The Power of a Word, reprinted from Heart Sparks, the book
Every year I choose a single word as a compass, a guide, a solid reminder of what I want to manifest for myself. The word serves as a touchstone for me as I make choices through the year. I post the word in my bathroom and acknowledge it daily, asking myself “how can I be that today?”
The first year I chose the word BE. Because I was always planning, dreaming and imagining the future, I was rarely present where I was.
BE-ing was very uncomfortable.
It made me slow down and experience where I was, not where I wanted to be NEXT. It made me sit still and feel my emotions. I began a yoga practice and discovered that the simple act of breathing can calm me and bring me back to the here and now.
The next year my word was VULNERABILITY. I wanted to let go of control and open to things that I didn’t have the answers to. I was ready to feel what was uncomfortable and go even deeper.
I had so many opportunities during that year to practice this: with relationships, how I traveled, choosing to apply for a job that I didn’t get. And I had emergency open heart surgery. Talk about vulnerability and letting go of control. It was the most amazing gift of an experience to be in that space of pure vulnerability and realize how much I was loved and supported.
The following year I chose ASK as a reminder that, even though I had fully recovered, I didn’t have to do everything all by myself. I learned to ask for support, money, ideas, companionship.
More important, I learned that it’s not about having the answers but being able to ask bigger questions and opening to the silence that is larger than me for deep and true inspiration.
One year my word was INTEGRAYTION, intentionally spelled with the word gray in it because I wanted to let go of my extreme black and white thinking and live more in the grays. And I wanted to find ways to meld my two seemingly opposite work worlds together more, to let go of my all-or-nothing way of being.
A friend gifted me a beautiful necklace with the word stamped in silver and it was a lovely expression of further integrating my work with my personal life.
The last two years my word has been EXPANSION. I want more space in my life. I want to show up bigger, both inside of myself and how I connect in the world. I want to open myself beyond what I already know and do well, to what else might be possible.
Expansion is all about breathing deeper and living at the edge of what is familiar and comfortable. And moving into that opened space with courage and intention and faith.
Of course I had many opportunities to do this last year: with my back and my grief and finally writing and publishing Heart Sparks. And, scary as each activity has been, when I come back to my word, I see how saying YES completely supports my desire for expansion every time.
This year is all about adventure and newness and courage and connections, but I hadn’t been able to narrow my intention down to a single word. And then Reverend Tinker Donnelly of Heartworks, where I now attend most Sunday Spiritual Gatherings, offered the idea of life being an expedition, a pilgrimage, a PASSAGE.
She created a wonderful acronym to reminds us what we need on any passage:
P= Preparedness: Equipping ourselves with appropriate “gear and tools” for the journey. Consistent and regular spiritual practices.
A= Adaptability: Accommodating the road and/or changing direction when conditions prompt doing so. Willingness to move beyond the parameters of personal agendas and expectations.
S= Spontaneity: Capitalizing on what is present and exercising resourcefulness. Confidence and creativity applied to the needs of the moment.
S= Single-mindedness: Trusting the direction of our inner compass. Setting course according to the ‘true north’ of our innate sense of purpose and values.
A= Availability: Maintaining receptivity and openness to all that is on our path. Authentically revealing and discovering Spiritual Truth, without defense or pretense.
G= Gratitude: Loving the journey. Appreciating the experience of each precious increment of unfolding Good and consciously recognizing the gifts of every experience.
E = Enthusiasm: Demonstrating energized creativity. En Theos – Living an inspired existence!
I love how each of these words can support me as I venture into this new year, ready to experience things I’ve never felt or done before, ready for this unfolding PASSAGE.
What’s your word for this year?
You may come up with several. Take some time to discern the one that will best help you do and be this thing you are wanting.
How can using this word help you live a life you love?
Consider choosing a word that makes you uncomfortable, that will most clearly align you with who and what you are wanting to become.
I’d love for you to share your word with us by clicking on the Comments below. By naming it and claiming it, you really OWN it!
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[ssba]Happy End of the Year From the Beach
It’s the last Saturday of the year and it is such a blessing to be here. It’s cold and crisp, and then the sun rises over the hills and everything warms up. The hills all around me are bursting with so much green from the big rains we’ve had and the beach sand has shifted from the very high tides.
