spiritual

Fear had its grubby mitts on me and was dragging me systematically, with every anxious, shallow breath, deeper down the rabbit hole.

It replaced my relatively rational mind with that of a caveman being chased by a T-Rex.

I was in constant fight or flight mode, assessing every threat on a scale of one to ten. One being completely benign, a kitten sleeping on a chair, ten being a lumber truck filled with deer barreling toward us. Every moment on the motorcycle felt like a ten.

What the hell had happened to me?

If I had to name the soundtrack playing in my head all day long, it would have been the theme from Jaws and The Shining on an endless loop, ramping up my adrenalin, and whipping my nerves into a frenzy.

Studies have shown the detrimental effects of fear on the human psyche.
I was a textbook case.

Fear affects our thinking and actions.
It made me into a dumbass. My thinking was completely skewed which caused me to act like a huge fraidy cat.
I wanted to turn right, if you can imagine that, on our Left Turn Trip which prompted a stern admonition from my husband. “You’re acting like an idiot. Stop it.”

Fear hinders us from becoming the people we are meant to be.
Where was that carefree, fearless woman who was game for anything and loved seeing the world on the back of a bike? She had ceased to exist, replaced instead by a woman afraid of wildlife. Not lions and tigers and bears (oh my) but freakin’ Bambi.

Fear can drive people to destructive habits. To numb the pain of distress and foreboding, some turn to things like drugs and alcohol for artificial relief.
Yep, I was main lining the wine and chocolate. All concern for healthy living left me. Why bother. I could be killed at any moment so a big, fat, chocolate croissant or a sticky bun for breakfast were just the gateway drugs for a day of self-destructive culinary debauchery.

Fear steals peace and contentment. When we’re always afraid, our life becomes centered on pessimism and gloom.
Peace and contentment were distant memories for me now. I was a frazzled wreak. Being hyper vigilant is exhausting. I couldn’t even take in the beauty of the scenery, it was no longer about the journey, I just wanted to get to the next destination and get the hell off this God forsaken death march…I mean road trip.

Fear creates doubt.
Yes – yes it does, and I think my husband started to doubt my sanity right about then.

This next story is kind of my perfect storm of fear’s behavioral anarchy.

One afternoon around three, we found ourselves entering back into a forested area after being along the coast most of that morning. It was extremely overcast, dark and gloomy, so much so that all vehicles had to use their headlights in the middle of the day.
In other words: summer along the Northwest coast.
Well, that sent me into a terrified tailspin. I could feel every muscle in my body tense up. I tugged at my husband’s arm frantically, which is the Universal sign for “I’ve lost my mind, pull over immediately.”

Now stopped on the side of the highway, I screamed over the traffic whizzing by into his helmet this question, which I’m SURE is on the MENSA qualification exam.

“Its gotten so dark out, do you think the deer think that its dusk? They can’t tell time, maybe they operate from the changes in light? Are they getting ready to start leaping out? Because if they are, I think we should stop riding RIGHT NOW!”

That was it. He’d had enough.

Forcefully grabbing both my shoulders, he looked me square in the eyes and yelled over traffic. “This has GOT TO STOP. I don’t care if you want to drive yourself nuts, but now you’re driving me INSANE.”

“I can’t believe I’m even going to say this: DUSK is DUSK. Get a grip woman.
We’re riding all the way to Cannon Beach today and we may not get there until after dark. DEAL WITH IT. I’m finished indulging your fears.
Yes, it’s true, you may die on the bike. It may be a buck, it may be a lumber truck, it may be because I had a brain aneurism caused by all this nonsense!”

“Nevertheless, I want my old wife back!”

“I want to hear you humming songs and talking sweetly to yourself behind me. I want to feel your light touch on my back, not this horrible death grip you’ve acquired. I want to see joy instead of fear in your eyes.
Most importantly, I want your IQ to return to it’s former level…NOW!”

He chucked my shoulders to punctuate the end of his lecture and to make sure I was still paying attention.

Without another word, we got back on the bike and rode away.

And THAT ladies and gentlemen is how I overcame my fear of bambi, and death.

Do you have that someone that will give it to you straight? Not let you be led by fear? Call them right now and thank them and then tell me about it!

