. It is not to be taken lightly, and is not recommended for the faint of heart (ha!). Once you commit, you can’t go back. You won’t want to.

It is a far better thing, to feel these symptoms of a heart expansion, rather than the constriction that leads to the other serious kind of heart attack. They can actually feel just as scary and uncomfortable to the uninitiated, but take the ride, it is well worth it.

There are more.
Will you share some of your symptoms?
XoxJanet 

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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