​I’m straddling life right now.  Are you?  Anticipating the changing of the guards.  Two weeks into a new year that sets expectations that things will be different. That I should be different. Not wanting to own any big changes within me. Not wanting the changes happening out there. Feeling like I should rise up more than ever before, while I’m typing this from the comfort of my bed.
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Yes, I’m psychologically straddling forward movement while digging in my heels.

My thirteen year old approached me on January 2 and said, “Mom, we never talked about New Year’s resolutions.”  I must admit I consciously chose not to have this typical January conversation.  Maybe it was because I’ve lost interest in setting them based on my track record.  Maybe it’s because New Year’s resolutions seem to take on a different degree of importance given the backdrop of world events. It’s no longer enough to want to exercise more.  I feel I should be setting loftier goals.  

I love what my daughter chose for herself, “I’m going to do me.  And I think you should do you, Mom.”

What a powerful idea! To focus on being your most authentic best self.  Is there any better goal for the year?

So, if I take on her friendly challenge to "Do Me" then the next question is, what exactly is my most authentic self?  Does authentic mean the part of ourselves that never changes? When I shine the spotlight on myself, the parts of me that come most quickly into focus have the most repetitive narrative. They are the soft part of myself that I constantly feel the need to shape and get right.

In order to "Do Me",  I first have to embrace this part and polish it until it shines.  I need to hold up my whimsical, nonlinear, no-revenue-making, teary-eyed, chasing inspiration, around-in-circles, self and take Kamal Ravikant’s advice to, “Love myself like my life depended on it.”

So let me ask you; can you fully own, love, even cherish the parts of yourself that seem to go around in circles?  The parts of yourself that don’t change? Is it possible that these parts are supposed to be a constant because they are your authentic core?

I’m reading a fascinating book, The Fourth Turning, in which historians explain the three structures of time that have evolved, starting with Chaos, where there is no rhyme or reason to events.  This quickly shifted to a Cyclical concept of time where humanity learned patterns of seasons, nature, and life cycles. In this structure, there was an honoring of past ancestors and future generations and an awareness that our lives play a part of a bigger collective journey.  With the advent of industry modern man has moved into a Linear model of time where we over-focus on achievement and short-term individual betterment at the detriment of caring for the whole.  It’s an interesting way to think about our own beliefs that self-improvement is necessary to be able to plot “growth” along a timeline.

What if we enter 2017 with a sense of deepening ourselves rather than changing ourselves?  What if we “go back at it”, letting our sameness generate a sense of peace and wholeness, rather than resignation or frustration?  If "You Do You”  and “I Do Me" well then we are adding to the collective gifts of this world without having to be everything.  Our cycle on this earth will bear great harvest.

This year I will love the softest parts of myself.  I will tend to this love with greater commitment.  I will deepen my practice of self-compassion and self-knowledge in order to grow strong in my heart.  This will propel me forward in all the ways I can contribute the most from my authentic core . . . in ways that the world needs most.

My heart will find a voice.  My heart will find the time.  My heart will find the courage. My heart will find the feet to turn thoughts into action.  This action will come from the inside out: not from setting a pre-defined goal, but instead from living moment by moment with a sense of my place in this world.

From the words of Mary Oliver, “You too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
 
Blessings,
Amy

It’s hard to predict when you will need to step away. I’ve never been good at anticipating it, but I know how it feels when it arrives.  It’s usually in moments of grappling, discontent, or stress that I’m triggered to step away, without even thinking about the destination. 

It can feel like fleeing, but this urge to move is really the need for new energy.  If you know what energy you need, you will know what direction to step. Sometimes we need to shift into calm. Sometimes we need energy that motivates.  What do you need? 

Step back and contemplate. Think deeply, carefully, and fully. Land in the parts of life you tend to push through, stuff down, or gloss over. 

Step into nature. My yoga teacher Charu Rachlis says it’s always there to help you find the most direct path to your highest self.

Step up and make a decision. Then wear it for a while and see what energy it creates.

Step out of your comfort zone.  Feel the surge of energy that comes from taking a risk, feeling your edge.

Step away, mindfully.  Just stop.  Or go.  Whatever you need to create space for new energy to come in. I stopped writing for a bit.  I felt the need to refuel that tank.  I just spent a long weekend with a dear friend. I needed space from my day to day life. 