Brave, brave, love ,
Xox

• People always ask me if I’m afraid I’m going to die on the motorcycle, which leads me to ask them: Are you afraid to live?

  About ten years ago, we, my hubby and I, decided to take our “Left Turn Ride.”
  Our plan, (which was hatched over too much wine on a Friday night, but brilliant just the same) was to ride up the west coast of the US, from LA to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, staying as far left as the roads would allow without having to wear a wetsuit.

  Our trip motto: When in doubt – turn left.

  Those were in the days before I met Ginger who turned me onto custom earphones and the concept of riding with music playing at all times. I now go to great lengths to assemble the perfect soundtrack for each day of our rides.
  Big, sweeping instrumentals for curves and great scenery, Sting for the moors of Scotland and Ireland, Billy Joel, Annie Lennox or Gaga for city riding and even a best-selling book for the long stretches of flat, straight, highway in Wyoming.

  On this “Left Turn Ride” I had only my own thoughts to keep me company, which could put me into a kind of zoned out state of bliss, or wreak havoc, depending on what I was seeing, how much sleep and coffee I’d had, and my general state of being that day.

  I know.

  Crap shoot, in head to toe Kevlar, on two wheels going 80 m.p.h.
  
  I’m a pretty even-tempered person, relatively low maintainance (if you just heard a thud, that’s my husband falling out of his chair) I’ve even been known to fall asleep on the back of the bike.
  No, you don’t fall off.
  No, I don’t admit any of this to my mother.

  Up the coast of Oregon and Washington we rode through mile after mile of gorgeous redwood forests.
  The scent of pine is one of my all time favorite things in the world next to the sound of babies laughing and bacon.
  Redwoods and Pine trees are at the top of my list of the reasons Why I Ride.
  They feed my soul.

  Sometimes the forest gets so dense and dark and the smell gets so strong, like a Christmas tree farm, you become completely transported to another time and place; of fairies, devas and magic. The trees truly are not just living, but ALIVE, and so is the forest……and therein lies the rub.

  One day in central Oregon, if I remember correctly, we saw remnants on the road of a deer that had the misfortune of meeting the front bumper of a logging truck at 65 mph.
  Then another.
  The next day, a red pickup truck was at a gas station, totaled on all four sides as a huge buck had gone up and over the front hood and windshield, with its legs making contact with the side panels on its way down the back and straight to heaven.
  That is when my thoughts, left to their own devices without the distraction of music, went to work on me.

  “What happens if we hit a deer?” I asked later at lunch, picking all the good bits out of my salad.

  My husband looked at me as if I just slapped him and slowly put down his fork.
  Shaking his head and fiddling with his paper napkin (he HATES paper napkins, it’s the French in him) he let out a long sigh.

  “Well, I will try to slow down if I have the chance, I won’t jam on the brakes and I won’t swerve to get out of the way because THAT will kill us for sure.”

  I stopped chewing.

  “When we hit it, the guts will splatter all over us, the deer will die, it’ll total the front of the bike, but hopefully we’ll be okay.”

  Shit. I dropped my fork.

  “If it’s an Elk or a Moose, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
  I’ll do all the same things, I’ll slow down, go straight ahead…..but we’ll all die. That’s a huge animal.”

  He nonchalantly picked up his fork and started to eat again, like he just given me the weather report.
  Cloudy with a chance of reindeer.
  I’m crying now, and in my best freaked out seven-year old voice I wailed:
  “What!!!!!!!??????? You mean…we could DIE! Holy shit!”

  He was laughing now, big giant guffaws of laughter.
  “You’re kidding, right? It never occurred to you that you could die on a motorcycle?”

  Because my fate suddenly seemed uncertain and life too short; I stopped a passing waitress and ordered a hot fudge sundae.

  “Well, no. Certainly not at the hands of a Bambi.”

  He went on to explain that the greatest threat was when the wildlife was most active – dusk and dawn. That is apparently when the most vehicle versus fauna accidents occur.

  My husband has this theory about accidents. They are a series of random events that converge at the same time and place. If you remove ONE component, the accident cannot occur. For instance, if you forget something and run back into the house delaying your departure by five minutes, that will either place you on or remove you from the accident timeline.

  I wanted to remove us from that timeline.

  My new rule: No riding before nine in the morning and kickstands down by five.
  
