You Are The One

August 29, 2016

you are the one

I am only one,

But still I am one.

I cannot do everything,

But still I can do something;

And because I cannot do everything,

I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

{Edwin Osgood Grover}

You are only one, but you are an important one.

You are the leader of your life, the culmination of all of your parts.

You are better equipped, in this moment, to take action on your behalf than you ever have been before.

In this moment, you carry with you the stories and the lessons and the failures and the brilliant successes of every moment of your life on this planet thus far.

Even if everything feels dark or nebulous or fuzzy, you are more whole than you’ve ever been, because your wholeness is different than your perfection.

You are only one, but you are an important one.

You are the ultimate granter of permission. The benevolent chairman of the board of your many parts. The lover and the beloved. The good mother and the inner child.

You are uniquely positioned to make choices on your own behalf, because no one in the world knows you as deeply or intimately as you know yourself.

You are a mess of contradictions. We all are.

As you look at your life in this moment, be discerning about your priorities. Be thoughtful about how you would like your life to feel in moving forward.

Your life doesn’t belong to anyone else but you. You are allowed to use your permission and your choice to reclaim your life for your own divine purposes.

Teach yourself to say yes with gumption and gusto.

Teach yourself to say no with certainty. Privately validate and approve of your choices, even if no one around you understands quite what you’re up to.

You are only one, but you are an important one.

Start with one thing.

Drink more water. Get enough sleep. Leave work when when the work day is over – and don’t it home with you. Make an altar. Write your sweetheart a love note each morning to rekindle the spark of your adoration. Ask for help. Walk around the block. Buy an alarm clock to wake yourself up and charge your phone in the kitchen. Pull a card. Say a prayer. Brush your teeth. Choose to be grateful. Watch less television. Create something. Say something true.

Start with one thing and do it to the best of your abilities. Commit yourself to it. Pledge yourself to it. Acknowledge the fact that just because you might not be able to do EVERYTHING that you want to do in this exact moment, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t time to get started.

Start with one thing. Do it again and again. Do it until it feels easy – until you feel better supported in that area. Until you can trust yourself to keep doing it.

Then add in one more thing.

It sounds simple, but this is the recipe for being whatever is that you want to be, getting whatever it is that you want to have, and becoming whoever it is that you want to become in this life.

Start somewhere. Don’t stop. Get really good at it. Add in something else.

Keep going. Don’t give up. Appreciate yourself like crazy for your hard work.

That’s it.

You are only one, but you are THE one.

The one you’ve been waiting for.

The one to help you take care of yourself.

The one to make your decisions for you.

The one to help you say yes.

The one standing by at the ready with a kind word and a hug.

The savior. The best friend. The lover. The instigator.

You are only one, but you are THE one.

I freaking love that about you.


Goods

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Being Too Precious About The Process

August 22, 2016

being too precious about the process

There is a frantic energy of preciousness to hovering around your life, picking at yourself as you tell yourself to stand up straight or reprimanding yourself for saying the wrong thing. The buzzing around your own shoulders as you become the helicopter mother to your own life, wiping schmutz off your face with your spit and making sure that each! decision! is! the! right! one!

(And yes, all of those exclamation points are necessary, because they speak to the energy of this feeling. It is the energy of believing that emergencies lurk behind every corner and that we must remain vigilant in order to ward off certain catastrophe. When we are in this state we are jumpy and melodramatic, playing into our own fears even as we seek to escape them.)

This frantic energy walks hand in hand with your anxiety as you spiral out into the distance with each decision that must be made. You ask yourself: But how will this outfit impact the trajectory of my life in five years time? Or ten? Will it bring me closer to my future soulmate? Or further away? Anxiety is the body’s nervous ache at your absence when you abandon it to energetically run the length of your life, double checking your decisions and hoping that haven’t fucked everything up for real this time.

This preciousness is your fear trying to trick you into buying into the idea that there are right and wrong decisions, rather than your decisions. It is your ego co-opting your desire and creativity, demanding that they work for you in a chronological order to move your success down a preferred trajectory. It is the energy of buying into the concept of lack, the belief that there isn’t enough goodness for all of us to share. That you earn your piece of the pie by doing all of the right things and becoming extra good at being everything to everyone.

