If you’ve been reading here for any length of time, you know I have a wonder pooch. A golden Retriever, Ellie, and she is faithful. We got her just over 12 years ago when she was just a wee puppy, squirming around, trying desperately to get as close as possible to my heartbeat. Wanting to be as snug as possible in that space where there was no separation between where I ended and she began.

We’ve never been apart. At least not for any period of time. Even when I was going through that dark space of a relationship that was killing me, Ellie was beside me. She watched me. Kept her eyes on me throughout the yelling and screaming and tears and fears and crawling into darkened closets where I would sit and scrape the skin off my wrists just to see if there really was blood flowing in my veins. Just to see if I was alive.

And in the darkness and in my pain, she would always remind me I was alive and needed to keep living. I would cling to her fur and feel her heartbeat next to mine, her warm breath against my cheek and I would know I was not alone. Ellie was always there with me.

She was my ballast. My support. My confidant. My solace.

I was always sure of Ellie being there. Always sure of her love.

I never quite felt that way about God. He was just a bit too far removed for me. A picture in a book when I was a child. A man in white robes with long flowing hair. A being with large hands that held the world gently in their cupped embrace but whose stern countenance I feared. Whose harsh words I cowered away from. I didn’t trust God.

It frightened me when they told me God was always with me. It scared me when they said He walked with me through forests and valleys, desert plains and city streets. They told me he had always been there, even when I didn’t see him. Even when I didn’t believe he was there. Even when I chose to deny his presence. They told me he was always there.

I didn’t always believe them. Why should I? They lied about so many things. They must be lying about this too.

Show me, I would reply. I can’t see him how do I know he’s there?

I could see the boogie man. He lurked in darkened corners. Behind closed doors. He yelled and screamed and did things to hurt me.

And God didn’t stop him. And he and God were related.

How could there be a God if he didn’t do anything about the things that hurt me?

And then, one day I awoke and saw there was a sky above. It was clear blue spread out forever and a day. I walked beneath that sky and wondered, where did I go? How did I get so lost? Where have I been?

I didn’t know the answer. I couldn’t see what had happened to me. I just knew I’d lost all hope of ever being free. I knew I would die. I knew the end was coming soon. And I didn’t care.

And I told myself God didn’t care either.

And then, a miracle drove up in a blue and white police car and I was given the miracle of my life.

I went to church that first Sunday after the man who would have killed me if he’d only had a little more time was arrested. I went to church even though I didn’t believe God knew I was there. Even though I didn’t believe he cared.

“You look like you could use a friend,” the pastor said to me.

I didn’t need a friend, I told him. I needed help. I needed a sign that God hadn’t turned his back on me in my hour of need.

I remember the pastor’s face. He had gentle eyes. Kind eyes. And a smile. It wasn’t big or even all that friendly. It was just a smile that said, ‘we’re all in this together. There’s nothing to fear and no need to hide.”

I was tired of hiding out and so, when the pastor smiled I opened my mind a little bit and let the warmth of his welcoming words into my heart. Just a little bit. But just a little bit was all he needed. “God never turned his back on you Louise. Even when you walked away and hid. He never turned his back. He kept holding out the miracle of his Love waiting for you to open up to the possibility that He was always there.” I remember he paused before asking. “What if…”

It was the ‘what if…’ that got me.

What if the friend I needed was someone who would never judge me. Never let me go. Never turn his back. What if no matter what I did, he would always love me. Always hold me in his embrace and cherish me as a miracle of Love. What if His faithfulness was all I needed and to feel it all I needed was a little faith to guide me away from the darkness and into the light of Love?

I have a wonderful dog and she is faithful. I never question her faithfulness. I know she loves me.

I have faith but I have not always been filled with faithfulness. I’ve often abused myself, the one’s I love. I’ve often abused my faith. I’ve disregarded it. Dissected it. Ignored it. I’ve struggled to stand comfortably in faith, letting go of my disbelief that there is a God. I usurp my faithfulness with my constant challenging of His way, asking why does he let bad things happen even when I know, it’s not Him, it’s we humans acting out.