  Suddenly my beautiful pine forests were filled with terrifying, furry, four-legged terrorists ready to leap out at any moment and render us dead.

  Why I Ride is all about the experiences. It’s about Living life.

  Hadn’t I just said that to the person that asked me if I was afraid of dying?

  Now I found myself afraid for tens of hours a day, my eyes searching for animals lurking in the landscape, ready to leap.
  Cute became creepy.

  Fuck I hate fear, it changes you…..it was changing me.
  It was making me afraid of some implied danger, trading beautiful experiences for the illusion of safety.

  I was willing to forgo some of my all time favorite things –– the sunrise and sunset rides, the mystical, foggy, early morning departures right after coffee with the promise of a big breakfast after a couple of hours of sleepy coastal roads.

• No way Jose, I’m sleeping in. Those brazen killers will be stirring at that hour.

  Wait…why do I ride?
  (To be continued)

  Xox

  

If it looks good, you’ll see it. If it sounds good, you’ll hear it. If it’s marketed right, you’ll buy it. If it’s real….you’ll feel it.
~Kid Rock

It used to make me furious when I was a young girl (under thirty) when someone; a guru, the lady at the cosmetics counter at Bullocks, even my mother, would end a piece of advise with the phrase: You just know when you know.

“How will I know when I’ve reached enlightenment?”

“There are soooooo many different shades of red lipstick, which one looks the best?”

“There are thousands of great men in the world (saying thousands instead of millions was me being discerning) how will I be able to pick just one?”

I was looking to these experts of the human experience for answers, and the one I got most often was: You just know when you know.

Ugh. I don’t want a Zen koan, I want some real life, practical wisdom. Little did I know, that’s EXACTLY what they were dispensing.

The more often I heard this pearl, the more it sunk in and I began to take it under advisement.

One Saturday afternoon at the West Hollywood MAC store, as I lined both hands and up one arm with samples of their thirty shades of red, while waiting for a gorgeous tranny to finish up a false eyelash tutorial and give a girl some help; it hit me.

Just like that, it was suddenly clear. The clouds parted, and I just KNEW.
Out of all the choices supplied by MAC that day, two shades were just okay, the rest were shit, too pink, too blue, too dark. Then, there was THE ONE (cue the children’s choir) – it looked spectacular on my yellowish skin tone.
I ran to the window for natural light – still good.
All indecision left my body as I grabbed a wipe, cleaned myself up and ran to the counter to make my purchase.
You just know when you know.

My pocket Guru that helped me out during all my spiritual troubles in the nineties, doled out that phrase to me like mints after Mexican food.
At the time I had an annoying habit of questioning EVERYTHING
.
“How will I know if the voice in my head is my intuition or that little devil that lives on my shoulder?”

“When do you know if you’ve reached that place in meditation?”

“How do you know when you’re done praying?”

“How can I tell if I’m living my life’s purpose?”

Some of my queries were existential masterpieces and some, even if I do say so myself, were mind numbingly dumb; still, his answer was always the same:
You just know when you know.

He was right. Damn him.

Where men were concerned, this phrase proved most infuriating of all.
I’ll just know…….shit.

I had married at twenty, thinking I knew, but if I’m being completely honest (which is always my goal here) I had my doubts at the time, just no courage to go along with them, so I went through with it.
Like I’ve written before, it should be against the law to get married that young. You shouldn’t be allowed to make that big of a life decision when you’re not old enough to buy beer.

Some people DO know at a young age, but it’s as rare as being struck by lightning – and that’s how I imagined it would feel to just know.

As each year went by after my divorce, I felt a lot of things about a lot of men, but certainty wasn’t one of them.
As I entered my forties, life experience came in handy as a kind of roadmap of what I DIDNT want.

You know what I mean.

When you know what you DON’T want, you are clearer on what you DO want. No mullets, no long, yellow toenails, no mommy issues – you know, like that.

I was waiting for lightening.
But when it showed up it was more like goosebumps.
That’s my signal when I just know – my whole body becomes covered with big, giant, goosebumps…oh, and I shake.

Good job Universe, that’s some pretty undeniable physical evidence to let me know – when I’m living my purpose, I’ve found the perfect shade of red lipstick and that this time I married the exact right guy for me.

