Stepping Into Your Glorious Light
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we’re powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you NOT to be?
Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
~Marianne Williamson
Spring is a time of birth and renewal. Things that were dormant all winter are budding and blooming and, with each day, there is more light. On the surface, this means longer, brighter days. Deeper, it can be an opportunity for our own selves to shine brighter.
Does that idea scare you?
Does the thought of standing in the light push you further into your own shadows?
As children we may or may not have been encouraged to shine. And so as adults, we may have to learn some new behaviors–to brag a little, to declare our talents, to claim our own light and then shine it into the world.
So, how do you begin to even see your own light?
Everyone has a unique set of talents and interests. We all have capabilities that we are passionate about and that can be used to create value in the world.
Many of us have been taught not to brag about what we’re good at, or what we love.
So here’s a chance to try it.
Take out a blank piece of paper, take a deep breathe and answer these questions about yourself.
Then be brave and ask your friends for their input, too. Getting another person’s perspective is so helpful to get a clearer picture of who you really are and how others see you shine.
What are your talents and abilities? What are you good at?
This could be playing with your kids, adding numbers in your head, cooking delicious meals, pitching a tent, diffusing a tense situation. List EVERYTHING that comes to mind, even the little things.
What words describe you?
Are you funny, honest, compassionate, patient, smart, intuitive, feisty, creative, determined, reliable, helpful? List EVERYTHING you can think of.
What do people count on you for?
Companionship, nurturing, support, honesty, a good laugh? List EVERYTHING you can come up with.
What other distinguishing features do you see about who you are?
Are you organized, a collector, inventive, good with older people, a leader, a planner, spontaneous, an adventurer?
Now read through your answers. Add more things as you think of them.
Now imagine yourself, standing in the light of your talents and abilities.
How does it feel? Do you feel the slightest bit proud and in awe of yourself?
How can you be more of this amazing person?
How can you share your unique gifts with others to spread the light?
How might it feel if you dared to shine?
Please share your thought, your LIGHT, by clicking on the comments below.
[ssba]The Healing Balm of Tall Trees
Marika and I spent last weekend camping. Instead of a staying in a campground, we opted to check out the dispersed camping area in the tall Ponderosa Pines of the Prescott National Forest.
We drove about three miles down a winding but evenly graded dirt road to a clearing in the trees. After several attempts, I was able to level the RV in the uneven dirt and we settled into three days of quiet. The dogs loved sniffing and running off leash. Marika was enthralled with the variety of birds- woodpeckers, white breasted nuthatch, ravens, flickers, even bluebirds.
But I was unsettled, because I had nothing to DO.
I realized how busy I stay, with work, checking Facebook, watching TV. Without these distractions, I panicked about what I would DO all weekend.
On Friday, our first morning, I lingered in bed till almost 10, cuddling with Cody and Mabel, while Marika sat outside watching to see if any birds would find the seeds she had scattered on a tree stump.
She was content to sit and watch, look things up in her field guide, and watch some more.
I took my coffee outside and joined her and she pointed out movement in the trees, read out loud how the nuthatch stuffs nuts into the bark and then uses its beak to break open the seed. While this was fascinating information, by lunchtime I was bored.
We walked the trail that cut through the pines to a grove of winter white aspens. We crunched our hiking boots in random patches of snow around the boulders. I fed Cody some fresh snow, then scooped some into a ball and tossed it to him to catch in his mouth, midair.
But the 5500’ elevation was hard on my breathing, so I also sat a lot. I watched the clouds in the sky, listened to the wind in the trees and imagined it was the ocean. I even reveled at the pair of Western Bluebirds flitting from branch to branch.
Friends drove up in their off road quad for a Saturday morning visit and it was delightful to sit and talk under the whoosh of the wind in the trees. But after they left I was bored again.
And then I remembered that I had a book to read. It’s been so long since I’ve sat with a paperback, feet up, no distractions. And it was heaven. Marika even brought me a lap blanket so that I would be warm when the sun hid behind the clouds.
