Something More

Where to begin in order to free the log jam of my thoughts these days? Its been an interesting week with lots of opportunities to reflect on where I am and where I'm going next. And while that flows in the background, I notice that over the course of the past week I've also invited a lot of situations that challenge my perception of who I am.



Last week I invited a bunch of Medium R's friends over to decorate gingerbread houses. They descended like a bunch of happy locusts - full of energy, gobbling up pizza, cookies, and candy with the amount of vigor one expects to accompany a gaggle of 6 year olds recently sprung from school. It was a great time for the kids. As the kids played and the Moms relaxed upstairs I found myself on the receiving end of a number of snide comments from one of them.



Now, I know that this woman is not particularly happy with her life right now. Her days are long and gruelling. Her family time is limited and her time for herself is even more scarce. I understand that intimately - AND I also know that even when we think we don't have choices about our life's circumstances (BTW - I think we always do) we can at least choose our attitude about them. Here was a perfect opportunity to relax and enjoy some time with her child and with women who have befriended her, and her choice was to be resentful and to remain that way even when offered the chance to see things from a different perspective.



The invitation for me has been to choose my company differently. I recall reading an interview with Maya Anglou once where she declared that she does not let negativity cross her threshold. There is something to be said for that. I believe that the wider context has to do with choosing to spend time in situations and with people who inspire and challenge us. For me, its women who are willing to have an open mind and be flexible in their perceptions. Its about spending time with women who aren't investing all their energy in being victims in their own lives and clinging to that constructed identity like a life raft. While I have a great deal of compassion for this woman and her situation, I'm clear that its not my job to rescue her to bear the brunt of her envy and resentment. Its my life - get your own.



Following quickly on the heels of that event was an encounter with our dental hygenist. At the beginning of the appointment we had our usual chit chat about what we were doing these days. As the appointment began and my mouth was filled with sharp little instruments, I was subjected to a tirade about how easy life is for stay at home Moms. She blamed everything from the lack of parking at the mall to a the plight of public education (in her opinion - under socialized and unprepared children from home filling the classrooms) on women who were at home with their kids. Of course, working moms like herself were noble and hard done by.



That was the longest appointment of my life! And when she was finished, I shared with her my perspective of mothering as a woman who worked up to 12 hours a day running her own business with an infant and now as a woman choosing to step off the career track and be at home. Again, I shared that the core of the issue, I believe, is in our choices. Not just a choice to be at home or not and all the social and economic things that stem from that - no, the most important choice is about our perception of ourselves in it all. I should have saved my minty breath because the only thing she resented more than stay at home moms was having her status as victim challenged.



My lessons continued but with a new twist. Last night I found a friend on my doorstep bearing gifts. I'm a recent addition to this group of friends and they have welcomed me with open arms. Our times together are infrequent but deeply authentic. These are women who unapologetically enjoy the finer things in life. They work hard and they play hard and they are endlessly curious. They aren't the type to ruminate on what doesn't work in their lives - they move forward to make things better. The contrast was hard to miss.



However, I found myself greeting my friend who was joyfully delivering gifts that were beyond generous from the three of them and I immediately felt myself spiral into a well worn habit of thought that chants the mantra of "I'm not worthy" and immediately compared my gifts to them, deciding that they were "not good enough". It took me a few minutes and a few deep breaths to realize that the invitation here was to accept myself the way my friends have accepted me. They clearly value my friendship, not for the material gifts they receive from me, but for who I am. It was a potent reminder to let myself out of the box and to celebrate who I am.



For years and years, modesty and humility were drilled into me, penetrating so deeply that I have had a hard time simply accepting who I am. I have repeatedly been disconcerted when I feel like I've been "discovered". I have gone to great lengths to blend in, homogenize and never challenge the status quo. From "teacher's pet" to "spoiled house wife" - I've tried to keep myself under wraps and out of the line of fire - mistakenly thinking that I could sufficiently cloak mySelf. All the while wanting to bust free from my self imposed limitations.



I can see that my declaration of my intention to make my life bigger and better has set some things in motion in my world. I have regained clarity and I am unwilling to either apologize for the life I have created so far or to slow my pace in creating what I want next because of the response it can call up in some women who are unhappy with their lot in life. To paraphrase Marianne Williamson, "being small serves no one". Whether or not I live up to my full potential will not make one iota of difference to those who are actively choosing not to live up to theirs. And maybe, just maybe, it will influence others to come out and play as they pursue their own potential.



Here is what is coming next - "Something More". An open circle for women who are looking for the elusive next thing in their lives and are committed to finding it and creating it. No one is there to "fix" anyone else. No one is their to air their grievences. We come together to celebrate our magnificence and to remind ourselves and each other of it. We are committed to exploring our potential in a place that celebrates and embraces our various talents, egging each other on to be bolder and brighter in our lives. We set our own pace and we chart our own course while bearing witness to each other's unique journey as a council of peers. For those who live far away, the internet is available to connect us with each other. For those close by, I am committed to creating a time and place with the help of other wonderful women in order for us to meet face to face. Can you think of a better way to step into 2008? I can't!

Moving Mountains

Ahh .. a few minutes to myself while Baby S sleeps in his swing and the dog sleeps on my foot - a sure sign that I've actually been still for longer than 5 minutes. I'm not even sure where to start today there are so many things in motion, but unlike many times in the past, I don't feel like I'm juggling a bunch of spinning plates, these days I feel like I'm riding the wind. Things are moving so fast and yet I'm still here physically, in my living room with a sleeping dog and a sleeping baby. And everything is different again.

I'm living a strange paradox these days. I'm joyful and content in my family life. I love the hum of Christmas and this year feels magical. Medium R is so excited! I'm relishing my energy and vitality which now that Baby S has arrived in the world and is sleeping well, is returning 10 fold. I almost ache with the amount of love I feel for the people in my life. My skin is a useless boundary for it and it spills over and splashes out everywhere and on everyone. Life is good and now I want more - not because I'm greedy but because I know its impossible for my life to ever get too big!

The paradox comes from the undercurrent of restlessness that I feel weaving its way through my quiet moments. It comes from the wanting of solitude and at the same time, a craving for magnificent company. What do I mean by that ... I suppose I miss the sense of community I once felt when I could regularly join in with other "WEL-women", my nick name for the women I have met along my journey through the programs I have taken as my route to self-discovery. Women who are exciting, inspirational, unwilling to settle in their lives. Women who are ready and willing to have raw conversations that make a difference in their life and in mine. Women who recognize and embrace the power of their existence and won't settle for anything less.

I have many wonderful women in my life here, but not many that are in a place where they are ready and willing to enter the deep end of the pool when it comes to conversations like I have grown accustomed to. Having tasted the potency of those simple, honest conversations, and the power they have to change lives, I find it hard to settle for anything else. Conversations that move things and that reveal things about ourselves in moments of mutual discovery.

After years of peeling back the layers for myself, I know the power of those moments and I know that way of moving through the world is not for everyone. However, I also know that many women have never been given the safety and space to expand into that way of expressing themselves and as a result, its difficult to reveal themselves fully. We are taught how to be so adept at camouflage in our own lives that we embrace our chameleon ways as who we are - someone who blends in rather than stands in full, blazing colour as a beacon.

I suppose that where this heaviness in my chest and burn in my belly is taking me - to the conclusion that its up to me to create what it is that I crave. Its up to me to make the spaces in my life larger in order to invite women into that safe and sacred place where we can start peeling back some of the layers and peeking beneath. A space where conversations happen that are outside of the usual rules about social engagement and become exciting and challenging. Places where we come together with a willingness to leave the familiar behind and chart a new course. A space where the facts that we are magnificent, powerful and whole is the de facto starting point rather than a wistful destination - because nothing can ever change until we acknowledge that and are willing to see it in ourselves as well as the others around us. Our lives may not always be a reflection of our those states but they remain true nonetheless.

I can stay awake in my life on my own but I know there is even more joy to be had by sharing the special connection that comes from being a part of something larger than one. With young children and a full family life to anchor me here for now, I am not currently able to seek that connection by going to Ottawa or the Maritimes, where many of my favourite playmates are. No, I feel its time for me to learn to create what I crave right here. As the old saying goes, I'll bring "the mountain to Mohammad".

And what does that mean? Its time to up my own game in life and become a whole lot more visible. Its time to become very clear about what I choose to create from intention right down to the nitty gritty details of who, when and where. Good thing I've got the energy to move mountains these days 'cause while I may not need it once I set things in motion, it may still come in handy while I bridge the gap between intention and creation!

Dirty Laundry

As far as repetitive thoughts go, I have one very athletic hamster tearing it up on the wheel inside my head! Around and around it goes having latched on to a single thought that it chews on frenetically. Lately its been humming away with thoughts of how futility of creating a book is at this stage of life. Heck, there are days when I'm so exhausted by the banter of a six year old and a babbling infant that I end up relying heavily on grunts and sign language to fill in the gaps as my brain gropes for words. Those evening stretches between 4 and 8 pm are like marathon charade games from the days of cavemen. Sometime around nine, my brain catches a second wind before flat lining as my head hits the pillow. Not a lot of time to invest in language arts!

