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Withholding Magnificence

12/14/2015

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Borghese Gallery
PictureAzzedine Alaia’s couture gown
Magnificence is a rarely used word.  Reserved for bigger than life. A display of greatness, or rather grandness, that doesn’t really fit in daily life.

Unless you travel to Rome; a city of magnificence.  I recently spent time there. The pure talent of Renaissance art and sculpture that took years, sometimes hundreds of years to complete, mixed with brilliant ancient Roman architecture that still stands, layered with modern day carefully crafted cuisine and design . . . I was in awe.  Each corner I turned had a small tucked away church that within, exploded with fine details.

I happened to grab one of the last days of an incredible exhibit of Azzedine Alaia’s couture gowns in the Borghese Gallery. My eyes didn’t know where to land between the carved talent of Bernini’s sculptures, the layers of gilded art covering every inch of the walls and ceilings, and the surprising creative design of Alaia's gowns in the foreground. One dress even incorporated the hide of an alligator. The stunning gowns acted like the coffee beans you sniff in between sips at wine tastings, when your senses become numb from too much consumption.

It’s hard to come home after a trip like this.  My house sure isn't the Sistine Chapel.  I can however gaze out of my bedroom window and see a nightly barrage of stunning sunsets that happen this time of year. Nature is a beautiful reminder that there is an innate quality to magnificence. That it may be more accessible than we think.  That it comes in all shapes and sizes.

I recently attended a conference on Well-being and Mindfulness at Work. 
Dr.Jeremy Hunter from the Peter F. Drucker Graduate School of Management spoke about the Japanese culture, having so little, that they developed highly attuned attention to detail and created beauty within their simple lives. Think about the transformation of a piece of paper into origami.

I am starting to realize that magnificence can be small.  I don’t need to reserve the word for grandeur, but planting the seeds of magnificence requires my attention and a time commitment that I’m often not willing to give. So, I withhold.  I don’t allow myself enough of a horizon for the projects, ideas, or new layers of me that hold the most creative energy.  

Magnificence is about creation.  Not the mass produced, just-in-time kind of creation of our modern society. Magnificence requires a slower pace: the pace of the artisans who said yes to hand painting detailed frescoes on ceilings. The 
Maker Movement is re-establishing slow, where tinkering has a formal role and where taking the time to Do It Yourself is valued.  

I was listening to the tail end of an NPR interview of a masterful musician (I wish I caught his name).  He was asked if he had any advice to share with aspiring musicians.  I loved his final words, “Be patient. The world is on God’s time, not yours.” 


Magnificence is waiting in the wings. It is waiting for you to attune your focus . . . to rework, to relayer, to come back to the drawing board time and time again. And to know that you are not behind.  You are magnificence in the making.

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If I Let My Life Happen

10/4/2015

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We gave my nephew a butterfly kit for his fifth birthday.  It’s a bittersweet present.  You watch your tiny larvae hatch, grow into caterpillars, go through a miraculous transformation, take their first flight, and then you have a choice.  Do you let them fly and be free, or do you keep them in their cage, have them longer and ultimately watch them die?

When they were young, my daughters decided to keep their butterflies, and feel the heartache of each life ending. My nephew let all but one be free.  And then deeply experienced the pain from his decision.

These little creatures have very little time on this earth: some species live a week or two; some a year if they are lucky to survive the increasingly difficult migration. It’s a poignant decision for a child to make, knowing that free butterflies live longer than captured ones.  

Don’t we all?  Yes, we should live as freely as we can.  We need to feel the fleeting nature of our own lives; not to despair, but to generate the courage to leave our cage and fly.

I recently attended a writer’s workshop, and was given the prompt:  If I let my life happen . . .

I couldn’t help but think of butterflies.

 
If I Let My Life Happen . . .
There is a butterfly on my shoulder.  Its wings open and close in my ear.  I don’t dare move. Yet, it’s not taking flight. It stays with me up and down the stairs. Not feeling captured or busy but entertained by my running.

Sunshine is a window away.  It knows its direction but won’t go without me. So he is patient.  And I hurriedly finish my work, shortening my list of to do’s enough to fly along.

We touch each piece of God’s beauty that offers nectar.  Feeling into the currents of warm air that take me higher.  No guide needed. Density below, warmth on my wings, and gratitude in my heart.  I take flight before life is over.  It’s fleeting but not too short. No sorrows. No words. No song. No need to despair.