Cody and I walk on the beach at least once every day, sometimes twice if we can time it with the tides. At high tide there is very little walkable sand. These pictures were taken yesterday at low tide on our beach. It is officially Estero Bay, at the north the end of the six miles of sandy coastline that connects Morro Bay to Cayucos. Most of the time Cody and I are the only ones here.
I’ve seen warblers hopping on the sea kelp and a kingfisher regularly perches on the rocks above the surf. There are lots of shorebirds and gulls and vultures and a variety of hawks that sit on the telephone poles along the street just above the beach. And the red winged blackbirds have returned. I’m enjoying these last few days of the year in amazement and appreciation for where I am and for all of the love and support from YOU that has brought me here.
I will be here through February and then I’m heading to Phoenix for 2 months before embarking on the upcoming Heart Sparks Road Tour that will take me all the way east Asheville, North Carolina, a few hundred miles at a time. I hope to connect with many of you in person along the way!
Wishing you a most beautiful new year, filled with love and light and joy!
From my very great-full heart to yours,
The I Of a Hurricane – Finding Calm In a Storm
So many people I talk with say they are living in a world of overwhelm. They have so much going on, so many things on their to do lists that they don’t know where to begin.
Their lives are happening all around them and they have resigned themselves to the idea that this is just how life is going to be.
But really, we get to choose.
Imagine a hurricane. There is wind, and noise, and chaos. Anything and everything is flying and blowing all around and, no matter how hard you try, there is nothing you can do.
And yet, in the center of that crazy storm it is calm, quiet, still. This is the eye of the hurricane.
Life is often like a hurricane. So many things are happening all around us, we can’t hold on, we can’t keep up. We can barely run for cover.
But if we breathe into the eye, the I, of our lives, we can find calm. We can find peace. We can experience stillness.
When we come back to our own center, we are suddenly grounded, stable, quieted, even if the whole world is flying all around us.
Coming into the I is as simple as breathing.
When we focus on our breathing, we immediately detach from everything OUTSIDE of ourselves and connect INSIDE with our own life force, our breath.
Following our breath in and out is calming. Centering. When we focus on our breath, we aren’t thinking about carpools and deadlines and the piles of dog hair that need to be swept.
When we connect with our breath we aren’t thinking at all. We are simply breathing.
I know it sounds too simple. But try it.
The next time your world feels crazy like a hurricane, close your eyes and just notice your breath.
Follow your breath in.
Visualize it filling your lungs, your diaphragm, your belly.
Breathe deeply, slowly, consciously.
Then release with that same conscious awareness.
Stay connected with the rhythm of your breathing for several wonderful minutes.
And when you return to the outside world, notice how different you feel.
I guarantee you, the more often you do this, the more you will find that calm in the eye of the storm.
My new book Heart Sparks: 7 Practice For Loving Your Life is all about helping you claim more time for you and the things that really matter.
Available through amazon or order a signed copy directly from me!
[ssba]Unwinding: The End of the Year
As we enter the last month of the year, there is a tendency to rush forward, to make plans for next year, to set new goals, vision new dreams. But there are still 28 days left of this year to savor, unwind, and reflect on this past year.
These last weeks can be a time to celebrate where you are, what you’ve done, who you are becoming. It can be a time to grieve what you have lost, what you were ready to let go of and leave behind. It can be a time to feel and notice and say thank you for all that has happened, and all that is.
As I look back, I am so grateful to be back at the beach, after a year of not knowing. How two months in Arizona became eight, including the dreaded summer. And how I used that time being flat on my back to lean into the pain of sciatica and learn so much from it, to grieve some very old losses, and to finally write and publish my first book. And how I have opened my heart in new ways and am learning how to connect with and create new kinds of community.
In October 2013, at Patti Digh’s Life is a Verb Camp, I wrote “I want: to find and connect with tribe people where I live, to be able to look at Laddy’s pictures without it hurting so much, to write and publish and tour and workshop my new book, to feel more joy, more engagement in daily life.”
And now, a full year later, it is all happening. I am connecting with new communities, I have opened my heart to a new dog and, next year, I’ll be on that Heart Sparks Book Tour.