My advise to you? Pay attention; to your body, to your gut, to your heart, because they DO help you out.

Life gives us all sorts of signs about when to leave, what to say, when to forgive and which black shoes to wear.

Be on the lookout for shivers and goosebumps and lightening.
And take it from me, The Former Queen of the Jaded Skeptics.

You WILL just know when you know.

Do you get physical signs that let you know that you know? What are they if ya don’t mind me askin’? Tell me about YOUR experience with this phrase, I’d SO love to hear about it!

In case you’d rather listen than read, here you go:
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/how-to-find-the-perfect-red

You KNOW I’m sending some love,
Xox

Creation!
Think about it.
This world operates on a kind of cosmic auto-pilot where Divine Order prevails.

Buds turn into flowers, acorns to oaks, tadpoles to frogs and an egg and sperm into a human being.
It is automatic, pre-programmed alchemy, mixed with a dash of abracadabra and a pinch of magic.

If you’ve ever planted a garden from seeds you’ve witnessed this.
One day there is dirt. Then maybe some dirt and fertilizer. Later, you throw down some seeds, quite randomly actually, trying your best to duplicate Mother Nature; add some water and sunshine and voila! In a few days, from what was previously barren earth, little green sprouts start to peek their way into existence.

You, with a lot of help from the Universe, have created SOMETHING from NOTHING.

That never ceases to amaze me when I slow down long enough to actually let it sink in.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Ideas become real, caught in third dimension, for eyes to behold, scholars to ponder, haters to hate.
We cannot help it, residing in this world of creation.
It is everywhere.
Bee hives and boobies, birds nests, coral reefs, ant hills.
Nature is constantly showing off. Her cycles of birth, life and death, showing us the way.
It’s that ashes to ashes thing she does so well.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

The earliest men and women stared at the blank walls of their caves and after dinner and dishes, they drew with ash from their fire what they saw around them.
It’s in our genes.

A blank canvas calls the painter to it, like the marble summons the sculptor.
Aren’t we all glad the marble didn’t summon the painter, the canvas the cook?
Divine Order is savvy that way. An acorn doesn’t become a rosebush any more than we hatch from eggs, it’s all been worked out and it’s perfect.

SOMETHING from NOTHING

It’s the same with writing.
I start with a blank screen. Some days it taunts me with its blankness, but then the Muse starts to talk, and when she talks I listen – and I write.
Soon, that blank screen is filled with five hundred words. In the old days I would have been engulfed in a sea of crumpled rejects, these days if something doesn’t jell it’s as easily forgotten as delete, delete, delete.
I know I’m no different from every other writer when I confess to being as surprised as anyone, that the ideas actually make it to the page.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

Cooking.
Random ingredients, spices, oil, water, et al, gathered into an empty pot, simmering, beckoning for recognition. An hour ago this dish ceased to exist. I’ve said it before – add the final ingredient, LOVE.
It’s freaking alchemy. I’m telling you.

If you make jewelry, it all starts with an idea. Then add gold, stones and artistry.

If you build a house – idea. Then add dirt lot, lumber, elbow grease.

If you write a song, it’s an idea that attaches itself to music. How about THAT.

Every Corporation, company, great cause, charity, invention, started as an invisible idea.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

As I see it, it goes:
idea, intent, execution…..stand back……repeat.

We all do this in so many aspects of our day to day life, I think it’s important to recognize the alchemy and be appreciative of the fact that Divine Order exists.

SOMETHING from NOTHING.

What do you think? What have you created today?
Do you take the time to notice Divine Order in nature?
I’d love it if you told me what you create from nothing – Share it with us!

If you’d rather listen than read, I get it, here you go:

https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/something-from-nothing

Big love,
Xox

I remember riding on the motorcycle last summer along the continental divide, admiring the groves of beautiful Aspen trees that filled the landscape for mile after mile, as far as the eye could see. At that point in September, their leaves were just turning the color of butter.

They are one of my favorite trees.
I have often marveled at their physical beauty, their mottled white bark and the shimmer of their leaves. But when one of my teachers back in the day, told me their amazing story, and how it related to humanity – well, I developed an entirely different appreciation.

Somehow the roads conspired with the music in my ears (or I’d just gotten better at choosing the tracks) as we would wind in and out of the gently sweeping curves, the edges lined with groves of graceful Aspens.