The dust of color from my wings has worn off from full-contact living.  My antennas are slowly losing sensation.  My mouth is dry but smiling.  My flight is sporadic.  I fall away.  

I fall.  

I fly.  
Is there a difference?
Direction is subjective.
I have spread my wings.
My life is whole. 

​
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Showing Up

9/15/2015

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Darkness had settled in for the night and the desert temperature was falling.  It was my first time at Burning Man, a festival devoted to acts of gift giving, self expression and community that is “too hard to describe”. After repeatedly hearing, ”You just have to experience it”, I decided it was time.

One night my husband and I found ourselves overwhelmed by the sensory explosion. There were no longer any visible paths to the mile-wide center, known as the Playa.  We had to lift our bicycles over our heads and step through the sea of bikes that appeared, chasing the big name DJ line up.  We heard there was a Tiki Bar at the fence, the outermost barrier of Burning Man's temporary city. So we put on our goggles and started to peddle into the darkness, away from the carnival of lights and sounds.  

There are no markings in the desert at night. It’s an incredibly freeing experience to bike as fast and as far as you want, knowing the small fence will protect you from the desire to peddle forever. My hands started to chill against the handle bars; still no sign of our destination.

Then a small glowing light came into view.  After another ten minutes we found ourselves standing at a booth just large enough for the bartender to sit on a cooler. 

“Welcome to the Dusty Pineapple. We like to say the drinks are average but the music’s great; however, I’m having some trouble with the music,” the bartender explained as he wiggled the wires producing sporadic sound.

We were welcomed with a hug and handed a half-filled cup of rum and warm coke. We were delighted! His welcome was elixir enough. The bartender, affectionately named Dad, was the leader of a small camp of people who come in from all over the country to man the Tiki Bar. This year he didn’t think he could make it, but decided he had to show up, so he boarded a plane from South America.

Dad settled back onto his perch, “I’m so humbled that you came out here. Usually if eight people come it’s a good night!”

And there he sat . . .  in the vast darkness . . . waiting with a gift . . . for those who show up.

A huge wave of gratitude came over me. Biking the miles home, tears chilled my cheeks as I thought about the lesson I had received.

We wake up every morning and go to bed each night.  In between there is a vast space of hours that is ours whether we show up or not.  Showing up isn’t easy. It takes energy and commitment.  It means not shrinking when we bump up against discomfort; connecting again and again with our inherent value so that we share the best part of ourselves with others; and it means trusting enough to loosen our grip so that the gravity of life’s flow can pull us in the direction we are meant to follow.

There are a lot of ways to experience Burning Man.  For me, it was the surprising, magical way people showed up for each other in this self proclaimed “do-ocracy” that makes this grand heart-centered experiment worth the drive, the dust, the noise and the heat. I want to continue to explore open hearted living. Want to join me?

Leave your emotional armor at the gate.

Replace judgement with hugs.

Trust that others have your back.

Tune into the single experience we all share on this earth.

And then show up for others in the most generous, tender, wondrous way you can.

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Finding Harmony

1/17/2015

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We were about to head home.  It had been a sweet excursion for my sister and me: a day of adventure and play at a full day yoga festival.  It was one of those backdrops that made you feel free, happy, a bit younger, definitely more alive.  After hours of yoga, good food, top-notch people watching and plenty of giggles we headed toward the exit signs but were pulled to a doorway releasing lovely music into the night air.

Inside we found an intimate setting of just a few folks sprawled out on a hodge podge of oriental rugs, sinking into the delicate guitar notes of a promising performance.  Both musicians seemed to have that unspoken language that many siblings hold, that gave them a natural ebb and flow.

Right as we settled in they stopped abruptly, asked for an adjustment to one of the amplifiers, tried it out and started the song over.

Happy to hear it again, we listened with new familiarity, as the two women started to add lyrics.  But again, it only took a few moments before the artists slowed to a stop and asked for more vocals and less on the guitars.

Jill and I decided, since the audience was small, that we should encourage them with our big smiles and head nods, to continue with the show.  They sounded perfect to us.

But our laymen ears and enthusiastic swaying wasn’t enough.  Again, they couldn’t get through the song.  Both frustration and sympathy bubbled within me.  Their lovely voices teased us. Even during their fine tuning, their harmony lifted the spirits in the room.

It started to feel like a late night skit.  As we stood up to leave one of the artists spoke into the mic, “We are Ma Muse.  Please come back at 9 for our concert!”

Unknowingly, we had showed up for their soundcheck session! 