Not so long ago, in the midst of the morning rush to get everyone out the door, I was aware of the nattering of my hamster on its wheel. It was only 8 a.m. and already I could tell I was headed for a day of "poor me" thinking that could reach Cinderella proportions. And then - BAM! Just like that - it hit me. It hit me right between the eyes! A big Rubbermaid container, that is. The big bucket of mitts came flying out of our over-stuffed front hall closet and sent me staggering. Talk about getting jolted out of habitual thoughts!

The pain was exquisite and it has taken nearly a week for the tenderness to dissipate but the jolt seems to knocked something free up there. Within minutes I realized that this is what I need to keep writing about - about my life. Because my life is probably a lot like your life is - or was -or will be. We all have nattering hamsters running in circles in our brains - okay, maybe we don't all see them that way, but I'm pretty sure you get my meaning. I'll also take a wild guess that we all get stuck in a groove that is hard to shake from time to time and that we all also fall prey to a case of the "poor me's" every now and then too.

Oh my gosh, I just realized that I've been overlooking a few other warnings prior to the mitten- bin-in -the- head incident. Chief among them was the very real infestation of squirrels in my attic this summer! Yup - there is the Universe sending a message loud and clear. Too bad I couldn't have 'got' it then and saved myself the bruised nose. Then again, thank goodness I'm paying attention now as the escalation might have involved some kind of crazed wild animal incident and rhinoplasty! ..... But I digress.

After this incident, I began to shift my thinking away from how impossible it all was to simply paying attention to what was right in front of me. My irritability reduced noticeably and then along came some fabulous friends and family members who said all the right stuff at the right times. With their encouragement and a final prod during a conversation with my friend Cathy today, I'm proud to say that I took action.

I printed out most of the bits and blurbs that I've been writing about for the past year or more. And guess what? I now have a 70,000 word document - nearly 13 chapters worth of unedited material. There is an entire book there, right under my nose. No wonder something had to smack me between the eyes!

I've been piling up words and thoughts the way sand collects in a river delta. Now that I have the raw materials amassed, I've decided that its time to take the next step forward. There will be a lot of sculpting as bits get taken away, other bits get added in and stuff is rearranged but I feel confident that its all right there. Taking this step forward means I have to let go of a few personal myths masquerading as beliefs. The biggest one is that I'm not "done".

From this new perspective, I'm noticing that there are a lot of similarities between writing and laundry - neither is EVER done. The moment you think you've finally gotten it all, there is one sock stuck at the bottom of the basket. Never mind the clothes you are wearing which, in a few short hours, will hit the basket again. I confess, every now and then my inner perfectionist rages out of control and teeters on the edge of enforcing a nudity policy in our home if only to have the brief satisfaction of knowing "Yes, now ALL the clothes are clean!". (It hasn't actually happened outside of my twisted imagination, so please don't call in the authorities!)

Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to be DONE? Done emails, emptied the inbox on your desk, - you know what I'm talking about. That's living though, isn't it? Its messy. "Done" is arbitrary. Its one more thing that doesn't really exist and can actually become a convenient way to sabotage our art, be it the art of living or other creative ventures. We are never done anything until we are in the ground and even then, depending on what you believe, we are either busy decomposing or else we are off to our next adventure. So today, I'm declaring my "doneness" when it comes to this book project. And of course, done in this case simply means that I'm on to the next loop in the spiral of manifesting a completed book.

Although I intend to keep on blogging since it is my way to explore, laugh and grow, I'm also clear on my priority to move my book project forward. I'm not certain about the new paths creative energy will take in the coming months. Its quite possible blogging will take a back seat temporarily. I've given myself the next 4 to 6 months to hone and polish the material I have. It may take less time or perhaps more, I don't know. I do know that there will be a whole lot of living happening simultaneously - just like the continual accumulation of laundry, and blogging is where I like to air that laundry by letting it all hang out! I'll likely be seeing you soon :)

Hell In the Hallways

I've heard this saying a number of times ... "When one door closes, another door opens.... - but it can be hell in the hallways!"

Since the first days of 2006 and probably even before, I have been actively closing doors. For those of you who read my contribution to Sekhmet Rising, you will have had a first hand glimpse at my inner state as I chose to close the door on a career path that had become how I defined myself. I had crossed the threshold from doing to becoming the role and, in this particular case, the role was much smaller than I am.

I left behind a number of things since then and at first I felt a bit lost in the hallways. I knew the door was closed, I didn't want to reopen it but I wasn't clear what door to open next. I felt like I was standing still in the middle of a busy corridor, being buffeted by the surging crowds. Everyone else seemed to know where they were headed. They were all rushing to and from places. Some were going around and around in a revolving door but it seemed as though they were fully absorbed and even happy to do so. Others wandered aimlessly, lost and searching. A very few moved purposely.

Everywhere I looked, people were in motion. I felt like I was playing statue. I felt like time was slowing down for me and I was becoming a spectator to the mad frenzy that seemed to be all around me. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to burst out of my stillness and join the action. I wanted someone to wave a magic wand and break my spell of stillness and then hand me my new room assignment. There I stood, rooted to the spot. Swaying like an underwater plant as the tides of people surged past, swaying me to and fro. I could see all the doors. The choices were staggering - and I was still.

Every now and then, I decide that I'm tired of waiting for the next door to open and I start elbowing my way in. So far I've found myself in a number of broom closets where the space is so tight I have to back out. Other times I've burst through the door only to find myself in a hushed room filled with folks that are sleeping and aren't at all interested in waking up - so feeling apologetic but certain that sleep isn't what I want, I slink back out leaving them to their slumber. I'm not ready to take on the task of shaking them all awake.

Once in a while I drop into a party room. I like to stay for a while in these places. I soak up the ambiance and after a short stay I start to feel frazzled and overwhelmed and decide that as much fun as it is, I'm tired of hearing the same song over and over again. Time to leave. And, again, there I am in the hallway.

Waiting, watching for that door to open. The one I can't quite see from this vantage point but I am sure its there. I feel like I'm moving slowly through the chaotic crowds now. My movement is neither frenzied nor aimless - it is patient and persistent. Every now and then someone who has zoomed past me a number of times while frantically searching for their destination will stop and ask directions, assuming that given my pace, I must know where I am going. I don't.

I can tell that I'm heading in the right direction though. I've been through most of the doors that lie behind me and I know that I need to keep moving forward. I also know that it will be there - its not going anywhere, so why rush? No need to burst through that door only to fall into a breathless, exhausted heap on the floor. And its not worth getting so caught up in the infectiousness of frenzied searching because that begins to take on a life of its own and pretty soon you become so hooked on the adrenaline of the thrilling chase that you forget what it was that you were searching for in the first place. I know - I've spent time in that corridor too.

No, the next door looks different from any door I've been through before. Its someplace I have yet to have been. In fact, I never even thought it was a door at all. Standing on the threshold, hand on the knob there is another period of hushed stillness. This time it is a coiling up of energy. A deep centering breath. I can hear the rustle of things being readied on the other side and know that while I have yet to emerge through that opening, whenever I do, I will have arrived right on time.

Its only hell in the hallways if you decide it is. If you believe that its all intelligent and purposeful - even when it looks otherwise, then its not hell at all. And perhaps its not a hallway after all, but a series of antechambers, encapsulated experiences, each opening into another. Stay as long you like or move as fast as you can, either way its your journey to design, and when you are ready the next door emerges and you can choose to open it, or not.

A Spandex-Free Diva

Back again after a whirlwind of fun, friends and festivities! In fact, I consider this to be the eye of the proverbial storm. It's December first and our calendar is already filled with events. Medium R is off to another birthday party after a great time at the movies earlier today with his "Auntie Schell". Big R and I are recuperating after two back to back galas, and well, Baby S is the only one to seem nonplussed at all the socializing around here lately. So as I rest my sore tootsies today after a night of inspired dancing in high heels I'm casting my mind back to the many Christmas parties and black tie events we've enjoyed attending over the past 10 years or more.

I have to share an observation about the whole fancy dress up thing with you. For over a year I've been living in slippers, jeans and comfy t-shirts. Twice this week I was stuffing my toes into pointy high heels and trying to cram my ass into a pair of Spanx body shaping panties about the size of my 6 year old son's boxer briefs. I even took it one step further by layering on a pair of control top panty hose- a girl can never be too careful I figured. And oh yes, let's not forget a nursing bra that was growing ever tighter as the evenings wore on.

Let me tell you boys and girls, there is only so much compression a girl can handle! Not only did I live in fear of something busting loose and injuring an innocent bystander, but I found myself wondering if our troops overseas could benefit from the technology created for use in the women's undergarment industry.

All this squeezing, molding, compressing got me to thinking about how we, as women, treat ourselves. When was the last time a man was concerned about cellulite or VPLs? As far as I know, no self-respecting man would be caught dead trying to shimmy, pummel and squeeze his derriere into a spandex under garment in order to make himself more appealing to the eye. Take a moment to build the mental picture - its worth it!

So why are we so ridiculous? Why are we willing to contort ourselves and sacrifice our comfort?Even those of us who are no longer in the market for a mate continue to jump through hoops in order to meet some kind of external standard of beauty. Why are we trying so hard to be something we are not - and calling that beautiful?

And who made up the rules anyway? I don't think a group of women sat down and dreamt up some of the outrageous standards that make up our cultural definition of beauty but a heck of a lot of them have not only taken those rules to heart, but have taken up the cause. Maybe all these control garments have cut off the circulation to our brains!

