One of the things I love about coaching at Choices is that, even after 8 years of being in the room fairly often, I still get ‘AHA!’ moments. Those moments of brilliant clarity that let me see deep into myself. Moments that illuminate how I am, and what I do in the world the things that aren’t working for me.

Coaching as much as I do has helped me to align my thinking with my doing. It has also helped me see where I am out of alignment.

On Thursday, there is a process that teaches the lesson of taking care of yourself first, of giving yourself what you need to be able to be of service to the world.

I have been in the room as that game was played many times, yet this time, something hit me that I hadn’t realized before.

When I played the game as a trainee, I played it my way. Sure, I’d made a commitment to myself on the first day that I would play at 100%. That I would do what was asked, and give it my all. Thelma Box, who was facilitating when I was there, had said she would not ask anyone to trust her, because she recognized that we didn’t know her, and had no reason to trust her. “We won’t ask you to do anything you can’t do, and definitely not anything that is immoral or illegal. Trust the person who asked you to come,” she said. “Trust that they love you and wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

I knew my girlfriend who had sponsored me would never do anything to hurt me. She’d helped save my life when I was in that dark and painful relationship that almost killed me. I knew she loved me. And I trusted her. I had promised her that I would give the program my ‘all’. I would play hard, participate, and dive in.

What I realized last week was that I had lied to myself all the way through.

I didn’t play the game as asked. I played it my way. And while it didn’t hurt anyone other than myself, the fact I had weaseled out of a commitment I’d made to myself, was a reflection of how I was doing other things in my life, and still sometimes do.

When I was a little girl it was one of my mother’s constant complaints about me. “Why do you have to do it your way?” “Why can’t you just do what I tell you?”

I am, at heart, a rebel. It is my nature. I like to find my own path. I like to create my own waves.

Problem is, I have sometimes let my rebel nature undermine my word.

And that doesn’t work for me.

Eight years ago, when I played the game, I chose to ignore what the rules were and did it my way.

It worked. Well… kinda, sorta. I got what the game represented for me at the time.

That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was — I did it my way and ignored my commitment to participate at 100% — which meant playing the game as asked.

How many times in my life do I do that? Listen to what someone is asking me to do, and then, circumvent the rules, twist their meaning and do it my way anyway? — even after I’ve made the commitment to do it in another way.

Doing it my way is good — as long as I’m honest with my word.

What struck home this past week was how I said one thing — and did another.

And that doesn’t work for me.

It creates less of what I want in my life, because when I commit to doing it one way, and then, do it my way anyway, I am letting go of my commitment. I am not being true with my word.

The important thing is to be honest with my word. To stand up to my commitments — starting with the ones I make to myself. If I started out with being clear with my intention that I would do it my way, it’s not an issue.

It’s the making the commitment and doing it my way anyway that doesn’t work.

Don’t get me wrong. I like being a rebel. I think the world needs more rebels. We need people willing to break out of ‘the box’ to find new paths to create a loving and kind and compassionate world. I think we need to step out of the worn and tired path of conventionality to spark our imaginations and creative expression. For me, that’s important.

What I realized last week though was that my habit of trying to ‘fit in’ while judging what was going on and then, ignoring my promise to participate fully and doing it my way anyway, is what wasn’t working for me.

Be true with my word. Speak up. Speak the truth. Always.

I don’t know what I would have gotten out of the process when I originally did it if I’d done it the way I was asked. I do know today that it wasn’t about the process, it was all about the judgements I carried as I did them. I thought I knew better. In my smug arrogance, I let myself down. I didn’t keep my commitment. I didn’t keep my word.

I am grateful, and filled with joy. I saw something about myself I’d missed. I learned something about my way of doing that I can see today, doesn’t always work for me. In the light of knowing, I get to let go of what doesn’t work in my life and recommit to myself to turn up, pay attention, speak the truth and stay unattached to the outcome.

I get to begin again.

Always begin again.

To be open. Honest. True and Loving.

Always begin again.

I like to give. I like to share. My time. My words. My insights. My gifts. Myself. It is how I express, Love.

I’m not so good at receiving.

This fact hit home last week when, while talking to a friend about the book,  The 5 Love Languages, by Gary Chapman, I mentioned how while my primary love language is Acts of Service, I have difficulty receiving in my language. 

“How do you fill your cup?” my friend asked.

Good question.