With a newly purchased CD and fresh laughter we listened to their beautiful harmony the whole way home.

Now there are two possible morals to this story.  I will let you decide which one is for you.

For those feeling discord in life, harmony is an exercise of paying careful attention to both the highs and lows, the light and the dark.  You cannot race to harmony. It is worth your time and scrutiny to find that sweet balance of notes that will bring you fulfillment and peace in life.

For the perfectionists, the world may be on the edge of its seat, waiting for you to stop your soundcheck and to share your voice, your talents, your contribution. 

I'd love to know which ending you are drawn to.  
Enjoy sinking deep into harmony with Ma Muse. 
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Do You Own Your Inspiration?

10/31/2014

1 Comment

 
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Hawk Hill, San Francisco

I am in the inspiration business.  It is hard to say out loud; especially at cocktail parties.  It can feel insignificant when facing the question, “What do you do?”

Today I’m deciding to own it because this is what I know:

Our world needs inspiration right now. 

Very few of us have inspiration practices, 

Yet inspiration is powerful energy.

It puts you in a place of possibility. 

Inspiration triggers your synapses and sharpens your focus.

It makes you want to step into action,

With new strength and sureness.

Inspiration also softens you.  

It’s hard to feel inspired and critical of yourself at the same time.  

Inspiration connects you with that higher vibration of knowing that there is a heart pulsing that is bigger than any of us,

That beauty and good unfolds, no matter how heavy our feet feel on the ground.

I invite you to practice finding and feeling inspired.  Lifting your own spirit is not a fluff assignment.  It is significant because when you are inspired you have more to offer the world.



 What are your inspiration practices? I'd love to know. 
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The Weight We Carry

9/20/2014

2 Comments

 
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We only had fifteen minutes.  “I think we can do this,” I said as we parked our car in the bus station parking lot.  My husband and I hopped out and headed for a lone boulder in the overgrown grass, with comb and scissors in hand.  Alex needed a haircut before returning to San Francisco from Tahoe.  I’ve been cutting his hair for years.

As I worked diligently to finish before the bus arrived a woman approached us, “I don’t know who you are, where you are from, or what you are doing, but would you please give me a haircut?” 

She went on to explain in a shaky voice that she had lost her house and her husband to cancer ten months ago.  Carmelle was living in her van and was about to collect survivor benefits the next day. 

“I just want bangs like I used to have and this weight off of my shoulders.”

How could I say no? 
 
So she took her place on the rock.  I warned her, “You know I’m not formally trained and the wind is blowing pretty hard.”

“Just do it. Please.  I trust you.”  

Each time I asked her for guidance she replied, “I trust you. Do what you think is right.”

In between the silence and her sharing her story of their loving marriage and her hard knocks, she would break into tears, “I can’t believe you are doing this for me.”

I took a big gulp as I cut four inches away from her eyes. 

“You know I used to have dishwater blond hair.  Can you see my roots?”  

I could see her roots, the hardship of the years in her lined face, and the weight she was carrying being lifted with each inch I took off. 

I gave her a final hug and a wish for a lighter new chapter that matched her hair.  She crossed the parking lot, hopped back into her van, and took a peek into her rear view mirror.  I held my breath.  

Carmelle's wide smile and a big thumbs up are still clear in my mind. 

So is the weight of her desperate request. 

We all carry weight. Most of it is hidden from others; we feel it’s ours alone to bear. That impromptu haircut on the boulder showed me that we all can lift the weight of another. We both needed courage: she needed to step out of the van and ask; I needed to say yes and try.

Then came ease . . . connection . . . support . . . relief and an opening to new possibilities.  How can you lift the weight of another?  How can others support you?

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Keeping Your Distance

7/18/2014

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There’s a big difference between looking through the glass at life and being ankle deep in it.

I just came back from one of those big trips you take when you want to feel alive again. You go not just to get a break from your own knee-deep responsibilities. You hope that by stepping away from your life, you will gain clarity . . . new energy . . . new perspective.

I knew it was time for this trip to Vietnam and Cambodia with my husband. I was starting to feel a comfortable distance from life. Running on autopilot; resting in the ease of routine and habitual choices; feeling victim to the pace of my days; procrastinating; observing my life rather than being fully in it. I even felt distant from my own heart.

So off to a far away land. Immediately the heat, smells, sites and flavors woke up my senses. And then my heart broke open . . . seeing the pain of poverty mile after mile . . . yet feeling the peace behind the eyes and the smiles of everyone in my path.  

