In the seven or so years we’ve lived across the street from Albert and Laurie, we’ve chatted a dozen or so times – usually about the weather, or the cherry blossoms. We wave and we smile with sincere cheer. When my son was born, Laurie brought over apple cobbler. And that’s about the extent of our relationship. I can’t even recall their last name, but I remember what their kid was for Halloween, and I know that Albert sails.

And now I know that Laurie is having a hard time breathing.

Jump cut to Albert in front of my house, leaning against his garden rake. My eyes filled with quiet tears. “Albert,” I warned. “I’m going to hug you.” We hugged and talked briefly about treatment possibilities. And I offered to water their plants or bring over dinner. And that was that.

I did the math: when I’m Laurie’s age, about fifty, my son will be a teenager like hers is now. And I thought about how inconceivably ripped off I’d feel to be called out of this life in my mere fifties. I wondered if Laurie is regretting anything. I wondered if she’s happy with how she’s lived her life – if she’s felt…free.

And I noticed that I was asking those same questions of myself, actually. And just when I was about to go back on existential autopilot with, “people get sick, people die, that’s life,” I decided to allow myself to be affected. I decided that not only is life short, but MY life is short. And that being the case, I need to fill my cup with a little more delight and inspiration.

So this week, I’m taking my kid out of daycare early and we’re going to the art gallery. I’m going to burn some CDs for friends, just because, and I’m going to actually CALL some friends. (Radical…picking up the phone instead of pressing “send”). I’m going to give myself the space to think about truth and pop culture. I’m going to meander and weave and warble out some thoughts that have been sitting on the branches of my mind for awhile.

This means that I’m going to take a week off from blogging. My palms are kind of sweaty. It’s almost blasphemous for a serious blogger to not have daily content. Will my traffic slip? Will they still love me? Oi. And what timing! I’m featured in the May issue of Better Homes & Gardens (albeit in my last business incarnation), and I’m booking up my LA and Portland Fire Starter gigs. I should be diligently at the helm. Should be….should be….

My life is short, no matter how long it ends up being. It is bigger than web stats, my heart is larger than “should.” Inspiration lives beyond expectation. I’m going to inhale it more deeply, while I can.

This is one of my favourite New Age doozers. Puhleez. Like, getting hosed because you didn’t get it in writing wasn’t a major drag. And spilling your friend’s secret to the wrong person burnt that bridge to a crisp. Or not saying “yes!” to the one that got away – well, THAT sucked. There are such things as mistakes. Major screw-ups and human stupidity happen to the best of us. The rest of us are in denial.

And yes, yes, mistakes are positively divine, each one moves us forward – even the ones that flip your world upside down. I’ve never made a mistake that I didn’t learn to love. But before we spiritualize and varnish the error of our ways, it’s incredibly useful to put our faux pas under the microscope. It’s liberating. It’s grown up. It’s dignified. And best of all, once you see your mistakes for what they are – you are more certain to good and truly move on!

Give it a go: Admit to your mistakes. Just admit it. No one else is listening. Make a pathetic, grizzly list of all the “sooo should not have’s” in your life. Don’t resist it. Clean house! (I’ll go first: should not have done a 50/50 deal with X, should not have shared the news that G’s wife was having an affair with his…sister, should not have struck a “creative control” deal with last publisher, should not have gotten B’s name tattooed on my ass.)

I wager that rather than feeling grossed out, you might get kind of giddy – eventually. You could feel the rush of knowing better, the delight of being the wiser for your wear. A subtle sense of compassion may start wafting into your being. Okay, maybe you still feel like a total dork. But find solace in your maturity. Because it takes courage to look your life squarely in the eye and admit your humanity. Humility clears the path to higher knowing…or a good laugh.

So I raised my eyebrows and held up a red leather vest. “Yeah…not very Jackie.” She admitted. “So what’s going through your mind when you’re shopping?” I asked. “Really put yourself in the scene. You’re standing at the clothing rack and the day-glo leopard print says exactly what to you?” Her eyes widened, “It says to me: ‘Your mother would hate this. Buy it!’” she blurted out.

Et voila! Mystery solved.

As it turned out, when she was growing up her mother dictated what was proper and not-so proper to wear. And even though she was now a grown up in her own big house with her own big job, her fashion decisions were based on little unconscious ways to rebel against her conservative mommy.

THE POWER OF PREFERENCES
Our preferences define us, yet we rarely think twice about why we’re actually attracted to something. “I like it, I want it, I need it, I gotta have it.” But, why?

Our personal fashion choices are often the most unexamined parts of our lives.

So tell me…
Why do you buy what you buy? Do a mental scan of your wardrobe. Think of the your most recent purchases, or your most-worn pieces, or the regrettables collecting dust in your closet. What motivated those choices? Were you feeling….elation? Rebellion? The deep craving to belong? The drive to appear powerful? Sentimental for the past? Sweet, sensual inklings? At one with the style gods?

Who do you take shopping with you? Not literally, but, psychically. Do you have your own what-not-to-wear committee on your shoulder? Are your inner style advisers jeering at you or cheering you on?

Do your clothes feel like friends or foe? Do you have to psyche yourself up to get into that navy suit that sucks the innovative thinking right out of you? Or do you look at that linen tunic and think, “Ahh, old friend, we work so well together?”

Every choice is an expression of what we believe. On a daily basis, we make material and aesthetic choices that tell our story. Bold. Understated. Glam. Earthy. We are constantly showing the world who we are – or who we think we are. And the world responds accordingly.

When you know the motivation behind your choices, you can make choices that support authentic self – decisions that free you, rather than restrict you. When it comes to genuine style, one size does not fit all.

For fear of not being accepted, we tailor our personality, mince our words, and carve our opinions to fit in. It takes courage to be real – and it takes stamina because if you want the best out of life, it will demand the best of you time and time again.

When you choose to be real, there will likely be tough choices and 11th hour changes. There will be misunderstandings, uncomfortable silences, and sometimes, there will be isolation.

When do you feel like giving up? What discourages you, or tempts you to doubt that sweetness is on the way? Now, write down three remedies for discouragement….lunch with your best friend; a visit to church; dusting off your diplomas, re-reading a love letter, swimming twenty laps; warm soup eaten in silence.

My three most regularly practiced remedies for discouragement:

1. Call Candis. She will say something so country-wise and lovely that I’ll either laugh or cry, and either is great.
2. Rose hip clay face masks, preferably Eminence. Sometimes exfoliating your face also takes the slough off your spirit.
3. Review my body of work (go back to grade school stories if I have to) and remember that I have an agent who’s waiting for me to deliver.
4. Bonus remedy: I read some Abraham Hicks. It’s the ultimate woo woo that is usually bang on my cosmic sensibilities. The basic message: you are exactly where you are supposed to be and all is well. Have fun.

Now practice just one of your remedies this week to keep your stamina strong. A little preventive soul love is mighty strong.

Role models are useful. They are lighthouses when dream-chasing gets cloudy, they are proof of stamina and magic. But emulation is tricky terrain. I have a friend, an aspiring novelist and brilliant writer in her own right, who said to me once that she wanted to be the “Canadian Anne Lamott,” I said, “Why don’t you just be the global You?”

We must have the daring to be nothing but ourselves if we are to know what true power is.

Comparison is crazy-making. It stamps on potential and truth and all the good things you might already have going for you if you weren’t so busy shadow-boxing with the people whom you think have it better. Would you compare a snowflake to a snowflake to decide which was more beautiful and unique? No two snowflakes are the same.

Comparison is a slippery slop to envy and for the most part, envy wastes energy that could be put towards getting what you want or optimizing what you have. It’s a trap. I used to envy trust-fund babies and my friends with rich parents. “Poor me…no leg-up, born into an average family, gotta be self-made…” Yack. Whatta waste of mind space – space that could be filled with creativity and ingenuity.

So here’s the freedom-generating habit to stop comparing and to melt envy:
1. When you’re tempted to compare yourself to others, stave off the comparing by feeling your way into your dream. Rather than comparing, imagine. Imagine yourself feeling the way you want to feel – successful, brilliant, artistically free, earthy, healthy, connected. That’s it. You’re not making yourself less than or more than anyone else – you’re simply giving yourself permission to want what you want.
2. Bless the people you feel envious of – the rich, skinny, in-love, confident, powerful people. Quicker than you can say “I wish I had that…,” say to yourself, or even better, to them, “Way to go…you look great…I admire you.” With envy out of the way, you’ll have more space for your own greatness to step forward.

Success breeds complexity.

Do you really think Tim Ferris, author of the bestseller, The 4 Hour Work Week works only 4 hours a week? Simplicity and traditional success are a tricky combo. The masters of it are exceptions. They are also chilled, prosperous and rarely in a rush.

Leo Babauta is in no rush. Why hurry when you know what’s most important?

His new book, The Power Of Less, is an easy, breezy read on “the fine art of limiting yourself to the essential…in business and in life.”

My four favourite reminders from this inspiring book:

1. Let your life be ruled by the moment. (Huh, is this a productivity book I’m reading?) Don’t schedule most appointments. If someone requests an appointment, tell them to call you a little before they would like to meet and if you’re available, then meet.

2. If you aren’t finding yourself passionate about a certain tasks, allow yourself to move on to something you’re more passionate about. The more passionate you are about a task or project, the more energy you’ll put into it, and the better you’ll do with it.

3. Create a simple projects list – just three projects, not ten, that will have your entire focus until you see them through to completion. The other projects on your list go on the “On The Deck List.”

Leo is a big proponent of email checking restraints. His suggestion is to set email times – check it once in the morning, and check it once in the afternoon. Leo admits that this is not as easy as it sounds. His answer is deceptively simple:

4. Every time you find yourself habitually switching to e-mail, stop yourself. Breathe. And then focus on your work instead. Your reward: you get a lot more done.

Got the itch to Twitter or check in on your Facebook friends in the middle of a looming deadline? Breathe. The itch will pass and your fans will love you all the more when you tweet. I breathe a lot.

Many productivity books have a drill sergeant running between the lines. Panic! So much to do to organize all that I have to do. The Power of Less is a sweet exception to that. Babauta’s energy is gentle and kind. No whistles. No drills. Just a zen-like understanding of what it takes to honour what’s essential.

Don’t you adore her? Do you…adore her? Actively? Adore.

Muses simply must be adored. They’re as grandiose as they are generous. They like to be respected. If you meet them half way, they’ll give you the moon, the breakthrough concept, the stroke of…genius. Dis’ your muse and she’s likely to stop dropping by. She’s righteous. Genius is like that.

As Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) puts it in her freshly legendary TED Talk, we’ve made “a huge error in believing that creative genius comes from the Self,” rather than a greater source outside of us. Can you hear the Muses saying, “Yeah baby. Got that right. You say it sister.”

There are a zillion starry ideas floating in the milky way and they need you as much as you need them. Genius is looking for a vehicle. You gotta pimp your ride.

HOW TO DO RIGHT BY THE MUSE

1. Drop everything when she shows up.
In an interview with Neil Young, Charlie Rose asks Neil about following his muse. (You won’t hear this in the clip below.)

Charlie: “So if you get an idea at say, a dinner party, if you hear a tune or a lyric, do you excuse yourself form the party?”
Neil: “Of course. You never know when she’ll (The Muse) come again. I’m responsible to her.”

When you feel an idea comin’ on, excuse yourself. Pull over to the side of the road. Get lost in the creative flow. Be late. Barge in. (Eccentricity makes Muses especially horny.)

2. Have your tools ready.
Master-writer Anne Lamott, keeps 3×4 white note cards and pens in every purse and drawer and vehicle to capture thoughts that float out as quickly as they float in. If I leave home without my kraft Moleskine and blue medium point PaperMate pens, I feel discombobulated, like I might miss my train. Keep a notepad by your night stand. Leave yourself a voice mail. Don’t assume that the best ideas will come back to you.

3. Go looking for her.
You know where she likes to party: the art gallery, by the lake, on your morning run, when the stereo is cranked and the lights are low, in the stillness of a church or forest, when you first wake up. Set the stage and chances are she’ll take to it.

4. Engage her.
She’s busy, for sure, but The Muse LOVES it when you actually play with her. When she drops an idea in your bucket you can ask her what the hell she’s thinking. You can ask her what chapter should come next, or where to look for funding. She could yammer ’til dawn and before you know it, you’ve mapped out your magnum opus.

5. Do what she tells you to do.
Ignore your muse at your own peril. She doesn’t always have it right, or maybe we don’t always hear her clearly, but the more you heed her wisdom, the faster you get to drive on the Creative Awesomeness Highway. You and The Muse in the diamond lane. Godspeed.

Busy? Get in line.

If I ever tell you that, “I’m so sorry that I’ve been too busy to…” then I’ll pay $500 bucks to your favourite charity and get you a year’s supply of Haagen Dazs bars. Of course I’m busy. That’s life. That’s my life. That’s most people’s lives. Grown up humans tend to be…busy. Add kids, or business start ups, or illness into the mix and you have…much more of life to be busy about.

“I’m just so busy,” is the typically gasping, rushed, whiny refrain that’s become a contemporary anthem. It doesn’t make us look more important, it makes us look just-this-side-of-frazzled. It’s typically used as a lite apology, an excuse, a duck-out, as if your Life Master is making you do stuff that you don’t want to do. Even as a well-intended social pleasantry, “Sorry, I’ve been busy,” has a little victim ring to it.

Whatever is on your plate got there because you said yes to it – in the fullness of ambition and desire and wanting to eat life whole. Sometimes we take on to-do’s and commit to climb mountains because our soul demands it. Sometimes life throttles us with unforeseen and unrelenting demands. Sometimes busyness is the result of keeping up with the Joneses. Busy can be good. Busy can be bad. Busy is most often a choice.

The “busier than our predecessors…age of technology…workaholic culture,” argument. I don’t buy it. Yes, we appear to be more compulsive, less nuclear, and surviving on less sleep than the pioneers, but their lives were just as packed. They were extremely busy planting potatoes and raising barns, and surviving from sunup to sundown (they got more sleep than we do on average because they didn’t have the luxuries that light bulbs afford, and they did more physically exhausting work.) The fifties housewife was just as busy. Before eco-evil but ever-so-handy tools like disposable diapers, the Swifer and microwaves, June Cleaver had to work it.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” is often used to appease busy-bodies – the kind of people who email you to double check if you got their email from yesterday, or their thank you note.

So what do you tell ‘em when you’re late? When you can’t fit another moment into your daytimer, when you have to send regrets, or pass on a sweet opportunity? Tell them the truth. Report on life, rather than whining about it. Deliver it with ease or with pride if you’re inclined. “Been in five cities in four weeks. The kids all had the flu. It’s tax season, you know.” Let people meet you in your clear truth rather than your apologetic panic.

And sometimes, many times, you don’t need to excuse yourself at all. Just show up. Present and accountable, full of life and its demands. We all understand.

CREATIVE PRODUCTIVITY THAT WORKS FOR BOTH ARTISTES & A-TYPE PERSONALITIES:

1. APPROACH EVERYTHING AS A CREATIVE OPPORTUNITY. There is no separation between life and work. The same opportunities to express yourself or get great ideas are at the dinner table, in the stock exchange, and on the subway. Put yourself out there.

2. OBSESSION IS ESSENTIAL. Know your art and your science. Immerse yourself in the cultures you love and work in: read industry news, the teachings of spiritual masters and successful entrepreneurs, listen to what the people you serve are longing for, asking for, and leaning toward.

To foster obsession:

3. Read a LOT of magazines. And then read some more – about things related and unrelated to your work, Scientific American and Vogue, Dwell and Rolling Stone. Magazines are intensified viewpoints that can expand your perspective in just a few pages.

4. Create a style file or inspiration box of stuff that you love. Photos, articles, fabric swatches, postcards. I have an antique sake box filled with strange and lovely stuff. Sometimes I close my eyes and reach in to see what comes up – an Elvis coaster, a Zen koan torn from a divinity school program, an old essay or concert ticket.

5. Watch dox. I’m a documentary-phile (always looking for versions of the truth,) which gives me all sorts of weird, tragic, breathtaking imagery, inspiration, and facts to work with.

6. Engage with people that you don’t hangout with. Ask them big questions. Ask the cab driver what crazy stuff he’s seen as a cab driver, ask your friend’s teenager what they think about the future, ask your bank teller what it’s like to work with money all day.

To keep moving forward:

7. GIVE UP QUICKLY. If something feels like a drag and is not generating the right response – drop it like a hot potato. As Seth Godin says in his book, The Dip, “Fail fast.”

In order to give up quickly, you have to…

8. COURAGEOUSLY EXPRESS YOUR FEELINGS. When something feels very wrong, totally uninspiring, say so – to yourself and your team. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you give up, it may spin you off into a better solution.

So that you can:

9. STICK WITH IT. If something feels fun, glimmering, exciting, and even one person has expressed wanting it from you – explore every angle about how to make it work.

And be assured that:

10. BACKWARDS IS FORWARDS. Know that there is no such thing as waste. A painted canvas that didn’t turn out, a pilot group that fizzled, it’s all useful. I trash stuff and start from scratch often. Sometimes, especially in terms of web development, you start knowing that you’ll have to scrap half of what you build down the road – starting over is never really starting over. It’s life.

Which allows you to:

11. CELEBRATE OTHER PEOPLE’S CREATIVITY AND PROSPERITY. Honoring other people’s creativity and success helps shake loose our own brilliance. Whether it’s a hot website, a terrific outfit on the street, or a well known author – go out of your way to say, “You’re great!” “Way to go!” “I love what you’ve created.”

And then keep on creating for yourself. Ever so productively.

My grandfather was Leonard Alphonse Laporte. (Note the small ‘p’ in LaPorte – in high school I decided a capital P was more elegant.) Like most French Canadian grand-daughters, I called him Pepe (Pip-ay). Len sold the family farm and bought a small bike repair shop and built it into a popular sporting goods store in Windsor, Ontario, just ‘cross the Detroit border. So for Christmas I got soccer balls and ice skates. I wanted the hard cover edition of the Little House on The Prairie and some oil pastels. Every family has a black sheep.

Baaaaah. As a modern-minded, progressive chick, I’ve spent a vast amount of energy re-defining myself. And that has usually meant looking forward, getting far away from backwards and roots and origins. Far away from Hockey Night in Canada, and Chrysler, and trailer camping. I spent most of my adult life living in the US, working in communications, aspiring to relax in four-star hotels.

AFFINITY AND APPRECIATION ARE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE
I’m not embarrassed about where I came from, I just never felt like it was the right home for my spirit. I never felt deeply connected to it. And if there’s a lack of connection, there is often a lack of appreciation. And while connection isn’t something that can be forced, appreciation is something that can actually be fostered. By celebrating our origins – even if they have little resemblance to our ideals – we call forth our wholeness, a greater love.

Even if you intensely do not want to turn into your mother, there’s something beautiful about her that also lives in you. Whether it’s country clubs or country music that makes you want to hurl, there’s something about growing up in a radically different scene that’s added to your street smarts, your grace, your grit. Finding the charm factor where we’ve long felt sour is the stuff of wisdom…and relief.

By plucking out the strands of delight, those fibers of nourishment from even the most ill-fitting situations, we can weave ourselves a stronger fabric of identity. A heavy material that makes us durable, or something softened by surrendered love. Warmer. More colourful.

When I think about my pip, I feel thankful to have come from a family of hard workers who know how to party. I’m happy for the trailer park where I sneaked my first smoke, for Sunday masses that showed me the glory of faith, and for growing up in an industry town that taught me about big hair and bling. (You can take the girl out of the small town, but she’ll always wanna have big hair.)

What do you love about your origins?

A well known painter friend of mine once said that having an art show is like “pulling down your pants in public.” My favourite mystery quote about acting is, “acting is like being naked on stage and turning around very very slowly.” People ask me if I get nervous before a big speaking gig. My answer, “If I’m not nervous, I’m in trouble.”

It’s not so much nervousness as it is delighted-but-anxious butterflies that are reminding me that: the stakes are high when you’re hanging your story out for all to hear; screwing up would suck severely; and that the universe is rooting for you…but don’t screw up. On the rare occasion when I have NOT felt some butterflies, when I’ve been smug {one of my least favourite human behaviors} and thought to myself, “slam dunk, I’ve got this in the bag,” then I was either less-than-amazing, or I didn’t really care and shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

HOW TO MAKE DOUBT WORK FOR YOU:

1. Smug is the enemy of excellence. If you’re not even slightly doubtful or anxious about your performance, talents, contributions, or big presentation, than you better generate yourself some positive doubt. Lance Armstrong doesn’t enter the race thinking it’s a done deal. He knows he could lose so he tries harder to win. No matter how many times you’ve performed the surgery, made the sale, or given the pitch, you’re not infallible. Play to your audience. Be present. Watch for cues. Refine your intentions.