Giving is receiving. It’s true. I receive so much writing here every morning. Clarity. Learning. Sharing. Connecting. Friendship. An opportunity to live on purpose. A chance to grow and deepen my understanding of who I am and how I am in the world — and to share other people’s feelings, thoughts, ideas. It is a gift.

In the 3-D world, the place I live everyday, I like to give. I’m not so good at the receiving end of the equation. Which means, there’s little balance in the equation — and the universe loves for it all to add up to equal Love on every side of the equation.

Recently, at a dinner party here at the house for my youngest daughter’s birthday, I got a spasm in my lower back and eventually, realizing that my constant grimaces of pain were not only making my guests uncomfortable but also making me cry in public (something I do not like to do, thank you very much!) I had to leave our guests and go lie down. “You need Robaxacet,” a friend of my daughter’s said.

But I didn’t have any. “I’ll go to the drug store and get you some,” she said.

“Oh no,” I demurred. “Don’t do that. You’re here to enjoy the party. I’ll just take an Advil and lie down for a bit.” And I snuck off to our bedroom and lay down. As long as I didn’t move, my back was quiet. But one little move and it felt like someone was setting fire crackers off deep in my butt. I lay in the dark and waited for the Advil to kick in. It wasn’t happening.

And then, the door opened and two of my daughter’s friends walked in with a glass of water and a box of Robaxacet. They’d driven to the drug store to buy me some.

I felt blessed. Cherished. Loved.

It was a beautiful gift. I had to ‘get conscious’ about my tapes firing around how I had caused them trouble, put them to too much bother. I had to receive, without pushing away their gift.

It was the integrity-filled thing to do. I wanted to honour their gift and all my protestations of ‘you shouldn’t have’ would only have diminished their thoughtfulness. They didn’t deserve that.

Neither did I.

C.C., my beloved, gets up every morning and makes me a smoothie. When I’m coaching at Choices this is a particularly challenging for him as he is definitely not a morning person, and Choices mornings begin early. I want to tell him, “don’t bother,” “I’ll be fine,” “I don’t need one,” but that actually would not be true. I love his smoothies. They balance my day. They set me up with a healthy start to the morning. To push away his gift would be to negate his act of love, and deny myself receiving his gift in my love language.

Why would I do that? What’s in it for me to not receive in the language of my heart?

To not receive with grace is mostly all about ego. It’s all about self-denial. About listening to the critter reminding me about how I don’t deserve, am not worthy of, or simply not important enough for others to do for me what I love to do for them.

I am learning.

I am growing.

I am expanding into grace.

Giving is receiving. and the corollary of that is, Receiving is giving.

To receive is to give what I want most for people to have and know — I honour their presence. I value their gifts. I love them.

To push away their acts of service, to deny their words of affirmation (which is my second love language), is to say — you’re not important. You don’t matter to me. I don’t ‘see’ you.

And that’s not true. And it’s definitely not what I want to create more of in my world.

I want the people around me to know I see them, hear them, love them. I want them to feel visible and loved, and real in my presence. I want them to know, I honour and value and cherish everything about them — and that includes the things they do for me, their acts of service, their words of affirmation, the sharing of themselves and their many gifts.

Giving brings me great joy. Learning to receive fills me up with Love. What a blessing.

Namaste.

One of the commitments I make with myself when coaching at Choices is to be present. To be in the moment and of it. And while it is a commitment I make with all of my life, I am more conscious of the imperative and beauty of living in that space when surrounded by hearts breaking open in love and joy and harmony.

And sometimes, I forget.

Sometimes, something I hear or see or feel will trigger my critter’s fear and I will find myself suddenly in tears, feeling confused, frightened or even separate from the rest of the group. I am always grateful when one of my fellow coaches catches me in the act of falling and reminds me that the critter’s words are not the truth about me; they are the lies I tell myself to keep myself feeling safe when being at large in the world is overwhelming me.

There was a moment when my critter leapt into the fray and I spun out of control. “Louise,” asked one of my fellow coaches as they saw the tears welling in my eyes, “what tape is firing?”

I was grateful for their voice. It broke my reverie with dancing with the false truths my critter whispers in an unending litany in its hopes to drown out the real truth of who I am.

“I feel helpless,” I told my friend.

“Go deeper,” they prompted me.

“I don’t know what to do and I should. that’s my job.”

“Deeper still,” they said.

I took a breath and spoke through my tears. “I’m a failure.”

“That’s a tape.” my friend replied. “Stop it.”