I like big, full orchestra, large, sweeping instrumental pieces when we zig zag through forests.

It provides a perfect soundtrack.
You all have soundtracks that run through your lives – right?

The day I’m thinking of in particular, I was listening to Peter Gabriel’s New Blood Special Edition, which is his genius SO album mixed with full, and I mean a FULL orchestra.
Many of the instrumental tracks are over seven minutes long and IN YOUR EYES, playing at full volume in my headphones all throughout the mountains of Utah, Wyoming and Colorado, just made me weep.
Perfect temperature, scenery, music, road and company often do that to me.
It really is magic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aq9ZHVAOZDw

Here’s what’s so unusual and really quite mystical about the Aspens.
They are believed to originate from the root system of Pando, which at an estimated 80,000 years old, is thought to be among the oldest living organisms on the planet.

Aspens are very rarely solitary trees, their roots can lie dormant under the surface for years, for instance after a forest fire, or severe climate change, where they will wait for the optimum conditions for an entire grove, not just a few to flourish.

A tree is actually an above-ground stem that has emerged from a single underground root structure.

In other words, they are a collective, a community, all connected to each other with a strength and durability that remains unseen.

Don’t you love that?

My teacher relayed that story to me (which of course I immediately looked up, because it sounded like a bullshit fairytale) to make the point about the origins of our human souls.
He hated that description: human soul. It would get him all fired up, red in the face.

“The soul is immortal, being human for a brief moment of time,” he’d huff.

“It is ancient, and every soul is connected, like the root system of Pando, Pando representing God or Source or whatever you want to call it. We, humanity, are the like stems or Aspen trees, we think once we’re above ground that we are autonomous, (the trees would NEVER be that stupid) when quite the opposite is true.” He was on a roll now.

He continued, “We get all of our wisdom, strength, and beauty from our unseen connection to each other and God. When one part of the group of Aspens is suffering, it affects the whole, once a certain percentage dies, the whole grove is lost. When it thrives, the same is true.”

He was making the second point about a world community, and about the fact that we should care what goes on not only next door to us, but down the street, in the next county, state and every country of the world. We tend to not pay particular attention to wars and suffering in faraway lands, but if you subscribe to the Aspen analogy, any human suffering affects the whole.

That particular teacher was a citizen of the world and he had a soapbox and wasn’t afraid to use it.

As I rode through the groves of Aspens, beholding all the beauty in front of me for those three weeks at the end of last summer,  I remembered his lecture and I could feel how sacred this planet truly is.

If you EVER doubt that, walk or ride, through nature.
No pulpit necessary.
That my loves is Church.

Tell me, do you feel the Universal connection in nature? How can we practice more connection in our day-to-day lives? Any thoughts? I LOVE your feedback!

Sending Aspen Connected Love,
Xox

Remember permission slips?

Those signed (or forged) whichever the case may be; pieces of paper that granted us access to off the grid childhood activities?
Weekend trips with Girl Scouts, grade school field trips to museums or the Observatory, Wednesday McDonald’s hamburger lunches in sixth grade?

Proudly, I had my dad’s signature down pat, the giant R of Roy with the straight tail of the Y, ending downward, no curling back up, no frills at all, very masculine, completely unlike my own girly sixth grade cursive; so occasionally, even though I had brought my delicious Spam with mustard on Wonder Bread sandwich in my Partridge Family lunch box for lunch that Wednesday, I’d permission slip myself a burger.

Forging (not to be confused with foraging) for food……hmmmmmm I’m sure there’s some deep hidden meaning in there.

Anyway…….
Brene Brown talks about writing HERSELF permission slips.

I LOVE that idea.

When she was on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday, she had one tucked inside the pocket of her jean jacket.

It read: I give you permission to be excited, goofy and uncool.
Just show up and be seen.

From what I observed she didn’t get too giggly or over stare, she had her occasional “Holy Shit, I’m sitting with Oprah” moments and they felt completely authentic and actually a bit brave.
She didn’t pretend “Oh hey, no big deal, I’m fine, I’m cool.”

As the story goes, after the show she heard that Maya Angelou was in another part of the building recording some audio poems. So instead of nonchalantly replying: “Oh, that’s nice” she abandoned cool once again and told Oprah how much she admired Dr Angelou.
After all, she still had the permission slip in her pocket; and as is often the case, the Universe rewards genuineness.
Oprah asked if she’d like to meet Dr. Angelou.