I still muddle through it. My faith. Searching for where faith ends and the leap begins. Searching for that space where my faith falls into that place where all there is is nothing else but faith. That place where God, or whatever words I use to describe the ineffable, extends  beyond the limits of my thinking.

I have a faith steeped in fear and sorrow, love and joy. I just don’t have many words to define it. I just don’t trust myself to speak of it in biblical terms. Or in terms of Christianity. All I can speak of is Love.

In Love all things are possible. In Love, God is present whether I have faith in his presence or not. He is always there and all I have to do to have faith is to believe in Love.

I believe in Love. I believe in the power of Love to heal, to soothe, to restore and redeem and bless me with His amazing grace.

And at the end of that place where the leap begins, what if… the only thing I need to know about faith is right before me? What if… the only thing I need to question is nothing.

There was a time when Ellie and I would sit in darkened closets and fear the light. The Divine sat with us. Ever present. Even when my eyes were closed.

What if He or She or It knew everything I needed to learn about faith was through the touch of a beautiful canine friend whose warm faithfulness held me up when I was falling down?

What if God didn’t care if I questioned Him because all that really matters is He has never questioned who I am — the divine expression of amazing grace living this one wild and passionate life perfectly human in all my being who I am.

 

***********************

I changed up my morning and am now late writing my blog. This is a rework of a post from my original blog Recover Your Joy.

When they fled Bosnia, they moved towards a better life. To a life where gunshots and fear of death by war did not exist. They came with little, only that which they could carry. Their daughter was 11 years old. Her English limited. But it didn’t matter. They wanted to give her a chance to grow up. To dream. To become. To see there was a world where peace prevailed.

They moved to my city. I met them when our daughters started High School together. When they graduated, we promised to stay in touch. We mostly did — through our daughters. Sometimes, we’d meet at an event, sit and chat and promise again to stay in touch. We’ll have dinner one day. Soon, we’d tell each other. And then time and life and happenings continued until ‘soon’ became so long ago it was almost embarrassing to try to get together.

Our daughters continued to be close friends. We continued to bump into each other at various events. And then, on the weekend, as C.C. and I were leaving our favourite wine shop, Vine Arts, the mother of my daughter’s friend walked by.

We stopped and chatted and talked about ‘the flood’. Their condo building didn’t flood — just barely missed the waters reach. But for 10 days they lived without power. Her sister was visiting from Bosnia and they had laughed at how everyone had fled the building. “What?” she said. “They think you can’t live without electricity?” And she laughed as she told us the story. “We’ve lived through war. We always had our electricity cut. You make do. Just like when we came here. We had nothing so we made do.”

Their lives are rich and fulfilling now. Their daughter recently graduated from a Masters program, the pride and joy of her success visible on her mother’s face.

And then, it was time to part. C.C. and I had a birthday party to go to, she had another commitment.

We must get together, we said as we always do, but this time was different. This time, I asked, “When are you and your husband free?”

We leave for two weeks in Europe on the 13th, she said. Should we do it before or after we get back?

C.C. chimed in. We could do dinner Monday night.

So could they!

Which is why last night, on another beautiful summer’s evening drifting into fall, we sat out on the deck and ate beneath the stars. An impromptu get together of old friends and new. The old were a friend of C.C.s who dropped by late afternoon to say hello and a girlfriend of mine who I called to see if she was free for dinner. And the couple who we’ve known for years but never really spent time with.

It was one of those perfect days. A brunch with the parents of a friend of my youngest daughter that whiled away early afternoon on the lawn. C.C. made his famous, Finnish Crepes and we laughed and chatted and spent time with a couple we have come to enjoy through our annual get together at Stampede, a tradition that began because my youngest daughter asked if her girlfriend and parents could join C.C. and I and ‘the gang’ for the Grandstand Show one year — and now, we make it a point to do it as a big group. And then, dinner under the stars with another couple whom we’ve met through my eldest daughter — what a delightful way to spend a holiday Monday. What a beautiful gift of time spent with people, connecting, chatting, sharing and learning.