2. Bring YOU forward, along with your doubts. “Naked” and “artist” are often used in the same context because true self expression is a form of vulnerability. And it’s that exposure, that authenticity that makes all the difference. Whether you’re writing a report or teaching yoga class, sincerity is the winning formula.

3. Anxiety is healthy. A little bit of anxiety opens the doors to possibilities and strength…adrenaline, clarity. It’s a rush telling you that you’re alive and that you can do it – even if you need to put the doubts firmly in their place – you can do it.

Before almost every Fire Starter session or stage gig I have a mini moment of doubt and think to myself, “I really hope I can be of some use here,” Or, “If this crowd doesn’t laugh in the first three minutes, I’m cooked.” And then I take a deep breath and smile. And my butterflies and I head out to take flight.

The peace. The humility. The sheer devotion. Getting to Christ In The Desert was a pilgrimage that my cells thirsted for. It’s worth mentioning here that I considered being a nun when I was about six years old. Then I learned what celibacy was and heard that there was a lot of cleaning involved in convent life, and I asked Jesus for his forgiveness because I just knew I wasn’t going to make the cut. I decided I wanted my own variety show, like Cher. Religion, cabaret…it’s all a kind of intense theater of passion.

I arrived just in time for prayer. The monks sing their prayers. Glorious Gregorian chants echoed against the baked clay walls. My heart swelled. Tho’ the heavy sin-trip of the Psalm wasn’t lost on me, I was swept away by the beauty of it all. And I so needed to be swept away. When the chants concluded and the monks filed out behind the tabernacle, I was able to be alone in the chapel for a long, sweet time. I thought about hope – which I have a very cantankerous relationship with. And I thought about priorities of the most divine kind. My priorities have been bumping against each other for a while now – clanking around and grinding down my heart. The focus of my trip was to put my so called priorities on the altar. Smash few. Polish some. Reorganize them to sync with my soul.

“Above all, prayer holds the first place in the monk’s day and nothing must be preferred to this activity. Prayer involves coming into contact with divine life, in openness to the mystery of love which is written in our hearts.” The monks are encouraged to stop their chores if they feel inspired to pray. The passion to pray comes before work and all other tasks. The Brothers pray seven times in day in collective chanting and in solitude. Seven times a day.

So many mornings I have chosen email over meditation. I let deadlines rank over a stretch or a cuddle or a glass of water swallowed slowly and appreciated. I override the call to feel myself – the call to pray, or meditate, or be fully awake. Prayer comes in all forms and each one spoken brings grace to the day.

Thank you. Yes. Have mercy. Keep them safe. How lovely. Courage, please. I love you.

Our hearts are the altars. Ours days, when lived awake, are another chance to know the joys of what matters most. Attend first to the divine and the work at hand becomes art.

Tune in tomorrow for Part II of my monastery adventures…

I was jamming with a client whom I adore. She’s kind-hearted, she’s willing to look at her crap and her gloriousness, and she’s excellent at what she does. And, as it tends to happen, I slid in one of my favourite backwards burning questions:

“So in terms of ‘success’ how do you want to feel like?” I asked.

“I…I want to feel important,” she admitted. And then it came, the back-paddle, squashing of desire: “But is it wrong to want to feel that way? Shouldn’t I want to feel something else?”

Freeze frame. Is it wrong to want to feel a certain way? Why would it be wrong? Who says? What would happen if you let yourself feel a certain way? How about starting with being okay with wanting to feel a certain way and seeing where that leads you? Back to the convo:

“Is it wrong to want to feel important?” I echoed back to her. “Well maybe some therapists would think so. Could be your wounded inner child ‘n all that, but let’s work from here and now. In terms of your business, what would make you feel important?”

“Celebrity X would be photographed in my product. And the editor at that big magazine would decide to put me on the cover for the next issue. I’d be front and center at the gala. And my cheap clients would stop pestering me for cheaper product, and I would be working with the people who really value what I do.” She was on a roll. Her voice was clear. I imagined she was sitting up straight.

“Uh huh. Well, that sounds like a rocking business to me. So, what do you need to do to help ensure that you feel important?” And with that, a very concise to-do list rolled off her tongue and the future looked brrrilliant.

“You know, just talking about what I’m going to do to make myself feel important makes me feel…important,” she concluded. That’s what happens when we take control of our desires. Moving toward gratitude helps you feels grateful. Aiming for power gets your power circuits firing. Planning for love makes you feel warm and fuzzy. And so it goes.

I used to have intense guilt for craving creative freedom – and then life forced me to go solo and I learnt in one fell swoop that my guilty craving was a very divine calling – with all the rewards I was hankering for.

Enough with feeling guilty for wanting to feel the way you want to feel. Follow your desired emotion. Don’t analyze it too deeply. Just let it roll and rumble a bit. It may be there to humble you, expand you, heal, surprise or reinvent you. Anywhere it leads, it’s there for a divine reason.

so much depends upon

a red wheel barrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens.

So much is because of you. The letters you’ve written and sent, the touches, the kisses, the parties. Every grain of advice, set of directions, every breakfast for guests. That quarter you tossed into a panhandler’s hat could have facilitated the call that turned it all around. Little kindnesses, grand gestures. The doing of your being imprinting place and time. Inevitably.

Consider everything you’ve ever been thanked for.
Every photo you’ve been in.
Every corner you’ve turned.
Every time you’ve signed your name.

Consider that you radiate. At all times. Consider that what you’re feeling right now is rippling outward into a field of is-ness that anyone can dip their oar into. You are felt. You are heard. You are seen. If you were not here, the world would be different. Because of your presence, the universe is expanding.

How does that feel to consider?

It’s tricky stuff because I’m also deeply private. I ask more questions than I answer. I struggle with privacy issues and interruptions make me mental. Most of the time, I prefer to be invisible. And yet I’m very upfront about the fact that, vocationally speaking, I’ll be thrilled to be a household name someday. I consider contradictions a hobby.

When your persona starts to wag your person, you’ve got trouble.

So with all that introvert-extrovert creative tension I have to keep my persona in check. And it occurred to me that ever so subtly, I might be setting myself up to hide behind my brand. That I might be creating products and images that hemmed me in in the future. And while good branding makes for good commerce, it can be a real drag for freeing your art.

When I changed my Twitter name last week from @whitehottruth to @daniellelaporte I got some questions. (If you tweet, twit, twitter, then you know that your twitter handle is a very big deal.) @stephendavis02 wanted to know if my name was taken before and just got freed up? @ealvarezgibson wondered if my account had been hijacked. When @chrisguillebeau asked what was up, I told him I just got out of the witness protection program.

Names are hugely important. And yeah baby, White Hot Truth is damn sexy. That’s why I named my site that. But I’m not my site. Or my books. Or the stuff I make.

As Paula Cole puts it:

I am not the person who is singing
I am the silent one inside
I am not the one who laughs at people’s jokes, I just pacify their egos.
I am not my house, my car, my songs
those are only stops along they way
I am like the winter
I’m a dark cold female
with a golden ring of wisdom in my cave.

Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. But so am I. Stay with me.

3 KEYS TO GENUINE BRANDING…or UN-BRANDING. YOUR CHOICE.

1. Keep it pointed to where you want it to go. What do you want to be known for next year, and for years after that? If Twyla Tharp were on Twitter I think she’d go by twylatharp, not “creativehabit.” @EckhartTolle tweets, and he’s not “PowerOfNow”. Think like a legend.

2. Live artfully. I couldn’t bare to lock myself into a “brand” that I felt restricted by. I’ve done that and it hurts. A lot. I want to live like as an artist and it’s the “designer” kind of business model that works best for me. Donna Karan is “Donna Karan”. That leaves her free to do cashmere, fragrances, and Urban Zen. Keep your essence at the helm and you can’t go wrong.

3. Walk proud. Take deep breaths when you need to – it’s not always easy being authentic. Within a day of changing my Twitter name I got all strange and unsettled about it. Zoinks. Was that a bad move? Are my re-tweets going to plummet? I emailed my (amazing) virtual assistant and asked her if I’d screw up anything by reversing it…then quickly emailed her back and told her to ignore me.

Learning to trust that you’re enough, without a gimmick or a sidekick or a discount offering takes some faith and practice.

If you’re selling widgets or scaling a company that you want to sell off someday, then packaging is paramount. If you’re selling your soul – in the best possible way, remember that a little theatre goes a long way, but you still need to show up on stage as the real you. And when you do, applause will follow.

CEO, #1, Captain, President, The Leader.
Who cares. It’s just business, moving parts, day to day. You can be replaced.

Mother. Father. Teacher.
Aside from single parents caring for little ones, you’re just not the only influence in your children’s lives. They may not even want to stick around when they grow up. You may never be thanked. They will find their way with or without you.

Lover. Partner. So-called Significant Other.
Replaceable. And God knows, as a partner, you can certainly be improved upon.

You’re one in a about six and half billion. A speck. A blink in the eye of God. A nano micro weeny zip in the eons of time and vastness of space. No one’s happiness really depends on you – no one’s. People can take care of themselves like they always have. It’s most likely that one hundred years from now, nobody will so much as mention your name.

You’re just passing through, and times flies.

Life will go on with or without you.

How does it feel to consider that?

Tune in tomorrow for Part Two.

Writing and jamming all day, I need to to wrest my eyes from words and the screen. Even if I’m writing fluidly or fire starting with a fellow entrepreneur, I crave little bits of beauty like I crave milk chocolate at about 3:00 pm everyday. Visual beauty quenches and cools the part of my brain that is usually on warp drive. A luscious image makes my cells go “ahhhh.” We forget to brake for beauty. She’s rarely on our to-do list. But she makes all the difference in the day.

5 ON-LINE GORGEOUSNESS SNACKS. EAT SOME DAILY.

1. The flower mandalas by psychotherapist and photographer David J. Bookbinder make my heart still. Absolutely mesmerizing: flower mandala photos {be sure to click “color” on LEFT tool bar} Bookbinder’s blog on Beliefnet.
2. Coolhunter is so damn cool that I can hardly stand it.
3. My favourite new artist is Cheryl Sorg. I’m wild about text art, and butterflies, and neutral palettes. The preciousness and intensity of her work is staggering. I have two pieces of hers en route to me and I can’t wait to hang them above our mantle. She’s also allowing me to play with a fantastic line drawing of some flames for the cover of my book-in-progress (also called…yep…White Hot Truth.)
4. Impeccable Beyoncé, choreography by supreme Goddess attitude: Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) Video. When you’re this frickin’ hot you don’t need any props.
5. One of my favourite Canadian abstract painters: Patricia Larsen.
ahhhhh.