And then there’s the Two Step.  I was in a cowboy bar in Dallas last weekend watching the leather boots on the crowded dance floor sliding, twirling, and stomping.  The Two Step is a rhythm of two steps right and one step left.  It’s simple, but requires concentration.  I gave it whirl and it was pure fun! 

When you aren’t sure what step to take, the Two Step always works. Move in the direction of delight! You will receive fresh energy, expansiveness, and a new spring in your step.

What three words described your 2013?  Quickly -- top of mind.  I'd love to know.

On New Year’s Eve, in a circle of friends and family, we took turns seeing what words bubbled up to the surface.  Challenging, exhilarating, progress, complicated, sunny, thankful, persevering were a few.

This morning my own fourth word came forward: Yearning.  Was yearning part of your year too?

Looking back, I had very specific chapters with very specific desires.  I also had an overarching fuzzy sense of yearning that I know sometimes felt restless or stagnant; other times it propelled me forward, even though I can’t name where I landed. Yearning can be intense. It produces energy inside of us that seeps into the world.

This week my yoga teacher, Sean Haleen, shared the yogic philosophy that we are constantly creating, sustaining or destroying. I started to think about which category yearning falls into.  

I believe yearning can hold any of these energies.  Looking back on your year, did you act on any desires that brought something positive into the world or brought good energy to those around you?

How much energy did you expend to protect or maintain something about yourself or something sacred to you.  Most importantly, can you see when going towards your yearnings were at the cost or destruction of others?

Let me give you a simple example. This week I had a huge yearning to clean, purge and start fresh in the new year.  I became more and more intense as I pushed my daughters to be a part of the one-day house cleansing.  It was a very real yearning that had been brewing within me.

My youngest daughter knows when this yearning surfaces and always asks that I at least let her shut her bedroom door while she cleans (so she doesn’t absorb my energy). I couldn’t help myself.  I had to check her progress.  I knocked to ask permission.  On her dresser top, she strategically piled a bunch of her stuff onto a tray.

I eyed a hammer and gently asked, "Aria do you need this hammer or can I take it downstairs?"

She barked back with a twinkle in her eye, "Yes I need my hammer to hit you over the head when I don't like your parenting style!" 

My desire to create a fresh start, was actually more destructive than productive. The only thing I was creating was stress in my daughter.

This is a natural time to start moving your yearnings forward with fresh hope and energy.  

My wish for you is to live out your yearnings in ways that feel empowering, purposeful, fun, and brave . . . to live out your yearnings in ways that mindfully feed life around you and nurture what you treasure most.

Blessing in 2014!

It was a rare peaceful moment.  All the day’s work was neatly stacked on my desk and in my mind.  The driving was over. Although dinner was in front of me and my daughter and a friend were madly baking in the kitchen, I found myself sitting on my bed, chatting with a friend behind a closed door.

Our conversation veered from decisions and stresses to emotions and desires. Then Jenna said, “I just want to live a life with peace for my family and for me.”  

Yes.  The sentence sunk in and settled deep.

There is so much buzz about happiness right now: choosing it, raising it, hardwiring it; but I’m voting for peace. Peace has a different quality about it.  It’s a bit more weighty.  I imagine grounding in peace, like lying on the expanse of sand at Ocean Beach.  

We continued to toss around the complexity of our lives and it became apparent to both of us that you cannot chase peace.  The very act of pushing your way towards it removes the prize.

The times when we most intensely seek peace is often when there is an underlying change that needs to happen.  The focus of my decade of corporate change management work was always to move people and organizations through a change as fast as possible with minimal disruption.

But the more I focus on personal change, I understand that sitting in the space of disruption is meaningful time spent, as unpeaceful as it feels.  

This week I spoke with author Dr. Susan Plummer about her new book Deep Change.  She outlines a fascinating seven-stage process on the journey of deep personal change. Right smack in the middle of the journey is the shift of The Stilling:

“Where we arrive at the threshold between our known selves and world and what can feel like nothingness, with no new horizon in sight, suspended between two ways of being. In this state we wait, with our imaginations stilled, open to the unknown yet unaware of what is to come in the future.”

I breathed a sigh of relief while reading these words that put shape to a nebulous unsettling space.  Peace percolates from within our place of deep knowing. You can’t race to or push through or chase after it. Connecting to your powerful inner rudder requires stillness.

