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Energy parasites and addiction to chaos…and other things to weed out of your life.

Women and feminine-identified types specialize in beginnings, not endings. We prefer to nurture, not exclude. This of course is spectacular and divine and… challenging. Because destruction is essential to creation. Something has to die for your dream to be born. And by that I mean… you may need to cut off it’s life/lie supply and send it down the river to die.

What in your life has to die so that you can be the change?

Might I suggest that you:

  • Stop feeding your doubts with questionable news sources and social media gorging.
  • Cut off the air supply to panic and despair. Panic is never, ever useful. Not ever.
  • Cut cords with depressing thoughts on a daily basis. This is a spiritual practice. Do it however it works for you. Prayer is easy, “Dear ______,” (insert the name of your god or preferred deity. Archangel Michael and Goddess Kali are damn effective at cord-cutting) “Thank you for cutting cords with thoughts and energies that are not aligned with my highest Truth and Joy.” This is great to do before you go to sleep.
  • Stop giving Scooby snacks (aka, attention) to trolls and haters. They feed on it. Don’t feed them.
  • Leave your fear of judgement out in the sun to melt… melt the fear of being called angry, flighty, feminist, divisive, too inclusive, airy fairy, delusional, too soft, too hard, too loud.
  • Take your family karma off of life support. You don’t need to play small because you don’t want to out-earn, out-shine, or out-politic your parents. Let the karma die, so you can keep the Love alive.
  • Smother your addiction to chaos with an even greater desire for peace and simplicity.

Let the limitations die, my friends. Those old thought forms will put up a fight. You will be tempted to give them your time and nourishment because you’re an innately loving creature. But don’t. They’ll turn into compost, it’s really okay. Water the dream, weed out the energy-pests.


 

Who in your life needs to get ruthless and let it go? Cheer them on. Press share. xo

Tweet it out:

Destruction is essential to creation.

Stop giving Scooby snacks (aka, attention) to trolls and haters. They feed on it. Don’t feed them.


Click here to Pin or right click to download + share on Instagram.

Photo Credit: Catherine Just

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I saw a Muslim man roll out his prayer carpet…

I saw a Muslim man roll out his prayer carpet in Union Square park
to prostrate to his god.
People, dogs, pigeons, were passing by his intimacy.

“I wish I had that kind of pride in my faith,” I thought.

I don’t carry a prayer rug with me anywhere.
I left my religion, gave away so many keepsakes
and boiled down my vows so that
I’m the only one who knows who I really am.

But I told all of you yesterday, and the day before that,
that I believe in Light.
I said it without thinking twice.
And tomorrow, I will get up with the sun
to say it over and over and over again:
I live for the Light.
I promise.

#lightworks #spiritualactivism #poetry #deeperlove


 

Send to your fellow rebels and light seekers. xo.

Tweet it out:

I wish I had that kind of pride in my faith.
I live for the Light. I promise.


Click here to Pin or right click to download + share on Instagram.

Photo credit: Catherine Just

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My Very Personal Hurt, Suffered, Cried, Tanked, Flopped, Crawled, Begged for Mercy List. May it bring you comfort.

I was in a creative meeting and the subject of suffering came up. I rambled off a few things that have kicked the shit out of me this life. My new associate thumped the boardroom table and said, “NOW you’re relatable!” We laughed.

I’m more of a preacher than a memoirist—I only go to my hardship stories if they help make my point. And… I do what I tell people not to do: I compare my pain to others’ and figure that since I’m not fighting for my life, I don’t have much to complain about. But… I have had to fight for my joy.

So here’s my very personal hurt, suffered, cried, tanked, flopped, crawled, begged for mercy list. May it bring you comfort. Because here’s what I know for SURE:

You are never the only one. And there’s always a way through. Always.

