falling into your joy: a winter solstice love letter with soundtrack

Last time I wrote you all letterly-like, it was summer. It was my first showing of letterly love. And I was laying out bits of my soul to dry in the sun.

If all calendars were destroyed and I spun ‘round like a Sufi, I might guess that seven years passed in this one.

Last New Year’s Eve I was taking bandages off my heart. The newness stung. In February, my boy from heaven turned seven. And with my freshly exfoliated soul, I saw things in a new light — regular yoga, blue green algae, Santa Fe transformation, colonics, enzyme peels, new tattoos, astrological readings, channeled assessments, creative coaching, psychotherapy, incredible integral coaching, reiki, tango lessons, intuitive naturopathy and copious mantras will shift your perspective. Something fierce. Guaranteed.

And from ashes sprouted passion flowers and like, wow.

{soundtrack: Over The Hills & Faraway, Led Zeppelin}

Like the Velveteen rabbit got to be real, I took my digital love child and turned it into a bound, paper, BOOK. Because I loved it so hard it came to life, because some hard-workin’ women at The Biggie Publishing Haus said, “We see you.” And then I said, “I’ve been waiting to be seen.” And soon, YOU too will see and hold THE FIRE STARTER SESSIONS: A SOULFUL + PRACTICAL GUIDE TO CREATING SUCCESS ON YOUR OWN TERMS. (Yes, yes, you CAN pre-order it already!!!) In January I’ll be throwing a baby shower for the book. And it will be bountiful.

{soundtrack: Yell Fire, Michael Franti}

I should be exhausted. I have every right to adrenal fatigue and plum tuckeredness. This year I sold a place, bought a place, moved two domiciles into one, racked up airmile points, pitched my love to Conde Nast and Hearst power girls, launched YOUR BIG BEAUTIFUL BOOK PLAN, delivered a private commission book to lululemon, and had some serious dental work done (I’m hard to freeze. I think that’s a beautiful metaphor for life, but it’s a tough reality when working with molars.) But I’m not tired. I’m…elated, seek-ful, STOKED.

{soundtrack: Oh Lord Is It Mine, Supertramp’s Roger Hodgson

+ Let’s Get It Started, The Black Eyed Peas}

I gave up resistance for Lent. As my beloved friend, Donna puts it, “I’ve allowed myself to fall in to my joy.”

Fall into your joy.

Fall into your joy.

Fall into your joy.

Don’t you love this notion? It implies that bliss is your core, foundational, sturdy, structural and formless. True nature. Always there. Waiting. Now.

{soundtrack: The World As I See It, Jason Mraz}

I went weeks without wheat. And felt high(er). I healed some allergies, rather miraculously. I juiced, and juiced, and juiced some more.

I’m going to re-learn how to knit. Everyone I’ve ever met in my life will be getting a giant cashmere muffler next year. I’m giving up baking. Not that I ever really baked. But I tried to be one of those moms recently and it’s just not in the cards for me. I kill bake goods like some people kill plants. True strengths. I’m stickin’ to ‘em.

{soundtrack: As, Stevie Wonder}

My heart feels like a star. I want for nothing and everything all at once. I am broken open with gratitude day to day. I remain perpetually critical, easily infuriated by poor customer service, and zealously irked by people who don’t bother to think things through. Pffft. And…I am more loving today than I was this time last year. Deeply and evidently so. I plan to say the same thing this time next year.

It’s all so precious. And rock solid.

Fall into your joy.

With Great Love,

PS… joy. fall. in to it. xo

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