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26 December 2011

Day 10. Letting go.

BeI posted this last December. I'm reposting now because I was curious to discover how much I am focused on letting go now, still. "Letting go" is definitely a theme for 2012 as I plan online classes centered around this concept - and as I finish my new book, "The Geography of Loss."

From December 2010:

I'm participating in a 31-day blogging challenge called reverb10, responding to writing prompts that are designed to elicit reflections on 2010, and hopes for 2011. You can find out more about it here. I am challenging myself to respond to each prompt in 15 minutes or less.

Today's challenge: Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

 

Letting go.

I let go of striving this year.

Of listening to other people tell me how to build a business, create a personal brand, drive readers to my blog, get more followers, attract more friends on Facebook, get rich, be a thought leader, be a wealthy thought leader, be a platinum wealthy thought leader, get to the top of Amazon page rankings, rise to the front page of Google, be an A-lister whatever that is, be on Oprah, get noticed, make a million dollar book deal, get rid of the heartbreak of psoriasis.

I let go of all that striving. It was exhausting me. It was making me itchy. It was taking me off course and into a world of upward mobility for the sake of upward mobility. It felt false and cheap and breathless. So much advice about how. I don't care about how. I want to know why. I want to be wealthy in a very different way.

I unsubscribed, de-followed, blocked all that striving and upward mobility. I responded to people who asked me questions about writing a successful blog and book with one question: "What do you long to say with your life? Let that be your guide, not the audience, the purchaser, the SEO." I responded to advertisers who wanted to advertise on my blog with a single word: "No." I responded to invitations to be an affiliate to sell other people's materials with a single word: "No." If I love what you're doing, I want to tell about it because I love it, not because I'll make money from the sale.

I let go of readers who berated me for writing as an advocate for my fellow lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex human beings. I stopped defending my beliefs around human rights, stopped making it okay for people to denounce whole groups of human beings, stopped being polite about it.

I decided to listen to my own voice instead.

And here's what my voice said:

Here, now, this is enough.

Loving what and whom I love is enough.

Living life on a human scale is enough.

Writing what I love and question and care about is enough.

Here, now, this is enough.

I let go of expectations, mine and yours. Of any need to be clever, rich, thin, quieter, hot, even happy.

I let go of people who made me feel less than. I let go of people who are addicted to misery. I let go of any need to be clever or sophisticated or hip.

I picked up my ordinary.

I decided to just be.

 

[rock by kim mailhot, the rock fairy]

The Week of Inward Looking: Day 1 - Bendiness

MindthegapAuthor Susan Piver and I are hosting "The Week of Inward Looking" during this week between Christmas and the New Year. It occured to us that this inbetween week is a time for examination, a time to build a bridge to a peaceful, joyful, creative, and wildly successful 2012--whatever success means to you.

So we invited five extraordinary thinkers to join us in creating a 7-day journey, starting today.

You are welcome to join our Facebook group to connect with others participating in The Week of Inward Looking, or not.

You are welcome to post your answers on that Facebook page, or not.

You are welcome to journal in your private journal, on your blog, anywhere you'd like--the questions are simply put into the universe for you to consider as we move in this week toward 2012. Share as you would like.

Each day will have a different questioner, and a different theme. You'll hear from me, Susan Piver, Jonathan Fields, Ken Robert, Andrew Mellen, Jen Louden, and Seth Godin. I hope you'll join us in this exploration. 

 

DECEMBER 26

QUESTION #1

From Patti Digh

Topic: Body (Bendiness)

Question: Where have I learned and lived in 2011? In my head, in my body, or both? What would living more fully in my body in 2012 bring to me? How can I embody life and learning as I move through this liminal space between now and next? How can I more fully learn from the neck down in 2012?

In our hyper-intellectualized disembodied world, we sometimes allow technology to take the place of our bodies, don't we? We sit, with only our arms moving as we type. We've even begun to distrust what our bodies say to us. Instead, we learn from the neck up, when learning from the neck down and fully embodying life will provide us with such greater riches. What do you allow yourself to really feel in your body, without the need to clarify, intellectualize, provide proof, capture with data, or block? What can you allow yourself to really feel in your body in 2012?

25 December 2011

11 days. Let go of the resulting sadness.

11daysI want to let go of self hatred and the resulting sadness.

I want to let go of self hatred and the resulting sadness.  I want to let go of the hold other people's judgement has over me.