In no particular order:

  • For about ten years I looked really pissed-off, sad, and exhausted in every photo. And fatter than I wanted to be. Because I was in a relationship that made me really pissed-off, deeply sad, and utterly exhausted. The divorce was quite civilized. My recovery on the other hand was a brutal reclamation process of my spirit, body, and dreams. It took me a few years to get up off my knees. I’m now a cliche: the totally free, initiated, empowered woman.
  • I was fired from the company that I cofounded. Yep, got Steve Job’d from my very own brand. The CEO that I hired turned around and canned me, and I was asked to leave with my phone and laptop, never to return (though I snuck back in the wee hours to photocopy shareholder certificates and take my art off the walls). I’d personally co-signed some of the business loans, so even though I was no longer part of the team, I owed a heap of money, with no savings and suddenly, zero income. The incorporation owned my online identity, so I spent weeks convincing Twitter and the likes to let me have my own name back, please and thank you.
  • I left home a week after my 16th birthday. I had to explain to the cops that I was old enough to leave, that a friend and her parents were taking me in, and that I would still go to school. My mom lived in another province, sent cash, and I spent summers with her. No one else in my family spoke to me for six years.
  • The Fire Starter Sessions got rejected by at least six literary agents. One told me it had to be more “formulaic”. Another said it was “too poetic and the only people who’d read it were Oprah’s audience.” (“Um, that’s a pretty good audience to have,” I said.) I gave up on getting an agent or a book deal, and wrote and filmed the digital version in my attic, in the midst of leaving my marriage for the first time (I’d leave more than once). I’d pack up a box of my things, sob for a few minutes (or all afternoon), then put tea bags on my eyes for the swelling, and then go film another session. (FSS is now in hardcover, paperback, audio, and soon to be released as an Udemy video course, and a facilitator/coaching program.)
  • My parents were teenagers when they had me. That in and of itself wasn’t a bad thing, (it made for great house parties). But their marriage was on and off and volatile, so I never knew how long we’d stay in a house or a town. That kind of instability seeps into your psyche and you have to work hard to trust the support systems of life. The upside: I became an overachiever who can pack up a house in a day.
  • I dealt with interstitial cystitis for two years. The bladder lining gets inflamed so you pee countless times a day, painfully. A medical specialist asked if I “had to live with the condition for the rest of my life, how likely would I be to commit suicide?” That’s when I figured out that it destroys some people’s lives. And I thought, “Fuck this, I know what to do.” My body was screaming to me: Leave.the.relationship. So I did. The condition vanished. For good.
  • I’ve had a miscarriage. Women don’t talk about this enough—you don’t know how common it is until it happens. It was early term and I just thought, “It didn’t stick, the next one will.” I now have a perfectly healthy teenage son.
  • I had respiratory issues for way too long. I stopped counting the bouts of bronchitis, pneumonia, and inhalers I’ve gone through—made for interesting times as a professional public speaker who travels a lot. I could write a book just on my relationship with my lungs—which are healthier than ever.
  • I’ve burned so many bridges by turning down publishing deals and making certain demands, that I’ll probably never work in traditional publishing again. Not that I want to.

Those are the biggies. There’s more. Some matters I’ll never publicly discuss because…sacred implications. There are some wild esoteric situations that I’ll start talking about soon, as in Harry Potter vs. Voldemort kind of shit.

I probably get hate mail but my team doesn’t tell me. I’ve heard I have a reputation for going through a lot of people in my business. The last vendor I fired for incompetency tried to sue me. I have some very strained relationships that I’d rather not have. I weep regularly over the pain of the world. I have a love/hate relationship with hope. Sometimes “rising to the occasion” takes all I’ve got on that particular day.

Mostly…I just want to be healed and help others with their healing. And mostly, eventually, it works out that way.


 

Go ahead. Send this to a friend and use my suffering to cheer them on. I understand. xo

Tweet it out:

My Very Personal Hurt, Suffered, Flopped Begged for Mercy List. May it bring you comfort.

Using my own suffering to cheer you on. You’re welcome. Really.

You are never the only one. And there’s always a way through. Always.


Click here to Pin or right click to download + share on Instagram.

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