And then with your compass in hand, peace can mean action: big, bold, uncomfortable, risky action . . . that embraces the change that's been brewing and brings you that freedom known as peace.

Have you ever had an intense seeking inside of you that you can’t put into words?  A restlessness that makes your mind grasp for answers? Even your body holds anticipation?  Sometimes we know exactly what we are seeking in life . . . a new this or a change in that. However,  I’m talking about a deeper query, one without a clear and focused path.  It feels like more of a wave that you just have to ride.

Last month I found myself "surfing the Mavericks".  It’s been an intense journey of seeking that came unexpectedly and was hard to navigate.  It’s over now.  I am catching my breath and seeing my ride with clarity that wasn’t there for me when just my nose was above the water.

I wonder if you might be riding the same wave.  Are you seeking answers that aren’t ready to take shape?

I asked for help to calm the swell within my mind, body and spirit, calling on my beautiful circle of wisdom.  You know the combination:  doctors, healers, coaches, friends, family, teachers, mentors.  Ultimately the greatest clarity came from the Universe delivering two blessings.

The first blessing came to me while driving to the airport.  I love the belief of animal totems. They bring us messages of what we need and help us connect with our innate beings.   I have always felt a connection to hawks and have many stories of hawks visiting me.  While I was driving, a hawk flew up out of the field carrying a large two-foot snake in its talons. I knew this was a powerful message I needed to receive but I didn’t understand its meaning until I returned from my trip.

I had received an invitation to take the last seat on a plane and fly down to San Diego to hear and meet Ekhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer.  It felt like a high end pilgrimage to hear three modern day Western disciples.  

Ekhart’s words pierced through my seeking, “The need to understand your life is a mental construct. If you are looking for enlightenment like something that will arrive, you will never receive it, because it cannot be grasped. Let go and find a sense of not knowing.  This is your awakening . . .”

I realized my deep seeking has actually been a shedding.  Instead of grasping for something in front of me  I was actually letting go of a part of myself that no longer served a purpose.   And what has emerged is still taking shape. It feels wonderful.

Shedding may feel like a combination of yearning, heaviness, agitation, overwhelm, inspiration, or confusion.  It may be an unexplained push towards change. It may have an undertow of a lack of trust or intuition.  Shedding can penetrate your thoughts, emotions, spirit and physical condition.

Shedding is the work of change. It’s hard work work but holds a different energy. It’s an energy of letting go of a part of yourself versus trying to effort through “self develop”.  If I would have recognized my seeking as shedding from the start,   it would have lightened my journey.

My daughter just came home from school this week with a gift for me she made in ceramics.  “I don’t really like it Mom but you can have it if you want it.”  How did she know?

Are you seeking clarity using your old lens?  Maybe it’s time to shed some of your beliefs or thought patterns.  Maybe it’s time to shed the need for clarity. The skin I shed may not be yours.  The next time you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, try letting it go.

I took my daughter down to City Hall on Valentine's Day for One Billion Rising.  As we rode the crowded Muni I looked at her patient innocent face.  She knew I wanted to dance with a bunch of other women I didn't even know.  She knew she had to come with me.  She knew it was about ending violence against women around the world.  

I felt such gratitude that she didn't know the extent of abuse, violence, and oppression that some girls her age experience here in our own city and throughout every country on this planet.

I danced to add my own energy to the collective movement of women rising all over the globe.  And when it was over, walking back to the Muni, holding hands, she said, "Good job, Mom."

I thanked her for the compliment, but then realized I needed to make sure she understood why it really was a good job.  How could I explain how my dancing reduced violence? 

I tried, "In life there is a lot we see that we want to change. It can feel overwhelming and futile.  But when we join together in a collective voice, we are louder, we are seen, we are heard."  She got it.

Dancing with hundreds of others made me want to take a stand more often to help shift the world.  I want my daughters to learn how to act on their desires for change too. 

On March 8 there will be one more Flash Mob in San Francisco.  If you would like to participate, I am teaching the routine next Thursday night, February 21. It's designed for everyone ~ you don't have to be a dancer.  If you just want to dance on that night, please do!  And if you have a daughter, bring her too!