Like so many other nominalizations, beauty is just one more thing that means something different to everyone. Its unlikely that across all cultures, heck even amongst individuals, that we could ever completely agree on a definition of beauty. That is what makes it so unattainable. The bar is always being raised, the sands are always shifting and none of us will reach that fictional Utopia called "perfection". Unfortunately, some of us will actually die trying.

In our pursuit of external beauty, we can easily become distracted from the care and feeding of our souls - where, although some may consider it to be hokey, I happen to believe true beauty lies. Beauty is our essence and its our nature. Its our birth right. Underneath the layers of nylon and spandex, the makeup and hair products we are these incredible, beautiful spiritual beings. We are irrepressible in spite of our attempts to reign ourselves in. Imagine the Greek and Roman goddesses becoming completely absorbed in a hangnail, a snag in their robe or - gasp-a chin hair?! Our magnificence as goddesses in our own right by far eclipses those mythological creatures of beauty and power. And what are we paying attention to?! - certainly not the god forces we truly are!

Which brings this message even closer to home for me these days as I have been investing my attention in places that tend to compress my spirit. My connection to my soul happens through writing. Once again, I've let it take a back seat to the rest of my life. And once again, I notice myself descending to the level of thinking and acting that I like to call 'domestic slavery'.

No one puts me there. Its someplace I willingly go. I can so easily become completely mindless about this aspect of my life that it can take me a few weeks sometimes to wake up and notice that my life has taken on an aura of drudgery and I've developed a Cinderella Complex. Better than a few years or decades I suppose, but a waste of precious time and energy nonetheless. Although these commodities are abundant, why live like this if you can choose otherwise?

In the whirl of fun times with friends and family I have come to realize that my time to write is just as essential as any other vocation in our busy family. Rather than continue to pick up all of the slack in our household over the holidays, I've begun to ask for help. And these are becoming very detailed and specific requests. I've found that it isn't always sufficient to point someone in the right direction with the assumption that they know what it is that I'm asking.

I've also come to realize through a very insightful conversation with a friend, that what I might consider to be "bossy" is not necessarily how I am perceived through someone else's eyes. A set of specific instructions might just as easily be received with relief at not having to figure something out. And its not my job to guess at how someone else feels about my requests for help or to anticipate challenges and adapt my request before its even been uttered. All of which I have been so adept at doing that I don't even notice it happening.

This is spandex for the soul!! Sooner or later something will give and an innocent bystander will suffer the consequences! Where do you think the expression "she snapped" came from?! An expression I've heard uttered in hushed tones when no one thought I was listening, I might add!


Furthermore, why make myself uncomfortable and bent out of shape by pretending to be something that I'm not? I'm not an invincible domestic super hero (-although at times I think I come damn close!) I'm someone who loves a good time with family and friends, who adores all the trappings of Christmas and who must write in order to feed her soul - and if that means that my family needs to step up to the plate in order to enjoy all the comforts they have grown accustomed to (like hot meals and clean clothes!) then so be it!

As a self professed goddess, I intend to enjoy my life to the fullest without the restriction of a bunch of old habits. And that means that I'm making it up as I go along, asking for help and letting go of a bunch of old ways of thinking about myself that are simply too limiting. Bring on the cocktail parties, the meandering Christmas lunches and delightful coffee dates with friends. This diva plans to enjoy the holiday season making sure she takes care of her soul - learning to receive the love and support that comes from including family and friends in her pursuit of joy instead of assuming she always has to be the one to give it.

PS: If you too are ready to bust out of your spandex - real or metaphorical, I encourage you to share this link with another diva! Divas unite for a "spandex" free existence :)

Treasure Map: My Journey Home

I had a good chat with my friend MJ last night - too short as always, but still very revealing. I listened to myself speak and felt wave after wave roll though me as I confided my uncertainty and sense of longing when it comes to writing. I continue to have this need for a destination, a need for something more. My life is wonderful and yet I still crave something - and the missing ingredient far too often is me.

I can fill lots of roles, meet any kind of external expectation but when it comes to me, I feel a bit lost. Furthermore, I find that "lostness" hard to confide but there is no point to denying it because it is always threading its way through my writing and my conversations.

When I first sold my business and a few months before becoming pregnant with Baby S, my husband asked me, "So what's the plan?" I know I could have made up a bunch of possible plans in a heartbeat, but none of them would have meant anything. My answer; "There is no plan." Why, because I have lived with a plan for so long, usually reflecting someone else's expectations, that I felt I needed to discover what it is to live without a goal, at least for awhile.

Well, I'm not liking it much, I can tell you that! And yet, I can't betray myself once again by entertaining the thought of committing to a plan that doesn't fully reflect me. And so I continue to wait for clarity to arrive while I test various directions, trying them out to see how they feel.

I keep coming back to writing. Writing is where my true self lives. It is where I can find myself in the mist of a day full of the cries of a teething baby, the needs of my older son and the myriad of things I have willingly taken on to support my family. Writing is the place where I emerge, where I begin to remember the wholeness of me. I'm not mommy or wife or friend or organizer here. I'm just me. I might be a mixed up, bone tired me - but I'm still 100% me.

My conversation with MJ last night highlighted my sense of disconnection and underscored why I continue to write. This blog is my breadcrumb trail back to me. Its the evidence that I continue to exist and its fulfills my desire to be seen in the world. When asked about why writing a book is important to me I discovered its because I want to be heard somewhere other than in my own head. I also want a conversation that isn't distilled to just a few lines but that can grow and evolve over a longer stretch, even if it is conceived in little snippets.

Before any of that can happen, I have to show up more completely in my own life. I hadn't realized how I had begun to shrink. Back to the body image stuff - it would seem that my increasing girth is inversely proportional to my shrinking presence these days. I'm falling into old habits as I make new friends. I'm pulling myself back and diluting my intensity in both fun and serious matters.

And where does that leave me at this moment? I'll keep you posted because this is what I believe my book is about - uncertainty. Between uncertainty and a precise goal there is a whole range of experiences, possibilities and discoveries to be made. Since I am journeying through this territory, I have decided to begin creating a map as I pass though self doubt to self trust, from static old identity to one that is in constant flux and the many other destinations that have yet to be uncovered. This map will be a record of my journey and perhaps offer a few sign posts to other explorers. I need to write it because its my treasure map back to me.

Phfttttttt.......

Phfttttttt.......The exhalation begins. And with it, much of the tension in my body begins to dissolve. I've been holding this breath for so long that it is only as I begin to let it go that I can notice how stretched and strained I have been. Try it - puff out your cheeks and notice the prickly burn that sneaks in within seconds. No wonder I have felt like there are ants under my skin!

While I have been merrily spinning around in my life, something else has been stirring. An urge to express what I can't seem to find words for. It is as though all my creative bursts over the past month have just been the tremors for what is yet to come. My growing inner agitation is more like excitement when I stop and notice how it dances through my body.

I've been holding my breath in a vain attempt to manage something that I have never experienced before. I'm trying to squeeze this urge to express into a nice, orderly structure. Something manageable and tidy. Something that doesn't disrupt any one's schedule - including mine - and that doesn't rock the boat. You know the old drill - don't step on any one's toes. This feels like trying to wedge a Hippo into a broom closet all the while pretending not to notice that its bulging out all over the place!!

The conversation that dances between the parts of myself sounds something like this:

"Hippo? What Hippo? Oh - you mean that little thing. Well, I was going to tell you about it when there was a good time."

"Yes, I know its a bit large and unwieldy and it will cause a bit of disruption in our routine."

"Oh and I know what it costs to feed Hippos these days - never mind the vet bills! But you see, it followed me home one day and I can't seem to shake it. It was pretty little at the time but since I started to feed it - well, as you can see, it has really grown. And, I must confess, I've gotten pretty attached to it."

" No I don't have a name for it yet. I'm starting to learn how to speak 'Hippo' and I'm sure it will tell me its name in the near future."

"Yes, I've been getting a bit nervous around it too. Its awfully big - but I've seen those cartoons of Hippos in tutus and it gives me comfort to know that such a large beast has a sense of humor and some grace. I think it will be alright if I let it out of the closet."

"Yes - I will take responsibility for care and feeding - and, yes, for cleaning up Hippo crap too!"

And thus, with exhalation (and not one of exasperation, I might add!) project Hippo is revealed. Its up to me to continue care and feeding - and now that I'm not trying to compress this poor beast any longer, I wonder what fun and havoc it will wreak in my tidy, orderly little world.

By the way, does anyone know how long it takes to learn to speak Hippo?

Waiting to Exhale

I've been having a hard time getting back into the swing of writing these days. I suppose, like so many things in life, there is an ebb and flow when it comes to writing. Its as natural as breathing in and breathing out - usually.

Seems like I've been a bit stuck on the inhale of late ... ahh ....inspiration. I wrote a few days back about how some conversations just seem to stick around until we choose to either move on or make our peace with them. In both instances there is room for something new to blossom in their place. At the moment I feel a bit like I have fully exhaled and with that here has been a rush of creativity evidenced throughout last month in blogging, baking, decorating, entertaining.

These past few days feel more like the pause before the inhalation begins. There is a still point in between breaths - an anticipatory moment. A beat in time that is in limbo between the two states. I feel like I am wandering there.