And I did. In that moment, I got present and made the choice to breathe deeply, open up to expansion and stop the tapes firing. I shut the door on my critter and opened my heart.

I cannot save the world. I cannot change anyone’s path. I can only stand on my path and shine my light. I can’t open anyone’s eyes to see it. I can’t open anyone’s ears or their heart. All I can do is be my true self, be authentic and real and honest and compassionate and most importantly, Loving.

I can give my best and my best is good enough.

It was a beautiful lesson in humility. A loving reminder of how powerless I am over anyone else, other than myself. And in that reminder I was also gifted with the opportunity to witness the power of Love to touch hearts, open minds and set spirits free. I was given the opportunity to witness someone, many someone’s, step through their fear and SHINE.

I am grateful.

The ego is a crafty devil. It likes to masquerade as many things — and one of the favourites of my ego’s critter is to act like it has all the answers. Like it has the power to break through walls, tear down fortresses and heal wounded hearts.

When I am acting out from my tapes, those repetitive messages my mind likes to fire at me to convince me I really am weak, stupid, not good enough, unwanted, unloveable, I am willfully  holding onto untruths. I am making what other people are feeling, doing, saying, dealing with all about me. It’s not.

What is about me is how I respond. How I stand in my truth and stay present in the light of Love.

My critter acted out, as it likes to do, and tried to pull me off course. It wanted me to get down and dirty in the muck of its voice beating a fervent tattoo of lies that only I could hear.

I cratered for a moment. Broke my commitment to myself. Fortunately, a loving friend challenged me on my behaviour. A loving friend asked me to look in the mirror of the lies I was telling myself and speak the truth.

I am an alive and radiant woman.

In that place of truth, when I stand in the light and do not heed the seductive call of the darkness calling me under, I get to live my purpose to touch hearts, open minds and set spirits free. On purpose, I am the change I want to be in the world creating the more I want to have in my life — because in that place, I live my intention of creating an enlightened world of love, peace, harmony and joy.

Namaste.

She never imagined she could fly until one day share dared to believe… in herself.

Acrylic on canvas
8″ x 8″
Louise Gallagher 2014

It is here again. That time when I get ready to step into the seminar room to be part of miracles unfolding all around.

Tomorrow morning begins another 5 day seminar at Choices. This evening, I begin the coaching session with a meeting of new coaches at the hotel where the seminar is held and then, tomorrow morning, bright and shiny we meet again with the whole team to prepare for the day.

Someone asked me recently why I volunteer so much time to the program. It was an easy question to answer. “Because it makes me a better human being. Because it gives me an opportunity to deepen my understanding of who I am and how I am in the world and, it reminds me that to live the life of my dreams I need to live on purpose, give back and dig into living my wow! for all I’m worth.”

If I had one wish for the world it would be that we could all spend 5 days in a seminar room digging into the amazing, magnificent and beautiful essence of our being who we are each born to be. I would want for everyone to experience an opportunity to take five days out from the busy and the doing to get into their being. To delve into the mystery and the miracle of what it means to be truly, deeply, madly in love with themselves and their lives.

Life can deliver up many hurdles. It can be busy. It can be hard. It can be rough. It can also, no matter the circumstances surrounding me, be a journey of love, compassion, truth and beauty — one I get to experience from the inside out, acting from my higher good calling me to rise up and shine.

We are all born into this world with a promise, a hope, a belief in the capacity of humankind to make a difference. And no matter our circumstances, no matter the conditions surrounding our birth, we are all miracles of life. Divine inspiration come alive in the presence of our humanity.

And then, life happens. Circumstances take over and the miracle of our life becomes clouded in the real world limitations of the humans around us. Wars happen. Poverty strikes. Desperation invades. Some of us have it easier than others. Some have such a rough road to travel we can’t imagine how they ever got beyond the limitations of their beginnings.

But we do, survive. Surpass. Overcome.

We do, breathe. Walk. Run. For some of us our mobility is hampered by physical limitations the rest of us cannot imagine. For others, our minds are limited by factors we do not understand or cannot cope with.

And still we survive. We struggle. We make do. We make happen.

For many of us, we reach a point where we can’t carry the burdens any longer and give into the fear and horror that this is all there is.

For many of us, we learn to take shallow breaths, to wall off our feelings, to build up our walls.

We are adaptive human beings and in the journey of our lives, we learn to adapt, and adopt, ways of being that keep us from feeling too deeply the sorrows and tragedies of our lives. We learn to cope. To rationalize and minimize the things that happened, the things that were done to us, or by us, so that we can keep taking one step after another. We drag our heels. We drag our hurts. We drag ourselves through each day believing if we can just get through this one, tomorrow may be another day, and maybe tomorrow will be different.

Fact is, nothing is different until we choose to do something differently. Until we learn to change our glasses, shift our perspectives, steer a different course, nothing really changes.

And that’s why I keep going back to Choices. In that room I am reminded that it doesn’t have to be ‘that way’. Possibilities for change, for different, for better are endless.

We each have the power to create the lives of our dreams — no matter our circumstances.

We just have to begin somewhere and for me, it begins with always reminding myself of the infinite possibilities of the miracle of our lives. And that’s what I experience in the Choices room. An opportunity to refresh my belief in our human condition, to share in the wonder of us all and to dig deep into my dreams and see once again the wonder and incredible beauty that life has to offer when I quit shuffling my feet, looking down at the ground and learn to lift my head and trust in myself enough to know, I can fly if only I dare to unfold my wings.

I’m off to coach at Choices for five days. See you next week!

The neighbour’s had their barbeque fired up. Steam rose into the dark. Traffic whizzed by. It was 4:30 am and we were on our way to meet friends at a local pub to watch the Men’s Gold Hockey game live.

Who would have thunk it? Me up and at ’em before the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning just to watch a hockey game!

I hadn’t intended to go. C.C. and my youngest daughter had organized to meet up with some of her friends and ours at a local pub where they’d made reservations. “I’ll come for the last period,” I said, just as I’d done for the semi-final play-off on Friday.

But this was different. This was the Gold and it was live at 5am. The anticipation of what Canada could or could not do was high. The sense of community, of being in it together, of national pride on the line vibrated in the air.

I couldn’t stay home and be a party pooper and I sure wasn’t prepared to watch it alone.

Plus, that little voice within me that likes to remind me life is an adventure keptwhispering, ‘Quit taking yourself so seriously Louise. You want to be part of the fun. The energy. The excitement. Get up and go!’

I got up. I got going. I went and saw and I’m glad I did.

When it was over C.C. and I invited everyone back to the house for breakfast. By 11, 2 lbs of bacon and his world famous crepes consumed, the first load was running through the dishwasher and we were all asleep again, catching up on the missed winks.

I’m glad I went. It was fun. Exciting. And I did feel part of the spirit of it all. I did feel part of something that brought our entire country together in the early morning hours.

And I can say today, I was there. I was part of it.

Instead of pulling my normal, well… I’m just not that all into hockey.

It is something I am learning. To feel part of things, I need to put myself into the action. When I don’t feel part of things, it’s not because I’m not welcome or invited. It’s usually because I keep myself separate. I set myself apart. I hold myself back.

Yesterday morning, I had an opportunity to stretch my fun muscles and be part of my community. We laughed and joked and took pictures and I even drank a beer at 6am, no less! (Getting a glass of water was out of the question. Our waitress who had finished her night shift at 3am was swamped and it was easier to pour a glass of beer from the jug than to ask for anything else!)

When my daughter and a friend arrived at the house for breakfast, her friend told us the waitress was in tears when he left. She had dropped two trays of drinks, messed up on some orders and was exhausted. We’d all over-tipped as she was obviously doing her best and simply could not keep up with the crowds – the pub was packed throughout the game. It was a scene that was repeated in many bars across the Province as owners tried to keep up with demand and staff their premises to be able to take advantage of the special license the Premier had granted on Friday allowing them to serve alcohol at 5am.

So here’s to the team — not just the hockey players but to the staff who came in, or didn’t go home after they finished their shifts, so that they could give the fans what they wanted. A fun and exciting environment to watch the game together and cheer on our country as one voice raised high in jubilation.

Go Canada Go!

He sits on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched over, chin tucked into his chest. His body is layered in clothing, his head covered by the hoodie of a dark-coloured jacket that is just visible beneath the blanket that encompasses his still form. In one hand, he holds an upturned ball-cap that slants precariously close to the ground. He doesn’t move as people walk past. He does not stir.

He is there when I walk to my meeting and still there when I walk past an hour later. I have seen him before. In many parts of the downtown core. A silent figure on the edge of the sidewalk. A still life painted black on the streets.

I do not approach. I do not drop coins into his cap. Working at a homeless shelter for several years, I made the personal decision to not give to panhandlers.