She has a tendency to panic. Makes it hard to trust her.
He is chronically greedy. Grew up dirt poor. Money is everything.
She is a channel of pure wisdom, a naturally gifted seer.
He is a genius, able to connect vast intellectual concepts.
She is fragile, new, and green to the concept of cause and affect.
He is angry, wounded, perpetually antagonistic.

People are where they are – despite our desire for them to be further along, more evolved, more fun, closer to our level, less intimidating, more relatable, easier to access, or simply more like us.

If you take the desire for someone to be different out of the equation – you can meet them where they are. You can meet them in the real moment. You can meet them in their despair or their magnificence.

And when you truly meet them, with no wishing for something different to wedge you apart, you’ll know what to do. You will have the compassion to be calming, the humility to be reverent, or the wisdom to walk away. The question becomes, how would you treat “wounded,” or “rage,” or “brilliance”? Not how would you help (or coerce, or plead with) someone be more healed, or less angry, or more down to earth.

They are where they are. Consider the facts, spare yourself the desire for change. Remove the friction of wanting to improve them. And engage. It’s the only way change happens.

Knowing what does not work for you is a powerful tool for creating more of what does work for you. Measuring positive feelings against negative feelings is one of the constructive ways to use comparison, and it’s a great way to tune into our deeper truth.

Write down 10 things that creep you out, turn you off, or drive you nuts. Then ask yourself why it bugs you? Is it a past association, an unexamined story that you’ve been telling yourself, an indicator of your truest values?

(My list goes something like: people who walk in without knocking, lack of gratitude, airy fairy types, wood paneling, relentless sarcasm as a barrier to intimacy, red  and black as a clothing colour combo, when people call and say, “Can you call me back?” without leaving more of an explanation. Long winded explanations.

When I look at the first cut of my peeve list it has a lot to do with standards of respect and privacy. My values. And wood paneling reminds me of a childhood home that I swear was haunted.)

Is there anything on your list that’s taking up too much space in your life, or…could be re-assessed and maybe even embraced by you?

Contrast is an excellent teacher.

Birthdays are a big deal. Monumental. Sacred. What could be bigger in your life than the day you were born?! I always feel pouty for someone who thinks birthdays are no biggie. Sadness. Every birthday is an opportunity to celebrate, get mushy, root down into your essence and be reflective, to think highly of yourself, and party hearty. I mean really, if you can’t have fun on your birthday, you’re doomed for the next 355 days of the year.

FREE BIRTHDAY RITUALS
1. Chant your name twelve times. Do it in the shower if you’re worried about the neighbours listening in. It’s amazing how grounding and moving this exercise can be. Claim your space in the universe.
2. Look into the mirror. Beyond checking for new wrinkles or spots, look into your own eyes and give your love to the person you see. She may be glowing. He may be full of regret. She or he is all you’ve got. Pour kindness onto your image.
3. Make some outlandish wishes based on how you want to FEEL in the coming year. Desired. Free. Top of your game…
4. Call your parents and thank them for being your parents. No them, no you.
5. Cry if you need to.
6. Get drunk if you want to.
7. Wear something special.
8. If the previous year was a tough one, scribble out the reasons and burn the page.
9. If the previous year was an amazing one, scribble out the reasons and burn the page. I think every birthday needs to involve fire of some kind.
10. Tell everyone (the cab driver, the barista, your teacher) that it’s your birthday. You’ll get free stuff, lots of positive attention, and people will tolerate your “I’m a righteous babe” attitude.

Of course, with the exception of #10 – you can do all of these rituals any ol’ day, like tomorrow. Because life is short and there is no one alive who is Youer than You.

Someone asked me this week, “Have you forgiven so and so for such and such?”
And I did the puppy head tilt, “Huh?” This question throws me for a loop.
“Well…I don’t really feel like it’s my place to forgive them,” I replied.
It’s not that I condone bad behavior, it’s not that my heart doesn’t get pinched, and it’s not that I forget – ’cause I’m not the forgettin’ type, that’s for sure. But there’s something about “forgiveness” that seems, okay, forgive me, but…arrogant.

“I forgive you.” It rings of, “I bequeath to you…I permit you…I hereby knight thee…” It feels lording. A friend asked for my forgiveness once and I felt embarrassed, and intensely reluctant to add to her shame. I started laughing. “As if,” I said. “Duh, like, whatever, it’s done, over, let’s get on with things.”

I’m a Very Big Believer in accountability. I think the Truth and Reconciliation movement is a monumental leap in humanity’s evolution. The heart can transform the ghastly into the educational, and betrayal into blessings galore. Forgiveness is a lever to our divinity. BUT… Unexamined forgiveness is a distortion, just like “I love you,” can mean, “you fill my holes,” or, “you meet my requirements therefore I adore you.” Distorted forgiveness makes you right, which usually makes the other person wrong – the ego loves that equation. Even though your eyes are smiling while you’re saying “I forgive you,” there might be a little voice inside saying “Ha! gotchya.”

True forgiveness is…well I’m not entirely sure what true forgiveness is. I’ll let you know when I ascend to those heights of all knowingness, {in which case I’d be levitating and too blissed out to write little articles about self realization…} But I am wondering if enlightenment relies on the forgiveness formula. As The Course in Miracles puts it, “Forgiveness is unknown in Heaven, where the need for it would be inconceivable.” Duh. My sentiments exactly.

Instead, I met Fred, in the gift shop. “When you’re ready to pay for your candles and books you can just do it yourself on that table over there.” D-I-Y cashier style, there was a shoebox of cash and a stack of credit card slips … how civilized, I thought. “Gotchya. Cha-ching,” I answered to Fred. And his curiosity about what “cha-ching” meant started us talking, (remember, no TV in the monastery, no People Magazine…I was probably the biggest dose of pop culture they’d seen in them hills for a while.)

Fred was a fifty-something Hispanic guy originally from L.A. For eighteen years, he’s lived at the monastery as the custodian. “Eighteen years?! And you don’t feel the call to serve as a brother after all this time?” I asked. “No way. I serve by serving the brothers.”
“Wow. Well, way to go for making such an intense choice,” I said.
“Every day is a choice. Obligation…all those obligations…marriage, kids, the job…it’s all bullshit if it’s not a choice.”
He just swore in the monastery, I thought.
Fred continued. I was rapt. I set down my Frankincense and leaned in. His eyes sparkled.
“Say more,” I nudged.
“When I left my old life to come here I was so afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” I asked.
“Everything. I woke up two or three nights a week in a sweat, just afraid of life, of my choices. I was terrified to, you know, just live.”
“Terrified to live.” I repeated, nodding my head.
“And then four and a half years into it, I woke up and I was free. You know, free. Instead of always seeing just fifty feet in front of me there was a vista – I could see forever ahead of me.”

He slid his hand out to gesture to the expanse. I could see it. I could see his state of being and there was nothing impeding his delight. We both kind of giggled, nodding, communing.

“Fred,” I said, “That’s all I need to know. I thought I was coming for the monks. But you’re The Dude.”

“Why thank you then. I’m happy to be the dude for you today.”

You know that the teacher appears when you’re ready. Sometimes it’s a pop tune, or an ad on the bus, sometimes it’s the handy man. Keep your heart open and you’ll recognize the wisdom when it shows up…wearing overalls and fedora.

“Well that sounds like a whole lotta of freaking fun.” I said to her. And I asked the waiter to bring me a Coke.

Here’s the thing: As hard-wired achievement-bots many of us subscribe to systems of success that actually become blockages to our instincts. Structures, programs, regimes, all disciplines and theories should be used to support your freedom and independent thinking, but many serve to stifle our truth.

Curiosity and sensation are exponentially more effective than obeying the rules.

One of my best friends and I have a sick tradition. We get excited about each others’ hardship. One of us will be sniffling through an out-pour of angst about how wrenching a particular life lesson is, and isn’t it crazy how when it rains it pours with shitty news, and turmoil, and big life do-overs. You know, those excruciating disappointments and Tough Spots – the kind that require a friend to help you navigate.

Sniffle. Silence.

And then the listener on the other end of the line replies, “Holy suck factor. But, you know … I’m kinda excited for you.” And then the other one of us blows her nose and says, “Yeah, I know, it’s great.” And we’re not joking. But we laugh at that absurdity and our sheer effing moxy, and then the other person goes back to whining and processing while the listener resumes her role as the receptacle of angst out-pour.

And we believe it. We believe in the divinity of the suck factor. It’s an implicit, and lived, and affirmed understanding: that the universe trades up. That as Camus and kd lang said, “In the depth of winter I found in me there was an invincible summer.” Or as Nietzsche and Bruce Willis put it, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Or at least more expanded. And that’s very exciting. And excitement about getting to the other side is just what you need to get there.

In the immortal words of Johnny Cash, “I’ve been everywhere, man.” In terms of the book industry, I’ve agented books; I’ve designed books; I’ve helped a dozen authors self-publish their own books – and I’ve advised hundreds of others not to self publish. I’ve worked on publicity campaigns with major publishing houses; I’ve done grassroots and highbrow marketing. I’ve had my own book go to auction to earn a six figure book advance, get published and make it on to the Amazon bestseller list. I’m currently in the glorious, grueling process of writing my next book: The Fire Starter Sessions.

So, naturally, I’m jaded. Really jaded. And yet! I remain ever devoted to the art of the book and the game of publishing. I’m a romantic. Just like Johnny. Creating a book is an intimate experience. You give shape to your innermost feelings, you share them with critics and other lovers of ideas and story. And then you shop that baby until the cows come home. How you do it is a very personal decision.

To Self-Publish or to Sign with a Publishing House? It depends how you define success. It depends what your motivation is – profit or creative gratification? It depends on how talented you are and how timely your material is. It depends if you’re really crazy, or just a little bit crazy.

The Pro’s and Cons and the In’s and Outs of Self Publishing and Publishing Houses:

DISTRIBUTION
Let’s start with the most important aspect of making a book. Forget content and design, forget marketing and PR…for a moment. Getting your product into the hands of booksellers and book buyers should be your A#1, paramount big daddy priority.

Self pub: If you choose to self publish, distribution will be your greatest hurdle. In the eyes of major book chain buyers, you’re a nobody. The head buyer at CostCo or Borders has established relationships with sales reps from publishing houses. They have buy-meets at book shows and scheduled times where they order dozens of titles at a time for the upcoming season. They won’t even take your call. You will have to hire an independent sales rep to pitch your title.

Or…you can go to local bookstores and pitch it yourself. It’s hell – a hell possibly worth walking through, but put your armor on, wear your lip-gloss and best smile, and be prepared to schlep books in your car trunk for weeks, months even.