-Jen Varela



Let go of the want to let go.

I would like to say that I let go of the 'WANT' to let go, because in 'wanting' there is room for procrastination. Universe does  not understand 'WANT', it hangs in ether. I understand that, yet, I buy time in saying I WANT TO..... so, from now on for me there is no 'wanting', either just 'being' or 'doing', most importantly 'doing from a place of being' no matter what it is.

-Padma Ayyagari



Let go of the belief that I'm not good enough.

I want to let go of the belief that I'm not good enough. I want to learn to be more kind and compassionate towards myself.  I want to wholeheartedly believe that I am worthy and that I do matter regardless of what others may say or think.

-Val



Bringing peace and creating art.

I need to bring peace into my life once again and return to creating art while distancing myself from all people and things who have been toxic in 2011.

-Renee

 

Let go of feeling unworthy.

I want to let go of doubt and feeling unworthy. And continue to expand into yes! and possibility.

-Celeste Tibbets

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 950 people have registered so far! I'll be giving away lots of books, 2012 Life is a Verb calendars, and free classes! Bring your own cupcake and I hope to see you there!

happy birthday, daddy.

Daddy--little chair big138As always on Christmas Day, a remembrancer of my father whose birthday is Christmas. He would have been 85 today. Happy birthday, Daddy.

Monogram your pancakes

Surviving a loss and letting go is only half of the story. The other half is the secret belief that we will find, in one form or another, what we have lost. And it is that potential, shimmery as a star on a clear night that helps us survive.” – Veronica Chambers

You can’t make pancakes without breaking eggs.” – Spanish proverb

My father’s birthday is Christmas day. He has been dead for almost 32 years, yet he would still only be 85 years old. Cheated, him and me and my children, and theirs. Dead at 53.

And cheated too because he was born on Christmas Day. Imagine the cheaty cheat you’d feel if your birthday fell on Christmas, especially as a kid—whatever happened to that other day, the one mid-year, where everyone gets together to sing “Happy Birthday” and play Pin the Tail on the Donkey and eat double chocolate layer cake with small sugar trains on top and shower you with gifts and focus on you alone, celebrating the very fact that you were born into the world?

For him, it was all compressed into one relative-heavy day—nothing to look forward to in March or June or August—no, just this one day, his own birth overshadowed by another and, as time went by, overshadowed even more by a large red-suited man with rosacea.

Oh, sure, people would say they had combined your Christmas and birthday present to accommodate both occasions, but I can’t imagine that this convenient fabrication made Daddy feel any better, more special, less cheated.

So, as an adult with a family of his own making, we celebrated Daddy’s birthday at Christmas breakfast—specifically focused on his birthday and marred only slightly, I imagine, by the fact that he had to compete for our divided attention—after all, the loot from Santa was achingly just in the next room (my good lord, man, there’s a General Electric Show ‘n Tell Home Entertainment Center Film Strip Viewer and Record Player waiting for me under that tree!)—and perhaps marred also by the fact that he had to cook it himself. Or maybe he wanted to, always having been known as the best breakfast cooker in the house: grits and bacon, sausage and biscuits with sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, pancakes in the shape of animals or letter with Aunt Jemima syrup. [This was before my stubborn descent into vegetarianism as a teenager.]

I loved those pancakes. No, I adored them. I loved the attention they represented, the personalized creation of batter and fluff, perfectly creating a P and a D in his hand and sometimes a flower or a heart or triceratops or the word “love.”

Grandma would join us, white-gloved to assess the dust; we would put an extra leaf in the table and fold our paper napkins into pointy triangles instead of rectangles, to be fancy. I always thought of it as cozy and realize now that it was actually tight, a table in the small kitchen since we had no dining room, room for only one person to stand and refill juice glasses. Probably my mother dreamed of a house for entertaining the Lottie Moon Women’s Bible Study Group; what she got was a house for raising orange-haired children, giving us the biggest room in the house as a playroom complete with a schoolroom-sized chalkboard for my work as a pretend teacher and eating, instead, at a table pushed up against the kitchen wall. Never mind that the living room sat unused, ripe for space but untouched by human hands, save when the preacher visited.

So, Daddy cooked and we ate, giving him birthday presents at breakfast, wrapped—and this is important—in birthday wrapping paper, not holiday wrap. This couldn’t appear a haphazard, forgotten day, lost in the thrill of that Oscar Schmidt Autoharp and new Bobby Sherman album left by Santa, no.

