the pebble in your shoe is bigger than you think

Small, annoying things. Energy leaks. We tend to discredit the slight aggravations in life + work because our attention is on accomplishing the big things. But think about the trying to walk with a grain of sand in your sock. You won’t go more than a block until you frantically peel off your shoe and give things a firm shake ‘n swipe. Ahhh, relief. Think about the dramatic effect of a pin prick to an inner tube, the power of a mosquito, that impact of a sliver.

Every time you make REPEATED contact with aggravating tasks and situations, you make a conscious or unconscious choice to endure (the root of the word endure is ‘to suffer’,) and to settle with less-than-ideal. This kind of aggravation triggers resentment and bad ju-ju. We direct our pissed-off vibe outward, (Damn landlord needs to fix this lock.) Or inward, (These too tight pants are what I get for being so lazy.) And in doing so, we affirm any feelings of helplessness and overwhelm that are floating in our consciousness. And a little bit of our energy zipples out of our sails.

fix the small stuff

Noticing — really noticing — what’s rubbing on you is part of being conscious. When subtleties grab your attention you are not OCD, you’re lucid. When you deal with the annoyances, you’re not a control freak, you’re the master of your reality.

Look at it this way: energy leaks are usually really easy to fix because they’re small. It’s simply a matter of stopping to tend to them. When you fix the stuff that’s picking at you, you get relief, and that freshness helps you focus on the big stuff.

god + mastery are in the details. so is your freedom.

Where’s the rub in your day-to-day? Make a plan to cure, dissolve or absolve it.

What’s the mosquito-like thought form that’s zifting in your psyche? Visualize rinsing it away, make a phone call that will settle things.

What’s broken that you want fixed? Hire a handyman, find a homeopath, reach out and mend it with love.

Your vitality deserves an as-soon-as-possible response.
Get on it. Because you have bigger things to do.

She has gone through the eye of a needle, stripped, shed, pared down to the pure pith of her power. The few people who have seen her so naked will never speak of that beauty to anyone else.

She knows that when people are ready, they’re ready, and they’re never ready before they’re ready. Still, she holds the light for your readiness, because she knows how sweet it is when the time is right.

She’s modest, but bold to the depths. She knows that initiations are waiting for everyone to claim them. Courage is key.

She’s asked people to leave her house because they were consistently rude.
Now, she asks after the first offense — she knows where things are going.
If you don’t respect her, there’s not much to talk about.

It’s usually a succession of rigors, (rarely a lightning strike) that earns her the license to teach. Her lessons can be precise, like the diamond that cuts diamonds. Essentially-focused.

She knows that playing nice perpetuates irresponsibility, but that kindness is wildly fertile.
She’s mindful of the how and the who in her bed, because it’s always more than that.
She doesn’t spiritualize immorality, but she understands it.
She has no time for excuses, but all the time in the world for intentionality.
She reveres accountability, which includes using the sword of justice, and singing operatic praises for things done the good way — or even attempts at the good way.

Scarred. Faceted. Radiant. Wide.

She’s so tender she prefers to whisper about her true nature, or write a poem. Abstract. Protected.

When the initiated woman tells you that “everything will be okay,” you tend to believe her.

She uses compassion like a a lever to see what’s really going on.
She applies willfulness sparingly, like gas to fire. (’cause, she is the fire.)
She awaits, but gets on with things.

She can tell you with calm and certain sympathy that love is the shortest distance between you and me.

And that there are no shortcuts to initiation.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

THE SHED PROJECT with Bindu Wiles starts next week. She’s leading a community to shed, shed, shed…possessions, weight, thoughts that don’t serve you. I’ll be there.

CHECK OUT THE SHED-VENTURE. You’ll feel lighter immediately.