In this still point I notice that I can choose what it is that will fuel my next breath. What will my inspiration bring to me? Will I continue to indulge in mindless TV or will I seek out something more stimulating? Will I jump into the many different social events that seem to jostle each other trying to elbow their way into an already busy schedule once November comes along ? Or will I be more selective, choosing quality over quantity, exhilaration over the exhaustion of over-extension?

For the past few days my temperament is best described as all itchy and sharp edged. There is something floating just below the surface that feels gritty and prickly. I'm restless and indolent all at the same time.

Its like that feeling when you have when you bet a friend that you can hold your breath under water longer than they can - just because. And there you are under the surface with the golden light swirling just above, feeling like time has stopped even while your heartbeat ticks off the seconds as it begins pounding in your ears, the squeeze of pressure growing in your chest, clawing its way up your throat to your mouth, your nose and finally the pulse behind your eyes and ears becomes deafening and you burst through the surface gasping and laughing all at the same time!

If we could remember being born - I wonder if it would feel that way? Is that why its so fun to play that game? Maybe its because we are always certain of our next breath. And so we stretch ourselves, we dare ourselves all in the quest for the moment when we break the surface and suck in that sweet air .... and know that we are alive. We are alive and feeling the sun warming the top of our head and breathing deeply and laughing hard.

Inhale ... exhale. .. inhale .... exhale - the ebb and flow that is our life continues. The ebb and flow that is MY life continues, even if I have yet to break the surface. I'm mesmerized by the light dancing on ripples, lulled by the slowing of time under here. I can feel my heartbeat growing more insistent, pulsing, urging me forward toward the surface. Reminding me that I need to let out the breath that I have been holding in order to suck in that fresh, sweet air.

My problem hasn't been inspiration .... it is that I've been holding my breath for so long that I've forgotten to exhale. I'm attempting to stack breath upon breath. And in the space where inspiration could happen, there is a stale balloon of something completed and waiting to be released.

Exhale... inhale...exhale ...THAT is the rhythm of my life and I'm shooting to the surface.....

Ousting the Tyrant

I've been away from my computer for the past few days and I noticed how challenged I felt to return today. Its not that I don't enjoy writing my blog, its more like a feeling of stiffness and disuse.It takes a few keystrokes to loosen up. The clue for me today was noticing how tempted I was to ramble on as I wrote an email to a friend. Once my fingers started moving, a whole conversation started pouring out. It was then I recognized that I've been in conversation with myself for the past little while and I didn't like where it was taking me.


It seems that when I'm not writing, the conversation in my head starts moving faster and faster, swirling like dust in the wake of a speeding car. I think I am both the speeding car and the dust! Part of me keeps moving ahead and the other bits, things like habitual thoughts, keep swirling and spinning until they settle down again, resigned to be obsolete. Sometimes that road looks mighty dusty! And sometimes there is more dust on my car than I care to admit!

Writing seems to help those repeated thoughts find their home. I can only stand to write the same thing a few times over (alright - some times its closer to 20 -30 times over!) before I get the message and do something about it. Its really difficult to face yourself on the page or the screen only to discover that you are still whining, rambling, wishing , hoping... you get the picture. It gives me great insight into the murmuring that goes on under the surface. Murmurs that I have long since grown bored of and now try to tune out. Murmurs that become insistent over time and begin to wear down familiar paths simply by virtue of their repetition.

Giving those murmurs voice is a the start of a making a choice. I can stick with the very familiar refrain and in doing so admit to myself that I am making a conscious choice to whine, ramble and generally marinate in this state. Alternatively, I can begin to choose something different.

Lately I've been marinating in thoughts of body image. I tell myself over and over again how fat I am ... all the while eating mini-chocolate bars! I remind myself that I really should get moving ... and by this I mean more than simply chew, chew, swallow!

I am even catching myself in the midst of the most unlikely moments taking pot shots at myself. Yesterday while enjoying the musical Dirty Dancing, I was taking in the incredibly toned and flexible physiques of the dancers (not just the guys, I swear!) and I could hear myself whispering, "you'll never look that fit". Well of course not! Unless I plan to join a professional dance troupe, rehearse for hours every day for the next 10 years and in the process, turn back my biological clock by about the same number of years. Acckkk! What a crazy-making Tyrant I have living in my head!

And I continue to feed that nasty Tyrant ... both food and energy. I listen to it. I let it walk all over me. I take on its messages about how I can never be enough and I have to ask myself WHY??!!

I'm not really sure I have the answer. I suspect that it is partially because, as nasty as this critter is, it is familiar. It has occupied such a large position in my psyche that there would be a tremendous void if I were to exorcise it. I suppose it might be a bit like an abusive relationship in that it soothes me by telling me its looking out for my best interests. Its making sure that I keep on top of things. It is there to motivate me to prove myself and to perform, perform, perform. Its keeping me from becoming too noticeable. It keeps me "humble". It saves me from failing by encouraging me never to try and it reminds me of all the past losses and gains. And it heaps shame on my head for ever thinking I could be successful at shaping my outside to fit my inside.

Well, here is the thing - I'm tired to listening to the Tyrant. I'm tired of it's use and abuse. I'm tired of giving up precious mental, emotional and spiritual real estate for it to squat on like the worst tenant a landlord could imagine. I'm tired of allowing it to shape me - inside and out, because I DO look like it tells me I should. Its brand of protection is more like extortion. I am not willing to continue to pay the price any more.

I have no idea where this leads but I do know the Tyrant has its little fingers in just about every aspect of my thinking. Heck! If it even shows up at the theatre while I'm having a good time, then its gotten even further out of check than I had noticed. As for the void this nasty saboteur will leave behind, - BRING IT ON! I can't wait to see what will sprout in its place one this weed is removed.

Now I know that somewhere along the line, my Tyrant was a useful creation but oh my, has it outworn its usefulness. I dare say it has now moved from nuisance to menace. I simply cannot allow it to continue to flourish because its choking the life out of other things - including me. Its stealing enjoyment and self-confidence. Its eating up energy and sending me seeking ways to refuel myself ... ways that include chocolate binges.

So for the next few days I will give the Tyrant its opportunity to share its whining, wheedling voice on my journal pages so that it can blow itself out. Like so many bullies, I'm pretty sure that once it is revealed for the weak-kneed, controlling and shallow creature that it is, it will beat a hasty retreat. Most often its messages are more than ridiculous, they are not even founded on reality! So instead of meekly accepting them with head bowed, I'm going to stare it in the eye and give it a reality check, question, get curious about and quite possibly talk back to it. And in the end, I will simply choose to stop empowering this part of myself because it is no longer required.

And what about the part of me that is speeding ahead? Well, it is a creative fire that is growing hotter by the day. I am simply bursting with ideas, possibilities and pure joy. I found myself giggling over the Spider cupcakes I made for my son's class and the gnarly Witch's Finger cookies I baked that looked so realistic. I'm knitting. I'm writing. I'm planning the decor of our new home. I'm cooking. I'm playing. And somewhere in the midst of it all, I noticed the thought "I'm not willing to give up all this joy ever again."

I know that in the past I have squeezed out those things to make room for work and obligation. Even now, I fight the urge to be in constant motion -cleaning, organizing, packing. Doing things joylessly simply because I call them work. This week I finally allowed myself to notice that I can do them all joyfully. That my creativity is in how I choose to do them. Those tasks aren't penance in order to get back to what I enjoy - they are part of the whole dance. One feeds the other and I get to decide how much pleasure I take in living my life. Score one for me, none for the Tyrant on this front. No wonder it is pressing its cause these days. It must sense impending annihilation!

The Parent Trap - revised

After first posting this piece I felt like it was incomplete somehow. In fact, I was so restless that I spent a few hours in the middle of the night seeking clarity on the things that felt unfinished and unsaid. There is a lot to be explored in this topic and I feel as though I've just scratched the surface. I'm done with this post for now but I know the conversation will continue. To each of you who contacted me, many thanks! Your feedback keeps me going :)

This has been a stellar weekend so far. Its cool and rainy outside and inside, I am wrapped in the warmth of my family. Medium R officially turns 6 tomorrow. I remember the progression of this night 6 years ago but without the detail that I expected. The memories have already taken on a patina. The rough edges of a long labour have softened. The combination of terror and exhilaration at giving birth to my first child is now eclipsed my sense of amazement at who he is becoming. Baby S is not one to be outdone and he is quickly pushing his limits, seeming to have moved from newborn to active infant in the span of the fastest three months that I have lived!

Tonight I can ignore the fact that going to the grocery store was my 30 minutes of "alone" time AND that I enjoyed it! I can get over the my ignorance as to what movies have been block busters this season - heck! this YEAR! I can see beyond the sea of toys, hot wheels and dirty dishes that litter what used to be the most sophisticated room in my home. When I step on yet another painful bit of Lego camouflaged in the carpet - I can grin and bear it. What I'm getting at is that my life barely resembles what it used to. Its messy, loud and chaotic much of the time with very little time for my personal pursuits - and yet its great - because I chose it wholeheartedly.

Its at these times, when the smell of apple crisp wafts through every room and the boys, even the dog, are freshly bathed that my contentment knows no bounds. Its in these moments that I know that I made the right choices for me. What a relief!