One of those last birthday (of course, we didn’t know how few he had left), I saved all my tips from working at Joe’s Dairy Bar and bought him a Mickey Mouse watch. Mind you, the crowds at Joe’s on Sunday nights after church were amazingly large (no lactose intolerance among the Southern Baptist crowd), but cheap, so it took a while to save enough for the special edition Mickey Mouse watch with the date on the dial! Imagine! I thought it suited his pixie sense of humor, that crooked smile of his, and he did love it!

When he died, I made sure Mr. Sossoman arranged it on the wrist on top so all those hundreds of people who came to see him in his satin puffy box would smile and nod knowingly. “Yes,” they’d say to themselves, “that Melvin always did have a smile on his face.” The funny, bright red “Merry Xmas” Western bow-tie that he proudly wore with a sly smile to holiday parties is always front and center on my Christmas tree.

That same birthday, I talked Mama into buying Daddy a pair of Lee blue jeans. She balked—“what will people think?”—and I insisted. “He’ll love them. Just wait and see,” I said.

He wore them everyday. He had them on that last harried ride to Intensive Care on Mother’s Day weekend, the unsigned Mother’s Day card we found afterwards in the trunk of his car a most terrible symbol of his suddenly unfinished life and his thoughtfulness, simultaneously.

Daddy went into the hospital that day and only his clothes came back out. I used to see Mama open that hospital bag of his last clothes, closing its top around the whole bottom half of her face, trying to smell him, desperate for his scent after he went underground. I tried to convince her to bury him in those loved, worn jeans and his beloved red plaid corduroy shirt, but she drew the line at the Mickey Mouse watch. A woman knows her limits. I wear that shirt now and perhaps Mama still has those jeans in that bag, taking them out from time to time for a whiff of him, real or imagined.

Daddy hooked a holiday stocking shortly before he died, having been introduced to the wonders of rug-hooking by a wife who was frantic—desperate even, and with good reason—to provide him with a quiet hobby, one that unlike watching Joe Namath wouldn’t involve excitement, anticipation, movement, stress to his heart. If ever there was a hobby like that, I suppose rug-hooking was it, followed only by sleeping.

So, when Christmas comes, like it inevitably does, my sadness at his leaving magnifies: when I see that holiday stocking hung from my dining room mantel, I both smile at his leaving it behind and I weep for the reduction of his life it represents, a heart patient quietly hooking rugs at the very prime of his life.

And yet, I wonder how much my adoration depends on his loss. If he had been living these 25 years, would I have seen things about him as an adult that I didn’t like and he, me? Probably, just as we all do. So, instead, he has been given a special status—that kind of adored position where time stops so we can’t peek under the curtain and see things with which we disagree as often occurs when we age, watching parents and relatives and friends (and self) too closely over time become people we might not want them to be, or be ourselves.

None of us are immune from that disappointment, that change of heart, that realization, that sudden knowing, are we? Perhaps not, unless we die young. It’s not a good trade-off, and it’s a chance I long to have taken, to grow up with him, warts and all. Maybe then I would have learned to incorporate all that new data, that vision of family from grown-up angles, where Grandpa is no longer nine feet tall, but just usual-sized, for example. Perhaps then I would have learned to be forgiving of those foibles, that fall, that shrinkage in estimation—that human reality, the stuff that really is us over time—to resist those impeachment proceedings of others that we’re prone to. As Deming said, “the greatest losses are unknown and unknowable.” Here’s to knowing.

When my stepfather died 23 years after my father, this time I was ready. He asked me to write his eulogy and deliver it at his funeral and I did all that. It was a fine eulogy, I think, one with a satisfying organizing principle, a rhythm to it like all good speeches, a clarifying sense of closure and rounded-ness. I wrote it on a flight beside a Baptist minister; perhaps his denomination was the final inspiration. Writing it had haunted me during those 37 days while he died—knowing I needed to get on with it, yet feeling bad about announcing the end while he was still in process, knowing that summing up a life is an awesome responsibility, but not yet feeling the sense of it, the way it should add up, until that flight. And then it was done. I had realized the parts and the whole. It was a fine tribute, a tripartite homage to the life of a tall man with a Southern accent, a golfer’s tan, and a dark green Lincoln Town Car.