And what was most interesting is that both the couples (the parents of my daughters friends) immigrated here from strife torn lands. The couple who came for brunch fled, “The Troubles” in Northern Ireland. Like the other couple, they too wanted to leave behind guns and bombs and fear of what could happen next.

I am grateful.

Grateful to live in a land where war and strife have not consumed my every thought.

Grateful to live in a place where we are free to sit out under the stars and share stories and laughter and wine and toast the freedom we take for granted.

I am grateful I take freedom for granted. Grateful that my world is not shadowed every day by fear of dying. Grateful that here in Canada we have racial and religious tolerance. Grateful that we do not fight over the right to live where we want, practice our faith how we want, do what we want.

I am grateful.

As we sat last night under the night sky I looked up and saw the stars shining down and whispered my prayer of gratitude and thanked my daughters for their friends. In their friendships, my world has been enriched. I am grateful.

 

 

I worked hard yesterday. A quick trip to a new market with a girlfriend and then I was home to clean out the big room in the basement so that I could turn it into my art studio. It was already set up to be used that way but the rug was still on the floor, and intellectually, I was loath to drip paint onto the rug, even though we knew eventually we were going to replace.

It’s funny that. The power of an aversion to making a mess, and its capacity to hold me back.

Right now, all my art-making supplies are set up in a girlfriend’s basement. It’s a gift to have the space but… it’s not my space, my place. I don’t have the same freedom and comfort to come and go as I please at someone else’s house.

So, yesterday, the transformation began.

“We need to chainsaw it up,” I’d mentioned to C.C. on several occasions and while he agreed, we just never seemed to get around to it. Until Saturday when, in spite of the beautiful weather, I insisted that THIS was the weekend. Come blue skies or high water, we were going to do it.

With the TV gone on Saturday, and C.C. on the golf course yesterday, I took on the arduous task of ripping out the rug yesterday.

It’s done. Gone.

Last night, as C.C. and I were driving back from dinner with friends we talked about ‘the big job’.

There were so many times I wanted to quit, I told him. So many times I just wanted to sit down in the middle of the mess and say, “Forget it. It’s just too much work for one person.”

But, I didn’t. Quit.

My *Be. Do. Have. was to create a studio space I’d use. If I quit, it might not happen and I would not accomplish my goal.

So, instead of thinking about how hard or big the job was, I kept my focus on the task at hand. I kept my line of sight within the immediacy of what I was doing, right then, and avoided looking at the entirety of the job. Eventually, the entirety of the job became smaller than what I had left to do. Eventually, what I had left to do became a small portion of all that I’d accomplished until, there I was, proudly standing in the middle of the room, debris cleared out, the rolled up portions of rug carried off to the garage, the underlay stuffed into big orange garbage bags, the strips of wood and the floor swept up and all the garbage removed. Now all that remains is the sealing of the floor, some lights to hang and I will have a nice big spacious and bright studio area to create in.

And… bonus, the sense of accomplishment, the feeling of having persevered, of having gotten the job done, even on a perfect blue sky day will remain with me. I won’t carry a sense of regret of not having done it, I’ll carry with me the sense of having completed a task that wasn’t easy, that I wasn’t particularly excited about doing, that I did anyway because, my Be. Do. Have. was to create more of what I want in my life — and one of the ‘mores’ I want is my studio space!

The lesson? When faced with a daunting task, don’t look at it in its entirety. Keep your focus on the task at hand and keep your sights on the big picture of your Be. Do. Have.

*Be. Do. Have. – Be committed to Do what it takes to create more of what you want to Have in your life.

 

I dream of being a wild woman. Of dancing late into the night upon a table in a smoky bar, my raven hair swirling about my body as the music pounds a dizzying staccato that races into my heart with the velocity of a thousand stars falling through the Milky Way.