Pub house: distribution is done for you. That simple. This is the single most important reason to try to get your self a book deal. Publishing houses have tentacles that reach far into book shows and bookstores across the world.

THE DESIGN PROCESS
Self-pub: guess what? You’re now a book designer, content and copy editor, color expert, typography and paper specialist – and you thought you were just a guy with something important to say. Even if you hire out your book to a graphic designer (and you probably should, for anywhere from $500 to $20,000 in design fees depending on the type of book you’re producing,) the aesthetics of the book rely on your approval. Do you know what cover will appeal to consumers next season? Do you have access to the recycled paper printer you want who can print in bulk? For better or for worse, you will have total creative control. Could be a beautiful thing.

Pub house: I know more than a few authors who didn’t know what their book cover was going to look like until they saw it for the first time on Amazon — tragic but true. You may have zero say in how your baby is dressed. Could be a disaster. Could be a beautiful thing.

TIME TO MARKET
Self-Pub: The turn around time with a self-published book can be as fast as you can drive the process. Once it’s written and edited, you can have a book in your hands in as little as two months. Zoom.

Pub house: Prepare to go gray before you see your book in stores. Unless you’re writing about a time-sensitive topic of major cultural relevance (like, a meteor drops to Earth and you happen to be working on a book about How To Survive A Meteor Crash,) then you’re likely looking at eight months to two years from the time you sign your publishing contract to the day your book is in the Barnes & Noble window. It’s a long time.

Traditional publishing is a lot like the fashion industry. There are a lot of players involved and they each need lead time to do their job: the editing department, the foreign rights department, the designer, the offshore printer, the marketing team who is selling to stores a two seasons in advance, the publicity team pitching to magazines three to six months in advance, and the warehouse who needs time to ship to stores.

THE MONEY
Self pub: If you do it right, you can be earning as much as $10 bucks a book, perhaps more. Yipee! Hopefully that’ll be enough to re-coup the capital you put in to fund the book – graphic design, perhaps an indexer, various registration costs, marketing, a hefty Fed-Ex bill… It could all add up to thousands of dollars — easy.

Pub house: A book advance is an incredibly civilized concept. You get paid in advance to write your book. Wow. You typically get a third of the advance money when you sign your contract, a third when you deliver your final manuscript, and a third when the book is off the printing press.

Most authors never see a dime after their book advance – simply because they need to sell enough copies to “earn out” their advance. After you’ve sold the amount of your advance in books (essentially paying the publisher back for their investment) then you start to realize a royalty on books sold after that – which is usually in the low range of a whopping $2 per book.

PUBLICITY
Self-pub: Got contacts? You better have. Facebook friends may not get you on the bestseller list. You need editors’ emails and TV ops. It’s timing consuming and critical. Not your thing? You’re looking at a minimum of $5000 to hire a publicist to run a decent campaign for you.

Pub house: They’ve got contacts – oodles of them. Media editors and producers are used to being pitched by publishing house staffers. But don’t think for a minute that your publisher will take your book to the mount and flog it. It’s a rare exception that any book is nurtured beyond a very concentrated, one-time push to the media that lasts about three weeks if you’re lucky.

Whether you self publish or land a book deal – publicity and marketing will ultimately be fueled by your stamina.

It takes a village to raise a book. But it takes your creative genius to make it, guide it, and carry it to the world – whether that’s with a prime-time media interview or small book signings where only two people show up – and one of them is your mom.

Johnny Cash lasted so long in the music business not just because he was a pure talent, but because he was a remarkable combination of tough-as-nails and romantic. Either direction you take — self publishing or landing a book deal — you will need to be steely, you will need to embody passion, you will need to take your show on the road…everywhere, man.

May applause follow wherever you go.

That uncomfortable silence after a friend has told you his bad news or a rant of how overwhelmed she is. Break ups and broken arms and melt downs. Even for our best friends we don’t always know what to say or do to make it better. We fumble to fill the space with salving words, or sometimes worse, with solutions. When really, all we need to do is ask: How can I help?

This phrase works for tragedies and boo boos and bad days. It quells panic. It can create urgency or buy time. It’s effective with strangers and lovers.

Everyone understands it.

I learned this from my friend Michelle, who’s a super-sensitive Irish Italian social worker (read: hardwired to be helpful.) And even though she’s full of bright ideas and anecdotes, she has the presence to just pause and ask, How can I help?

It creates a soft space to meet.
It invites collaboration.
It empowers everyone.

How much do we do in a day with our nose to the grindstone? Myopic, focused, making a list and checking it twice. Done. Done. And done. But what have we done? Really? What’s the “big real” of what you are doing? There’s a Big Real behind everything we do. Sometimes it’s a negative Big Real. Sometimes it’s a positive Big Real.

I’m not posting to my blog. I’m evoking the truth.

I’m not working on my book proposal to have it to my agent by Sept 15. I’m writing a book that could spark people into true action, and it’s burning inside me, and people want it and they want it bad.

I’m not cleaning my house, I’m making it a Zen temple in which I can hear myself think and we can cozy up. (Okay, I’m just jokin’ with that one. Vacuuming is vacuuming and it sucks hard. Pun. I know, I just caught it.) But you get my point.

What’s became rote or banal for you that is really part of a great dream or vision or bad plot that you really don’t want to be participating in?

Working overtime? How about: making sure you’re getting to Miami for your next holiday to flame your mojo?

Hauling your ass out of bed for a run? How about: connecting with the power of your body and tapping into your creative thinking?

Cutting people’s hair? How about: your salon is a place where people heal and are heard and have their beauty nurtured.

Waiting on tables: How about: you’re learning and teaching loving kindness.

Filing papers for your boss? Maybe the Big Real there is that you’re helping a do-no-good company make no-good money while your own genius wilts on the vine?

Look up. Zoom back from the tasks and see the holy weaving of your time and love and action. Make it matter. Because it does.

We’re so occupied with home improvement and self-improvement that it’s difficult to see the true self that’s underneath. Who are you fixing, anyway? Do you know? Maybe you don’t need improving at all. Perhaps your original self is more beautiful than you even imagined.

Freedom worships inquiry. The truth is far easier to deal with than illusion, evasion or avoidance. You can wrap your arms around it. You can look it in the eye. You can take it to the bank. I think Saint Thomas had it right, “What you bring forth will save you. What you don’t bring forth will kill you.” Truth frees.

Stop looking for the answers.
Look for the question.
What question are you living?

{FYI my current living question came to me from Patti Digh and I’ve been noodling on it with glee for a few weeks now: “If my art provided everything I need in my life, how would I approach my life?” Ahh. Just the inquiry itself creates space in my heart for more.}

Rilke hit it home when he proclaimed: Live the questions, live them now!

So…?

Let me ask that question again: How are things?

Fabulous. It all feels like an adventure right now. I have synchronicities piling up everywhere. I’ve got all the money I need, in fact, it’s flowing good n’ steady. My skin is glowing. Most nights we dance in the kitchen. Even sex is better than ever. I giggle everyday. And really, sometimes when I smile at a stranger in the market I can feel my heart swell. In fact, I swear I felt bliss while I was walking home the other day. Yeah. It was bliss.

Happy? Then say so.

I notice this in my self, I see it in other people: the happiness muffle. We feel the sparkle, really we do. We feel rich with gratitude, we’re keenly aware of a true smile curled in our cells. We tend to live on the light side of things. But we don’t pronounce it. As a new friend just put it, “we butt back the joy because… happiness is a form of power.”

Is that anyway to treat happiness?

Happiness is power. Happiness is carbonated consciousness. It wants to spill out and radiate and be articulated. And every time we downplay our joy we confuse our synapses. Our brain is firing smiley neurons and our mouth is short circuiting them. Repeated happiness muffling numbs our senses. If you keep it under the surface too long, it just might stay there – a light under a bushel.

So do us all a favour. No matter what the weather, the odds, the circumstances, the company, if you’re happy and you know it, by all means, say so! Unfetter your happiness (you know you want to).

For about six months, my sweet husband has been saying, “Look babe, if you want me out of the office, just say the word and I’ll make space for myself in the loft.”
“It’s alright, I can make it work. Stay.” I’d reply, as I stepped over fire-fighting gear and running shoes on the way to my desk. On other days the refrain was more along the lines of, “Would you puhleeese get your crap out of here, I’m trying to write the next great inspirational bestseller! I need white space, dammit!” Ahem.

A few weeks ago, I took him up on his request. I took my space. I booted his booty and boots out. I installed a new white desk. On one of my series of four perfectly aligned magnetic white boards I hung a postcard from my favourite monastery, an old Elvis coaster, and a long pheasant feather. The others are filled with square pale yellow sticky notes of tour dates and article ideas.

The man is truly happy upstairs with his laptop and model canoe. I’m euphorically creative and the Virgo in me is giddy with productivity. What took me so long to take what I needed?

What’s right in front of you waiting to be taken, indulged, used up and embraced? Banked sick days? An offer for mentoring, free advice, or a shoulder to lean on? A rainy day account? A white canvass whispering, make me your masterpiece?

Why do we delay gratification, put off what’s rightfully ours and rebuff well-intentioned favours and offerings of support?

3 EXCUSES FOR NOT TAKING WHAT YOU NEED

“But I can take it.”
I could write a novel in the middle of a football game, in the pouring rain, on a type writer, while eating a burrito. I think it’s a mix of being an only child raised in the country, and being innately ambitious that gives me the capacity to tune out and get stuff done. But tuning out, and rising above, and weathering the storm isn’t ideal. It’s endurance. The root of the word endure is “to bear suffering.” Be it a less-than-fulfilling relationship, or soul-sucking j-o-bs, just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should. Stamina does not always equate to bliss.

“I don’t want to impose.”
Impose! Most of the people in your life want you to be happy. Assume that you’re surrounded by grown ups who actually mean what they say when they offer to take your kids, proofread your work, or lend a hand. It feels good to give. It feels good to receive. We’re all in this together.

“I don’t need much.”
Austerity only works if it gives you the space to feed your soul. Fierce independence is life-affirming, but it’s only part of the formula for wholeness. Life is an abundant proposition – but it’s just that, a proposal. You need to say yes to all that it wants to give you. It’s a great offer.

The universe works on supply and demand. Which means it’s all yours for the taking.

You have to cut out the best part.
You have to detach from your brilliance.
You have to trust that the whole piece is better the individual shiny parts that make you seem clever or wise.

So that sexy slogan … That rapier wit one-liner … That fancy feature or added customer service … if those gems are throwing the whole package or project or intention off kilter, then they probably need to be slashed.