Blessings,
Amy      

It happened.  My 12 year old daughter and I were standing at the bathroom mirror together getting ready for the day and I saw it for the first time.

“Eva, I think you are taller than I am!”  I knew it was coming, but it still took me by surprise.

As well did her response, “Yes Mama.  I’ve known for about a month, but didn’t want to tell you.”

A sweet moment of wrestling with growing up, shifting relationships and vantage points. The momentum of life.

I had to wonder what about me invited this milestone to be tucked away. Maybe my wet eyes every time we watch home videos or my promise to be able to always pick her up.  Surely I have many subtle actions trying to keep her little.  

Then I started thinking about my relationship with myself. I’ve done my own growing this past year and haven’t claimed it.  I’ve said yes, when I naturally would have said no.  I’ve taken some risks. I’ve asked for help.

When we follow the traditional exercise of forward goal setting, we miss an opportunity to look in the mirror and see the growth before our eyes.

I just came back from an amazing weekend with the poet David Whyte.  He so wisely shared, “Solid ground is the meeting between what you think is you and isn’t you . . . A narrow definition of self gives us a narrow place to stand.”  

How can you expand the ground of Self you stand on?  Take a look at how you’ve grown.  Give yourself more than a minute. Maybe light a candle, pull up a calendar to review the months of your journey, and honor your own momentum. What would you like to claim?  Send me an email !  I would love to stand next to you on your solid ground, gaze at your beautiful reflection and smile, “Yes, you ARE taller.”

Earlier this month I took my daughter to pick strawberries as a summer grand finale.  We walked among hundreds of rows of plants just waiting for us to rescue the ripe berries from the Pescadero sun.

Without words, we took our own path and found ourselves a shouting distance apart, “How are the berries over there?  Are there many?  How big are they? Are they sweet?”.  We continued to test different rows and sections while our fingers reddened and our buckets filled.

As we walked back to the entrance, I began to notice a pattern. It was an interesting discovery about human nature. The very first plant of every row had fully ripe bright red berries hanging in large bunches, waiting to be picked.

I, along with many others, marched right past them, on my search for the best pickings.  I didn’t see the fullness of their bounty because of my assumption:  there were more, bigger, better ahead of me, just out of focus.

It’s the same philosophy that keeps us searching for greener grass, comparing our current situation, concluding that others have it better.  And as the scarcity mindset grows, so does our search.

It can also feel as if you are standing at the edge of an acre, when you are faced with a decision, change, or a need for action.  My day in the fields was a timely lesson for me that I want to share.

Shift your lens to see the bounty you already hold.  Remember that one strawberry tastes as delicious as ten.  Then look up to see the field of possibilities as pure abundance, all delicious, and able to nurture you, no matter what you pick.

Last night I stayed up until one a.m. figuring out a problem.  At first, I forced a quick answer and moved on.  But I had been carrying a heavy uncomfortable feeling inside.  I knew I needed to go back and try again.  I needed to take the time to get it right.

When I eventually crawled into bed, feeling lighter . . . aligned, I remembered the advice from one of my most respected guides. 

It was the morning of her fifth birthday party.  The backyard was set up for a day of play and the sky was set up for a day of rain. I said to my daughter, “Oh I hope the rain comes soon so it’s nice for your party.”

Aria replied, “Mommy, don’t rush the sky! How would you feel if all the grass died, if all the leaves on the trees were crunchy, if all the flower petals fell off?"

It can be so hard to let life unfold at its natural pace.  Our current societal race invites us to push through decisions, emotions, moments of not knowing, so we don’t fall further behind. But often life’s unfolding takes sitting with it, circling back, waiting for the clouds to pass.

When we try to “Rush the Sky”, we often ~

~ miss cues
~ misinterpret barriers as something to push harder against
~ live with an incessant circle of mental analysis
~ feel off balance or ungrounded
~ use up our energy faster than we can restore it

There is a sense of stillness in a clear sky, even though we know it’s in constant motion. When life feels clear and sunny, there is greater opportunity to focus on your pace and create space for your inner compass.

When life rains upon you, it’s a bit more unnatural to slow down and be in it. The first reaction is to run for cover.  But, I invite you to try mindfully getting wet.  Know that your roots are growing stronger and that by drinking it in drop by drop, you will blossom.


My Teacher ~  A Lesson in Mindfully Getting Wet: