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 :)