I've been reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and I could really identify with the author's struggle to come to terms with her life. Her eventual discovery that she did not want the "dream" of nice house, marriage and children reflects the struggle that many women have when it comes to deciding what is right for them. Waking up one day, she told herself the "truth" and left behind a marriage and lifestyle that was costing her health and happiness. Sometimes what is the right path is one that leads you away from what is expected by everyone else in your life.

There have been many times in my life when I really wondered if I was on the right track. Making decisions that had a lot of heart but were hard to support intellectually or even explain, I kept forging ahead and doing my best to have faith in myself. One thing that I was sure about was my desire to be a Mom. I just wasn't sure how it was going to fit into my life.

I remember someone once telling me that if I waited to have children until I was "ready" that I'd never get around to it. I think that what she meant was that it was okay to be imperfect as a parent. I felt half-baked at the time, having more questions than answers in my life. I knew I still had a lot of growing to do. I felt like I needed to be perfectly together -whatever that means, before having kids. Since then, I have realized that there really isn't any end point to my own growth. There was no secret "level" that I needed to get to in order to be ready. My kids have been a key to my emerging self. I'm growing along with them.

How else would I have discovered that my nearly 6 year old can drive better that I can? he can barely reach the pedals and has to peer through the steering wheel but he is clearly the better driver- at least when it comes to "Need For Speed" on the computer. After he whoops my ass he consoles me with , "Its okay Mommy, you only crashed 7 times. That's a LOT better than last time!" I also discovered that my inner drama queen lives on and will come out to joust from time to time. I am learning how to play again and I can't believe that I forgot. Yes,it is in these moments I'm really grateful that my kids have taken me on as their student.

In spite of my trepidation at becoming a parent, I always knew that I wanted to have children. I was absolutely crushed to discover that after all those years of trying NOT to get pregnant, when the time came to conceive it seemed as though I couldn't. I could and likely will write pages and pages on my journey through "infertility" - just not today.

Today I would rather talk about the Parent Trap. The societal belief system that presumes we should all want to bring children into the world. There are all kinds of reasons that people have children and many of them are quite misguided in my opinion. Having a child for a specific purpose other than honouring the miracle that they are, is irresponsible. Children do not save a marriage - they become another hostage in a hopeless situation. They are not pawns to live out your fantasies, to be used to live vicariously through. They are not chattel.

Far too many people have their ambivalence tip toward having children simply because by tacit agreement all women in their child bearing years "should" be settling down and having families. If they aren't then they suffer judgements about their ambition and priorities in life. I know that on more than one occasion as I struggled silently with infertility, people would take it upon themselves to politely upbraid me about my priorities in life. Perhaps I should be less ambitious in my career. Maybe I should work less and give up being a business woman. Little did they understand that my work and business were my outlets for much of my grief and longing. The list of "helpful" suggestions, was long and hurtful even if it was well intentioned. It gave me incredible insight into how you can be treated when you are perceived to be stepping out of the pack when it comes to having children.

I am blessed to know a number of fabulous women at a variety of ages who have made the conscious choice to not have children. Their fertility isn't the issue. No, they made a very clear choice in spite of the pressures that be. They were able to hold tight to the vision of who they are and who they could become - and a mother was not a part of that identity. I applaud them!

There is no substitute to being completely clear within yourself about who you are and who you want to become when it comes to crafting your life. That clarity and commitment to yourself will guide you through the quagmire of to be or not to be a parent and all the stuff that will inevitably arise no matter what your choice. If you are ambivalent and sitting on the fence, you should know that just like any other choice in life, there are consequences on both sides of the equation.

Your capacity to survive and thrive once you decide has a lot to do with how clear you are about yourself so that you own your choice. Don't sell yourself out based on public opinion. And please don't hedge your bets about whether you will be alone in old age - having children doesn't guarantee companionship and care taking into your golden years.

Not making a choice ... is still a choice! Sorry to point it out but I would be doing my job if I didn't tell it to you straight. Nothing wrong with that. Its okay to wait for clarity but don't fool yourself into thinking you can avoid a decision forever. Who wants to wake up one day and realize that their life is what it is by default?

If you are about to embark on the stage of life where the question of having children is becoming more insistent, avoiding the parent trap is only possible by knowing yourself first. You don't have to know yourself perfectly or even feel like you have mastered this thing called life. You simply have to allow yourself the opportunity to become still and quiet so that you can hear and feel what you want...what you really, really, really want. You already know the answer - I believe that. Just be honest with yourself. If you are questioning yourself, take a moment to decide is it your voice that you hear or is it the clamour of someone else's beliefs and opinions? Is it your Mom's desire to be a Grandmother? Is it your friends who are changing lifestyles based on the choices that they have made? Is it your partner's dream but not yours - or vice versa?

Don't unwittingly fall into the Parent Trap - becoming 'trapped' in beliefs that aren't a reflection of what you want. Parenting has a lot of tough, exhausting, challenging, heart breaking moments. It is also a wonderful beyond words - if it is what you choose. If its not what you want then I can only imagine that it would feel like a trap.

Because I Said So!

I often wonder if I inherited a melancholy gene, or perhaps it is my lineage as 50% Irish that lends me that sense of continually turning things over in my mind. As I think about it, melancholy isn't really the word I'm looking for since it implies sadness and that is not my natural state of mind.

There was a time when the bits of memory, some of them painful, would live in my body, and a memory would surface when a sensory cue would come along - usually something unexpected like a smell or a few notes of a song, and transport me to another time and place in my life. Many memories were a slow accumulation of granules and things with sharp edges. Things I was continually trying to avoid bumping into. Things my physical body actually learned to encapsulate and bend and weave around so that tissue actually conformed itself into different shapes. As a Physiotherapist by training, I will tell you unequivocally that this has been my personal and professional experience for 15+ years, as extraordinary as it sounds - but exploration of that notion belongs elsewhere for the moment.

Over time these bits of personal memory have become more like pearls. Their rough edges smoothed out and polished to a soft sheen. There smoothness having less to do with repeated handling and more to do with simply allowing them to find their place and integrate into my life's experience.

I'm not sure what word I would chose to describe my desire and deep pleasure at being willing and able to dive deep under the surface of my life. In this world below the surface I see patterns repeating. Some with great beauty and intricacy and some others....well, they are more like the fun house mazes I remember at the fair!

There is something magical to me about this other dimension. It seems that its in this space that I learn all kinds of things about myself. In fact, I don't take myself too seriously here because it is as though I am a patient parent when I observe the events of my life from this perspective. I watch my fumbles and foibles, my "serious" events, along with those random weird things that happen in life with compassion and amusement. I see the bigger picture. The me that watches "me" just feels so much larger than all of the stuff that gets played out on the surface. If I listen closely, I give myself great advice!

I remember a conversation a while back where someone asked me why I thought everything must "mean" something more. I really didn't have an answer at the time, just a sense of "rightness" (and I was probably more than a little self-righteous too!). I didn't worry too much about it but it was one of those nagging questions that become like a pearl and over the past few days I think I may have discovered the "why".

Why? Because I said so! I get to assign meaning in my life and that is what makes life fun and instructive and interesting for me. Its my decision to make - how amazingly marvelous!

I think everything "means" something because that is what gives my life meaning. A bit convoluted but let me try to explain. I am not content with the status quo. I am a life long student who is quickly running out of teachers and mentor's "out there" that interest me (not to discount the many people who inspire me). The older I get the more "unteachable" I become! That is if I think of teaching as a follow the leader, follow the rules type of experience - I will not relinquish my autonomy on this front. Lately, I've become very aware that by looking beyond the veil of my ordinary life, there are a myriad of lessons just waiting - if I tutor myself.

This is leadership in my life. I am responsible for driving my own evolution and I don't presume that it is this way for everyone. I do not, however, believe that I am universally unique. I'm sure there are other folks who do the same and still others who are, like I was not too long ago, on the path to realizing that you can be your own best mentor and teacher. You are likely much more wise and together than you ever realized if you stop and listen. If you were to trust that those things with ragged edges are on their way to becoming pearls that slip easily into your experience and don't need to be pulled away from.

I don't want to imply that I have a problem with anyone who chooses not to dig deep in their lives or sift for meaning the way I do. I am a miner ( I prefer that to gold-digger!). I enjoy bringing bits of treasure to the surface. I love finding a nugget of wisdom that looks like an ordinary rock, one we trip over and pay no attention to other that to mumble "stupid rock". I find great joy in polishing that rock and finding something of value hidden in plain sight. Its not by accident that when I sat down to reinvent my blog, my inner voice very quickly tossed out the title "Mother Lode" - as if it had been waiting to be asked all along. I'm glad that I listened!

What a "Lode".....

A few days back I was surfing some random blogs when I came across an interesting post written by a guy about women and leadership. This piqued my interest so I gave it a quick read. I had just read a few other notes in the WEL-Systems blog ring about duality and paradox and so in that frame of mind I read a line that went something like this......"the unspoken truth about women and empowerment is that men are expected to fill in the void left behind as women step forward and men aren't willing to do that". Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find his blog to make sure these are his exact words-but it is the essence of what he had to say as he tried to sort out for himself where he stood on the issue.