A big voice in me is saying, “Hey, when are you going to start booking the Heart Sparks Road Tour, contacting colleagues, planning the route?” And another voice answers, “In time, in time.”
For now I am lingering in the bitter and the sweetness of this past year, really embracing all I’ve been and felt and done to get where I am today. Sure, I’m having fun playing with the Road Tour vision, but I’m not getting obsessed. I’m engaging and letting go. Saying Yes and stepping back to see what happens.
It’s like casting your fishing line out into the water, then sitting back, relaxed, but with your eye on the bobber, ready to reel it in when you feel a tug. My fishing pole is baited and ready, and now I am resting back, soaking it all in, eye on the bobber, saying thank you.
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When Gratitude Becomes Gladitude
reprinted from my book, Heart Sparks: 7 Practices For Loving Your Life
People will tell you that, if you’re feeling sad, depressed, hopeless, the best thing to do is make a gratitude list. To find simple things that you are grateful for, to shift your attention to what you do have, to what is working in your life.
But often, when we are in this dark place, it’s hard to conjure a list. And when we do, the things we come up with seem too simple and silly. Like a roof over our heads, a perfect cup of coffee, that our phone didn’t fall in the toilet.
We make these lists, but we don’t often feel great waves of gratitude. And that’s OK. Because just thinking about some positive things in your life will create a shift. Because suddenly you are aware that not everything in your world is horrible.
Eventually you’ll be able to really feel the simple joys of saying thank you. You’ll realize that having a roof over your head keeps you dry and cool and comfortable. That when you enjoy a perfect cup of coffee, nothing else has your attention. And when you think about how inconvenienced you might have been if your phone had gotten wet, well, this is when gratitude becomes gladitude.
Gladitude is saying ‘thank you’ from a deeper place in your heart. Like you really mean it. Because you do.
HEART SPARKS
I invite you to start a gratitude list. Every day, find a scrap of paper and write down something you are grateful for in that moment. Then throw the paper away.
This is not about keeping a gratitude journal or finding the right notebook to write in. This is about the gratitude itself, which is why I encourage you use scraps of whatever paper you have lying around. Once you write your gratitude and acknowledge it, you no longer need to keep the paper.
Do this every day this week, at the same time every day so that it becomes a ritual. You may even want to continue the practice beyond just a week.
Getting To Know You
As I am typing, Cody, my new-to-me dog is sleeping in his bed under the dinette as if it’s been his bed for all of his seven years. Truth is, we haven’t even known each other a whole week yet. But already, we’re very comfortable with each other.
He knows how to sit, stay and sit pretty on his hind legs. But he does not know how to walk on a leash. He wanders, sometimes crosses in front of me, and he pulls. All 63 solid pounds of him, yanking me faster than I can move, jolting my back and making me very cranky.
I did the stop and wait thing every time he pulled, but I couldn’t stay with it, and it hurt my back.
And then I got all freaked out that I’d never be able to walk with him.
I cried. I pulled him. And then I calmed down and realized he just needs some training. And that, because he is so well behaved about everything else, this was just a surprise. But it’s handle-able. He just needs traiing. And practice.
And then Marika reminded me to use Laddy’s Halti, a head collar that snugs up around the dog’s snout when he pulls. I had tried it the first night, but Cody managed to slip out of it, and then I forgot about it.
So yesterday morning I sized it better on his snout, put it on and we went for a walk around the park. And it worked. No more jerking me around.
Of course he still pulls, but we are learning.
And that’s what I keep reminding myself. It’s only been six days. Six. Days!
I have to let go of the ridiculous expectation that we should be good at it Now. Today.
It’s such a blessing that we are already good at so many other things together. We walked down to the beach last night for our first off-leash play time. There were a few too many people and dogs at the quiet end of the cove, so we did some training in the open field first. I walked straight and left and right and around, fast and slow, encouraging him when he was in the right position, both of us enjoying the fun of the game.
And then we went down to the beach. It was an hour before low tide and the furthest rocks were already exposed and there was so much beach to explore. He sniffed and peed on the big rocks and tracked smells in the sand. After we passed the last family heading back toward the pier, I unhooked his leash from the Halti. He picked up his pace, still smelling, tail wagging.