Final works of art find harmony. In even vulgar, dramatic, and absurd works of art there can be a high degree of cohesion and that’s what accounts for its impact. That’s where skill comes in. You can be as wildly inspired and as daring as you want, but if you don’t know the rule of thirds, or a bit of colour theory, or how to help the members of your jazz trio be heard in fusion, then you run the risk of tampering with the objective, which is to create art that conveys.

It’s easy to get attached to our inspired moments and what they produce. Those aha’s are a rush. And the rush is good, it’s essential in fact. Let it move you forward instead of rooting you to one place, or one ray of light. Let your clever bits and genius fuel your courage rather than your ego. Diamonds shine only after they’ve been cut.

A dream is a very sacred thing to share.

If you knew someone’s dream, you might look at that person very differently…with more tenderness, more respect, more familiarity, and more wonder than before. Dream-sharing melts boundaries and it calls forth resources and commonalities.

Look at everyone you meet this week and actively think to yourself, “I wonder what their dream is?” Ask at least one person this week what their dream is. You can do it subtly, and traditionally, like, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” or “What did you want to be when you were growing up?” Or you can just go for it, playfully and momentously and ask, “So, like, what’s your big dream?” So many people never get asked that. And fewer are really listened to. And for those who are stumped by the question, I guarantee they’ll be thinking about it for days to come. Just the asking of that question sets essential things in motion.

The guy in the cubicle next to you may be working on novel about unicorns and espionage. Your sister might be fantasizing about her own cabaret break out performance. Your postal carrier may be patenting the next great invention. Make no assumptions about your partner, your workmate, or the bus driver.

Wonder what their dream is….

Small, mighty, seemingly impossible, or simply pure – when you know what someone’s dream is, your perspective leans toward openness. And every dream needs space to run.

Oh, my dream-stream…
Inspire freedom seeking and engagement with life in a big big way for a long long time. That means my next book, White Hot Truth is a stunning success in every way possible, and I’m wearing suede boots and big gold hoops on stage and enjoying my “you-know-what-I’m sayin’-don’tchya?” laughs with thousands of people.

And I dream of Morocco and France and a koi pond in the back yard of my mod pre-fab house. I dream of collecting art and magazine coverage. I dream about communion with my man that blows both our minds. I dream of sitting ’round a fire with leaders and lovers of progress. Being able to give ‘yeses ‘and make phone calls that open doors and new dimensions for people.

I dream of children being taught mindfulness in school, and a movement of conscious birth choices and parenting, and technologies that heal. And I dream of invitations that humble me, and more magical connections with people whom I recognize on a cellular level, and we band together to leverage change, and to support and care for each other in the way that reminds you how great it is to share space and time. And I dream of feeling more electric and sweet every single day.

But mostly, I dream of being amazed.

How ’bout you?

Each one of his 39 Keys to Creativity is a sutra of street-wise insight. Here are my favorite gems:

: Question how much freedom your path affords you. Be utterly ruthless about it. It’s your freedom that will get you where you want to go.

: So now corporations are awash with non-autonomous thinkers.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”

And so on.
Creating an economically viable entity where lack of original thought is handsomely rewarded creates a rich, fertile environment for parasites to breed.

: As the artist gets more into her thing, and as she gets more successful, the number of tools tends to go down. She knows what works for her.

: Never compare your inside with somebody else’s outside.

: The only people who can change the world are people who want to. And not everybody does.

: Anyone can be an idealist. Anyone can be a cynic. The hard part lies somewhere in the middle — that is, being human.

Sprinkled with MacLeod’s now-legendary back-of-business card cartoons, Ignore Everybody manages to be both raunchy and lovely, sardonic and warm. MacLeod’s found that it is essential humanity that makes all the difference.
Go get it.

Hugh MacLeod’s blog: GapingVoid.com

Okay…I warned you.

“What’s with everyone going on about the ‘hard work’ of marriage?” I used to think. “If it’s so hard it musn’t be true love. True love has a meant-to-be-ness about it that’s gotta make everything easier. Like, if it’s THAT hard, then it just ain’t right. Right?” Uh huh.

My relationship with my own self is complicated, how could I expect it to be simple with another? But I was single at the time. My panties matched my bras, my principles matched my big hair, and my astronomical phone bills matched my knack for getting involved with men who lived on the other side of the country. {The long distance fed my romantic longings. Longing. Always lonnnging.}

I’ve done some homework since then. Home. Work.

THE UGLY FACTS MY RELATIONSHIP RESEARCH HAVE SURFACED:

: I don’t know a single couple with an easy, let alone blissful, marriage. Okay. ONE couple: Donna and Brad. But they met when they were in their late forties. Brad’s wife had passed away. Donna was just out of a long termer. Within months of declaring their total and utter devotion, Brad discovered that he had cancer. They fought it with every alternative therapy known, and every dime and ounce of faith they had. They’re still going strong. It really is the stuff of love stories.

But back to the rest of us normal, non-Buddhist schmucks who got hitched earlier in life…

: Most of my married friends have seriously considered leaving their mates more than once. {Note to the hubby of my friend: I’m not talking about you. Really, you’re the total exception dude.}

: Within just the first year of marriage, at least half of my married friends and acquaintances thought to themselves, “What the hell have I done?”

: Of all the longtime wed folks I’ve surveyed, each reported long, hellish periods in their relationship where they were merely enduring each other to get by.

Bubbles burst. Dreams steamrolled. Imperfections and cruelties of life glaringly clear. Crap facts noted. Love stinks.

And love keeps going in spite of it all.

THE DELIGHTFUL, SWEET AND RADIANT FACTS MY RELATIONSHIP RESEARCH HAVE SURFACED:

: I have friends whose confessed infidelities cycloned through their lives. And they sorted through the wreckage to build something better than before. “The affair was the best thing that ever happened to us.”

: Couples who rallied to beat addictions, who sweat and toiled to over come them like farmers fight blight – tirelessly, without rest, because everything depends on victory.

: One of my wisest friends figures that it took about thirty years for him and his wife to simply be nice to each other. Now there is a euphoria in their familiarity. A grace has settled in. He says that sometimes it’s magical.

So if you’re out there thinking that the smoochy hot couple has got it easy, ha! Think again. If you’re down to a teaspoon of hope, envying the love stories on the other side of the fence, remember that while they were smiling for the cameras, Joanne Woodward was putting up with Paul Newman’s boozing in the early years. Fridah Kahlo’s beloved Diego chased skirts all through Mexico and New York. Cleopatra waited a long time for her man.

Love and doubt aren’t exclusive. In fact, they can be the most fantastic dance partners. Give and take. Trust and turn.

Bliss requires sweat.

But I’ve noticed that even shiny, sexy, wide-awake people don’t talk that much about sex. The general conversation starts and stops with whether you’re getting it or not. “It’s good.” “We need to make more time for it.” “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

If sex conversation is relegated to the cultural fringe, it’s likely reflecting where it lies on our personal list of priorities. And you don’t have to have a partner to have a sex life, BTW. Just ask Mama Gena who makes it, uh, pointedly clear that the clitoris has 8000 nerve endings of its very own.

You can be sure that your sex life is a microcosm of the macrosm of your entire life. Deep but quiet. Repressed. Rigorous. Loving but slightly aggressive. Playful and sweet. Dutiful. Whatever is going down in the sack is going ‘round in your life as a greater theme. So maybe we should talk about it more. At least to ourselves.

SEXY SHAKE UP
For the sake of shaking up mindsets, what if you gave your sexual well being the same weighty importance that we tend to give the other day-to-day stuff?:

What if we treated our sex lives with the same importance as our diet? Imagine counting orgasms like you counted calories. What if there was the same urgency to get funky with your lover or yourself as there was to get to yoga or spinning class?

What if we put as much effort into cultivating our sexuality as we did our intellect? Imagine a D-I-Y erotica degree based on the awareness of energy and breath and physiology and bliss. Where would you begin to look for knowledge? What would it take to earn and A++?

What if we talked about our sex lives like we talked about, say, our health, or our satisfaction with work? I’m not suggesting that you should chat up your hot night with Larry and Lucy at the water cooler. Because, yeah, sex is sacred, absolutely, positively, precious and typically private. BUT…what if, with the friend you trusted most, you let the conversation go deeper into the sensual part of your life. And you explored questions like, How do you feel in bed? What does womanly or manly really mean to you? Top, bottom, bunny, adventurer, priestess, kink-meister or athlete, what’s next in terms of being more fully you?

Don’t tell just anyone. But dare to tell yourself. The answer may have you grinning for days.

“Use your manners, would ya?” said the the group leader. “Turn around and come back in quietly.”

And in mid-rage, huffing and puffing, buddy just stopped. Calmly. “Oh. Okay then.” And he left the room, re-opened the door, walked in and sat down in the nearest empty seat. Quietly.

Standards work wonders.

When we routinely justify people’s poor behavior, we block the chances for change to occur. Excuses repress clarity. I worked with someone for too long who was bipolar manic depressive and we always chalked up her behavior to their illness. We let her off the hook for all sorts of crappy behavior. But nasty is nasty, and mean is mean, and my standards are higher than that.

So next time your mother is a bit well, you know how she gets. Or your typically grouchy neighbor is a grouch. Or your always-under-a-lot-of-stress boss loses her cool because she’s so understandably stressed… Call it at face value, all afflictions, dispositions and psych 101 labels aside. There is no excuse for bad manners.

Common sense is a mighty powerful thing.

But we have one thing in common: we both believe that you should dress for your man. I’ve never met my guy at the door in something lacy (but it’s on my to-do list.) I don’t own a pair of foofoo slippers. And ever since my boobs went south after breastfeeding, I had to retire my glittery tube tops. But…I’m no slob either.

European women have us pinned to the mat in the “make an effort” category. They make North American women look like…slobs in Crocs and ponytails and sweatpants. I think that va-va-va-voom we mustered up to get the man, too often fades. And va-va-va-voom is good for the soul.

I vowed to myself when I got married that I would forever endeavor to be The Sexy Wife. I would not let myself go. It’s not easy. I gained about fifty pounds with my first baby. There were times when I was too broke to buy a pretty new bra, in which case, hi-lights and a bikini wax were also out of the question. I worked sixty-hour weeks for months and raised a toddler that didn’t really sleep. But no matter I remember my sexy wife vow and before the hunk came home, I’d whip some goop in my hair, dab on my amber oil, and get some lip-gloss on my kisser. I still looked exhausted, but I my devotion made up for the circles under my eyes.

Sparkle Determination ripples out. Your appearance tells the world how to treat you. When you take care of yourself, life tends to pitch in. When you aim to shine, life pays proper attention to you – and that includes your lover boy (or girl.)

And lest you think I’m taking the feminist movement back two decades, know that I expect that same Look Fine Commitment from my dude. He knows that his chances of getting lucky increase with spicy cologne, a pressed linen shirt, and by wearing the silver bracelet that I got him from India.

Even June Cleaver would swoon.

The peace. The humility. The sheer devotion. Getting to Christ In The Desert was a pilgrimage that my cells thirsted for. It’s worth mentioning here that I considered being a nun when I was about six years old. Then I learned what celibacy was and heard that there was a lot of cleaning involved in convent life, and I asked Jesus for his forgiveness because I just knew I wasn’t going to make the cut. I decided I wanted my own variety show, like Cher. Religion, cabaret…it’s all a kind of intense theater of passion.

I arrived just in time for prayer. The monks sing their prayers. Glorious Gregorian chants echoed against the baked clay walls. My heart swelled. Tho’ the heavy sin-trip of the Psalm wasn’t lost on me, I was swept away by the beauty of it all. And I so needed to be swept away. When the chants concluded and the monks filed out behind the tabernacle, I was able to be alone in the chapel for a long, sweet time. I thought about hope – which I have a very cantankerous relationship with. And I thought about priorities of the most divine kind. My priorities have been bumping against each other for a while now – clanking around and grinding down my heart. The focus of my trip was to put my so called priorities on the altar. Smash few. Polish some. Reorganize them to sync with my soul.

“Above all, prayer holds the first place in the monk’s day and nothing must be preferred to this activity. Prayer involves coming into contact with divine life, in openness to the mystery of love which is written in our hearts.” The monks are encouraged to stop their chores if they feel inspired to pray. The passion to pray comes before work and all other tasks. The Brothers pray seven times in day in collective chanting and in solitude. Seven times a day.

So many mornings I have chosen email over meditation. I let deadlines rank over a stretch or a cuddle or a glass of water swallowed slowly and appreciated. I override the call to feel myself – the call to pray, or meditate, or be fully awake. Prayer comes in all forms and each one spoken brings grace to the day.

Thank you. Yes. Have mercy. Keep them safe. How lovely. Courage, please. I love you.

Our hearts are the altars. Ours days, when lived awake, are another chance to know the joys of what matters most. Attend first to the divine and the work at hand becomes art.

Saraswati is my #1 Goddess. She rules what I dig most. I’m surprised she’s not up there with Kali and Aphrodite in mass popularity. Saraswati is regarded as the Goddess of knowledge and the arts. She represents consciousness and wisdom, is regarded as the goddess of sound and speech, and is revered as the dispeller of chaos and confusion. As she is the wife of Brahma, she is also seen as the co-creator of the universe. Her name means ‘the flowing’ or ‘the beautiful one’. Yeah baby.

My Saraswati story…
Years ago in Santa Fe, my friend Navjit and I went to a gathering for Guru Karunamayi. New Mexico is to gurus what New York is to rock stars – they all pass through eventually. So catching a Hindi lecture on a Friday night and then heading to the club was par for the course.

So there we were in our leather pants and Timberlands, gold eyeshadow and Betty Paige bangs…in lotus position. Karunamayi spoke of a love that carries all. The God Head Love that bears everything for its creation. “My children, my babies” she said in her high-happy Indian accent, “When you are angered, give your anger to Mama. Mama will carry it for you. When you do not know, give your confusion to Mama. Mama will carry it for you.”

When it came time to be blessed – the touch of her hand to my forehead – I went flush…turned to mush. It was confusing. I’m not wired for guru devotion or public displays of emotion. But I felt a sense of love emanating from Karunamayi that was expansive and warm. I felt forgiven, cradled, curious. When she touched me, tears fell from my eyes as if there was tap at the crown of my head that she gently twisted.

I left with one of her devotional chanting tapes – $8 bucks was the least I could do for having my head spun ’round. One chant burned itself into my memory and for years, even tho’ I never knew what it meant, I instinctively hummed it to myself. The chant would come into my mind before a speaking gig, or a big meeting; while on the acupuncture table or when I was sick. When my son was being born (at home) my mother accidentally flipped the stereo from “CD” to tape cassette (which hadn’t been played in years,) and there it was, the scratchy Karunamayi chant looping ’round for ten hours while I laboured:

Om Aim Srim Hrim Saraswati Devyai Namaha

I finally decided to look into the origins of the chant – for all I knew it could be a blessing for the fertility of camels. As it turns out, it is a devotion to Saraswati. My Sistah of speech. My Mama of the Arts. The Goddess of clear, calm strategy.

Goddesses always show up when you need them to.

Who’s your favourite goddess?

If only we were so real at business conferences. Venture capital, ROI, cash flow, cost of goods – there’s always lot’s of strategy talk, but rarely a drill down into specific dollars. So did you raise a million bucks or did you put $10k on your credit card? What does “turn a profit” really mean? How close is a ‘close call’? Facts give perspective. So let me throw out a few numbers for all you entrepreneurs and artists making your way:

$150,000 = the book advance my former business partner and I received for writing Style Statement. Originality goes a long way in publishing.

$70,000 = (yes, seventy) the production cost that we carried for the book – portrait and product photography, set dec, travel, graphic design and materials. That was a dumb move. We should have shared creative control with the publisher and let them carry the design costs.

$1.87 = approximate book royalty per book (which the author gets only if the advance is earned out). Note: very few authors ever earn out their advance.

$6000 = cost to design my site. I could have done it myself more austerely, but it would have taken 3 months to launch instead of the 8 weeks we did it in.

$128 = cost of a Logitech Laser mouse, which has brought me untold delight.

$600,000 = capital-raised for my last company.

$11,000 = my income for the first year in business at my last company.

$17,000 = my income for the second year in business at my last company.

$85,000 = my salary for the third year in business at my last company.

$0 = what I left with from my last company.

$7000 = annual cost of full time daycare for my four year old.

$170 = hourly rate for my accountant.

$3000 = my standard speaking fee.

$250 to $350 = what you should expect to pay for a good lawyer.

$600 = money I saved using Picnik for photos instead of buying Photoshop.

$25 = the donation I make to Women for Women International or Kiva on behalf of each Fire Starter client.

$9 = what I paid for my last pair of jeans at Value Village. Stretch Dickies. Fantastic.

1 = the singular principle that guides me: evoke the truth.

2. Solicit opinions from a diverse audience. Nothing like asking a twenty year old and a seventy year old what they think about your stuff.

3. Solicit opinions from experts. Ask a gifted writer what they really think of your material. Take your CEO to lunch for a preemptive performance review and some tips on how to sail up the ladder. Hire a stylist to eyeball your fashion fabulousness. It may sting, it may be a major gust of wind beneath your wings, but either way, an expert opinion will motivate you to get on top of your game.

4. Stand naked in front of the mirror and don’t leave until you can say three deeply loving things about: your physique, the miracle of your health, and your qualities as good human being.

5. Fire your most annoying client, team member, or nasty friend. You’ll wished you’d done it a long time ago.

6. As the Dalai Lama says, “Love until it hurts.” For me that would mean volunteering at an old age home. I can hardly bear the wastage and scarcity of dignity that makes for most nursing homes. It slays me. I always leave a total wreck.

7. Choose silence. Turn off the TV. Commute without the car radio on or your i-Pod earphones in. The silence may unsettle you. With our addiction to noise and distraction held at bay, our anxiety, painful beauty and genius has room to surface.

8. Underachieve. This is especially for all the A Types and workaholics. Slack. Don’t finish the book. For one week, do not do a to-do list. (I know, your palms are sweating at the very thought.) Be late just because you wanted an extra five minutes in the hot shower.

9. Take an improv class. It could teach you more about innovation, relationships, success, and sexuality than any therapist or self help book.

10. Say no. Only offer the simple explanation that “it just doesn’t feel right.”

11. Say yes. Just for the hell of it. Whimsy is a direct route enlightenment…or peril. Either way, you’ll come out stronger.

Focus is a fabulous force. Tho’ sometimes, it’s good to blur the lines and depart from your expertise, your skill set and what you think you know so well. Many a great discovery has come from accidental encounters and seemingly unrelated interests.

Choose three subjects that you have no interest in whatsoever, or that you’re actually slightly adverse to. Do it right now. Google ‘em. Let yourself meander for a bit, not too long – just until you learn something you didn’t know before.

My topic picks: knitting – I respect it dearly, but it’s never going to happen for me; National Rifle Association – a mentality that baffles my sensibilities and values; high-jumping – not in this life time.

Here’s what I learned in under fifteen minutes:
1. From Craftnicity and The Knit A Square Project: It is estimated that there are 11.6 million orphans in sub-saharan Africa. 1.4 million live in South Africa.
2. According to the Washington Post, “visitors to some national parks would be able to start packing heat along with their tents and picnic baskets under a proposal being considered by the Interior Department that would ease restrictions on loaded firearms in the parks.” Just what I want…to go camping in the same vicinity as some yahoos with a Winchester in their cooler.
3. Blanka Vlašić is considered the Best Female Athlete in the World. Her legs go up to my chin. Wowza.

The point of this exercise isn’t to waste time or fill your bean with trivia. It’s to remember what it’s like to actively learn. Feel your brain pulse, your eyes lift, your heart open. Freshness. Power. Perspective – is everything.

1. What do people thank you for most often? What do they come to you for, or say about you most frequently {“positive” or “negative”}?

Gratitude leads you back to your strengths. The greatest leverage you have for a return on investment is by investing in your natural talents and using them generously.

2. When do you feel powerful, on fire, free, incredibly useful? What do you get excited by?

True and sustainable success is fueled by pure inspiration. Always.

3. When someone at a party asks you what you do, what do you say? {And how do you feel when you say it?}

With truth comes grace and healthy pride … and every entrepreneur needs a slam dunk cocktail line.

4. What do you think your form of genius is, what are you amazing at {work or life related?}

Everybody is amazing at something — whether it’s being a loyal friend, crunching numbers, motivating people or throwing great parties. {And your genius is a cousin to your joy.}

Whether you’re confused or highly particular, curiosity is a form of power. Use it.