I walk past and hear the voice of a friend, a recovering addict, whisper through my mind, ‘I always give to an addict. He really does need that next drink, that next fix. His life depends on it.’

I turn around, walk back and drop a toonie into his upturned cap. He does not look up but I see his head nod slightly. One quick jerk, up, down.

I carry on with my day, leaving him behind.

I do not know if he is an addict. I do not know his story. I do know that I will not miss the toonie. It costs me nothing to give and I’m pretty sure he can use it more than me. And maybe, as my friend said, it is what he needs most because at this moment in time, staying alive is the most important thing he can do today.

In the perfect flawed mess of my human condition, the dust bunnies gather in the shadows of my out-of-date thinking rattling around in the corners of my mind. They shake up my status quo and pepper me with endless questions I cannot fathom and no longer spend the time of day trying to answer. Questions like… Why me? Why now? Why?

I celebrate their presence. They are part of me but they do not define me. It is in their being part of me I feel the depths of my soul calling me to lighten up! In its deep calling, I dance as if no one is watching on the broken pieces of my heart laid bare on the backbone of too many love affairs gone wrong that brought so much right into my being me through being with the one’s who were wrong for me to be.

And in the creative reaction to the juicy presence of the past rising up to greet me this morning, I am perfectly me in all my human imperfections.

I am delightfully free in all my fears of flying, dancing, leaping, spinning and careening about.

I am heavenly enriched in every attempt to cast off all doubts so that I can soar without fear of falling. Sail without fear of drowning. Sing without fear of being silenced.

In this perfect flawed mess of my human condition, I celebrate being me.

There’s no other way for me to be. And I am grateful.

Namaste.

PS — I originally wrote that phrase, ‘perfect flawed mess’ in Monday’s posting.  I hadn’t really thought about it beyond the initial scribing until a friend posted on FB and thanked me for the reference. (Thank you Danielle E.)

This morning, in meditation, the phrase slipped into my mind and wound its way through the stillness to reveal itself in the words above when my fingers reached the keyboard.

I have always loved ritual. Ritual brings me home to my heart, it grounds me in my soul, and opens my spirit to wonder.

As a child, I loved going to Mass on Sunday mornings for the experience of ritual that a Catholic mass offers. The candles, incense and the echoing silence of the vast spaces of cathedrals throughout western Europe where we lived all brought me a sense of peace, connectedness, completeness. Immersed in ritual I felt part of something bigger than me. I felt connected to the spiritual realms which I believed, and continue to believe, permeate the air all around me.

Ritual fills my soul with grace.

I know this and still, today, my life is sorely missing ritual. I no longer attend Catholic mass. In fact, I seldom go to church. I know though, that I don’t need church to create ritual space within my life. I simply need the will — and I’m not spending time creating space for ritual in my life.

In fact, if I think of the most profound ritual in my life today, it might well be the making of coffee every morning.

To have what I want in my life, I must be committed to do what it takes to create it.

I want peace in my soul. I want Love in my heart. I want enlightenment for my spirit.

I want to walk in grace.

What am I willing to do to create it?

These thoughts drifted through my head this morning as I meditated — which, as I type I realize is also a ritual I engage in — that is much more profound than making coffee!

However, I have been feeling out of sorts for the past few days. Off-kilter. Out of sync with where and how I want to be in the world.

Sure, I have a cold that has been expressing itself through stuffed up nose that is either running or plugging up and a cough that won’t quiet down. It’s left me feeling a tad draggy and sluggish. But I know it’s not ‘the cold’. The cold is just a manifestation of an inner ennui that is creeping around the outskirts of my peace of mind looking for fertile ground to set up camp and create disharmony.

What’s that about? my inner voice asks? Where are you not giving yourself the medicine you need to be at peace, at One, at awe with the world around you Louise?

And the quiet voice deep within my soul whispers, invest in ritual. Stop. Slow down. Breathe and Be.

Take time to soothe your spirit through connecting with the world around you by invoking the elements of ritual.

It’s not that I don’t ‘do ritual’. It is that I have not been mindful of the rituals which I do invoke throughout my day. And, I have not been mindful of the need to create sacred moments in my everyday doings that give grace to daily living.

The sacred lives within every moment. It is up to me to open myself to its presence, to allow the shimmer of its light to settle in my heart and touch my soul, deeply with grace.

I haven’t been paying attention.

Time to begin again.

Always begin again.