: Is earned. No exceptions. There are NO short cuts to initiation. Ever. It’s law. You can do it quick n’ dirty, (think: near death experiences, starter marriages done at the Lusty Lady Chapel in Vegas, trauma and tragedy, the 1999 dot com boom, winning the lottery.) Or you can do it slow, like, over life times kind of slow. But confidence is the result of insight and insight comes from experiencing things on a very deep level.

: Confidence is an arrow ommming to the target. Ommm. Spwack! Bull’s eye.
: Confidence has a past. She has lost something before. (Dignity.) She’s been shaken (even if she never showed it.)
: Confidence wavered and then went on to finish the race.
: Confidence goes in eyes wide open.

You need confidence to lead, to sustain, and to offer the kind of straight up compassion that transforms people.

blind faith

: Is exhilarating, caffeinated, giddy.
: Blind faith is like a race car. He white knuckles the wheel and hopes he makes the curve. Fhew.
: Blind faith is fresh. She recruits chance, destiny, and the good will of others. She prays, wishes, crosses her heart, and cozies up to luck, symbols and “signs.” (It’s a sign!)
: Blind faith gets carefree and careless confused. (It’s okay, this is healthy chaos.)
: Blind faith tends to give up more easily, but regardless of that, blind faith is incredibly endearing.

You need blind faith to build confidence.

I used to think I knew it all in my twenties. And I knew a lot. I knew that evolution happens and that the universe trades up, and I bought into morphogenesis. Still do. And Jonathon Mead, aka IlluminatedMind.net, proves my theories right. Because this guy is bright in that warrior-heart, gonna-live-on-my-own-terms way. His new e-book, Zero Hour Work Week speaks to that. His wisdom kicks it. And as anyone who’s worked with Jonathan will attest, he’s as gracious and as he is wise beyond his years.

1. What do you hope is true?
I hope that people are becoming more compassionate, and with that more compassionate toward themselves. I don’t think you can be accepting toward others without self-acceptance.

2. What are you trying to discover?
I’m trying to discover how to play it big and still be present. I want to expand my vision and work toward something beautiful, but not lose sight of the beauty in the present.

3. Does your alter ego have a name? (FYI, mine is Constance Candelabra. She’s an Italian housewife in stilettos. You can call her Connie.)
I always joke with my wife that if I was a fighter (we’re big into MMA) my ring name would be Jonathan the Juggernaut. I think juggernaut is one of those way underutilized words, so I stamped it. It’s pretty much patented to me now.

4. What book(s) are you always telling people to read?
The Four Agreements is still one of my favorite books. It was basically the first “inspirational” or self development type of book that I read. It was so simple, and it completely changed the way I live in the world. I recommend it to anyone who wants to find inner peace.

5. Inspiration flashback: When is the last time you thought, “Yes! That person has so got it going on!”?
This guy.

6. How do you get shit done?
I have a list of the highest leverage things I can do. Everyday I look at that list in the morning and start doing them. I also have an mastermind & accountability group I meet with every week, which I totally recommend.

7. I’m going to give you a word. Tell me what the first thing that comes to mind when you read it… Ready? The word is: REDEMPTION.
Energy returning back to the source.

Spoken like a true Zenster.

. . . . . . .

Find Jonathon Mead
Illuminated Mind
Twitter
Facebook

Read about Why the World Needs You to Do What You Love in Jonathon’s free e-book, ZERO HOUR WORK WEEK (with a few tips from yours truly on rocking your personal “brand.”)

A great friend gave me the coffee table book, Wisdom for Christmas. And I actually read it. It’s packed with layers of experience. Humbling. Argumentative. Informed. From Clint Eastwood and Frank Gehry to Jane Goodall and Vanessa Redgrave.

This video clip is great for two reasons: one, it highlights the immense power of the players, but it also shows how Andrew Zuckerman, the book’s author/coordinator, just did it. He had a values-based vision, and zero experience as an interviewer. He aimed high. He didn’t settle. He made himself “a servant to the pursuit of wisdom,” and he made it happen. Gotta love that.