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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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When Gift Lists Make You Cranky

12/21/2014

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“I don’t really need anything . . .  and I  really don’t feel like coming up with a list.”  This was my answer to my mother’s sweet inquiry into my Christmas wishes. I hung up and felt a bit cranky and lame.  On the one hand you could call me content.  But I had a hankering to dig a little deeper, especially given the two page Christmas list I received from my four year old nephew.  Some of my favorites were: spiderweb making machine to save people; food tray for bathtub in case I get hungry; rubber bands that can go round you and are white so you look like an egg; and a rocket that can launch to heaven. 

During adulthood I seem to have narrowed this exercise to items that can be purchased, and preferably online with no shipping charges.  No wonder the exercise is no fun!  So I found a moment of quiet, took a deep breath, and asked the question slowly and seriously, “What do I really want this year?”  

My answers felt great to write down.  Try it!

To crawl in bed with a smile and peace.
To really know what my daughters are thinking and feeling.
To commit to a really big trip so I can relax and know I’m going to explore the world in due time.
To release old clothes that don’t make me feel fabulous.
To shower every morning with a day’s destination that brings me energy.
To meditate before making dinner so that I start the evening grounded and more energized.
To connect with new friends in a deeper way.
To do more playful things in San Francisco.
To paint with others that can teach and inspire me.
To make time to read.
To connect with my husband in ways that are meaningful to him.
To finish a project.
To mix it up.
To feel strong in my body.
To join a circle.
To laugh. A lot.

What I love most about this list is that I can actually it give it to others and with a little thought, they can give me gifts to make it come true!   Now I’m excited for Christmas.

I hope you find a list that deeply excites you too!  And that when you share it with others, the magic of giving and receiving this season unfolds in a brand new way.

Merry Christmas!
Amy

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The Weight We Carry

9/20/2014

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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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Too Busy to Know

5/12/2014

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My initial reaction was, “I’m too busy to know.”  I didn’t say this out loud.  It felt like an answer that should easily flow.  And the too busy part . . . well, I didn’t want to whine. 

The question was, “What do you want to do on Mother’s Day?”  I have other questions also lined up waiting for an answer. 

What questions are you carrying because you are too busy to drop into that deep place of knowing?

In life there is always something making us busy.  For me the end of school year crazies are putting me in a spin.  But I don’t want to be too busy to know what I want in life.  I don’t want to be too busy to feel the sun, especially on days like today, when it’s begging me to notice it. 

I don’t want to be too busy to...
  Work on big ideas
Celebrate others
  Read
Start important conversations . . . and complete them
  Make love
Hear my child
  Care for my body
Stoke my passions
  Nurture meaningful friendships
Be playful
  Connect with the hearts of others along my daily path

Yep, that’s it.  That’s the answer.  I know what I want to do on Mother’s Day.  How about you?

Blessings,
Amy
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Ice Cream Angel

3/1/2013

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It was my job.  I would drop off our car at the mechanic’s mechanic.  An unspoken place south of the city where mechanics send the cars they can’t fix.  They pay in cash . . . have to speak Spanish . . . and know the job will get done.  

However beforehand, I am embarking on a weekend Enneagram retreat with my sister to gain insights into myself, expand my sense of possibility and grapple with the meaning of existence on this earth.

It really did deliver.  As much as one can shed new light on oneself in two days, I felt enlightened.

An aside, I love these two definitions offered for enlightened, adj.,: 1) Having or showing a rational, modern, and well-informed outlook. 2) Spiritually aware.

My sister, Jill, and I left the retreat feeling rational, modern, well-informed, and spiritually aware. We were now clear that life was full of abundance ready to show us the way if we were open and insightful enough to receive.

But first we had to cross the highway and then the tracks into what felt like a desolate Mexican town.  It was a sketchy alley.  An empty almost haunted dump yard, with music playing from an unknown source.  Mangled, amped-up, neglected cars packed a concrete back lot.  I was supposed to leave my keys.