And then he found a perfect stick. He tossed it in the air, landing it at my feet and I said, out loud, Yes, Laddy would have loved this one too. And then I threw it. He bounded after it and brought it right back and dropped it at my feet, tail wagging so fast that it was a blur in the picture I took.
We played for a long time, me tossing, him retrieving, with breaks in between where he flopped down into the sand to gnaw on his prize, tail wagging the whole time.
On the walk back home we were both tired pups, and he walked right there next to me, like he’d been doing it all of his life.
He slept through the night and this morning he was limping more than his usual tender footedness, and he really didn’t want to go very far. He peed, ate breakfast and then got back into his bed and slept till noon. I figured he needed to poop, so I leashed him up and he was walking fine.
So we went down to the beach for high tide. Most of the cove section of beach was underwater and the low surf was creeping higher, right where we were playing with a thick stub of a eucalyptus branch that Cody found.
I threw the stick in the sand, but moved myself closer to the water so that, when he brought it back, we were both standing where the next good roll would wet our feet. He watched the water coming close and when the cold hit his paws, he startled and rushed out of the water. I followed him, petting him with lots of good dog’s, then walked to the water’s edge again. He followed, watched, felt the wave up to his ankles, and this time, he trotted toward the water before turning back around.
I’m sure he would have played like that for hours, but I didn’t want to overdue it if his paw was still hurting. So we walked in the wet sand at our own paces, then I leashed him up for the walk home.
And now he is asleep under the table, quiet and still, his front left paw twitching in his dreams.
The Gifts of Vulnerability
I was brainstorming a new idea: a Heart Sparks Mastermind for next year…7 women, 7 months, exploring the 7 Practices For Loving Your Life. One component of the group dynamic will be partnering with another person, and that took me to questions I’d ask them about what they might need in a partner, (accountability, sharing, inspiration….) and, what about partnering they might be resisting.
And then, BOOM, I was asking MYSELF the same questions about relationships in my personal life. And I realize how much I resist vulnerability, because the last few times I have opened my heart, I got hurt. Hard.
I took out some paper and I asked, What happens when you are vulnerable? and I wrote, “you get hurt, you learn things about yourself, your heart tells the truth. And that can be a good thing too. It doesn’t always have to be hurt-full. Trust that!”
And so on my beach walk that morning I finally walked to the right, to the end of the beach where Laddy and I always walked. I could hear his big barking bouncing off the rocks, begging me to find him a stick. It made my heart ache. And, of course, I cried.
When I shared the story with my neighbor Phyllis, while her slobbery old chocolate lab named Breyer was allowing me some great dog rubs, she said, How wonderful! And I thought, Yeh, I guess it is also wonderful that I can still go right there to remembering so clearly how much fun we had.
The fact that my heart hurts just means I’m feeling something. It’s not good, it’s not bad, I’m just feeling…. and that is what being vulnerable is.
Being vulnerable is about letting go of the fear of what you might feel and opening up to just feeling it. Being vulnerable is connecting. It’s being willing to give and receive love.
This past weekend I went to my first Sunday Spiritual Service. I got there early, met the very friendly Reverend, and helped some women put out the after-service food.
The actual service was lovely. We began with a Namasté song, walking around the group, singing into each other’s eyes. There was laughing and storytelling, more singing and a standing silent meditation. And afterwards, I spoke with several people, including a woman who I knew from Facebook. I even signed up to attend a workshop after the service next week where we will be making Blessing Sticks.
I was so warmly and genuinely welcomed into the community that I was reminded that I can enjoy many different kinds of connections and relationships. That one person cannot possibly fill all of my needs. And that showing up with an opened heart makes me cry, and sometimes that can feel really good.
On the way home I stopped at the Humane Society, just to look, to see what it’s like to go there. I almost didn’t, for selfishness, but then I thought, even if it’s just to give these dogs a little human interaction, it will be for good.
Of course I cried. For me, for Laddy for all the dogs that were there.
I engaged with a few and asked about Bon Bon, a small white shepherd mix with a happy pink tongue. The volunteer said she is overprotective and aggressive and doesn’t do well sharing the owner’s attention with other people or other dogs.