I dream of throwing back a Vodka, my neck stretched long to receive the icy coolness of its elixir searing my heat-parched throat, my eyes closed, my long nails blood red against the fingerprint smudged glass that I pound upon the table when it is empty. I yell Ola! to a room filled with drunken laughter and bawdy jokes and I am consumed by the night lifting off into a galaxy of indescribable pleasures exploding into the night.

I dream of bodies entwined, passionately consuming one another, skin stretched taut against the first rays of dawn bursting through the night, of lovers unnamed, of life coursing through my body in a mind-blowing ecstasy of passion burning away the dark.

And then, I awaken and I laugh and shake my head and think, wow, what a night!

And I arise from my bed to enter my day, the wild woman of my dreams asleep once more, waiting for the dark to return so she can have her way with my psyche.

She is there. That wild woman. The one who throws off convention without a batting of her glitter tinged eyelashes. The one who swears like a sailor and says whatever she wants without caring who she provokes, be it state or rock star or whoever else turns up at the exquisite party that is her life.

She is there. That wild woman. The one who doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks about who she is or what she’s doing. The one who consumes life without regard for tomorrow. The one who loves with all her body, never holding back, never giving up on feeling, knowing, expressing the life force within her.

She is there.

And she is here, in my surrender to the day. She is here in my letting go of the night. In my awakening.

She calls to me to throw myself into my creative being. To smear colour drenched paint upon a canvas and use every fibre of my body to make its up, to streak it and move it and create a tapestry of life worth living.

She calls to me to write the night out upon the page, to colour in the darkness with the vibrant hues of her knowing we are not meant to be consumed by life, we are meant to consume it. To suck it dry of every last breath, to eat up every succulent morsel, to savour every sun-drenched moment and live like wild women and men in the light of living each moment in the utter rapture of this moment right now passing by.

This is your life, the wild woman of my dreams says from the smoky recesses of her lair where she is holed up with the likes of Henry Miller and Anais Nin, partying late into the night, the heat of their words  searing her mind where she lays exposed, arms flung wide, back arched along the seductive lure of the Tropic of Cancer. Waiting. Willing. Eager to receive. Eager to give. Eager to capture and consume this one wild and passionate life for all she’s worth.

I am awake now. Day has broken and I leap from my bed, eager to embrace the unexpected that explode all around me like fireworks bursting in the night. I am awake now.

 

“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”  ~ Albert Einstein

I haven’t painted for the past week. But I’ve been creative.

Over the weekend I rebuilt my website on a new platform and in the rebuild, figured out how to include a page for my book, The Dandelion Spirit as well as the various courses and materials I’ve created. In fact, as I was plugging it all together I found Living Joy Right Now! a 7 steps process I’d created to help people live in the rapture of now. What’s funny about it is that I had completely forgotten I’d even created the Living Joy Right Now! 7 step process!  Which made it even more fun to discover. it felt like something new, unseen and yet known, deep within me.

It felt like coming home.

And in that place there was comfort and the challenge of rebuilding. It’s been so long since I worked on the technical plane, my skills were rusty, my memories dim of how to…. load this, move that, change this, reorganize that.

And that’s the challenge. No matter how deep my knowledge, my memory of it fades if I do not keep my tools in use.

I am a creative soul — and sometimes I forget to simply let myself express my creativity however it unfolds, like I’ll be doing today at noon.

Today, I am dusting off my dancing spirit’s knowledge and reconnecting with my love of Gabrielle Roth’s 5Rhythms®. Today, I am leading a one hour session for Self-Care at Work.

Last night, I spent over two hours putting together the music for the session.  I listened and debated and moved things around and wondered if… will this invoke the spirit of Flowing? Will this create the space for participants to move into the Staccato. Will this allow them the freedom to duke it out with the feminine and the masculine in Chaos? Will this piece take them over the crest of the wave into the Lyrical and will these move them effortlessly into the quiet surrender of Stillness?

I’m ready. Today at noon, for one hour, I will be joined by about a dozen co-workers who will move and groove and flow through the waves of the 5Rhythms®  as created by Gabrielle Roth.