And so, I begin again to be mindful of my every act throughout the day. To be grateful for each breath I inhale and exhale knowing that each breath in brings love into my body and each breath out returns the gift of love to the world around me.

I breathe and am aware of the gift of breathing. It is a circle of grace.

I begin again to be mindful of each step I take. For the privilege of walking this planet earth at this time, in this place where I know I am the difference I make in the world around me. Where I feel the connection between where I begin and end and you begin and end and know there is no beginning nor ending to the Love between us.

I begin again to awaken mindfulness in my every action, word, thought. To be aware of my capacity to create, to contribute, and allow a world of wonder, awe and beauty to be my unique expression in, around and through me.

Namaste.

I went to a gathering last night with a group of people interested in keeping their toolbox for living a great life alive. It was inspiring to sit with a group of people, all of whom have been through Choices, and talk about what’s going well in my life, and what’s not going so well.

The main topic of conversation was centered around the question — How does your personal growth help the world?

Being a personal growth junkie, I love this question. It gives purpose and meaning to the inner journey and I believe having purpose and meaning is integral to living at ‘wow!’

I think it’s one of my deepest fears. To go through life and have it mean nothing other than having passed through. I want to know that I am contributing. I want to know that I am making a difference. I want my life to add value to the lives of everyone around me.

Now, the simple answer is, well of course it does. Everyone adds value just by their presence. That’s true. We do.

There is, however, something deeper for me about being a conscious and knowing contributor to the evolution of humankind. That deeper meaning comes from stripping away the facade of my adapted self, (the person I became and the behaviours I learned to cope with all the happenings in my life that I could not make sense of or had the tools to deal with) to be fully aware of, and take inspired action from, that place where I celebrate and revel in being true to the essential nature of our human condition, our magnificence.

I believe we are all magnificent. That we are born shining lights of the miracle of life. And then, life happens. Trauma, turmoil, angst, the living manifestation of our human condition gets involved, and we forget how brilliantly we are each and every one of us, born to shine. We forget our magnificence in the journey from birth to adulthood. We fall into the trap of believing we are less than, other than, broken, dispirited, wounded beings trapped in the physical form of our bodies, destined to keep doing the same old same old because we do not have the capacity to let go of the pain and sorrow that brought us to this nexus of our existence.

Why should we bother we ask?

Remember that saying? “Life’s a bitch and then you’re dead.”

It’s not true.

It’s a lie.

Life is a powerful and wondrous journey, when we open the eyes of our heart and let the light in.

Last night, as we sat in a circle and shared our experiences of living on purpose, I felt awash in the magnificence of our human condition. I felt the beauty and light of many hearts radiating out in ripples of Love with the shared purpose of making the world a better, more loving, caring and kinder place.

Believe me. We are brilliant when we shine together. We are powerful beyond our wildest imaginings when we connect through our magnificence and share our gifts with Love and joy.

Giving is receiving.

We talked a lot about that last night. How the value we receive is often greater than what we give. And, we talked about the fear of receiving. The inner critic who likes to whisper mad things in our minds about how it’s selfish to accept gratitude, or egotistical to appreciate a compliment.

When we are living from our magnificence, we value feedback that informs and ignites our journey. Compliments do that. And learning to accept a compliment with grace is part of the journey towards our magnificence.

Think about it. When a baby comes into the world, people ooh and ahh and say wonderful things about her/his perfection. We celebrate everything about that miraculous being.

Why don’t we do that as adults? Celebrate every aspect of our beings today? Why do we hide from compliments? Blush. Deny we ‘did anything’ and say things like, ‘oh no. It was nothing. You did all the work…. What? This old dress? Yes, I made it myself but really, it’s kind of misshapen and see this hem here… it’s crooked.’

One of the greatest lessons I ever received in this aspect of my adapted self was from my daughters.

People would come up to me and tell me how amazing my daughters were and I would smile and say thank you and then share some story about how they weren’t so magnificent.

One day, one of my daughters asked me why do you do that? Why do you try to bring us down when people celebrate who we are?

It was a good question.

Fear. Wanting to not seem too proud. Wanting to fit in. To show I’m human and so are they and aren’t we all just a perfect flawed mess

There were a whole bunch of reasons for my response and none of them were worth the breath I gave them.

I stopped my habitual response and taught myself to respond with as smile and a heartfelt, Thank you. Yes they are. I am truly blessed.

What about you? Where do you undermine your own magnificence with words of self-defamation? Where do you turn out the lights on your own brilliance?