For the first time in so long, I was able to turn off all of the voices in my head and get completely involved in the people on the pages. By Sunday morning, I was finally feeling lighter, calmer, more open, more grounded.
We drove back to Phoenix on Sunday morning, ahead of big winds and possible rain. We had our traditional back-from-camping Chinese food dinner, but I was too tired to go out, so Marika picked up take-out.
And the next day, back to work with a favorite client, I was sharing what has been going on since we got to town in January. That we are really doing this full-timing in the RV! That we may be camp hosts in the next 12 months, maybe even at a lighthouse in Oregon. And that the house is closer to being ready to rent.
The new floors are in and they are gorgeous. We’ve talked with one property manager and will interview a few more. We’re getting a bid for the pool fence that seems to be a requirement for renting, even though the laws don’t apply because the pool is grandfathered in. And we’re looking at all kinds of used RVs to find the floor plan that will suit our life on the road.
Being away, living a weekend in nature, reminded both of us how much we love this way of life. It refueled us to move forward with the next round of things we have to do to make it happen. And I remembered how much I love to read.
[ssba]Lesson of the Bamboo Tree
When I returned to the beach in September after my four month cross-country Heart Sparks Road Tour, I had every intention of sitting right down and writing about the adventure.
But I didn’t.
After two months of not writing I realized it was too soon, that I hadn’t yet lived beyond it, to know what story I really wanted to tell.
Then I thought, well, I could at least get started on the book proposal.
But I didn’t.
And I’ve been beating myself up big time for the last six months because I still haven’t started.
And yet, this book proposal, this book, is a key component to the future I’m visioning.
And so I bombard myself with questions: Am I being lazy? Why am I avoiding this? What is the resistance to this thing I want most?
And then last week, on my yoga mat, I set an intention for patience and compassion. I’ve been cranky with others and realized it is because I’ve been cranky with myself.
And I stepped back into the observer role and examined the book proposal with a bit more compassion.
And I realized that just because I am not sitting down at the computer with a document titled Book Proposal, doesn’t mean I am not working on it.
I AM working on it, I’m just not writing it yet. Because I don’t have all the pieces.
But each time I tell the stories, each time I remember a campsite or a person I met, I get a bit clearer about the book that I want to write, the story I need to tell.
And I remember about the bamboo tree.
The bamboo tree is one of the strongest plants in the world. It is also one of the fastest growing plants in the world. Some species can grow as much as 4 feet in 24 hours.
But when a bamboo is first planted, there may be no visible growth for the first 3 -5 years.
This is because the plant is establishing it’s root systems so that it can support itself when it begins its phenomenal growing spurts.
We may not THINK anything is happening, we may not SEE any progress. But that’s what building a foundation is all about.
When we plant a new seed in our lives, we don’t know how long it will take to grow. But if we want it to bloom we need to water the seed, give it light and love and tend the ground around it so that it has the best possible growing conditions.
And we need to have patience and faith that, like the bamboo, it will, indeed grow.
I remind myself that the seeds have been planted for this new book and, by taking this time to see the bigger stories, I will write an amazing story.
What seeds have you planted?
How do you maintain patience as you wait for it to bloom?
Would you like some support and coaching? Email me and well set up a session.
[ssba]Letting Go of the Fear of What Comes Next
When I was a kid, Spring was my favorite season. We could play outside during recess, bright bursts of colors appeared all over the neighborhood, and, oh, it was also my birthday. I loved the smells in the air, the promise of rain and green grass and always a family trip somewhere during spring vacation.
After living in Arizona for so many years, Spring became my least favorite time of year. Even though flowers and trees bloomed, the temperatures were a lovely 70° – 80°, and it’s still my birthday, I was all too aware that soon after mid-March, summer would blast in, a furnace of heat and dryness and six months of being sequestered in the air-conditioned indoors.