What are you attracted to? Make a list.
Here’s mine. I’m attracted to, intrigued by, enamored with…

1. Pure rose oil, that’s so pure it’s peppery.
2. Kids.
3. People who are comfortable in silence.
4. Convents.
5. Old Egypt.
6. Word economy – saying a lot with a little.
7. Inquisitiveness!!!
8. People who are confrontational.
9. Old African men who smile with their eyes.
10. Scars.
11. Innovation.
12. Alleys.
13. Musicians who have never worked a day in their life.
14. Wealthy, self-made entrepreneurs who aren’t excessive.
15. Philanthropists.
16. The seering brilliance and heart of the TED talks.
17. Filthy at the end of the day construction workers.
18. Rothko paintings.
19. Elvis in 1969.
20. The greeny turquoise with brown flecks.
21. Cosmology.
22. Nests.
24. Gold. Can’t get too much gold.
25. Great teeth.
26. Text art.

What’s on your magnetism list? Now ask yourself what’s so interesting, or soothing, or sexy about the things that you gravitate towards. Go with the first thing that enters your mind, no matter how silly or grandiose it may seem.

I can see a pattern in my attractions: mystery, hard work, glamor, sacred devotion, currency, artistry. Sounds like the essential ingredients to the masterpiece I want to create, or my everyday my ideal life.

Being aware of not only what we are attracted to, but why we’re attracted to it, gives us access to the most tender and creative places within ourselves. If you put your finger on the magnetism, you can attract more of what you want into your life.

Dear Danielle at 20:
1.    Algebra really is useless.
2.    Credit cards are mostly evil.
3.    Talk is cheap.
4.    If he doesn’t stay until morning, he’s probably married or deeply insecure.
5.    There is no soul mate. I know, this is particularly hard news to take because you are longing for The One 24-7. But, guess what, The One is The One because you say he/she is. And that’s way more liberating and empowering than anything preordained or supposedly destined.
6.    And while we’re dissing cosmic romanticism – there’s no such thing as destiny. Life really is what you make it.
7.    Tragedy happens. Yes, everything happens for a reason, but life can be cruel and wrenching and while it all comes out in the cosmic wash, some souls collide and mistakes do happen.
8.    Louise Hay is a magnificent woman, but there is more to the machinations of life, illness, and cosmology than the simple explanations offered by You Can Heal Your Life. Cancer is not necessarily a result of repressed guilt, and you may not necessarily choose to heal your life this time around – that’s okay. Illness doesn’t make you a New Age Loser.
9.    Diplomacy is overrated.
10.    If your boss tries to french kiss you, it’s out of bounds.
11.    Only lend books if you don’t want them back.
12.    Go to more concerts.
13.    If you don’t kiss girls in your twenties, you’ll probably never get around to trying it out. You should try it out.
14.    You’re right – kindness is one of the most powerful natural resources there is…infinitely renewable.
15.    Your feelings are exceedingly more useful than your ability to rationalize your fears or other people’s poor behaviour.
16.    Your heart….your heart….your heart is where it’s at.
17.    When you turn 40, you shall be rocking like never before, grateful for absolutely everything, and you will finally, finally feel like earth is home….for the most part.

7 reasons to buy yourself and your favourite friend a copy of John O’Donohue’s Beauty, in the words of the master poet himself: We live between the act of awakening of the act of surrender.

In a sense, all the contemporary crises can be reduced to a crisis about the nature of beauty. This perspective offers us new possibilities. Perhaps, for the first time, we gain a clear view of how much ugliness we endure and allow. The media generate relentless images of mediocrity and ugliness in talk-shows, tapestries of smothered language and frenetic gratification. The media are becoming the global mirror and these shows enshrine the ugly as the normal standard.

Could it be possible that a landscape could have a deep friendship with you? Perhaps your favourite place feels proud of you…it will miss your voice, your breath and the bright waves of your thought, how you walked through the light and brought news of other places. Colour is the clothing of beauty. No-one wants to remain a prisoner of an unlived life. The imagination has a deep sense of irony.

The who-ness of someone can never be finally named, known, claimed, controlled or predicted.

The who is beyond all frames and frontiers and dwells in the mystery of its own reflexivity and infinity.

Who has no map. … Beauty is the inconceivable made so intimate that it illuminates our hearts.

Naturally, we want try to get as far away from anxiety as possible – which usually just results in us being anxious about being anxious. You resist and so it persists. But what if rather than pushing it away, we actually welcomed anxiety when it showed up? What if, rather than dreading the discomfort it brings, we looked at anxiety as a delivery service of inner truth and other such soul goodies? Because every time anxiety shows up, it’s our psyche’s way of saying, “Knock knock, I’ve got something to show you about yourself that you really should see.”

Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard explained anxiety is a natural condition. (How liberating!) He believed that anxiety is “a cognitive emotion that reveals truths that we would prefer to hide but that we need for our greater health.”

And that it’s a valuable to for shaping our ideal lives. Think of it this way, beneath the butterflies in your stomach, behind the clouds in your mind – is your greater truth, and it’s trying to break on through.

TURNING ANXIETY INTO POWER

STEP 1: Face reality. “I’m anxious.”
Simply notice your anxiety. Firstly, you need to be aware of your actual indicators of anxiety – they can be different for everyone. A lot of the times anxiety is trying to talk to us and we’re just not picking up on the physical or mental cues. For me, anxiety manifests in what I call, priority confusion. If I wander from room to room in the house, unsure if I should tidy, check my email, walk the dog, or write a novel, then I know something is up. I’m typically very laid back and laser-like decisive so if I can’t figure out what’s first on the to-do list, I know that anxiety has come callin’.

When you see the signs of it, all you need to do is simply state it. “I’m feeling anxious.” There. You said it. You probably feel better already. Getting real is always the best first step.

STEP 2: Inquiry. “So, why am I anxious?”
This is the step that requires real work. It’s the kind of inquiry that calls for both concentration and compassion – a tricky combo. Having an “inquiry image” might be helpful. I often see dilemmas as layers of soft, earthy sediment within myself, and each question is a drilling down through the silt. “So why am I anxious?” I ask myself. “Because I don’t want to be late.” Not quite, that doesn’t feel true. “So why am I anxious?” I repeat. “Because I’ve got so much to do.” Nope, that’s not it either, it’s not making sense to my heart. “So why am I anxious?” I drill down. “Because I’m afraid that when I show up I’ll be rejected.” Bingo.

When you get to the true reason for your anxiousness, and there may be more than one explanation, then there’s usually a softening that occurs when you come across it.

So you called it like you see it. That’s powerful. And you’ve identified the reason – even more powerful. Now you’re ready to rise above it.

STEP 3: Take responsibility.
This is where your real power comes in. This is the fun bit, where you get to be a creative grown up, the master of your own domain. Once you’ve discovered why you’re feeling anxious – whether it’s fear of failure, or a memory of past hurt or humiliation, then you need to counter the fear and negativity with courage and optimism. It’s that simple – and that challenging.

Whatever you want to call it, positive thinking, re-framing, self-encouragement, ra-ra-rah, this is where you need to step up to the plate, look at your fear head on and confront it with your truth. The truth being, that you manage to get through everyday whether with grace or grit; that fear will not kill you; that your God, or your friends, or your grandma in heaven will have your back; that you have risen above before, and that you will rise above again; that, it’s only life after all.

Anxiety doesn’t come bearing the solution. It’s just there to direct your attention to the problem. It’s like a headache that signals to you that you’re hungry. The headache reminds you that your body needs nourishment, and then it’s up to you to feed yourself. Self-care is a divine responsibility. To befriend anxiety is to choose your deepest strength. It’s turning brain fuzz into brilliance, and the jitters into vital fuel to help you shine brighter than ever.

“The things you are fired for are often the things that in later life you will be celebrated and given life time achievement awards for!” Francis Ford Coppola was canned for writing an “odd” and awkward script for the now legendary film Patton. The film was shelved, took years to make, and then went on to win an Oscar for best screenplay.

Meanwhile, Coppola was working on The Godfather and was also on the verge of being canned from that film. He figures the glory from the Oscar saved his butt from being fired from The Godfather…which as we all know, went down in movie making history.

If I hadn’t been rejected from art school, I’d never have written my first book. If I’d gotten that gig with the big publishing house, I wouldn’t have met The Dalai Lama. If I’d stayed in my last company, I wouldn’t be writing the White Hot Truth.

What’s “odd” is often revolutionary (change happens at the edges….beware the majority). Artistry rarely compromises, it just looks for a new place to express itself. “Good” will never, ever, ever be as deeply fine as giving it your all come hell or high water.

Thank God for failure. What failures are you grateful for?

When things are that charmed, I always pay closer attention.

The creation of sand mandalas is a ritual in the impermanence of life. Incredibly complex patterns are painstakingly built by trinkling grains of coloured sand into their microscopic places. Mandalas can take many weeks to construct – not a grain out of place. And then….the mandala is swept into the wind, the sea, or smeared up into a pile of nothing but sacred sand and given to worshipers or carried to the river by procession.

All that work. Then poof! Since not many of us have worked in the medium of sand, try this metaphor on for size: imagine covering a 5 × 5 foot canvas working with only the teeny tiniest brush. You work round the clock for weeks, barely eating. Eyes stinging, hands cramped. The perfect masterpiece of meaningful complexity – worthy of the Louvre. Instead of a gallery show or collecting a commission, you take it out back and burn it.

Or, imagine building a successful company from just an idea; weaving a marriage together for years; growing a community; a garden; a belief system that guides your entire life — then letting it all go, just walking away. No leverage, no strings, no regrets.

Could you do it?

I think I could. I think I might.

1. Rebecca Walker’s perspective on Chris Brown’s violent attack on Rhianna: “This is about relationships and what healthy ones look like,” she told ABC News. “It’s about intimacy and how little we, as a culture, know about cultivating and maintaining it. It’s about love, what it is, and what it isn’t.”

2. This Goddess of Design + Typography, Marian Bantjes.

3. That even though, after two years of breast feeding and 30-some (okay, almost 40) years of gravity, my husband still praises my ta-tas like they’re the holy fruit of life. Good man.

4. The pure, tar-like amber oil that Chantal in Albuquerque gets from the guy in Bali and send to me here in Vancouver. Makes me feel like someone really knows what my heart emits.

5. This quote from Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of the monumental, Women Who Run With The Wolves, a book that that was like a hot house for my own blossoming: Each woman has potential access to Rio Abajo Rio, this river beneath the river. She arrives there through deep meditation, dance, writing, painting, prayer-making, singing, drumming, active imagination, or any activity which requires an intense altered consciousness. A woman arrives in this world-between worlds through yearning and by seeking something she can see just out of the corner of her eye. She arrives there by deeply creative acts, through intentional solitude, and by practice of any of the arts. And even with these well-crafted practices, much of what occurs in this ineffable world remains forever mysterious to us, for it breaks physical laws and rational laws as we know them.

Go to the river, sisters, and brothers. Go to the river.