Name a person that would make you sweat if they showed up at your door?

Creative instigator extraordinaire Dyana Valentine asked me this question when we began working together.  In a nanosecond my heart yelled, Danielle LaPorte, but I hesitated to say it out loud. They know each other well and it felt scary vulnerable to admit.  Sidestepping a little, I came up with a few others – Wayne Dyer and Oprah and Lyle Lovett – but I wouldn’t really freak out if they showed up.

Okay maybe for Lyle.

I kinda feel like the other two would sit with me, we’d have a fascinating conversation and I’d end up feeling really good about myself, no matter what. Don’t get me wrong, it would rock my world to hang with them, but there’s something about Danielle that makes me think, Holy-Mary-Mother-of-God I’d have to show up. All of me. 100%. I would have to bring it to the table or she’d turn and walk away because she’s too busy rockin’ her own world – and ours – to waste time on someone who lets fear get in the way.  And I am drawn to that like a moth to a flame because I want to show up. I want to bring all of me to the table and put it out for people to fill up on and I want the energy exchange that goes along with that. The energy exchange that brings both soul satisfaction and a steady flow of cash. That cash part that has been missing from my life since I became a mama.

There is something about the way Danielle thinks and writes about the world, about life and work and love, that makes me sit up and take notice. I’ve even thought,  I want to be her when I grow up, (though we’re close to the same age). But I don’t. I want to be me. It took the death of my son and whole lot of work, but I finally feel like me. The me who shows up, inspires others, creates meaningful interactions, writes and speaks my truth and makes a great living doing it.  The me who walks into a room of world changers and knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I fit in. Inspired by Danielle, and Dyana, and so many others, I am showing up. In the biggest way I know how. 100%. All of me.

Available for download mid-July, Picking up the Pieces: thoughts on grief and growth.

…with more to come…

Today’s post was inspired by the lovely Kristin Noelle over at Trust Tending. Please treat yourself to some time there. Her sketches, meditations, rituals and interviews are food for the soul. Go here to read other letters. Write your own. Listen to your body. I can guarantee she’s speaking to you.

Dear body,

You are a miracle.

I have spent my life alternately connecting with you deeply and ignoring you completely. Sometimes I’ve done both at the same time, in different ways. We learned to work together early on – me telling you to stretch and bend, plie and pirouette, leap and glide and you listening, learning, growing stronger and more expressive by the day. You were beautiful and I had no idea. I found you imperfect – too tall, too muscular, too earth-bound. We grew into each other, discovering our likes and dislikes. I pushed you to limits and paid the price. I let you off the hook. We danced together, feeling heart and spirit soar.

You knew touch too early – the touch that should be reserved for consenting adults. You did not consent. You absorbed guilt, shame, and pain. You sensed sadness and took that on too, holding it so far inside that even when I looked, I could not find it. You discovered a loving, gentle touch but the shame was such a part of you that unfettered joy was a distant dream.

You were admired, adored, worshipped, lusted after, held, hurt. You began to speak to me – in dreams and in waking. Sometimes I listened. Often I did not. We followed one path, then left it to pursue another. We got closer. I discovered that you held memories, voices, feelings, and thoughts. You had your own clear, powerful voice, different from the one I used to speak out loud. I sought to access your knowledge, mining it as diamonds and gold. We practiced our craft – you and voice becoming the expression of heart and mind. And still I found you lacking. I opened you up in one area only to shut the door in another. I allowed you to be over-full, to be hurt, to be overworked and under-loved.

We earned money together you and I. We danced and sang, posed for pictures that would fill photo albums all over the world. I numbed your ache with alcohol and drama, even while demanding you perform at your highest level. We spent a decade in and out of sadness and self-loathing, weight loss and gain, new experiences and old pains. We went to therapy, you and I. You sat cross-legged as I told my story and tried to understand.