I found myself wondering what it would be like if leadership didn't require "followers". And who says someone has to trail behind simply because someone else has stepped in their own life? He laid it out as a real "either/or" situation but couldn't it just as easily be both?! Imagine how life would be if we weren't worrying about where we were in the race and simply used our leadership skills to lead our own lives, making the most of our own potential .... and in the process of not continually looking over our shoulder or amassing piles of "subordinates" we could made room for each other to simply take ownership/leadership of our lives? What would the world look like?

Imagine this on a global scale...would the US be fighting its bloody war and dragging us all along for the ride or would it be tending to its own people such as the residents of New Orleans that continue to live in appalling conditions 2 years after Katrina? Aren't they residents of one of the world's wealthiest countries? How about the numbers of working poor in our countries? I mean the list is nearly endless.

The point is, there needn't be a vacuum to fill simply because we choose to exercise leadership - unless we need that leadership to recognized and acknowledged by someone else in order to believe it to be true. That's our old way of considering leadership and to borrow a Dr. Phil-ism "How's that workin' fer ya?"! Leadership is an "inside" job ..... its a state of mind, a state of "being" and as soon as we embrace that as a possibility, a veritable tidal wave of possibility rushes in.

Leadership like this leaves room for everyone. If I am taking full responsibility for creating my life, making the most of my talents, taking on opportunities to learn and grow - then I can stand comfortably within my own circle of influence and it doesn't need to impede yours. In fact, I may notice yours and be inspired or seek out your support but I will never need to fear that there isn't enough power to go around ... my power is mine, your is yours and once in a while, we'll over lap and create something bigger and when we are done - we'll move on.

Imagine this within a marriage, a friendship, a business relationship, nation-wide, ... internationally....what would our world look like? And it all begins within you and within me. Hmmm....now that's something to consider, don't you think?

I have never attended any of Louise's Women and Leadership experience's but I sense this may be a part of those conversations - and there is likely more.

For the men out there, who fear that they may have to be subservient to women who are taking back their "power" I simply have to say that those women never truly gave it away. They can't give you their power and you can't own it and the reverse is true as well. No one can take anyone's power if you believe it to be the essence of who they are. Power is personal and its up to each of us as individual humans to exercise it or not. Like leadership, power deserves to be redefined as something we are, an inherent state of being - not as something done to each other.

To continue to think of leadership and power as an either/or situation is getting us absolutely nowhere except deeper into the muck .... and that's why I think its a "lode"! Under the surface there is lots of potential waiting to be discovered by exploring what we presume about voids and who fills them, by examining the meaning we have historically attached to these concepts to see if it continues to be valid, by considering that this is a conversation (spoken or unspoken) that is beginning among men who, perhaps for the first time in generations, are trying to determine who they can become as the women around them wake up and step into their own personal power.

This one is worth mining in my opinion!

Top 10 Report Card

Here we are, one week since my Top 10 List and here is what I have discovered:

Having even just 5 things to commit to for the week, especially a week as busy as this one was plain old over-achieving for me at this stage of life! At least I've come to this conclusion with a healthy dose of humor.

I did make progress on all fronts. My teeth and gums are looking squeaky clean with a little extra flossing TLC - even if it wasn't daily. My skin feels refreshed with the simple addition of a bit of under eye goop. I went further than simply cleaning off the cross trainer, I got on it for 30 minutes and actually worked up a sweat. I did it once and was able to remember that exercise does feel good - the hard part is just getting myself to carve out the time to make it a priority.

I ate, ate, ate. Medium R's birthday extravaganza brought all kinds of yummy food into our home and what I noticed is how easy it is for me to overeat when I'm tired - which these days is almost always!

I wrote just a few times this week and they were powerful days filled with insights. I discovered that my output of rough draft in a writing session has a word count close to that of a half a chapter. It might be very rough, but its there effortlessly. This both surprised and thrilled me.

Just a bit of consistent effort on the things that matter to me added up to some great results. I didn't need to be perfect or adhere to a tough to-do list. I just become mindful and the magic happened. Even more wonderful - I could forgive my imperfection and just enjoy the results of my efforts. With that mind set, its a lot easier to look ahead to this week and make the minor adjustments that will give me more of what I want.

I know that I need more sleep to help me manage my diet so I plan to grab a nap at some point during the day instead of trying to squeeze in a bit of laundry and cleaning - it will still be there when I wake up! Drat! After some experimentation, I know what time works best in Baby S'es schedule for me to get on the cross-trainer. Heading to bed even 1o minutes earlier, before I'm nearly comatose, will ensure that I have the energy to devote to the bit of self care that makes me feel good about myself. And all this adds up to an increase in creative juice - which to me is that elixir of good living!

Believing Mirrors

No - this isn't about believing what I see reflected back in a physical mirror - although I could probably create an entire entry about how the person looking back at me is shockingly unfamiliar. In fact I think I have! So I'll save those thoughts for the moment.

I'm not sure where I first heard the term "believing mirror" but the concept instantly took root in me. For me, it has come to mean seeing myself reflected back another person who is willing to cheerlead as well as point out the inconsistencies in what I say and what I do with a curiosity that lacks judgment.

Believing mirrors have been those friends and mentors over the years who took a moment to make sure they reflected back to me what I was putting out there. Sometimes we just can't easily see and/or claim our own magnificence and notice when we hold ourselves back. Sometimes that reflection feels like a warm glow and sometimes it feels like an ass-kickin' - but it always comes with a sense of authenticity attached to it.

Unless we can embrace ourselves, we can easily become a huge black hole for external approval. I know there have been more times than I care to count when no amount of approval or adoration could fill the void inside me. I had to take the first step in stemming my self-esteem hemorrhage before I could experience the real support of a believing mirror. I needed to be able to discern the difference between a true reflection and a distorted one that had been filtered through another person's perception and judgements and then projected onto me. That discernment meant that I needed to know myself well.

Over the past 6 months or more, I've taken a hiatus from many of my relationships. After years of being "on" for clients, co-workers, employees - I felt a strong pull to discover what it was like to just simply "be". I've ceased being a mirror in some relationships and my absence in others has limited what was once reflected back to me. I think I have emerged with a greater sense of self. However, I've really felt the absence of companionship while I enjoyed my hermit- like existence.

Coming out of "exile" I'm discovering just how much I value the camaraderie I find with friends. Now I'm looking for that balance of support, cheerleading and companionship that I have missed. I'm finding out how to be present in a friendship without losing myself. I'm discovering that just being me is plenty. Seeing that reflected back in the relationships that are being revived is the most wonderful believing mirror of all. I'm valued for who I am which makes me a much better believing mirror for the others in my life. Pay it forward.

The Secret

If you decided to read based on the title "The Secret" I'll be honest - this has nothing to do with the movie/book phenomenon by the same title. I've watched it and I have to tell you that I found it to be so materially focused that it completely missed the opportunity to invite viewers to look closely at themselves and how they create their reality. Abundance, wealth, affluence are all by products of our relationships with ourselves and our perceptions. Ahhh.... but I'm on a rant and this is not what I came here to talk about today- at least not directly. I do want to discuss the power of secrets.

I came here today to tell you about a secret that I had been harbouring and how it nearly ate me alive - and it really was an insignificant thing in the big picture of life. You see, in my last entry I didn't completely come clean with you. Everything that I wrote was true for me but I left out something that was, in retrospect, the underpinning of it all. My big secret? - I thought I had lost my wedding rings and the fear and shame of it was eating away at me.

It doesn't seem like a big deal right now. Maybe its because I've found them. However, I think it has even more to do with the process I went through before I found them. Incidentally, I found them in a place that I had searched several times before. Clearly, my higher self was at work creating a situation that would help me resolve an issue that has been dogging me for a while. An issue I have repeatedly told myself that I wanted to move beyond. Be careful what you ask for - wink!

When I was pregnant and rapidly swelling in the humidity this summer, I took off my rings. These rings were not my original rings but ones that I "grew" into over time. Engaged and married at a relatively young age, my husband and I have given each other new rings over the years - and we each have lost them for a period of time. Hmmm .... wonder what that's about?

In my husband's case, he lost his ring while closing up the cottage one fall. We frantically searched the fire pit, the piles of raked leaves, under the cottage, in the lake by the dock -everywhere, and that was a lot of outdoor space. We finally gave up and just let it go. Although disappointed, there were no recriminations on either of our parts. I remember telling him that I was sure it would show up. The next spring, as my husband was using the outdoor shower, he glanced down where a drain pipe had become disconnected and noticed a glimmer. Curious, he put his glasses on and investigated, only to discover his wedding band. It must have come off when he washed his hands outdoors the previous fall.

In my case, I recalled removing my rings and putting them someplace "safe". Who among us hasn't done this, only to undergo complete amnesia within days?! I completely put it out of my mind. Now that I'm settled into life with Baby S, I decided it was time to celebrate my shrinking fingers and put my rings back on. So I went to my usual "safe" place - no rings. Shrugging it off, I decided to take the opportunity to start decluttering and cleaning up our bedroom as I looked for them.

Several weeks later, nearly every drawer, nook and cranny of my bedroom and bathroom had been cleaned and sifted through. I was getting more and more uneasy. I was now putting off cleaning the last few small drawers - afraid to face the possibility that they were gone. I wondered if I had inadvertently thrown them out. I went through the list of people who had been into our home to do repairs as we prepare to put our house up for sale. Was it possible that they were stolen? I was feeling a growing sense of dread. I didn't want to tell my husband, so I kept it to myself and spent a few hours every day either obsessing over it or re-tracing my steps.