And that was fine, because I wasn’t ready to take anyone home that day, anyway. But I went, and I opened up that place in my heart and I didn’t die from sadness. In fact, the tenderness might be a little less bitter and a little more sweet.
This morning, I walked again along the rocky end of the beach. I picked up a perfect stick-throwing stick to use for my Blessing Stick next week. Laddy would have loved to have me throw it so he could run and get it, then flop down in the sand and gnaw the bark off it.
UPDATE!!
You never know when you’re gonna be ready, until you are!
If you’re interested in learning more about the 2015 Heart Sparks Mastermind, drop me an email!
Home Again, Home
I am back at the beach, slowly re-connecting with the rhythm of the tides and the change in the climate.
The transition between being in AZ and being here takes a while, letting go of what was, allowing my tender heart to ache, and, at the same time, embracing that I am in this place that makes my body feel so damn good. Already I am walking more than I have in the last three months and breathing in so deeply that my exhales are audible.
The air is damp and a little salty-sticky, cool but not cold. I am wearing cotton capris, a three-quarter-sleeved knit shirt with a camisole underneath for warmth and my body rejoices in this perfect temperature.
I pulled in on Sunday around noon, exhausted after the two easy driving days and the emotions that go with them. I was grateful for the welcoming fog, the piercing call of the killdeer and the roll of the waves.
But my RV had a dead battery when I tried to start it. I had imagined I’d need to deal with some things when I got back since the RV had been parked, unattended for 8 months, but a dead battery wasn’t one of them.
I was able to get the engine to turn over using what little juice was in the coach batteries and I pulled into my spot. But I forgot to keep it running while I checked for being level, and then I couldn’t start it again. But I had electricity and water and propane so I tried to calm down.
I found a few mouse turds in the bathroom cabinet and there were ants in one of the food boxes. I love ants when they’re out in their own world doing ant things. But I HATE them in my living space. I squirted them with my bleach cleaner and asked them to please move out. There are still a few rogue ants who clearly didn’t get the message, but I think I’m winning the battle.
I don’t know how people deal with this kind of stress every day. I cried, I called Marika, and then I called AAA to set up an appointment for the following day. I could have jumped the battery myself and driven over to Auto Zone for a new one, but I just didn’t want to.
Instead, I unpacked some things from the car, ate the rest of the brisket that Marika had packed for me and then finally, I walked down the hill to the beach and breathed it all in.
I was here. Again. The sun was just beginning to set, but the sky was still all fog so there was nothing to see except the beautiful dimming of the light. I walked under the pier, stopping to look at the crane and the new wooden planks and the restoration progress. I watched a dog rush into the waves to retrieve his frisbee. I watched a father play one-on-one soccer in the sand with his barefoot daughter.
Then I took myself to Duckie’s for dinner, a Caesar salad with broiled red snapper on top, and watched the day visitors come in and order one last bowl of chowder before heading home.
On my walk back up the hill, over the creek bridge, I recognized the man sitting on the bus stop bench. He was the 87 year old artist who lives on the street just above Paradise Park. I had visited him in his studio before I left last March and he had shown me his paintings and scrapbooks with all of the graphic work he did for Corvette.
So much of me did not want engage but I pushed myself to do it differently. I said hello and re-introduced myself. He said had found an old bottle of vodka at his house and had walked to the liquor store to get something to go with it. Tonic water? I asked? No, vermouth. He said he was going to make a martini. But he didn’t get any olives.
He said he still hadn’t painted anything. “But hey, maybe this will inspire me,” he said, holding up the brown paper bag with the bottle in it. I told him I’d check back with him in a couple of days to see how things were going.
I watched some Hulu when I got home and went to bed early, my body still adjusting to the earlier hour here.
I slept on and off that first night, dreaming of ants and car batteries. AAA came on Monday morning and put in a new battery, I drove the RV down the street to the local garage and got air in all of the tires, went to the carwash to remove the first layer of storage dirt and finally pulled back into my space. Now I’m level and situated in spot 60 with a fabulous view of town, Morro Rock and a peek of ocean.
I’ve been welcomed back by my neighbors with lovely, full on body hugs, and greeted on the beach by people who recognize me from being here before.
