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Leaves are falling and it’s time for something like a letter. I’m in that creative place where the lion’s share of my new work is done, but there’s much to do yet. Metaphorically speaking, it’s like the baby could come at anytime, but there’s still the LABOUR about to happen.
To me, it was a vision of pure potential. I was so struck by what could be accomplished by the feminine power in the room — if unleashed. This is what I tweeted out (the conference folks made this cool badge out of it):
Then I hightailed it to Manhattan for more chick power to preach at Marie Forleo’s always-incredible event, Rich Happy & Hot LIVE.
I was there when the hurricane was brewing. When I got off stage that Sunday, I learned that my night flight home was cancelled. I texted my friend (and coach!) Chela, who was on the same plane with me: “On a scale of 10, how badly do you want to get home?” Her response: “ONE MILLION”. So I peeled off my heels and put on my high tops. We rented a car, drove seven hours to Pittsburgh, and caught three planes. Driving in torrential rain, trying to sleep on the Pittsburgh airport floor, and utter exhaustion — and we laughed our asses off the whole way.
Determination can be a battle or a thrill. Choose to be thrilled.
My talk at RHH was one of my most fulfilling. I felt liberated and connected to everyone. And because I’m pregnant with The Desire Map right now, my material is pumping through my veins.
Everything is more amped up when you’re speaking from lived experience — you can’t borrow power when you tell stories — it’s got to be true for you. And, I wore one of my favourite dresses — and you can never underestimate the power of a fab dress.
Speaking of great costumes, I made it home in time to finish the Minotaur Halloween get-up that my kid and I were working on. He’s informed me that since he’s in disguise, I have permission to share this photo of my lil’ half-bull, half-boy:
Store-bought or home-made? Choose home-made.
Creating The Desire Map program has uncorked me. Re-wired me. I’m more … Me. It’ll take me a while to explain — like, the next ten years.
I’ve spent the last four months in an impermeable creative bubble. Chapters and audio files. Meditating and drafting. Extracting from seven years of journals. Mind mapping, desire mapping. Praying for guidance and making stuff I love to make for a very intense amount of time. No meetings, no TV, and a lot of my favourite granola.
The only thing that could get me out of the house — and I’m not exaggerating — were big speaking gigs, and rock stars.
I’ve been on a major concert binge. I grew up outside of Detroit, in Windsor, Ontario. EVERYONE, plays Detroit — it’s a major concert town. And I missed a lot of bands because I was too broke or too lazy to make it happen. Like, I passed up the Eurythmics and Ray Charles. Dumb. So I vowed to never let a good concert pass me by.
When faced with a choice between getting new shoes or concert tickets, always choose the concert tickets.
And … when I’m doing intensely focused creating, I want high-octane inspiration. I’m so tunneled, that I need big flashy stuff to stir me. So I come out of my cave, chug down some rock n’ roll or great art, and I head back home to pour it on my fire.
My Summer-Fall Concert Playlist for You:
Michael Franti, I’ll Be Waiting. I’m a deep Franti fan. He’s an activist, a poet and a towering sweetheart. He blessed us all at the Whistler Wanderlust Festival.
The Dirty Heads feat. Matisyahu, Dance All Night. These California homies party hard. They’re a tight band with great presence, offering a fresh, sexy sound to white boy reggae.
Madonna, Girl Gone Wild. A Madonna concert is like five Las Vegas shows in one. She puts OUT. She opened her Vancouver show with this:
Glen Hansard, Bird of Sorrow. Glen Hansard is one the most generous and compelling performers I’ve witnessed. Unforgettable. See him if you get the chance.
Alanis Morrisette, Everything
This is an older song of hers and the video in which she regrettably cut off her hair. She did a gorgeous job of this on stage in Vancouver — once again, speaking to the inner heart of relationships that is full of conflict and gratitude.
Here’s to inspiration and however it finds us — high octane, gently delivered ideas, the courage of poets and trees.
In my experience, boundary obliviousness is part of the initiation into wholeness. I don’t think you have to warrior your whole life for it, but it’s a passage to self-agency that most women seem to have to go through. Boundaries help us expand our consciousness.
Every “image” I had of my “ideal” life has been interrupted, derailed, splattered on the road to this sometimes way too fucking complicated, patience-of-Job, deeply deep and BEAUTIFUL life that I find myself in. CORRECTION: I didn’t “find” myself here. I made choices to be here –– right where I am. One choice at a time. Every time you choose to go for a “feeling” instead of an “image”, you’re making a courageous choice.
But what’s the MOTIVE? (And BTW, pure motives RULE). Same gesture. Same joke. Same service. Same policy. How can you spot the selfish intention when the branding is so glorious? Or how can you sense the true wisdom when the delivery is so 2000-and tacky? How can you really hear someone when your judgement is clouded by…judgement?
Lightwork can be a fight. If you think being on the “spiritual” side of progress guarantees you harmony, then either you haven’t been at it long enough or you’ve been playing it safe. Harmonizing, healing, serving, shining…it’s messy work. Beautiful. Worth it. But messy.
Of course there are times — perhaps entire years, when we are bone-baked exhausted. But being fed up is not the same as being fatigued. In the seasons when we are vivacious and brimming with life, we can’t let ourselves slip into the reflex of heaviness.
t's FREE, of course. A membership is like having a library card. But more adorkable. You'll get access to EXCLUSIVE things:
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