Delivering that eulogy was tough going. Tougher than I ever imagined. In fact, spent by the anxiety of watching me choke on words, one of my mother’s friends said afterwards that she didn’t know how I made it through. “I had to take a Xanax just to get to the funeral,” she explained. Later, at Mama’s house, my brother pulled out a pill bottle, asking if anyone needed an Ativan. (Note to self: after always hiding the occasional wine bottle when my Southern Baptist family came to visit, I suddenly realized that perhaps they don’t drink not because of their religion, but because they’re all high on prescription drugs, so just a shout out to them: no more hiding the Mt Difficulty merlot at my house.)

As I looked out from my pulpit into the church, I saw the sons of my father’s friends, looking just as their fathers had looked 25 years before; their daddies then pallbearers for my father’s casket—the one like Hoss from Bonanza was buried in—and now here before me their sons, spitting images and pallbearers again. In that hot-faced moment of recognition, I wasn’t speaking at my stepfather’s funeral anymore, I was speaking at Daddy’s, saying what I needed to have said then, but was too young to know or say. I'll admit that I got momentarily angry at all those people who had continued living while he didn't, including the dead man lying below where I stood. And in that circular moment, I could barely speak; there were moments of real anguish on the part of the congregation (and me), that kind where you feel deeply for the person trying, desperately, to go on, like I felt when Richard Gaylord choked on “God Bless America” that time at the Burke County Fair. There’s a tape of the eulogy; I’ve not been able to listen to it since.

There, there in the front row was the reincarnation of one of my father’s friends—his son, Kenneth, all grown up into him now, the very mirror of his dad. And Ronnie, further back, always true and faithful and representing his recently dead father, having become him. It was suddenly still 1980, that horrible May moment when I reached out like a child to touch Daddy’s casket as he was rolled out of the church, those young 50-ish men in the church for Daddy’s funeral, feeling his loss but even more so, their own sudden vulnerability.

My father’s death at 53 in 1980 is the fulcrum around which my life moves. Or perhaps that’s not exactly it. Perhaps it is a rivet on which things hinge, that holds things together. No, a grommet through which everything else is laced? Yes, since that would imply a hole, I think that’s it. Like Fermat’s last theorem, it will take me 375 years to work it through. I suppose we all have something like that to puzzle through, fill up, patch, lace shut.

Journalist Marjorie Williams died of liver cancer last January three days after turning 47. A writer for The Washington Post, Vanity Fair and Slate magazines, as an “act of mourning,” her husband compiled essays of hers in a book entitled The Woman at the Washington Zoo: 

“Having found myself faced with that old bull-session question (What would you do if you found out you had a year to live?), I learned that a woman with children has the privilege or duty of bypassing the existential. What you do, if you have little kids, is lead as normal a life as possible, only with more pancakes.”

Pancakes made into initials—is there any breakfast food more glorious, more personal, more full of sheer, fantastic, lasting love?

Yes, it’s clear what I need to do: I need to buy myself a Mickey Mouse watch.

~*~ 37days: Do it Now Challenge ~*~

Find what you have lost.

Cook monogrammed pancakes for people you love. Wear comfy jeans and a plaid shirt and a goofy watch that makes you (and others) smile. Celebrate your birthday whenever you get a hankering to.

Hook a rug to leave behind.

24 December 2011

12 days. A clean, light, healthy space in my chest.

12daysA clean, light, healthy space in my chest.

 I want to create a clean, light, healthy space in my chest. Presently a hard, heavy rock seems to dwell there. Expectations, concerns and worries have settled in my body and are trying to take root. Time and energy to eat well, exercise, meditate and pray will create the opportunity for new growth.

-Sally-Anne Guertin

 

"I'm not a king."  

In "The King's Speech," the character breaks down and shares this deep belief about himself. The movie affected me more than I could have predicted.  I am supposed to sing solo at a benefit concert in February.  Though I've rehearsed a ton already, I believe I cannot do it because I am not good enough, don't deserve to do it, will only embarrass myself, do not belong up there with those other people, etc.  I am not a king.  My wish is to let this go and do it anyway.

-D

 

Let go of wheel-spinning.

I'm so, SO ready to let go of wheel-spinning and worry and figure out a way to-- finally!-- make a living doing what I truly love. The very idea of jumping off that cliff scares the bejeezus out of me, but frankly, I'm not getting any younger here! It's time.

-Linda Ledbetter

 

Write the stories.

I want to let go of being afraid to write and embrace it and write the stories I have wanted to tell.

-Tina

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 950 people have registered so far! I'll be giving away lots of books, 2012 Life is a Verb calendars, and free classes! Bring your own cupcake and I hope to see you there!

23 December 2011

13 days. Dwell in not knowing, drift toward understanding.

13daysDwell in not knowing, drift toward understanding.

 I want to let go of thinking it has to be my way.  I want to let go my own expectation that I must have all the answers.  I want to dwell in not knowing, drift toward understanding. I want to be open to others and the possibilities of the moment.  I want to let go of having to be right-- be more kind.  I want to give up thinking about me and make space to think about others --be more generous.  Let go of my need to “do” and following the “being” more.  Let go of stuff I might need.  Release it to people who do need it.

-Carol

 

Let go of self loathing.

 I want to let go of the feeling of self loathing every time I step on the scale and don't get the number I was hoping for.  I want to be happy the way that I am and not worry about being a specific number or pant size.  I want to create an acceptance of myself.

-Claude Larson

 

Not a Human Doing.

I want my live my life more as a Human Being instead of a Human Doing.

-J. Paul Moore

 

I want to release the constrictions I place upon myself.

I want to release the constrictions I place upon myself and the imagined perceptions that I think others might have toward me, in order to spread my wings and live the life I know I am meant to. There are so many things I want to do, both socially and personally, and I am going to make 2012 the year I begin to do tackle them, one at a time.

-Kelly Keyser

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

 You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 925 people have registered so far! I'll be giving away lots of books, 2012 Life is a Verb calendars, and free classes! Bring your own cupcake and I hope to see you there!

21 December 2011

15 days. Just right.

15daysJust right.

I want to let go of the words "not enough" and "too much." And I want to create as much "just right" as I possibly can.
 

-Maya Stein


I want to let go of my views about aging.

This year I turned 60. I am so surprised at that number yet full of gratitude for that much time. In a youth-centered culture I dreaded reaching this milestone.  Instead, I wish I had embraced it.  Sixty doesn’t feel one bit different from 59. So this year I want to let go of my views about aging.

I want to create within myself a more positive attitude about what is happening to my body and in my life. I want to share that positive attitude with others. I want to create an example for my granddaughter of a strong creative fulfilled woman who embraces life and lives it to the fullest. I interviewed an 80 year old woman for a college class many years ago. The one phrase I will never forget from that interview was, “When people look at me all they see is an old woman but I am so much more than  that.”  We are all so much more than just our age.

-Terry Hartley


Let go of unworthiness

I want to let go of that nagging & insidious belief that I am a fraud and that people will discover that I am far less worthy and intelligent than I make myself appear to be. Having been raised by a parent who constantly compared me to my older brother (the "successful one"), at age 49, I will put this less worthy feeling to bed so my next half century is better!

-Alice


I want it to be a journey of the unexpected and the entertaining.

I want learn to live my life in the moment. To stop planning for the times to come and do them NOW. Stop saving the good china for a special occasion and use it everyday. I want to make every day "a special occasion"  and even though I am not sure where life will take me I want it to be a journey of the unexpected and the entertaining with good friends along as an added plus.

-Sallye Stapleton

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

 You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 860 people have registered so far! I'll be giving away lots of books, 2012 Life is a Verb calendars, and free classes! Bring your own cupcake and I hope to see you there!

20 December 2011

16 days. Broken is still whole, still beautiful.

16daysThis year I will step up

I want to let go of the fear of scaring people away with my ideas, voice, opinions, talents.  I used to embrace leadership, but when the spotlight shined on my faults, I backed away. This year I will step up, be awesome, adjust when needed, and change the little world I inhabit for the better. I will lead by example and by choice.

-Michelle Harris

 

I want to let go of waiting.

I want to let go  of WAITING. Through my entire life (71 years) I have felt I must wait until the time was just right to live the life I wanted, the life I deserve.  When I was a child, I of course, had to WAIT until I grew up! Then, as an adult, I Waited until my children were grown. Art classes? WAIT until I could afford them Writing? WAIT until I have time.  Meanwhile, my life is slipping by. I must stop WAITING and LIVE!

-Janey Davis

 

I want to let go of chasing "success"

I want to let go of chasing "success". I want to live my life the way that I want to, create what I want to and if success at anything follows (or surrounds) this - so be it. I'm tired of trying to create artwork/workshops that I think people will consider  "successful". So there stress - take THAT!

-Carol Sloan

 

I want to let go of the stories that say broken is bad, or wrong, or shame-worthy.

I want to let go of old stories, too - the old stories that say I'm the damaged one, I'm the one who's not quite good enough, I'm the one broken beyond repair. Actually, I want to let go of the stories that say broken is bad, or wrong, or shame-worthy.

Broken is still whole, still beautiful; it simply occupies a new space, in a different shape.

I want to create so much passion and purpose and love in myself, that it spills over and creates a safe, glowing space for others so they can find their own passion and purpose and love, and know they're completely supported in that. Then they can see that they, too, are whole and beautiful, even if they're broken, and bloody, and raw in their new shape.

-Caren Knox-Hundley

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

 You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 850 people have registered so far! I'll be giving away lots of books, 2012 Life is a Verb calendars, and free classes! Bring your own cupcake and I hope to see you there!

19 December 2011

17 days. Create a new story.

17daysLet go of the old story.

I want to let go of the old story: the one I told myself over and over, for years, complete with soundtrack of love songs, and fantasy visions of how it was all going to look and feel. I am letting go of this story of 'love' and I am living life now, as it is. I want to be a creator of life and memories, not just a dreamer. I want to be the author of my life, not the one who pines for that something (someone) who is going to make it different.

True, it is harder when the "someone" was a real person, who did give you the fairytale for while. I would never ever have believed I would be the one caught up in that, or that I would struggle so much to let it go. But there you have it.

I am letting go of the story, and picking up the threads of life as it is / as I continue to create it / as it happens. How glorious.

-CJ

 

Let go of my fear of succeeding.

I want to let go of my fear of succeeding. I want to let go of the voice that repeats inside my head that I'm not good enough, or deserving enough, to achieve and embrace all that I am capable of.

I want to create a life where I finally allow others fully into my heart, so that it's a two-way stream of relationship - not just me hearing them, but them hearing me, too. The real me, not the prettied-up me. And I want to be okay with letting anyone walk away who needs to because they can't deal with that.

-LisaRose Barnes

 

Let go of being tense.

 I want to let go of keeping my body in a tense state, but rather breathing through my experiences and staying in touch with my body. I want to create a safe space within myself to continue doing my art in 2012.

-Ellen November

 

Stop deferring the future

I need the steadiness of my own heart and hands for myself this next year as I begin taking steps towards my future goals. I need to let go of the fear that the money, time, and effort I'm risking will be wasted. I am creating the future I tried to defer - But like a loan payment, its time has come and it is due.

-Rodger M

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

 You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come! Over 800 people have registered so far!

18 December 2011

18 days. Embrace what simply is.

18daysLet go of anger. Learn to breathe

I have some anger in me. I'm not really sure what it's about, and it doesn't really matter. I think what it's about is long gone, because, really, in my life, there's nothing to be angry about. Yet my first reaction to the wrenches that are thrown at me often is anger, even when I handle the wrench with aplomb, dignity and even grace.

I want to learn how to take that breath that gets me to the right reaction BEFORE that initial lion growl comes out of me.

-Sally


Welcome abundance

I want to let go of fear and scarcity, and welcome abundance and generosity together in my life. Next year I will find the voice whispering in my art and let it speak up loud enough to be heard by those who need it in their lives.

-Amy Crook



Look inside

In 2012, I want and need to let go of the search for fulfillment outside of my Self. It ain't out there ! In its place, I would like to create a huge dose of Self-love and Self-care that will make me feel fulfilled everyday, on the inside.

Oh, oh ! I put that in writing, didn't I?

-Kim Mailhot



Embrace what simply is.

I need to let go of what I thought my life was going to be like.  In many ways it is exactly as I planned it but nothing like I imagined, and the tenacious clinging to what I had envisioned gets in the way, every single day, of my embrace of what simply is.  Sublime, mysterious, glorious, painful.  It is and I don't want to waste any more time.

-Lindsey

 

What is your answer to this question: What do you want to let go of, and what do you want to create in 2012?

 You can submit it here and I will post several a day as we count down to the launch of my new 37days site on January 5th, 2012 with a free, online party! Come!