This preciousness tells you that you have to conform to objective standards of right and wrong in order to belong, and that your tribe membership rests squarely on your ability to get this right.

We get stuck there mired in our fear and humanity as we start to believe in the enormity of our decisions. We get stuck and, because each decision is now enormous, we become further paralyzed in wanting to research all of our best options before taking the next step. We get stuck in the belief that our inherent worth is the culmination of a hundred perfect decisions – and the fear that mistakes ruin us, marring our hope to be seen as flawless.

It is important to note here that we do not do this because we are stupid or because we love the state of living in that frantic energy. We do it because we want to be good, because whenever we believe that our goodness is at stake we lose our connection with our rational, wise mind. There is a piece of us buys into that preciousness, because it makes us feel useful and needed. Being precious gives you something to do, so that you can feel like you are in control of your life.

But, when you are micromanaging your life, your life will be managed, small.

When you are tending to yourself out of the frantic fear that without your steady hand everything will go to shit, you are giving yourself the message, again and again, that you are not worth trusting. That your spirit is a wild thing to be wrangled and disciplined if you are ever going to “succeed.” You are delivering the message to yourself that the only action that matters is perfect action, reinforcing the concept that you are a mess to be managed rather than a spectacular human navigating her life as best she can.

The truth is, you cannot control your life, not really. Your job is to open yourself up to showing up fully, as you make the best decisions that you can at the time, with the tools that you have on hand. Your job is to tend to your wild spirit without fencing her in. Your job is to build your capacity for risk taking – but also for taking care of yourself during the process.

This is preciousness, but it is not in the spirit of truly believing that YOU, yourself, are a precious thing – a thing to be cherished and tended to with reverence.

Your body is a vessel to be used and your life is to be lived in.

Your goodness doesn’t demand your perfection. Your worth doesn’t demand that you’ve done everything right. The value of your life isn’t hinged upon whether or not you’ve done the appropriate things at the appropriate times. This kind of preciousness is the opposite of trust. Instead of relishing your autonomy and living the full breadth of your life as a grand experiment in tending to your joy, this preciousness is the belief that you are something that must be managed or carefully watched because without constant supervision you will ruin everything. It is the belief that your vigilance is protecting you from certain failure. This kind of preciousness doesn’t know anything about the wildness of your worth or the feral beauty of your natural state. This kind of preciousness pens you in, forcing you to adhere to the predefined limits out of fear of what will happen if you step out of line or make a mistake.

You are precious, but you are not breakable. You will not fall apart into a million pieces when your heart is broken, even if it may feel like it. You will not waste away in your disappointment at not having things turn out the way that you would have wanted them to. This is the risk and the freedom in living intentionally. Vibrantly. Fully. This is the power in giving yourself the permission to show up messy and see what happens.

You are a precious, unique thing, but your preciousness doesn’t need to be set up high on a pedestal, protected by layers of bullet proof glass. That will not keep you safe, but it will break your spirit. It will bore you. It will ensure that the life that you get is not the life that you want, because it is a life built for someone else.

And I want more for you than that.


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My Faith is a Messy Process

August 15, 2016

faith is a messy process

Why had no one told me that my body would become a battlefield, a sacrifice, a test? Why did I not know that birth is the pinnacle where women discover the courage to become mothers?

{Anita Diamant, The Red Tent}

When we plant the seeds of creation, we dig holes deep enough that the tender seeds are protected from the elements. We dig our fingers into the wet soil, pushing it layers beneath the earth. Two inches, three inches. We smooth over the surface, erasing any trace of our impact.

We wait.

It is in the waiting that we are almost broken. In the waiting that we want to rush out to the garden to rake our hands through the earth to run our finger tips over the any changes in the seed’s shape, hunting for any indication that it will sprout.

In the waiting, I need to remind myself to surrender moment by moment. I hold the framework, as best I can – succumbing to the possibility that I might be losing my mind as I misplace my keys, my phone, the credit card that I just had in my hands two seconds ago, again. Softening into my preoccupation with the progress and the overwhelming urge to wail or abandon hope because it feels easier that way.

There is a risk in believing, in remaining in a state of faith.

I tell myself that I am going to be all in. I am going to put all of my positive energy behind it! I am going to think only the most lovely thoughts.