Each day I had greater desire to get closer to the people, to be deeper in their worlds.  I would look out of the car window at the rice paddies as we sped along, watching the back breaking work of the straw hatted workers, curious about how rice is grown and harvested.  My desire for a perfect photo for my walls shifted to wanting to experience the feeling of being in the rice paddies myself.  I became obsessed with the idea.  But what was I going to do?  Tell our driver to stop the car and march out through the wet fields and saddle up next to a farmer?

Yes. That was what I was going to do.  We were on a small dirt road in the scorching heat of the afternoon.  I found the courage to verbalize my request, “Would it be possible for me to plant some rice?”  Our guide turned his head with a wide grin.  A minute later my shoes were off, and three dark faces with bright bright eyes were welcoming me to join them.  I slowly stepped into the slippery mud and sank to my ankles. A child like energy burst within me as I felt the mud between my toes. I was handed my own bunch of young rice sproutings that had been pulled by hand just to replant them again evenly in order to maximize the harvest. One by one I pushed the small stem deep into the clay like earth, being coached on the right distance between plantings.  The fully clothed ladies cackled under their hats. It was a joyful moment for all of us.  I could have stayed there all afternoon, ankle deep in life.

I’m back now.  Determined to feel the deep texture of my life and the hearts and desires of those in my daily path.  I’m done with the distance that makes us numb to others and keeps life safe and easy.


What distance are you keeping? Why? What might you gain by rolling down the window, getting a little muddy, allowing a new closeness in your life?




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Stepping Away

4/14/2014

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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.
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Peace Chasers

11/19/2013

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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.

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Ease Versus Wonder

9/22/2013

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I’ve been slipping in the Wonder department lately . . . all in the name of Ease.  Do you know what I mean? Let me put it this way.

Would you like your life to be easier?

What if I gave you the choice:  Would you rather your life be easier or more wondrous?

What does more wondrous mean to you? I'd love to know.

I have a hunch that the idea of adding wonder to your world upped the ante.  After all, “What’s so great about Easy?”, my favorite yoga teacher Charu often asks.  Yet often we wait for life to ease up before allowing ourselves to think bigger about a more deliciously fulfilling way of living.

When we are faced with ease versus wonder, ease often wins.  A simple example in my own life triggered this topic for me. I faced a ten hour road trip on Labor Day weekend that should have been five.  It almost didn’t happen.  My reward was a midnight shooting star extravaganza while soaking in a natural hot spring pool. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, yet I almost did.  The battle against traffic almost sent me in a U-turn back to life as usual.

And then there are the more meaty parts of life that you may face.  Do you make the investment to get a degree or certification in order to grow in a discipline you love?  Do you quit a job to seek a more fulfilling way to earn and contribute?  Do you move to a different city towards a dream?

I heard an interesting lecture by psychologist Kelly McGonigal, How to Make Stress Your Friend.  She ends by saying, “Chasing meaning is better for your life than avoiding discomfort.”

Somewhere in between weekend plans and life plans there is a space that calls us to move forward.  And when we feel we are moving on autopilot, I believe we have an opportunity to grab the steering wheel towards a more meaningful path.  

So, let’s go back to the questions of ease and wonder.  Let me rephrase them:

What does ease feel like to you?  

Could it be sureness, fulfillment, commitment, energy?

What does wonder feel like to you?

Could it be a sense of promise, mystery, stretching, delight, possibility?

Can you invite in more wonder AND ease, at the same time, just by increasing your ability to connect with these feelings? Can you find the calm and sureness within you to handle life’s grind?  It will give you more capacity for wonder:  to take in the uniqueness of each day; to go after what quietly delights you; to take action in the direction of unknown possibility and reward; to seek your shooting star and feel the awe that awaits you.
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    Amy Tirion
    About Me
    Advocate for Stillness, Seeker of Inspiration, Playful Mom, Lover of Creativity, Still Learning, Believer in Women,  Founder of Delight for the Soul

    Check Out My New Book Knowing Beautiful:
    A New Bedtime Story for Women

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    Becoming
    This blog is an invitation to stop.  Breathe.  And tap into the part of you that craves more space, inspiration, and nurturing.  It captures the writings from my Delight for the Soul Newsletter.  They are personal moments of reflection, inspiration, and questioning that focus on Being rather than Doing.  It's a direction we are all invited to go in, as we live deeply and do less.  The more we focus on being, the more delighted we become . . . and the more becoming we are.


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