On November 18th I was one of 10 speakers at TEDxCalgary. Yesterday, the link to the videos arrived in my Inbox.
The timing was perfect.
Last night, I had two girlfriends coming over to watch "Devil in a Pinstripe Suit", the story of my ride to hell that is part of the documentary series, The Devil You Know.
I was nervous.
The story focuses almost entirely on those dark dismal days of that relationship. It's definitely not a pretty story and I definitely don't look 'so good' in it -- and of course, there's the matter of that thirty pounds that likes to hug my body...
Getting the link to my talk at TEDxCalgary was reassuring. I could show it first -- and talk about how far I've come since those dark days! bonus!
Except... those thirty pounds still linger.
Do you see the theme here?
I'm overshadowing all that happened, and all that I've done to reclaim my life since those events which tore apart my life and the lives of those I love, with a mere thirty pounds. I'm letting a mere thirty pounds hold me down from revelling in the joy and wonder of having come so far from those moments of despair when all I could really think about was letting go of gravity to fall into the muck and mire at the bottom of a river.
And the Universe smiles and the stars align.
Yesterday, before I found the email with the link in my Inbox, I went for a biofeedback session with a nutritionist and to set-up a food plan that would help me shed the pounds with grace and ease. I'd already shed some of my angst around the thirty just by acknowledging I want to do this... not to make myself 'look' better, but to help myself feel better -- from the inside out. It isn't that I think I look ugly, it is that I feel heavy, sluggish, unfit dragging these extra pounds around.
And so, by the time my girlfriends arrived to watch the documentary, I was feeling less oppressed by my weight and more optimistic about my new regime of taking care of me, from the inside out.
Oh, and as to watching the documentary. It was a good thing to do. It too helped me shed some of the heaviness that has settled in my gut at the thought of sharing that journey with people who know me today and didn't know me then! -- it is ultimately all about the ego isn't it? It's all about -- oh my, will I look bad to them -- not because of the weight, but rather because of what I did/experienced/went through/how stupid I was, yada yada yada. And, if I look bad to them, will they judge me? Will they still love me?
Those tapes, those fears of what will they think/do have nothing to do with who I am or who they are. They are all about what I fear. And what I fear is nothing compared to who I am when I let go of what other people think about me and leap into the joy of knowing -- I am a magnificent human being, a woman of wonder and joy, a fearless woman on the journey of her lifetime -- no matter how much I weigh, or how I look, or what I've done in the past.
I spent the evening last night with two amazing women and it was, in the end, the thing I feared the most -- all about me.
And that was okay.
They had come to make it all about me. they had asked if they could come and watch the documentary. And seriously? A documentary in which I am featured is a story all about me -- lol -- Who was I trying to kid? They had asked to do this and I was trying to ignore the grace and generosity of their gesture by not wanting to make it all about me.
So... here's all about me. And here's to all about you. Let's all make our lives about ourselves -- and how we can shine most! let's make our stories all about us so that each of us can be our most magnificent selves!
And, here's the TEDxCalgary talk I presented on November 18.
namaste!
And this is the link to all ten talks -- you'll be inspired!
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL41E9A5C6E42C501A
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Dance of Life is always flowing
I went to my CoreConnexion Monday night workshop last night. Have I mentioned before how much I love 'the dance'? Dance is life to me. It moves me -- in oh so many ways. It fills me up. It empties me out.
And last night was all of that and more.
On my A Year of Making a Difference this morning I write about how going to dance required suppleness and flexibility -- which made me happy not only because suppleness is my word for 2012 but also because it reminded me of the importance of taking care of me!
During the session last night the invitation was to move out into the space and then, to move into a smaller space, for all 12 of us dancing to move into one half of the room and then a quarter and to explore how that made us feel. How did we hold our own space while honouring the space of others?
As the space grew smaller I thought of the walls of my 'comfort zone'. Those not so comfortable, yet often impenetrable blocks of invisible steel that keep me playing small, moving carefully, looking out for danger around every corner.
The dance is a reflection of life. In that confined small space we had to flow around each other, shorten our movements, bring in our extensions so that we didn't bump, grind, jostle each other as we danced. Dancing in the small confined space required a keen focus on where the others were, what they were doing and how what they were doing could, or might impact what I was doing if I didn't carefully proscribe my doing to fit their movements.
Like life.
I get inside my comfort zone and carefully maneuver my way around other people, obstacles, ridges and chasms to keep myself from falling over or under or between the cracks. Inside my comfort zone, I tell myself I know that what other people do can't hurt me -- because I'm not doing anything to disturb them. And when I am hurt, as inevitably happens in life, I contract further into that zone where I am neither alive or dead, dancing or moving. That place where, to keep myself safe, I become the walking, breathing dead.
And there's the rub. No matter what I do, inside or outside my comfort zone, I have no control over other people -- their being or their actions in the world. The illusion of safety inside my comfort zone is just that -- an illusion.
I am safest when I am dancing through life, arms and legs extended. Feet pounding to the beat of my heart racing for joy at the freedom and aliveness that comes with being connected to my body, slipping gracefully through the knots where I am interconnected to others.
It was an awesome dance last night. An enlivening experience that brought joy and laughter and peace to my soul and wisdom to my heart.
There are no walls. There is no box. There is no comfort zone.
There is only the Dance of Life. This intricate, delicate and sacred space where each of us step. We can crawl. We can leap. We can soar. And always, we must dance.
Why not step it up? Why not step outside the box of your illusions and get dancing in the flow of life?
Why not just dance and let the steps lead you beyond your comfort zone into life with no holds barred?
Namaste.
And last night was all of that and more.
On my A Year of Making a Difference this morning I write about how going to dance required suppleness and flexibility -- which made me happy not only because suppleness is my word for 2012 but also because it reminded me of the importance of taking care of me!
During the session last night the invitation was to move out into the space and then, to move into a smaller space, for all 12 of us dancing to move into one half of the room and then a quarter and to explore how that made us feel. How did we hold our own space while honouring the space of others?
As the space grew smaller I thought of the walls of my 'comfort zone'. Those not so comfortable, yet often impenetrable blocks of invisible steel that keep me playing small, moving carefully, looking out for danger around every corner.
The dance is a reflection of life. In that confined small space we had to flow around each other, shorten our movements, bring in our extensions so that we didn't bump, grind, jostle each other as we danced. Dancing in the small confined space required a keen focus on where the others were, what they were doing and how what they were doing could, or might impact what I was doing if I didn't carefully proscribe my doing to fit their movements.
Like life.
I get inside my comfort zone and carefully maneuver my way around other people, obstacles, ridges and chasms to keep myself from falling over or under or between the cracks. Inside my comfort zone, I tell myself I know that what other people do can't hurt me -- because I'm not doing anything to disturb them. And when I am hurt, as inevitably happens in life, I contract further into that zone where I am neither alive or dead, dancing or moving. That place where, to keep myself safe, I become the walking, breathing dead.
And there's the rub. No matter what I do, inside or outside my comfort zone, I have no control over other people -- their being or their actions in the world. The illusion of safety inside my comfort zone is just that -- an illusion.
I am safest when I am dancing through life, arms and legs extended. Feet pounding to the beat of my heart racing for joy at the freedom and aliveness that comes with being connected to my body, slipping gracefully through the knots where I am interconnected to others.
It was an awesome dance last night. An enlivening experience that brought joy and laughter and peace to my soul and wisdom to my heart.
There are no walls. There is no box. There is no comfort zone.
There is only the Dance of Life. This intricate, delicate and sacred space where each of us step. We can crawl. We can leap. We can soar. And always, we must dance.
Why not step it up? Why not step outside the box of your illusions and get dancing in the flow of life?
Why not just dance and let the steps lead you beyond your comfort zone into life with no holds barred?
Namaste.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Someday is Now Day
As human beings, we like comfort. We like the familiar, the known, the 'I'm doing this because it's all I know how to do. It's all I've ever known."
We are born to hold on, to keep hold of what we knew before we experienced what we know now. Like a balloon filling with air, we try to stuff everything we know into one container and never let it out in the hope, or belief, it will come in handy someday. It will all makes sense, someday. It will all work out, someday.
Someday is now day.
Years ago, when I first started working at a homeless shelter, I started an art program. Every Thursday night and Saturday afternoon, I'd invite clients to come up to the 6th floor multi-purpose room and share the quiet of the space and the joy of painting.
There was one man who sat at a table on the second floor every day and painted beautiful water colours on a small board, his paints on the table beside him while all around him the room buzzed and vibed with activity and commotion.
"Why don't you come up to the multi-purpose room and paint with us," I'd ask him every time I opened the room for painting.
"I'm not ready," he'd reply. "Someday. Soon."
Finally, after one more repeated, "I'm not ready," I asked him if he'd chosen a date when he would be ready.
He shook his head. "No. Not yet."
"Then why don't you just make it today? Why not make today, someday."
And he did and he went on to paint amazing works of art, to write music and songs and poems and to become a valued and integral member of the Possibilities Project, an art-based initiative I developed at the shelter that incorporated the full-spectrum of the arts to provide clients, staff and volunteers an opportunity to explore their human condition and shared experiences through visual and performing arts.
Someday is now.
Someday isn't in the future. It doesn't have enough clarity and substance to last that long.
Someday is now.
If you're struggling with holding on, with not letting go, with not giving up on something that just isn't giving you peace of mind or joy or laughter and love, ask yourself, "Am I holding on for someday?" "Am I hoping for someday to fix my life, change my outlook, move my perspective?"
'Cause if someday is on your calendar somewhere, anywhere, make it today that someday comes true. Make today your release from holding on to waiting, wishing and hoping for someday to come and set you free.
Namaste.
We are born to hold on, to keep hold of what we knew before we experienced what we know now. Like a balloon filling with air, we try to stuff everything we know into one container and never let it out in the hope, or belief, it will come in handy someday. It will all makes sense, someday. It will all work out, someday.
Someday is now day.
Years ago, when I first started working at a homeless shelter, I started an art program. Every Thursday night and Saturday afternoon, I'd invite clients to come up to the 6th floor multi-purpose room and share the quiet of the space and the joy of painting.
There was one man who sat at a table on the second floor every day and painted beautiful water colours on a small board, his paints on the table beside him while all around him the room buzzed and vibed with activity and commotion.
"Why don't you come up to the multi-purpose room and paint with us," I'd ask him every time I opened the room for painting.
"I'm not ready," he'd reply. "Someday. Soon."
Finally, after one more repeated, "I'm not ready," I asked him if he'd chosen a date when he would be ready.
He shook his head. "No. Not yet."
"Then why don't you just make it today? Why not make today, someday."
And he did and he went on to paint amazing works of art, to write music and songs and poems and to become a valued and integral member of the Possibilities Project, an art-based initiative I developed at the shelter that incorporated the full-spectrum of the arts to provide clients, staff and volunteers an opportunity to explore their human condition and shared experiences through visual and performing arts.
Someday is now.
Someday isn't in the future. It doesn't have enough clarity and substance to last that long.
Someday is now.
If you're struggling with holding on, with not letting go, with not giving up on something that just isn't giving you peace of mind or joy or laughter and love, ask yourself, "Am I holding on for someday?" "Am I hoping for someday to fix my life, change my outlook, move my perspective?"
'Cause if someday is on your calendar somewhere, anywhere, make it today that someday comes true. Make today your release from holding on to waiting, wishing and hoping for someday to come and set you free.
Namaste.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Holding on is not always the answer
So... how's this for getting rather relaxed about blogging every day...
I thought I'd posted my Sunday quote until I went to respond to a commenter and realized... oh my -- I hadn't got there yet! :)
I'm finding without the pressure of having to fit it all in, I'm rather relaxed about fitting anything in!
Here, however, is a quote from Ann Landers I found in my Inbox last week that really resonated in my heart.
I thought I'd posted my Sunday quote until I went to respond to a commenter and realized... oh my -- I hadn't got there yet! :)
I'm finding without the pressure of having to fit it all in, I'm rather relaxed about fitting anything in!
Here, however, is a quote from Ann Landers I found in my Inbox last week that really resonated in my heart.
Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are
signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more
strength to know when to let go and then do it. -- Ann Landers
Friday, February 3, 2012
Who's story is it?
I have a story I tell about why/what/when my life became what it is today. About how/what/who is keeping me back from living my best life yet. And, I have a story about the who's the why's, the what's and the ways it's just not possible for me to be/live/experience all I'm meant to.
It's my story and I'm sticking to it. I earned it!
At least, I know the story of my limitations. It fits. It's comfortable (in its discomfort) and it's mine.
Or is it?
Who's story am I living?
When I was a little girl I learned to protect myself from the pains and slings and arrows of life by embracing the lessons I was taught about the world by those around me. The lessons are not our human being's natural state of being, they are all learned, and in many instances, especially those stories that do not serve me well, they are about our limitations, not our possibilities. And in many instances, they were taught to me to keep me 'safe' by teaching me to limit my expectations, my experiences, my belief in all that I am capable of, and worthy of, doing/having/being.
Take my post yesterday about leading a horse to water. That belief translated itself into a limiting belief when I let the underlying message of my powerlessness direct me.
When I move from behind the shadows of that message into living fearlessly in the now of being me, knowing my light is the only light I've got to shine, limiting beliefs take a backseat to my courage to drive into the dark and shine a light on all that I see -- fearlessly, compassionately and lovingly.
It is one of my favourite questions to ask myself when I'm standing in the dark -- Who's story am I living?
And, once I fearlessly face the story-maker truth, I get to ask myself -- what's it going to take to live my own story?
It's the 'what's it going to take' that can be daunting. What will it take for me to move beyond feeling powerless to embracing my power?
What will it take to let go of fear to dance in the fires of fearlessness?
What will it take to write my own story?
It can be scary to let go of the perceived safety of the story we tell to move into living the story of our life lived fearlessly in the light of Love, truth, beauty and authenticity.
But when we do... World. Watch out!
There's no stopping us.
No keeping us down or up or sideways stuck on the wrong side of being our magnificent selves.
There's only us being our most amazing, magnificent, fearless and authentic beings we can be.
And in that truth, the story we tell is one of being perfectly human in all our human imperfections -- and loving ourselves every which way we can.
Once upon a time I had a story that held me down. Today my story holds me up to the scrutiny of my dreams, expressing my heart in everything I do. Today, I am committed to living my story, letting go of limiting beliefs that would have me keep myself down from leaping up for joy in the rapture of now.
It's my story and I'm sticking to it. I earned it!
At least, I know the story of my limitations. It fits. It's comfortable (in its discomfort) and it's mine.
Or is it?
Who's story am I living?
When I was a little girl I learned to protect myself from the pains and slings and arrows of life by embracing the lessons I was taught about the world by those around me. The lessons are not our human being's natural state of being, they are all learned, and in many instances, especially those stories that do not serve me well, they are about our limitations, not our possibilities. And in many instances, they were taught to me to keep me 'safe' by teaching me to limit my expectations, my experiences, my belief in all that I am capable of, and worthy of, doing/having/being.
Take my post yesterday about leading a horse to water. That belief translated itself into a limiting belief when I let the underlying message of my powerlessness direct me.
When I move from behind the shadows of that message into living fearlessly in the now of being me, knowing my light is the only light I've got to shine, limiting beliefs take a backseat to my courage to drive into the dark and shine a light on all that I see -- fearlessly, compassionately and lovingly.
It is one of my favourite questions to ask myself when I'm standing in the dark -- Who's story am I living?
And, once I fearlessly face the story-maker truth, I get to ask myself -- what's it going to take to live my own story?
It's the 'what's it going to take' that can be daunting. What will it take for me to move beyond feeling powerless to embracing my power?
What will it take to let go of fear to dance in the fires of fearlessness?
What will it take to write my own story?
It can be scary to let go of the perceived safety of the story we tell to move into living the story of our life lived fearlessly in the light of Love, truth, beauty and authenticity.
But when we do... World. Watch out!
There's no stopping us.
No keeping us down or up or sideways stuck on the wrong side of being our magnificent selves.
There's only us being our most amazing, magnificent, fearless and authentic beings we can be.
And in that truth, the story we tell is one of being perfectly human in all our human imperfections -- and loving ourselves every which way we can.
Once upon a time I had a story that held me down. Today my story holds me up to the scrutiny of my dreams, expressing my heart in everything I do. Today, I am committed to living my story, letting go of limiting beliefs that would have me keep myself down from leaping up for joy in the rapture of now.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
A song of Love
One of my father's favourite quotes when I was a little girl was, "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink."