But then I wake up at six o’clock in the morning with the gnawing worry that I have been duped by my own imagination. That I have asked for too much. That there is something wrong with me. That I will be a fool for having believed in something that will not manifest. For loving the seed that will not grow. For tending to the soil every day, without receiving the certainty of it’s harvest.

Having faith is an active process. It is the moment when you are fingers deep in the mud, choosing to believe. It is the humanity of the the tear soaked pillow at first light. It is in the constant reminders when the fear bubbled up in the quiet and humble questions of deserving.

I have a choice to hold the faith without controlling it. To let my faith be imperfect, as I am imperfect. To believe that it is possible, even before I’ve seen proof with my own eyes.

I’m ready be a fool for you. I’m ready to keep asking, to keep planting, to keep praying – even if it doesn’t come easily. I am willing to allow my heart to be broken open by this ask, because I know that as I open, I become more ready each and every moment to receive the answer to my prayer.

Every moment that I accept myself – my tears, my frustrations, my desire to micromanage every step of the process, my dirty hair, my distracted mind, the things on my to-do list that I couldn’t quite get to today – I become more ready for my dreams to be born. For my intentions to actualize.

Every moment that I choose to remember that my ask – my life, my prayers – are worth the risk, my body is shifting and making space. My molecules are reconfiguring. With each tear, the pieces of my story that no longer fit with the reality of receiving what I’ve asked for flow easily down my throat.

My faith is a messy process. There is room here for stomping and wailing and wondering and pacing the floors in the night. My dreams are worth that. The quality of my life is worth the effort that having faith requires of me.
I am not patient by nature, but some things that I desire take time. They ask a lot of me before they show up on my doorstep. They prompt me to spiral into becoming better versions of myself so that I will recognize them when they arrive.

Plant seeds that matter to you. Allow your faith to be flexible, fluid.

Break your own heart wide open – fingers in the dirt, choosing what to believe.

But don’t give up on yourself.


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You are Imperfect & Needy (And I love that About You)

August 08, 2016

you are needy and imperfect

I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you, and that you will work with these stories… water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.

{Clarissa Pinkola Estés}

In your quietest moments, you might worry…

What if I am too needy? What if I’m not enough? What if they see through the cracks in my carefully curated perfection? What if I can’t do everything?

But, at the core, what you’re really asking is…

What if I reveal that I am human?

And, what if, in my humanity, I overwhelm the people in my life?

What if, when I ask for what I truly need, I am met with a resounding silence?

What if, in my imperfection, I actually don’t deserve the life I am craving?

Over the last couple of days, I have been moving into the next level of learning in my Crystalline Consciousness Technique energy healing practice. During this time, I have been working on myself quite intensively to heal some core assumptions that I have carried that keep me from showing up fully as I am in the world around me.

A lot of this very personal work is centered around a belief that I held for much of my life that if I were to truly show up as I am… I would be abandoned. That who I am authentically is too much – too bright, too needy, too difficult – and that, my loved ones would leave me if they really knew what I was like.

We all carry belief systems like this.

We all worry that we are not good enough.

We are all afraid of something.

And suddenly the other night, I found myself leveled by grief. Between my shuddering sobs, I said aloud, “I have never asked anyone to take care of me. I have never trusted anyone to truly take care of me. I have always told myself that if I asked for help, I would stop being useful, stop earning my relationships by being supportive… and no one would be there for me.”

And there it was: the core of the grief showing up so that it could be released.

That for my whole life, I was waiting for someone to notice that I needed help.

But, that I didn’t ask for the help that I needed because somewhere deep, I believed I wasn’t deserving of it.

And, because I didn’t ask for it, I never got it, and my un-deserving became a self-fulfilling prophecy that I carried beneath my skin.

We carry core beliefs in our bodies, far after they make “sense” to us intellectually.

They might be quiet or insidious, lurking in the shadows, and mucking up our relationships – even after we’ve grown-up and moved on.

In honor of working with these hard stories and deeply held beliefs, I want to tell you that…

You deserve the things that you need.

You deserve to ask for the things that you need.

Your deserving is completely unattached from the outcome to your ask. It is separate from the response to your call.

Your deserving is inherent.

And, it is your responsibility to ask. To share yourself. To stand in your truth. To allow yourself to live vibrantly – even when (and especially when) it is difficult.