This thing was taking on a life of its own. I found myself having difficulty falling back to sleep after getting up in the night with Baby S. I was feeling desperate and secretive.

The whole time, quietly, in the back of my mind, there was a persistent voice scolding me for being so careless. The "voice" berated me, telling me how unworthy I was of such expensive baubles. It meted out all kinds of punishment and penance for me to prove just how undeserving I was. It ground away at me in the background of my daily routine, only to get louder when the house became silent at night. I felt like I was about 7 years old. I dreaded telling my husband, having cast him in a role of adult/parent/judge and jury - none of which he deserved. It was all a construction in my own mind.

Finally, after a long and rambling discussion with myself in my journal, I began to see how I was creating this incredible drama, built out of pieces of the past. By keeping it a secret, it had begun to fester and grow. There was no reality check. I was creating my reality based on a collage of past experiences. I was making myself small and powerless. Crafting perceptions that were illusions.

My body never lied. Whenever I would get caught up in this vortex of my creation, I would feel the heat rise to my face. I would break out in a cold sweat and my stomach would be in knots. I would try to breathe through it and relax but frequently found myself unable to stick with the uncomfortable sensations, choosing food to numb it out and comfort myself, or seeking some other form of distraction.

So, after this straight talk in my journal, where I realized just how out of hand I had let my secret become, I had a talk with my husband. Well, it was more like a complete meltdown full of snot and hiccups! Somehow, he understood what I was trying to say. And that was when I discovered where the real "gem" of my marriage lay!

The secret was out. My husband created all the space I needed to move through the layers that my secret had created. I had managed to make it a huge, multi-tentacled monster that had implications about my self-worth, my value, my capacity to move through the world as a powerful woman rather than an itty-bitty victim. To my husband's credit, he said all the "right stuff" and just let me unravel in the safety of his non-judgement. Its quite likely he wondered what the heck that was all about!

By finally sharing these thoughts and fears, I had set myself free. My energy increased exponentially! I had no idea of how it was sucking me dry. I realized that I had begun to withdraw from my family and especially my husband, for fear of revealing my secret. I saw myself with new eyes and had to wonder just why I had let the "voice" of this secret take me so far down a path of self-destruction. What I had unconsciously created was an opportunity to reclaim and heal my 7 year old self. I had an opportunity to remember that I am actually a 38 year old woman!

All this from a relatively minor incident! Imagine the toll that other, bigger secrets take on our lives. Imagine how, for some of us, we have been taught from early ages to keep secrets - often with very real and frightening consequences if we don't. Secrets don't have to be big deals to exact their toll. I know women who move through the world keeping secrets in the name of privacy, compartmentalizing their lives to the point that it takes a master plan to keep it all straight. I can only imagine how exhausting it must become - especially when its runs as a strategy out of awareness, just the way they have been taught to live their lives and they have never questioned it.

The voice of secrets is an insidious one and the only way to dismantle its python-like subtle and deadly stranglehold is to listen. Listen by paying attention to our bodies and our thoughts. In fact, our bodies are the expressions of our thoughts - the over-eating, the flush of discomfort when we eavesdrop on our inner conversations and then quickly seek distraction. I even found myself humming out loud at times to avoid listening inside! For me, breathing and writing get me through the layers of secrecy. Even if I don't choose to share it with anyone else, at least I'm not keeping the secret from myself any longer. Sometimes the course of action in the wake of telling myself the truth, is to share it with another.

This experience has made it clear to me that our secrets have the power to harm us. I would even venture to say that our secrets have the power to kill us. Certainly, we are more likely to be harmed by keeping secrets than we are by revealing them, no matter what we have been taught. Its quite likely that the people around us are aware of our secrets anyway - if not the particulars, then at least the essence. If my little secret has the power to sap my energy and isolate me, and leave me feeling depressed and unworthy, then what about other secrets? What about the accumulation of a bunch of little secrets? Who says it has to be one big one - it might be the slow drain from all the things we hide from ourselves and others habitually.

There have been a lot of conversations lately in the WEL-Systems blogs about weight and health and I have been wondering how many secrets lie within the layers of our "fat". How we stuff ourselves to plug the holes. How we lie to ourselves and to others about what we eat, how much, how often. How, in this way, our secrets, perhaps ones we have yet to reveal to ourselves, are killing us slowly in the guise of obesity and poor stewardship of our physical expression in this world - our bodies. Strict adherence to punitive diets and the penance implied in that way of living is just the other side of the same coin. Perhaps the balance lies in finally letting the truth of who we are stand alone, without insulation or apology. Only then would the "secret" of who we really are be out - and we would be free to just "be". The Secret is not really a secret at all.

Top 10 List

This weekend has been a rough one. I've been riding the post-partum hormonal roller coaster and the ride just got a little wilder thanks to abandoning the short trial of birth control pills my OB gave me -they made me feel just awful after 10 years without them in my system. Baby S still gets up several times a night so I'm feeling completely sleep deprived. Weeee - what a frickin' ride!!! Add to that yet another fruitless shopping trip and what you have is a blubbering mess sitting in the mall parking lot.

After another good sob in the tub last night and an illegible rant in my journal, I'm glad to say that the self-pity train is on its way out of my station. Sometimes I girl just needs to wallow for awhile - know what I mean? It seems to fuel me up for action.

This week has got to be better and its up to me to make it that way. Even though I've got my hands full with Medium R's upcoming birthday party, and maybe especially because of this wild annual event, I've decided that its time for some extreme self care if I am to make it through with out terrorizing a gaggle of excited kids next Saturday.

Here is my Top 10 List. I'm putting it here to raise my accountability level. I'll report back next Sunday so if you find this boringly self-indulgent, don't read next Sunday (I dare you!)

1. Write everyday - even if its only for a few minutes and especially if I think its no good. I need to let off creative steam.
2. Stop using my cross-trainer as a coat rack. I will clean it off, stare at it, and get on it at least twice this week. Sweating, at this point is optional - I don't want to discourage myself too early in the game :)
3. Use one of the tubes of facial goo that is sitting in my bathroom cupboard. They always sound marvelous but unfortunately they don't work their magic remotely. Anyway, Halloween is coming up - this might be a good test.
4. Floss - who can argue with that?!
5. Start to pay attention to what I'm eating. No need to make a change, just pay attention to what, when and where. I fear my daily mini chocolate bar consumption may have surpassed a number that I'm willing to report here. I may even be in danger of not having enough candy for the trick or treaters if I continue on this path. "Think of the children!"- I implore myself.
6. - 10. repeat numbers 1 to 5 with a positive attitude and a sense of humor.

I once learned a great phrase from a friend who works in the field of addiction counselling and that is "bring the bottom up". I've decided to get moving before sinking any lower so I'm bringing my bottom up ( and perhaps the cross-trainer will help that too!)

And now .... off to eat birthday cake before Monday morning arrives and the list kicks in!

Losing "It"

Where does time go? Friday already and I'm so glad to have found a few precious minutes to be here. This week has been filled with lots of activity. Baby S had his first needle this week and unlike his big brother, he was completely unforgiving of the doctor and decided that he would let the whole world know "damn! that hurt!!" He's no push-over! Medium R came home from school yesterday with a stomach ache that responded well to copious cuddles and a good does of cartoons.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this there was time for some wonderful conversations with great women. I can't believe how much I learn and grow every time there is an opportunity to connect with other people. I've been too much of a hermit lately!

It seems that my fascination with the topic of identity continues this week in the threads of the conversations I found myself in. So many of us have these repeated "identity crisis" and then wonder what the heck is wrong with us. Why are we, once again, trying to figure out who we are?! Didn't we solve this the last time around?

I think what we forget, or perhaps never considered, is that we are always in the process of growth. It just never ends. While one identity fits for a while, if we are paying any attention at all, we notice that sooner or later, it doesn't fit so well anymore. Now sometimes we'll attempt to suck our metaphorical tummies in, attempting to squeeze back into it, only to find ourselves uncomfortable (and gassy!) after a short while. Sometimes we're afraid that we are going to be out there, naked and vulnerable and we'll do anything to cover ourselves up - not wanting to be seen while we are in between incarnations.

Change is inevitable, like it or not. Here's the thing, the alternative to growth is ..... not just "not growth"....but a sure path to decline and, as dramatic as it sounds, death. We know that is how our cells behave. They are either in states of growth or protection, there is no in between, and a cell that stays in protection for too long - dies. And what are we but a big bag of cells?! I choose growth - as uncomfortable as that can be at times.

We don't grow backwards. What I mean is that we don't go back in time as we grow - we move forward. Kids, plants - they get bigger as time moves on. Why do we as adults, resist the change implicit in growth? We may not be keen about the physical signs of our maturing but we expect them. We have come up with a myriad of ways to maintain the status quo of our physical appearance desperately trying to turn back the clock. When it comes to spiritual and emotional growth, we seem intent on maintaining the status quo by trying to hold on to what was rather than being willing to discover what can be.

Its hard to step into the unknown. Its especially hard if you believe that the world is a scary and dangerous place. Its also very hard if you have defined yourself based on circumstances such as your children, your career, your financial status, marital status - you fill in the blank. Losing anyone of those things can send us into a tailspin of mythic proportions if that is who we believe we are.

One of my biggest identity crisis was going to University. Man, I couldn't wait to get there. I wanted to leave my small town life behind and enjoy some freedom. Moving from a town of 500 to Toronto, where one of my University classes could easily number close to that, I discovered that I had no clue who I was. I wasn't so and so's daughter/grand daughter/sister. I wasn't a member of this church or club or band. No one knew or cared about my past accomplishments.

All that mattered was the present moment and who I was there to become. I did not know until then, just how much I relied on all the external definitions of who I was. In fact, up until then, everyone but me got to determine who I was. I'm sure each of us has had such a watershed moment. A moment when it became clear to us that who we are is not necessarily who everyone has been telling us that we are. Unfortunately, my "moment" lasted about a year and involved medications being pushed by multiple doctors to treat "depression". I knew I wasn't depressed - I was just lost.

Since then, I've "found" myself repeatedly and realized that the "finding" is more like a wardrobe change because I've out grown some aspect of my life. The essence and fundamental me remains the same I am as I step into larger and larger garments. Garments of my choosing and my design.

I know its not always easy to face a challenge in life that threatens our stability and status quo and as I sat with a friend who is facing this type of destabilization in her life, I found it hard to put into words what has taken several days to percolate and find expression here. We joked about the line "Well, at least you have your health" when it comes to consoling someone in financial crisis. I suppose that advice holds some measure of comfort - if you are planning to sell a kidney!!

You see, the thing is, its much bigger than money or health - its about who we are once we see the trappings of our external life threatened and perhaps taken away. If we can summon the courage to look at this as an opportunity to re-invent ourselves, to reclaim who we are and who we can become, then the ebb and flow of money feels less scary. Stepping into the situation with trust in ourselves and in our capacity to use this as a springboard to create something new will open all kinds of doors. Doors we may not have noticed if we hadn't been jolted out of the status quo.

What makes change of this magnitude hard isn't what we are facing on the outside, its what we are facing on the inside. I love the analogy of the trapeze artist who must let go of one bar in order to grab the other. It requires a certain amount of trust that the bar will be there and it also means we have to let go of the bar we were just hanging on to. Weeeeee!! Is that fear or exhilaration - or both?!

We often overlook the fact that we are involved in creating our lives. We are quick to take credit for our successes and often place the blame on someone else for those aspects that are less than stellar. If we are committed to riding the wave of change rather than being plowed under by it, we have to take responsibility for our lives. We can't play the powerless victim card and expect our lives to improve. We must step up and be willing to accept that we created it all - the good, the bad, the ugly!

Even if we are just talking about how we have perceived the situation in front of us, we are in control of how we look at it and react. I confess, there are lots of times when I want it to be exclusively someone else's fault so that I can indulge my inner drama queen! - but I can tell you from my years of trying that one out, it doesn't work to create what you want. In fact, it seems to invite even more of what you don't want - that is assuming that you eventually tire of drama! For some, drama is the ultimate goal to remind them that they are alive (guilty on that front too!) but there really are more fun ways to live your life - you'll just have to trust me on this!

There is something to be said for "losing it" - whatever "it" may be. Without the camouflage and distraction of "it", we can see ourselves clearly and we make room for what's next. Its kind of like clearing out a messy garage or a crammed linen closet, once the purge is complete there is a sense of relief when you look at the space created. You keep what you need and let go of what you don't. Its a fresh start and you have the all the stuff required to create what comes next.

Journeyman

I used to wonder if it was possible to become a new person overnight but now I know its true. In fact its happened several times over the past few years but I usually rush headlong into a new phase having never taken a moment to acknowledge that a change has occurred.

It seems like I have woken up sometime in the past few days as a different version of myself. It certainly has nothing to do with getting more sleep since that isn't on Baby S'es agenda these days! I think it has a lot to do with my recent public declarations. By choosing to reveal my intentions I have stepped out of an old layer of skin only to reveal a new one underneath. All this in spite of my litany of old beliefs and insecurities. Its as though by simply stepping across that threshold, the restrictions inside me began to fall away, like a snake shedding its old skin and revealing a renewed set of glossy scales that have been quietly growing below the surface. I have no idea what comes next - and it doesn't feel at all like a challenge to move forward again.

I've spent the past few days reading a bunch of stuff about writing. It just happens to be one of my favorite topics - and reading about it is also an ingenious strategy to avoid doing any writing of my own! Sifting through the words of the "experts" I quickly realized that I absolutely cannot tolerate any technical books. Isn't that what one pays editors for?

I also discovered that in those books where I found inspiration, there were no new crumbs of information to savour. I had already stumbled upon them for myself. This was both reassuring and frustrating. And evidence of yet another pattern I have of repeatedly looking to outside experts to validate my own thoughts and experiences. At least this time I stepped into the pattern knowingly. I was really curious to see what else could be added to the voices already available on subjects such as creativity, parenting and self-discovery. From my sense of frustration, I'm getting clear that my days of student and apprentice are over.

I suppose they have been finished for a while but I have been slow to relinquish the security that comes with apprenticeship, choosing instead to hover around the edges of my dreams and ambitions. Over the past 2 years I've jumped out of a few nests. The process was much like being born - natural, powerful and unstoppable. To stay any longer would have been to risk the toxic complications that accompanies pregnancies gone past their term. No - I emerged at the right times, in the same way that a butterfly emerges having under gone a major metamorphosis. What I didn't realize or easily relax into was the realization that sometimes we need time to let our wings dry. That time isn't wasted - its part of the process. I wasn't lazy or directionless - as I prone to thinking, I was perfectly on schedule.

Its time to fully rely on my internal guidance system when it comes to setting the course for my next adventure. I find it comforting to realize that by choosing not to be a student any longer, I don't have to stop learning - something that is more important to me than I realized. The new curriculum is up to me to create and abandon as I choose. There are no grades to indicate approval. There are no rules to contain the process. There is no timeline. There is just big, boundless space to wander around in.

I have become a Journeyman. I have a craft that I am willing to work at, hone and polish. No longer an apprentice - and not yet willing to claim mastery, I am declaring myself an independent artisan. And no, this is not simply about writing - its all about living!

JUMP!

Today I started to write a book proposal. Well, at least I've gotten as far as opening a Word file and calling it "Book Proposal" That has to count for something -right? Staring at the blank screen, mesmerized by a blinking cursor, I started to really wonder what is it that seems so daunting here. I'm sweating and I feel teary all at the same time. Its not as if I ever have to show this document to anyone if I decide its crap. I can delete, revise -whatever. My problem seems to be a fear of commitment along with a healthy does of a fear of rejection - but aren't they really two different sides of the same coin?

If I don't commit then hey - what's to fear? It all worked out for the best, it will be what it will be- right? Wrong! Wishing and hoping are, in my opinion, much like white light and forgiveness, completely and utterly useless - at least on their own. The missing ingredient is some form of action. Without putting some momentum, some energy into it there is nothing to set it in motion. It doesn't have to be hard work or even take a long time, but it does require some breath of life for the universe to take it seriously.

If wishing and hoping were enough, I would have slaughtered literally thousands of hapless bankers, waitresses, motorists and counter help by now - never mind the people close to me! Thank goodness there is a time lag between thought and manifestation. Part of the lag also invites some action on our part. Yup, we've got to step into the void, which for me is the infinite blank space after the flashing cursor. Its the portal into something new and unknown.

I'm reluctant to refine my concept of audience. I'm trying to hold all the doors open. Geez- why do I think that I must not discriminate by focusing on a target audience! Terminal people pleasing? Delusions of grandeur? More like -one more strategy I'm running to hold myself back for fear of falling flat on my face.

I'm also afraid that if I commit to a structure of some sort, then the project will lose the organic feel that makes it fun for me. Somehow, commitment in this fashion makes writing a book all serious and adult-like. It becomes "work" and I'm just not willing to "work" in any kind of constrained fashion. So, this hurdle means that I've decided to redefine "work" and recognize my right to continuously change my mind in the creative process. After all, isn't that the essence of creativity?

This commitment issue has run deep in the past. I felt that if I started something, then no matter what - I had to finish it or die trying. No quitters here! When it came to my businesses, this credo nearly killed me, damaging my health, my spirit and nearly bankrupting me before I caught on that I could change my mind. I knew that lots of entrepreneurs simply set up businesses and then sell them and move on. I wasn't willing to extend myself the same privilege. I wasn't willing to re-evaluate my rules to see if they still fit who I had become. I now know that I love and thrive on the creative juice and adrenaline involved in start ups but have no interest in the long haul when it comes to businesses. (Thankfully the same doesn't hold true for my children and marriage!)

So many stall tactics! And these are just the obvious ones - I'm sure there a gazillion others that have escaped notice. But it all boils down to just taking the first step Looking forward instead of back. Jumping in instead if trying to figure it all out. I feel like I'm standing on a diving board trying to calculate my exact trajectory, speed and entry angle into the water. Jump already! Belly flop or swan dive - does it really matter? One stings more than the other but they both have their merits!

Its time to come to grips with potential rejection. I've been practicing self-rejection for long enough that the possibility of a publisher saying "no thanks" should be a simple hurdle to clear. Who knows, maybe I'll be accepted. Certainly I'll learn something valuable in the process, whatever the outcome. Discoveries that I will never make unless I give it a try.

1-2-3 JUMP!