For many years I wasn’t able to appreciate any of the joys of Spring in the desert because I was already dreading the coming of Summer.
And then, a few years ago, something shifted. Maybe it was that day trip out to Boyce Thompson Arboretum, where we counted thousands of wildflowers blooming along the highways. Maybe it was riding my bike on an early April morning and feeling the cool air on my bare arms. Maybe it was just being more present in all places in my life.
Somehow, I was reminded how much I love that new light that comes in the Spring. How the season is all about birth and new growth and saying YES to being awake and alive and present.
Sure, it’s going to get hot. That’s what summer is in Phoenix. But it’s not hot today. And today is all that matters.
Is there something you dread that keeps you from enjoying WHAT IS?
A massage therapist friend had a client who could never enjoy her massage because she didn’t want it to be over.
A traveling friend didn’t want to go to the place of her dreams for fear of the disappointment of having to come home afterwards.
What are you missing in your life by not being PRESENT to WHAT IS?
[ssba]How To Avoid Something And Still Get It Done
We all avoid something.
Going through that stack of mail. Making an appointment with the dentist. Getting on our bikes and riding around the block.
My biggest avoiding is Getting New Glasses. Big capital letters kind of avoiding. Just the thought of it makes me want to run and hide.
I’ve been wearing glasses since I was four and every single time I get fitted, it’s a struggle. My eyes are so sensitive to even the slightest bit of crooked or discomfort that I usually end up in frustrated tears because the glasses are too close, too far, too high, too low, too tight, too loose.
I have tried affirmations – this will be easy, effortless and a good fit.
I have breathed and meditated and visualized a successful fitting.
But so far, it hasn’t worked.
And so I’ve avoided Getting New Glasses for three and a half years and I really can’t put it off much longer. My neck and shoulders are sore from using my bifocals to see the computer screen, the scratches on my lenses make distance reading a challenge and I can no longer read the tiny print.
But before I can even begin the process, I have to know the reason I am doing this uncomfortable, challenging thing.
I remember what it’s like when I finally have a new prescription and a good fit – how crisp and clear and beautiful everything looks. And I know I am very ready to see my world like this.
And when I remember that life is lived here, in this small present moment, I remember to breathe. And in that space I realize that Getting New Glasses is no longer this One Big Thing that I have to avoid.
It is really a series of small, present moment actions. Baby steps. And slowly, willingly, I am able to break it down into small, do-able action steps:
getting my eyes checked for a new prescription
finding frames that I love
getting measured
getting fitted
getting the fit tweaked and fine tuned
as many times as that takes
When I break it down into small, manageable, do-able actions, I bring myself closer to the outcome I want, which is SEEING CLEARLY!
And each time I complete one small step, I reward myself, either with a delicious dinner out or today, after my eye exam, a new pair of socks.
And I know that, if I breathe before each task, and breathe between each step, I will have the courage and energy to move forward to the next small step.
And before I know it, I will be seeing clearly again!
So,
What are you avoiding?
What story is associated with this thing? Is it true?
Why are you doing it in the first place?
How might you feel once you are on the other side of it?
What can you do to make it less traumatic, maybe even fun?
Can you break this Big Thing into small, do-able action steps?
How will you reward yourself for each step you take?
What is the first small action you can take to begin?
I’d love to hear how you use these questions to get it done! Please share by clicking on the Comments below.
The Wisdoms of Cupcake Laurie Foley
My friend Laurie is dying. While I have lost two childhood friends to cancer, Laurie is the first friend who I have walked the path with, even if it has been mostly virtually.
I met Laurie Foley online in 2012 through a network of Martha Beck coaches. She was a branding expert with a very smart blog that helped me see new possibilities for marketing my business. When she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, she shifted her writing to the journey she was living.
In October 2013 I met Laurie in person at Patti Digh’s Life is a Verb camp. Laurie had just finished a year of surgeries, radiation and chemo and Patti had invited her to speak about The Courage to Be Mortal.
I saw Laurie at the Friday night Welcome Party, standing near the skewered shrimps and mini quiches. She was much taller than I expected and her hair was a stunning spiking gray. She walked toward me, offering a hug. I said, “Wait, this is special.” I took a big breath in then out, and then we hugged, full on and tight, like we’d know each other for years.
The next day Laurie shared her story. Click on her photo to hear her wisdoms about our power to transform the energy of terror into commitment, and entitlement into hope.
Laurie continued to live and share her journey online through another series of treatments and complications and finally, remission.
She wrote a month of meditations, her personal experiment in returning to simple prayer. She posted photos of her latest knitting projects, often a much-coveted pair of multicolored socks, and videos of her son Arthur’s yoyo competitions. She was excited that she was going to be there for his high school graduation. And that he was going to her Alma Mater, Georgia Tech, where she was the first woman to receive a PhD in computer science.
And then the cancer came back.
When I was in Atlanta last May on my Heart Sparks Road Tour, Cupcake Laurie, my new nickname for her, drove up to my campsite for a visit. It had been a few weeks since she finished her last round of chemo and she was feeling better than she had in months.
She sat at the dinette with Cody at her feet and we talked about Arthur, and Georgia Tech and the best place to get bagels. She was full of questions about how the RV plumbing worked, and the solar panels and all about my life on the road.
When I offered her a Little Debbie Nutty Bar from the freezer, she grinned like a five year old. “Oh wow,” she said. “My grandmother used to give us those as a special treat. I haven’t had one in years.” We split a package and it was as good as she remembered.
We sat down for lunch at her favorite Mexican restaurant and I realized that I hadn’t been trying to impress her, or coach her, or get her to like me. We were just two smart, funny women, talking and laughing and wondering about life out loud, together.
I said, “You know, I thought you were just being nice, coming to visit me. But you really like me, don’t you?”
“Oh my God,” she said, her soft southern voice sounded like she was talking in bold type. “Are you kidding?”
After lunch we checked in about her energy level and she was still feeling good, and she wanted to go to the used bookstore. She found a thick historical novel and I got a couple of Lillian Braun’s The Cat Whos. We got gas and an iced tea and she still had enough stamina to take us to the Dekalb Market, a warehouse exploding with fresh produce, meats, cheeses, teas, spices and even a bakery. After she gave me a quick lay of the store, we agreed to split up with our own carts to quick shop, and meet at the coffee bar before checking out.
It was so very fun to pass her near the lemons, again by the bread and again at the day-old cakes. And each time, I’d say, “Why, Laurie, how nice to see YOU here!” And I’d give her a big, good to see you hug.
I sent her a postcard from the road, made from a Little Debbie Nutty Bar box, with the words “living life one sweet bite at a time” typed on a section of index card and glued across the front. I hope it made her grin.
Last fall, remission turned into a fractured hip and more cancer. Laurie met it aggressively, hopefully, and she continued to post her cancer haiku’s and CaringBridge updates on Facebook. In December, her sister took over the updates.
Laurie entered hospice last week. The pouring out of love and grief on Facebook has been nothing less than holy. People from all over the world are posting photos of Laurie, sending prayers and love and thank you’s.
And I am allowing myself to cry and feel the collective sadness, the collective love, the swirl of giant love energy that I am called into whenever I think of her.
Laurie has always been a generous woman, connecting others, mentoring, always leading with love. Even now, through this transition, she has opened up a space for us to feel and share our sadness and loss and love for her and her family, and we are all following and liking and reading and sharing and saying I love you in our own ways.
For me it is by telling my Cupcake Laurie stories. Just the few I have, but they are full and rich and tender. And they connect me right back to her and the giant swirl of love.
“I hope that you’ll remember whatever really raw ingredients life may bring your way, you have the power to choose and transform them into something sweet, into something loving, and profoundly hopeful.”
~ LAURIE FOLEY
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What Are You Listening To?
I’ve been thinking lately about what seemingly subliminal messages we expose ourselves to every day, with TV commercials, billboards, extraneous conversations.
And what about what we consciously CHOOSE to listen to?
So what are you listening to? What’s playing in your iPod today? On your car radio?
Do you listen to the lyrics? Do you sing along?
Are you singing about power and beauty, and meeting your vulnerability head on? Or are you singing about how the world owes you or that someone did done you wrong?
Giving voice to words is a powerful thing. Even if it’s “just singing with the radio,” your words are impacting you on a subconscious level.
So why not chose to sing what you want to believe, what you want to come into your life, what you want to be and feel?
Many years ago I bought a cassette tape with all kinds of original songs about the cartoon character Gumby. Remember him? That rubbery green fellow with a bump on his head and his orange pony pal named Pokey? Well, last week I got one of the songs from the cassette stuck in my head. But I could only remember one line:
“…Be humble and respectable, above all, just be flexible..” Great words to live by, I thought. And then I wanted to know the rest of the words.
So I found the CD on Amazon. And now I am singing loud and proud,
“We all are Gumby.
We want the world to be so happy
So when you’re down and feeling crummy
Think of Gumby
Be humble and respectable, above all, just be flexible.”
–from “We All Are Gumby”, by Flo and Eddie
Here’s a link to hear the song--maybe you’ll want to sing along, too!
I’d love to hear your comments. Just click on the Comments button to add your own.
[ssba]Just a Dog Walk
On a recent coaching call, we were talking about the times and places in our lives where we could literally pay more attention, slow down, be more present.
One woman said that, often, when she’s walking her dogs, she’s doing it out of obligation and she just wants to get it done. She suggested she could slow down and enjoy the walk as much as they do.
After the call, Cody and I took our own walk around the neighborhood. I tried to keep him close, with the retractable leash locked at 6 feet so that he wouldn’t explore every neighbor’s lawn, but we are used to the full length of the lead, out in open spaces, so that we can walk at our own paces, stopping for each other as necessary, with minimal tugging.
This tight leash walking was new to both of us and there was too much tension on the leash for either of us to enjoy the walk. I wasn’t prepared for a training session, so I unlocked the line and we quickly settled into a comfortable pace.
My shoulders relaxed, my mind let go of trying to control the walk, and I starting thinking about the coaching call, which prompted me to consider how I could be present on this walk.
Cody was sniffing the oleanders along the alley next to the retired professor’s house, so I shifted my focus to just standing in my feet, and I immediately felt the need to stretch my arms up over my head. And then I saw the moon – shiny white, an almost full face, dangling in the sky over the downtown buildings. And I was so glad to be outside, in the not-too-cold evening air, walking with my wonderful dog.
Every time Cody stopped to sniff, I stopped too. I looked into the trees and the neighbors’ windows. I stood tall in Tadasana. I tried to find a star in the big city sky.
I smelled the sticky sap from the just cut branches of a very tall pine tree. I said hello to the man who was loading boxes into the back of his blue pickup truck.
I wasn’t thinking about my morning client, or the new floors for the house, or where we might go camping for Valentine’s Day. I was in my body, in my neighborhood, simply and fully enjoying an evening walk with my dog.
We didn’t walk far, just over to 10th Street, through the park and then home. But I was there for the whole thing. And I can’t wait to do it again.
We don’t have to sit on a meditation cushion in order to practice presence and letting go of our thoughts. Wherever we are, whatever we are doing, we can breathe ourselves into the present moment and simply notice what else there is.
[ssba]Embracing the Idle Times
“Beautifully Balanced” by Deborah South-McEvoy
There is such a push in this society to always be doing more, staying busy, increasing sales, growing your lists….. and it can be exhausting.
But if we slow down or take a break, we’re called lazy or unproductive.
Finding a balance between doing and being takes constant practice. Some days I do it much better than others. And sometimes I end up off the spectrum, thinking I’ll never find that balance again.
I know that I’m idling. I know why I am idling. I even know what I need to do to kick it into drive. But until I’m able to take that action, I’m being kind and gentle with myself, and breathing.
And so last week, I returned to my beloved yoga class, to familiar faces, to the clean bamboo floors, the silver air ducts, the ceilings hidden behind sheets of white linings that make me think of long spools of white butcher paper.
And after hugs and quick updates, I rolled out my mat, perfectly aligned it with the edge of the floor boards, then I got a blanket and two prop blocks, in case we did lunges.
I folded the wool blanket in half and covered the top two-thirds of my mat, and then I took my place at the uncovered edge, welcoming myself back to my mat. I breathed, eyes closed, folded forward and easily brushed my fingertips on the floor, then stood up with a deep inhale, bringing my hands in prayer position in front of my heart.
And then I laid down on my mat, with a bolster under my knees and I just noticed: the support of the floor, the buzz in the room, how my feet dangled inches above my mat.
And when I sat up on my bolster for the opening round of ohms, I was surprised that there was no resistance at all in either of my hips.
Because I HAVE been moving, and stretching and even doing yoga poses at picnic tables and at campsites.
What I most loved about my practice that day was how I got things moving on the INSIDE. Connecting with my breath, my spine, lifting, dropping, opening my heart, feeling the expansiveness of energy inside my body that makes it possible for me to be expansive on the outside!
No, there doesn’t seem to be much movement in my life on the outside right now, and that is because my insides have been stuck, slowed, recovering from all of the growth and movement of this past year on the road.
And I know I can’t rush things into action. But I can be gentle and forgiving and aware, and open to the changes I am beginning to remember that I want to manifest.
It’s that fallow time in the fields, when the earth is resting, renewing, readying for new seeds that will bloom in the spring. There is nothing to rush, nothing to do, but open my heart and breathe.
[ssba]Un-Limiting Your Beliefs
When I was in my 20’s I imagined that I would be the next Great American Writer. I sat at my portable electric Royal typewriter every day, inventing stories about people, documenting my observations, journaling ideas for my first great novel.
One afternoon a friend said to me, “Why do you bother? There are no new ideas. Everything’s already been said.”
Now, she was an important person in my life, and very smart–– her IQ was high enough to join the Mensa Society–– and so I believed her.
And I stopped writing.
Twenty years later I took a deep breath and signed up for a creative writing class with an amazing teacher who encouraged my writing, challenged my skills and inspired me to write deeper and better.
One day in class she said, “There are no new ideas.”
My heart sank to my knees. No, not again. And then she finished her sentence.
“And so it’s your job as a writer to come up with new ways to say things so that people can see it fresh. New.”
There was such freedom in hearing a new twist on a belief that had limited me for so long.
Her words gave me the permission to pursue this thing that I love so much. More important, I believed in my writing again.
Another huge limiting belief I had was that, in order to be an author, I had to fly to bookstores all over the country at a break-neck pace to promote it. Once I realized I could do a book tour on my own terms, I was able to allow myself the joys of writing and publishing my first book, and going on an amazing solo cross-country road trip in my RV.
What beliefs do you have that may be holding you back?
Do you think only “artists” are creative?
Do you think you have to wait until you retire to enjoy your life?
Do you think that you can’t apply for that dream job because you don’t have the right degree?
Do you think only selfish people can be wealthy?
These kinds of limiting beliefs often hold us back from tapping into that wondrous place of passion and creation inside of us.
But when we are able to step back and observe these thoughts, we can discern if they are really true. And if they aren’t, well, this is where transformation begins.
Curious how changing one single belief can begin to change your whole life? Join the intimate Spark Your Heart, Ignite Your Life online coaching group. Details here!
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