It has been a long time since I lead a group in the  5Rhythms®. A long time since I let my body simply flow into the movement, and be with the music, in the rhythm, of the wave.

I am excited. In the rhythm of the waves, I feel the music pounding in my soul. I hear the beat drumming in my heart. I know the power of my body to awaken me to my creative essence expressing itself in the joy of this moment, right now.

I love to dance and in particular, I love to dance as if no one is watching — and 5Rhythms® is all about simply being present in your body, connected to the flow and moving where your heart leads you without fearing what be revealed or what you will discover.

For years, I studied Gabrielle Roth’s teachings. I danced and danced and when I got tired, I danced some more.

According to Gabrielle Roth, movement is as good a therapy for some as talking it out. Movement allows the pain and fear and whatever else is past or present to flow free, to move on out so that there is space for joy, wonder, happiness and stillness. And in that place, creativity flows, expression expands and your spirit opens up into limitless possibility.

Movement connects us to the wisdom of our bodies. It opens us up to the duality of the surrender of all and the embracing of everything and nothing. It releases us to the freedom of the authentic expression of our creativity rising from our soul. It heals, restores and exhilarates, our whole body, our oneness, our completeness.

And today, I’m going to share something I love with people who have never before experienced the 5Rhythms®. Today, I get to live on purpose and dance.

What could be better than that?

“5Rhythms® Waves  transcends dance—movement is the medicine, the meditation and the metaphor. Together we peel back layers, lay our masks down,  and dance till we disappear.” ~ Gabrielle Roth

And in that disappearance, what remains is the all of who we are when we let go and surrender to Love.

No matter your spiritual belief, imagine for a moment that you are the divine expression of amazing grace. Imagine that your body embodies all beings. That you are the sacred expression of Love, everlasting.

Now imagine that you are no longer the “I” of your being alone, but rather the unification of the “We” of our humanity. It is not you and you and you, it is “us” and “We”. Always has been and always will be, “We”.

We are all connected. The many. The all. The one. The everyone.

And in our unity, there is no expression that can separate us. There is no being that is not me and you, connected.

In our unity I am you and you are me and together we are the expression of our truth.

In our unity, there is only one thing to express, one thing to know, one thing to Be. Love. For we are all the sacred expression of all that we are when we are nothing other than the all that we can be. Love.

These thoughts drifted through my mind this morning as I meditated in the early hours. A deep sleep. An early awakening. The quiet before the dawn. The peace within the stillness.

In the silence it is so clear to me, so accessible.

There is no separation between us. No you’re this. I’m that. You’re wrong. I’m right or vice versa. There is only ‘us’. Only the oneness of my being expressing itself through our human being Connected. Compassionate. and Loving.

In the stillness I know it. Feel it. Am embraced by it. Become it as it becomes me. Love.

Full. Complete. All-encompassing. All-consuming. All-giving. Love.

Imagine.

And so it is.

For a moment, imagine that this is the truth into which each of us is born. Imagine that as I see you, you see me and in our shared experience of one another there is nothing that we can see or know or be except Love.

And now, imagine that through these eyes of Love we accept one another, exactly the way we are. Imagine that we are one another, exactly the way we are. Imagine that what I am doing right now, what I am typing, these words you are reading are your words, your fingers moving across the keyboard. Imagine that I am you sitting here in the quiet of the night, the desk lamp casting a golden glow upon your fingers, the quiet hum of the laptop the only sound except for the click of the keys as your fingers type.

Imagine I am you and you are me and in this moment, right now, this Love is your Love. Full. Complete. All-encompassing. All-consuming. All-giving.

 

 

.

 

What in your life is calling you?
When all the noise is silenced,
the meetings adjourned,
the lists laid aside,
and the wild iris blooms by itself
in the dark forest,
what still pulls on your soul?

In the silence between your heartbeats
hides a summons.
Do you hear it?
Name it, if you must,
or leave it forever nameless,
but why pretend it is not there?