I left Jill to fend off the heat and the ghosts of drag racing past and began my cautious search. Eventually I uncovered a back office and called out until an old man surfaced.  With my husband on the phone as a translator we started spelling out the arrangement when I heard in the air . . . bells.  They reminded me of the ice cream man you heard growing up or on the beach, except they were coming from, yes, wait, . . . an ice cream man.

Out of nowhere, a leathered, round face appeared, wearing a hat that wasn’t doing its job; pushing a cart and fast approaching me.  I waved him off in disbelief, guarded and anxious to leave.

When I turned around I saw my sister waving frantically.  I watched her dive head first into the ice cream cart.  I couldn’t believe it.  She was actually buying a popsicle!

I slowly came to her side, studying his pocked face in detail behind the mirrored shades. “Do you have coconut?” I asked.

He pulled out strawberry, lime and chocolate.

“Do you have coconut? I repeated.

He pulled out rice pudding, watermelon, and cherry.

“But what about coconut?” I rephrased.

He pulled out cinnamon, pineapple, and mixed berry.

I settled for pineapple.  Jill paid.  We said thank you.  He grinned and started to push his cart along the concrete quiet into the alley.

Jill quickly backed out of our narrow spot as I held the dollar in change.  We knew we wanted him to have it, so we peered down both directions of the back street, but it was empty.

He had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Licking our melting wake up calls on a stick we laughed and got chills.  What part of our weekend learnings needed to be driven home?  The learned quick “no thank you” response when life tries to give us unexpected treats?  The frantic waving for life to see us so we can partake in dessert?  The abundant flavors of life that can be passed up in search of the single answer?  

Stay open.  Receive.  Know you are supported.  Try a taste, even when it's not what you ordered. And be generous with your blessings.
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Being There

7/20/2012

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I was making lunch when Eva walked into the kitchen and said, "Daddy, would you braid my hair?"  

Alex's reply surprised me, "Of course," as he assumed a seated position.  I knew he didn't know how to braid.

Resisting every urge to insert myself into this sweet father-daughter moment, I peered out of the corner of my eye to watch my dearest husband getting a good grip on the already-parted three sections of wet hair.

There was quiet, as my husband took a calm assessment of the situation.  And then I received a gentle request to assist.  As I gave him the most minimal guidance possible, the braiding began and ended with the rubber band.

"Let me know what my grade is Eva," he yelled as Miss Style marched into the bathroom.  I held my breath to hear, "I'd give it a B minus Dad. It sticks out at the bottom but is very centered."

Extremely pleased, Alex announced that "Big Al's Braid Shop" was now open for business.

Are you there for others? “Being There” sometimes requires saying yes, even when we aren’t sure we can do it or want to do it.  

Who is there for you?  Are you asking for what you need?  Sometimes others need to know how to Be There for us. Is it time, support, a listening ear, help, space, permission to dream big, patience . . .

Invite others to Be There for you and see what shops open for business. You may be surprised.

Let me know!
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What is Your Wish List

12/23/2011

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_Did you make one? I didn’t make a wish list for myself this year.  I didn’t think I needed or wanted anything.

Instead I’ve been focusing on chipping away at my loved ones’ wish lists.  Some are easier to fill than others. My husband sent me an Amazon link.  How efficient of him!  When my daughter was 6, her number one wish was a magic goat head that spit out money when you fed it a carrot.  

Whether or not people’s wishes are easy or hard to fulfill, it’s a gift to have a list to work from because it helps you make them happy.

Last night I decided to make my Wish List.  When my husband found it on the bathroom mirror this morning he said, “Isn’t this a little late?!”  

No, it’s not too late. Because it really wasn’t about getting anything on my list.  I wrote my list because~

~  It’s important to practice knowing what we desire.

~  It’s important to practice putting our desires into words.  

~  It’s important to ask for what we need.

~  It’s important to let people support us in life.

~  It’s important to receive.

Blessings this Holiday Season,
Amy
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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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