And this afternoon I have a board meeting for the Winter Bird Festival.
Each time I return to the beach, I am different, circumstances are different and my intentions for being here are different. When I first came in 2012, I walked the beach asking how I can do more of my best heart work. And now, two years later, I am a published author, and my book is reaching readers all over the world!
I am basking in this dream come true, trying not to rush to the next thing of growing it even bigger. But instead, appreciating all that is, right here right now.
[ssba]With Wings I Fly
I have a picture of me standing in the late afternoon sun in Marika’s backyard. The light is perfect on my face, illuminating me like a spotlight and I am smiling from the inside.
I remember that day. That moment. Feeling so content and joyous and happy for everything in my life. It was in May of 2006, almost two years after I had moved out of Marika’s house.
Earlier in the morning she and I had gone to Goodwill. We were trying to work through the anger and do more fun things together instead of just sitting across from each other in a restaurant, sharing a meal, hardly talking.
We still liked to go yard sale-ing and thrifting for odd trinkets, bird feeders, potential art supplies. That day at Goodwill I found a pair of wings. They were pink and lacy, with a two-foot wingspan, obviously intended for a child. But they had adjustable straps.
Instead of making fun of them, Marika helped me loosen the straps, slip my arms through the loops, and adjust the wings onto my shoulders. And they fit. There was even a motor with a switch to make the wings flap.
A five year old girl watched us with fascination as I stood there, all smiling, my wings slowly raising, and lowering. And then they stopped on their way back to the up position.
“It probably just needs new batteries,” Marika said. “Flapping or not,” I said, “they fit and I had to have them.” And they were only $2.00.
That afternoon I came back to Marika’s so she could take my picture. I was all dressed up, literally, for a dear friend’s surprise party. I was wearing a dress. And earrings, and even a little Bare Essentials makeup. And my wings.
I didn’t wear the wings to the party. In fact, I don’t think I ever wore them outside of the house. But I did put them on sometimes when I danced around my studio. Most of the time the wings were displayed on the shoulders of my headless, black art deco mannequin, Odetta, who stood near the front door, welcoming guests.
Those wings. My smile. The light in my face. I see the energy of my whole being in that photograph. And when I remember how full and alive and complete I felt in that moment, I realize I can feel it again.
And just thinking about it, I actually DO begin to feel lighter.
Someone once told me that the Universe understands images more than language. That you should cut out pictures of what you want or that exude how you want to feel, because it can help manifest it.
This picture of me is all of that. And more. And so I have taped copies of that photograph where I can see it everyday: on my bathroom mirror, on my vision board, it’s even my current profile picture on Facebook.
Because the me in this picture is heart-wide open to the future. And that’s how I want to feel again.
Do you have a photograph of you that captures the essence of you?
Find it.
Put it where you can see it, to remind you that it is still you and you can feel that way again.
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Edit, Save, Repeat
sample cover
This is so exciting! My first book. A dream is actually happening. Right now!
I am getting ready to not just write, but publish my first book!
This means final content edits, choosing artwork, checking page breaks, figuring out how the new version of Word deals with page numbering for even and odd pages, and always, envisioning the finished product in the hands of my readers.
I have my graphic designer on standby, so, as soon as I have the copy for the back of the book, and the official ISBN number, we’ll be ready to roll.
Yes this is pretty darn exciting!
I’m reading Guy Kawasaki’s book, APE: Author, Publisher, Entrepreneur and I’m still hovering between Author and Publisher, working my way through Amazon’s self-publishing website, createspace.com. Several friends have used the service and all give it high marks for ease of use and good results.
I did consider submitting a book proposal to publishers, but right now, I like having all of the control. And in my vision for this book, I sell so many copies that a fabulous publisher seeks me out for the second edition.
The book will be available as an e-book through Amazon’s Kindle store as well as a real, live, hold in your hand, turn the pages book.
Stay tuned for details, including how to pre-order your own autographed copy!
If you’d like to host a Heart Sparks Party, let me know!
I’m also booking places where I can speak and share and lead Heart Sparks workshops, so if you have a group that would enjoy some heart-sparking inspiration, let me know!
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