Another decade is almost done and here we are. Still together. Still exploring. You’ve known heartbreak that made you feel as though you would shatter but you didn’t. You ached from the trauma and still, you carried me through. You came to a point where you could have given up, could have surrendered to the tug back home but you didn’t. You began to heal. In your desire to stay alive and mine to find joy, we have grown closer than ever. I’ve learned how many secrets you’ve kept hidden away, how many hooks were buried deep. The scars are more elastic than the skin that they replaced, and I can look at them with love for the first time. I have watched you change so many times and I am finally beginning to see you with the eyes of acceptance. The space between your cells is vibrating at higher rates and life is changing at an astounding speed. I feed you differently – both with food and activity. We are relearning pleasure, relearning joy. You are shedding the weight you no longer need to hide behind. I am imperfect – still finding ways to make you wait, still learning what you need to thrive. But you, dear sweet body, you are perfect. Holding my hands over my heart I bow to you with tears in my eyes. Thank you for carrying me so well, for so long. I’m sorry. I love you. Let’s dance.

I pay little attention to the news. It’s not that I want to put my head in the sand and ignore world events. There are a couple of daily emails or weekly news magazines that I’ll scan so I’ve got an idea of what’s happening. But I’ve come to believe that our obsession with 24-hour media is another way of keeping the masses in line. Or rather, of keeping us terrified, powerless, angry and at each other’s throats, pointing our fingers and yelling, It’s all your fault, so we don’t have to take responsibility for our lives.

I notice in my own body the immediate effects of sensationalized reporting, scare tactics and hateful rhetoric. I feel my heart close, my fear rise, my shoulders hunch as if to protect myself from the latest terror. Earthquake, tsunami, uranium mining, wolf killings, policy changes, short-sighted politics – the bad news takes a toll on our psyches. I educate myself on topics that matter to me. I sign petitions and get involved because I think it is not only a right, but a duty to shape the world our children and grandchildren will inherit.

At the same time, I limit my exposure because it makes me feel better. Because when I surround myself with beauty – my family, nature, inspirational music, books, and friends – I am better able to hold my vision of the world and to contribute to that. When I allow my heart to be touched by all that is good in the world, I am more willing to be a force for good myself. By being kind, compassionate, hopeful, a loving parent, partner and friend, I am helping to shape that world of the future. I believe there is great power in that.

What are you choosing to be a part of your experience that you no longer want? What’s one tiny step you can take to change that? Please share here in the comments, email me, or simply write it down on a sticky note. Then take a big, deep, compassionate breath and do it.

Feel your feelings fully. Laugh uproariously. Cry until the last tear has been shed and turns into a smile, even if that means two minutes of whimpering and fake crying to get through to the next wave, or to make yourself laugh. There is so little permission in our society for the difficult feelings – the ones that no one enjoys but are the flip side of the happy coin. I watch people turn themselves inside out to get babies and children to stop crying, or yell at them to shut up, stop being a baby, you’re embarrassing me. Instead of holding space for those feelings, we teach our children that those aspects of self are unacceptable, unloveable and we reinforce that in our own minds and hearts. Why can’t you cry? Why can’t you get angry? Why can’t you be silly and laugh so hard your cheeks hurt? Who told you that? They lied.

Time is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter if it’s 11am, 5pm or bedtime. Sleep when you’re tired, eat when you’re hungry, play as long and as hard as you can because all we have is now. This is difficult for those of us who are used to living life by the clock. And while many of us thrive on regularity, or a schedule, I believe loosening our grip on time is vital to our well-being. Try it one day a week – take off your watch, put down your devices, ignore the clock, and see what happens. Let your heart be your guide.

Be curious. Ask lots of questions. Look for answers. Explore the world. It doesn’t matter how long it takes – enjoy the process. Follow the tangents. Forget about “should” and “have to” and “can’t”. Ask for help when you need it and let people know when you want to do something on your own. Sing, dance, jump, run, draw, spin in circles because it feels good to move your body and create. It doesn’t matter how well you do it, what matters is that you feel joy in your whole being and pride in what it can do.  Because you – with all your adult hopes and dreams, frustrations and failures, quirks and faults – you are amazing. And when you were little, even if it was only for a short while, you knew it. Let me remind you now.

You were born a bright light in the world. It’s your responsibility to let it shine.