— The Terma Collective, “The Box: Remembering the Gift”

I have spent much of my life playing it safe. I don’t like to make waves, to address conflict, to upset apple carts.

And, in my playing it safe, I have spent an inordinate amount of time rubbing up against the dissonance of my decisions, the disparity of standing upright when upside down is calling me to jettison my life-preserver and dive into the deep-end untethered by the status quo.

Yesterday, I sat on the deck, wrapped up in a blanket, my iPad on my lap and indulged in an hour of TED talks. The morning sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds, the air was cool and fresh. C.C. slept in the bedroom, Marley, the Great Cat, sprawled out at his feet while Ellie, the Wonder Pooch, ever hopeful I would rub her ears or drop her a treat, lay beside me watching for marauding squirrels to chase after.

One of the talks I listened to was Margaret Heffernan’s “The Dangers of ‘Wilful Blindness’“.

Willful blindness, explains Heffernan is a legal concept that states that if there is information you could and/or should know, but somehow you somehow manage not to know, the law deems that you are willfully blind.  It happens on epic portions, the execution of Hitler’s ‘final solution’ is one example as is the Enron scandal. But it also happens on smaller scales, every day. In numerous research projects to determine if there are issues in corporations that people are afraid to raise, Heffernan and other researchers discovered that 85% of employees feel there are issues they should speak up against but stay silent because of fear, despair, a belief nothing will change, fear of retaliation, or simply because they don’t trust anyone enough to tell the truth,

“Freedom doesn’t exist if you don’t use it,” says Heffernan.

She’s right.

Recently, a brilliant woman I know, Karen GB, told me how she once warned a woman who was mistreating her small child in a grocery story that if she didn’t stop, she would call Social Services. The woman told her to get lost, (in not so nice language) and Karen didn’t back down. “I’m a social worker,” she said. “I know who to call.”

Normally, if Karen happens upon a parent whose child is acting out in a store, she’ll offer a smile and  words of encouragement, but in this case, the woman was being so abusive Karen felt she had to intervene. She could not stay silent. She could not feign blindness.

Several years ago, while walking along a street in the east end of downtown, I came across a group of people sitting on a grassy verge. As I approached I noticed one of the men jump up and start to yell and scream at another. He grabbed the man on the ground’s backpack, tore it open and started to empty the contents onto the grass. The group looked on in lazy indolence, not moving an inch while the one man screamed at the other and started to poke at him with one foot.

I was frightened. Both for the man being taunted and myself. I was a block from the shelter where I used to work and there was no one else around. The area is rife with dealers preying upon the vulnerable and this definitely looked like a drug-related shakedown.

I took a breath and kept walking closer. At one point, the man standing up punched the guy on the ground in the head. And then he hit him again.

I yelled. “Hey!”

Everyone ignored me.

I yelled again.

Still they ignored me.

I didn’t know what to do.

I had no desire to confront the man who was becoming more and more violent, but I did need to stop his abuse.

Just then, I spied a police car driving down a side-street. I ran around the corner, flagged the police officer down and told him what was happening. He promised to check into it after telling me to keep walking away.

So I did.

Walk away.

Now, I know walking away was the safest and smartest thing to do, but I can still see that tableau, several years later, in my mind’s eye.

The disparity of their positions rubs against my peace of mind. The raw casual violence of the one man beating up another who did not, or simply could not, or knew better than, to fight back. The disregard and/or acceptance/resignation of the others of the situation, of their situation.

And here’s the challenge.

I want to stop it. I want to stop such violence in our world. I want to spread sunshine, not discord. I want to teach people how to get along, how to find their dreams, how to stand up, not just for themselves but for love and dignity and respect and honour.

I want to teach people how to hear that sill quiet voice within and recognize it as their soul calling them to stand up, speak up, be heard and express their freedom in Love.

And I want to say to that man on the grassy verge, to all of that group, “You matter and what you do matters.” And when we beat up one another, when we silently watch another being abused. We are all being beaten into silence. We are all being abused.

I’m starting over again. Yup. I’m activating my “Always begin again” muscles and re-igniting my clearing out my house commitment.

Earlier this year I started a page on this blog called — KISS My Life. the purpose, and goal, was to eliminate one item of clutter from my house a day. I’d take a photo of the disposed article and post it on the page.

Needless to say, the need to re-engage means I didn’t keep it up.

Now, I could beat myself up about falling down, or I could cover-up my embarrassment with claims of, well I didn’t want to do it in the first place but the truth is — I fell down. I want to keep moving on. I want to keep clearing up the clutter. It’s time to begin again.

And I laugh at myself and shake my head in wonder and exclaim with glee, “I am so fascinating!”

Because it’s true. We all are. Fascinating.

Seriously. We are. Fascinating. We’re these complex, amazing, unbelievably powerful beings who grow from a tiny figment of an evolutionary impulse to create something miraculous into these human beings who can dream and think and speak and push obstacles out of the way and scale mountains and leap from airplanes and dive beneath the ocean deep and explore unknown frontiers of outer space. And we do it all using devices and machines and technologies we created.

Isn’t that fascinating?

We’ve put a man on the moon. We’ve touched down on Mars. We’ve journeyed deep into unknown waters and explored deep beneath the earth’s surface where we dig out oil that we transform into energy that fuels the world.

I think that’s fascinating.

And still, a little thing like not keeping up with a commitment to clear out clutter can stop us in our tracks and cripple us in self-defeating angst.

What gives?

Why is it that I can be interviewed on national radio one week and the next I’m beating myself up because I didn’t keep to a commitment I made with myself to do something that needs doing to create the life I want?

What gives that I let a little bitty thing like ‘not doing’ keep me from ever again doing the things I want, desire, need to do to live in the rapture of now?

Think about it. Every day I do a gazillion little things really really well, and some big things too! Why, just yesterday, I got up, meditated, posted my blog, fed the animals, made the bed, showered, drove through busy streets filled with people going about their day — and I didn’t hit even one of them. I didn’t speed through red lights, cause an accident or miss my turn. I stopped. I started. I moved ahead. I moved backwards. I fit into a parking spot. I gathered up my belongings and walked to my office. And I did it all effortlessly. (Though I did forget my cell phone at home — does that make me a failure to thrive suspect?)

Later, on my way to a meeting, I walked down the street and passed two visibly homeless older men sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette and talking. I smiled and said “Good morning” as I passed by and they smiled back and one of them called after me, “I like your dress!” I turned back and smiled and said thank you and then we both carried on with our days. It was an unexpected human interaction that left me feeling buoyed up and I didn’t even plan it, or think about it, or make it happen. It just did.

Don’t you think that’s fascinating?

And then, I met with a co-worker and we talked about an idea she’s floating and I gave her some feedback and we explored her idea back and forth and both of us got excited about the possibilities and now we’re taking steps to move it forward to make it happen because — it’s a really good idea and it’s worth following up on.

isn’t that fascinating too? How one person’s idea can spark a conversation and from that spread out to become possibility expanding into more?

And still, I want to beat myself up about not keeping KISS My Life a priority. I want to label myself an abject failure, a dismissal expression of human incompetence. I want to tell myself I never finish anything. I don’t keep my commitments. I may as well just go curl up into a ball and hide beneath the covers because seriously, what’s the point? You’ll just fall down again.

Nope. Not true. Not going to happen. In fact, it doesn’t have to happen because, I have choice. I am 100% responsible for my response to what happens in my life — and that includes my thinking.

I get that thoughts appear without my actually inviting them in. I get that in their appearance, I don’t always make the wisest or best choices — and nobody’s telling me to make those choices, it’s me, myself and I — and sometimes, my I doesn’t always get a voice. Sometimes, my me wants to make it all about me the loser, me the failure, me the “you’re not good enough”

Enough!  I do enough. I give enough. I am enough.

I am me and that’s good enough for me, in fact, it’s fabulous for me because being me leaves room for you to be you and you to be you and you to be you and in it all, there’s one undeniable, absolutely amazing fact — We are fascinating!

So, given that I didn’t KISS My Life for a few months, I get to decide differently today. I get to change my mind, redirect my thinking. and begin again. AND, I get to acknowledge — I am so fascinating!

Go ahead — try it. Go look in a mirror, smile at yourself and declare proudly, “I am so fascinating!”

It’s true! You are!

When I teach story-telling or any form of creative workshop, I invite attendees to write down on separate pieces of paper all the reasons why they can’t… speak in public, write, paint, draw, write poetry, be creative. I then invite them to crumple up the pieces of paper and throw them over their left shoulder onto the floor.

There’s always a gasp when first I instruct them to throw the paper on the floor. The little critter mind leaps into the fray to stop their littering. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell them. “Just do it. At the end of the session we’ll pick them up and throw them into the garbage, or, if you’re really attached to your excuses, you can pick them up and take them home with you. But for now, give yourself permission to simply let your excuses go. — (for however long the session is scheduled)

Sometimes, instead of throwing them onto the floor, I invite them to place them in an envelope, seal the envelope, write their name on the front and then place them in the negative thought box I provide. Once everyone has placed their envelope into the box, I make a great show of putting the lid on the box (it’s usually a shoe box I’ve covered with black paper and decorated like a coffin) and then, I walk the box to the back of the room and set it by the door. Again, I tell people their negative thoughts and excuses why not are locked away and inaccessible for the duration of the session. At the end of the session they are welcome to pick up their envelope and carry them with them, or not.

It’s their choice.

To pick up their worries, fears, excuses and reasons why not, or, to leave them behind and carry on lightened of their load.

Sometimes, someone will really think long and hard about relinquishing their negative thoughts. Sometimes, the thought of letting them go, of taking a physical action that symbolizes their release, is daunting.

As I drifted to sleep last night, I thought about the act of letting go of negativity and why nots and wondered if there was an even ‘bigger’ process I could create to signify the act.

I love the creative process. I love how out of seemingly thin air, a thought can arrive fully formed in my mind and suddenly, I see clearly what I have been missing.

Letting go is only one part of the equation, the muse whispered. To complete the cycle, you must transform the ‘why nots’ into possibilities. You must transform negativity into beauty.

What does that look like, I wondered. And then, the ‘negative thought box’ appeared in my mind attached to a ‘what if’.

What if instead of a cardboard box, you used a ceramic planter, the muse whispered, like the long one your herbs came in? And what if you painted it and made it all pretty and then, after people wrote out their negative thoughts and why nots, you invited them to rip them up into a gazillion little pieces and then throw them into the pot? And, what if then, in front of the class, you covered them in potting soil and planted a seed in the dirt and gave it a symbolic watering? And, what if you even named the seeds as you planted them, or invited the class to name the seeds. Hope. Love. Creativity. Joy. Anticipation. Possibility…

Wouldn’t that symbolize the transformative cycle of letting go to create? Wouldn’t that signify the birthing of something new from ideas that were once limiting and now were inspired by possibility?

I think I’ll try it. I’m teaching a workshop on story-telling next week to campaign reps for the United Way. I’ve got a small planter in the garage I can use. I’ve got dirt and a seed packet of wildflowers — though a few beans might work too…

The possibilities abound. The what if’s shimmer.

What if doing it this way truly does inspire people to let go and explore the possibilities of what can happen when they not only let go, but transform what they’ve released to become new ideas, new actions, new ways of being present in the world?

What if, I try it just to see what happens when I step out of what I know, into the creative space of what happens when I simply stay present to the muse and let her have her way?

What if, I let go of worrying about the outcome and simply stay present to the process?

What if…. I just do it?

I think I will.

What about you? Are there negative thoughts, limiting beliefs and why nots that are holding you back from living your best life yet? Do you have a creative suggestion to share on how to release and transform them?

I’d love to hear your thoughts…