That when you show up for yourself this way, you are belonging to yourself.

Because I woke up the next morning KNOWING that it was an old story. Knowing that I had released it. Knowing that I was suddenly filled with a greater sense of ease and peace, having walked through the fire and staying present with myself, even though I was afraid.

 

Knowing that I am blooming in my grit and truth.

And so are you.


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You Were Born For this

August 01, 2016

you were born for this

There are two important days in a woman’s life: the day she is born and the day she finds out why.

{Terry Tempest Williams}

I see you. I see you wise and ready and deep. I see you in your fear and jubilation as you unload the dishwasher, wipe sweat off of your brow, close the deal, kiss your babies while they sleep, finish the book, wring your hands together while you pay the bills, and dance alone in the dark.

I see the power in your hands over time as I remember the hands of my grandmother before she passed away in her mid-nineties. Her fingers were gnarled and misshapen from years of ironing her husband’s clothing and making soup out of the odds and ends in her small refrigerator. They were barely functional at the end of her life, causing her to clap her hands together to bring them back to life or rub them absentmindedly when they ached. But, I was still able to feel her love through them when she clutched my face every time she saw me when I was a little girl.

There is a similar sturdiness and wild depth to you, whether or not you feel it in this moment. You are a complex system of working parts. Hormones, ambition, subtle grace, and fierce love, your energy and light are palpable even when when you shield it from view, worrying that you are too much and not enough, simultaneously.

You are enough. You are just enough. You are more than enough.

You have secrets hidden behind locked doors and dreams unfurling in the dark in the corners of your mind. There is fire in your heart and air in your lungs. Water in your womb and earth packed within your physical skin. You are the embodiment of the elements, as you yourself are sacred.

You were born to this world intentionally, placed upon this planet to express your soul’s purpose. Just like each flower and body of water and fox and hawk and snowflake, you are uniquely positioned to walk the planet and share your wisdom in a way that no one else can.

When you stand here, in your power and deep strength, it might seem that any amount of comparison is ridiculous.

The truth is this: there never has been, nor will there ever be, anyone quite like you.

Today, we celebrate and revel in the riotous power and quiet strength of women around the world. We hug our arms around our own waists and feel the warmth of the fire that burns within us. We honor the fucking crazy and stunningly beautiful and unpredictable and tender aspects of being a woman walking the earth right now. We weep collectively into the cracks of inequality and injustice, turning our attention and action towards the cultivation of a safer world for each of our sisters to belong in. We pledge ourselves to keep going, to keep coming back, to keep showing up. This is a mother’s prayer and we are all mothers, no matter what title we give our work or what it is that we choose to create in our lives.

Today, we celebrate, but we also gather together energetically, knowing that our strength is multiplied not in solitary action but in the presence of other women. When we see ourselves reflected in one another’s eyes. When we choose to build one another up instead of tear one another down. When we choose to open our arms, laying our defenses at our feet.

Today I feel giddy and humbled and alive in knowing that this is work that I was put on this planet for. To remind you of who you are each and every time that you forget. To guide and encourage you as you step deeper and deeper into your own personal power. To whisper secrets and laugh aloud and pour the tea and sob with you while you walk from here to there. To remind you that your darkness has just as much value as your light – always.

If there is one thing that I want to be all in for, it is raising the collective vibration of women. It is to sit before you and tell you about how you belong, how you are a part of the family of things, how you are essential to the planet and the human race and the interwoven matrix of creation. I want to witness you as you do the things that you were put on this planet to do – no matter what those things are. I want to see you lit up, because when you are lit up so am I.

There is enough here for all of us. We do not have to compete.

There is enough here for our daughters and granddaughters.

But, just for today, let us see ourselves as we are. Let us see ourselves as those in our lives who love us see us each and every day.

Let us see ourselves as whole and good and worthy and capable.

And let us know that we are truly all in this together.


Goods

Pssssst!

Did you love this post? It originally appeared as a weekly missive to my top secret circle of truth-tellers that I send out bright and early every Wednesday morning.

Join us by signing yourself up riiiiight over here and receive immediate access to The Roost, a secret stockpile of resources BRIMMING with video workshops, audio inspiration, and words guaranteed to tenderly move you to action and soften you into acknowledging your inherent worthiness.

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