Yesterday, thinking about a situation with someone I love and my hesitation to intervene when I knew what they were engaging in was hurting them, that quote came to mind.
What's behind the message, I asked myself.
What's buried in my psyche?
What's the limiting belief?
And then it struck me -- beneath the 'here, let me show you the water. you decide whether or not you drink' is the belief -- I am helpless to affect someone else's behaviour.
I think that's what they call. Bullsh*t!
I can't change what other's do but I am not powerless.
I have a voice.
I have the capacity to use it. To speak up and be heard.
Yet, I let the belief that I can't make someone drink the water keep me from even leading them to the well.
Because the limiting belief is -- what's the point?
It's not my business. It's not up to me to intervene.
Actually. It is.
When I see someone doing something that hurts them, it is not up to me to walk away. It's up to me to step in and intervene -- at least to say something so that they know I see them. I hear them. I feel for them -- and love them.
Love is not inactive.
It is constantly in action. In motion. In doing.
Love is.
It's me who isn't always present to doing what I must to create a world of love -- a world where I don't stand on the sidelines watching someone hurt themselves, or watching someone destroy another, or watching people hurt each other or the world around them.
I may not be able to change the world but I sure can change what I do in it to create well-being all around me. And when I see someone hurting, I have the power to step in and ask, "I see your pain. How can I be of service?"
So dad, I know you're gone from this world but I just wanted you to know, I get it. It isn't about leading anyone to water or forcing them to drink. It is about what I do to create opportunities for them to see and know and feel that we are all connected. We are all in this ocean of life together. We are all drinking of the same well of Love. And if the water isn't sweet, I do have the power to pour my voice into its depths and let it rise up in a song of Love.
Namaste.
Yesterday, thinking about a situation with someone I love and my hesitation to intervene when I knew what they were engaging in was hurting them, that quote came to mind.
What's behind the message, I asked myself.
What's buried in my psyche?
What's the limiting belief?
And then it struck me -- beneath the 'here, let me show you the water. you decide whether or not you drink' is the belief -- I am helpless to affect someone else's behaviour.
I think that's what they call. Bullsh*t!
I can't change what other's do but I am not powerless.
I have a voice.
I have the capacity to use it. To speak up and be heard.
Yet, I let the belief that I can't make someone drink the water keep me from even leading them to the well.
Because the limiting belief is -- what's the point?
It's not my business. It's not up to me to intervene.
Actually. It is.
When I see someone doing something that hurts them, it is not up to me to walk away. It's up to me to step in and intervene -- at least to say something so that they know I see them. I hear them. I feel for them -- and love them.
Love is not inactive.
It is constantly in action. In motion. In doing.
Love is.
It's me who isn't always present to doing what I must to create a world of love -- a world where I don't stand on the sidelines watching someone hurt themselves, or watching someone destroy another, or watching people hurt each other or the world around them.
I may not be able to change the world but I sure can change what I do in it to create well-being all around me. And when I see someone hurting, I have the power to step in and ask, "I see your pain. How can I be of service?"
So dad, I know you're gone from this world but I just wanted you to know, I get it. It isn't about leading anyone to water or forcing them to drink. It is about what I do to create opportunities for them to see and know and feel that we are all connected. We are all in this ocean of life together. We are all drinking of the same well of Love. And if the water isn't sweet, I do have the power to pour my voice into its depths and let it rise up in a song of Love.
Namaste.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Practicing Suppleness
It has been.... one of those days.
A 7:30 am meeting that linked into a 9:30 meeting. An unexpected lunch with C.C.s daughter and an opportunity to help a friend mean I am only now getting back into my office to do some writing.
Which means.... no blog today.
Because... not writing my blog today is an opportunity to practice my word for 2012 -- suppleness.
See you tomorrow!
Namaste.
A 7:30 am meeting that linked into a 9:30 meeting. An unexpected lunch with C.C.s daughter and an opportunity to help a friend mean I am only now getting back into my office to do some writing.
Which means.... no blog today.
Because... not writing my blog today is an opportunity to practice my word for 2012 -- suppleness.
See you tomorrow!
Namaste.
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