Hell yeah! (My words – just guessing)

Here are her feelings about the encounter in her own words:
“So grateful that I got to meet Dr. Angelou, look her in the eye, and tell her what her work means to me. When I told her that I love playing her reading of “I shall not be moved” for my students and children, she grabbed my hand and sang, “Like a tree planted by the river, I shall not be moved.” It was a sacred moment.”

Just imagine if she’d brushed off the mention of Maya Angelou with a Too Cool For School attitude, she would have missed that once in a lifetime moment.

How many wonderful, sacred, ridiculously epic moments do we circumvent due to our habit of playing it cool?

How many beautiful creations do we talk ourselves out of?

How many people do we meet and feel a connection with……and do nothing?

How many books are unwritten, paintings un painted, businesses un started and plans unhatched because we lack the courage?

Maybe all we need is PERMISSION.

I for one, have started her practice of the permission slip.

Here are some I’ve written lately:

I give myself permission to not always know what I’m doing.
I give myself permission to play more.
I give myself permission to suck while writing the book.
I give myself permission to be happy even though I don’t have a “job”
I give myself permission to not like everyone

If you Google BRENE BROWN PERMISSION SLIPS and look at images, there are hundreds of ideas if you have trouble getting started.

I’d LOVE it if you’d write at least one thing in the comments. Tell me, share, you’ll give other people the courage to do it and maybe give them a few ideas too.

Go ahead –
I give myself permission to__________________.

I give myself permission to adore you guys,
Xox

We talked in the Wednesday Group about clean living.
B O R I N G……..(insert loud snoring here)

Actually, we talked about it with genuine enthusiasm; healthy eating, minimizing alcohol and caffeine consumption, dialing down the gossip, amping up the exercise, trying some liver cleansing and becoming financially responsible.

It may not seem to make any sense but it all comes part and parcel with becoming self aware.

We must clean our house before the big guns, self esteem, self awareness and self reliance can come to stay.

Here’s where things start to get a bit dicey:
Your life REALLY makes an about face when you become self empowered and ramp up your yoga, meditation, prayer, green juice and self love consumption.

As you undertake this internal housekeeping, not only do you and your liver become furious knuckleheads (temporarily) but so do the people and circumstances around you.

I was told at about this point in my spiritual journey, twenty or so years ago, when I couldn’t believe how ridiculous everyone around me was behaving; this honey of a tongue twister:

You can’t unknow what you now know

Huh?

In other words, there was no going back.
No more Eyes Wide Shut.

Oh…..how I prayed at times to go back to being unconscious, and now so are my women.

All the Good Time Charlie’s that used to appear so charming, jovial, fun and engaging while they dispensed their alcohol fueled advise; now they seem like raging alcoholics, in horrible jobs, with relationships they can’t stand and their advise is just…….well, it’s justBAD.
Honestly.
When did THAT happen?

How did we never see that before?

You’re out there, transforming your little ass off, making all these brave, impressive changes in your life, and the peanut gallery is……. supportive…..except for the ones in the bleachers that want you to stay the same.
They are fearful and they are LOUD.
They call, they text, they email and talk to your family as they fight to remain relevant in your life.
One of the interesting things that happens as you awaken is that the Universe will supply to you, a living, breathing, “devil’s advocate” who embodies all your doubts and fears and becomes like gum on the bottom of your shoe – annoying and hard to get rid of.

It’s a good plan. It causes you to plead your case, gain clarity and steels your resolve to evolve.

As you survey the landscape of your previous life, you realize it was populated by a cast of rather reckless characters, of which YOU were the ringleader.

Your eyes were wide shut as you ran up your credit card debit, enabled a friend, and did your best impression of an ostrich, head in the sand, while bills, the shrapnel of your lousy choices and legal papers gathered around you and swallowed your butt.

It was a bit of a circus, and we all know, when you join the circus – you join for life….unless you open your eyes and clean things up, and that doesn’t make your circus family very happy when you decide to ditch your baggage and leave the Big Top.

Some people around you, old friends and co workers will seem crazy and even a bit frightening. 
Don’t be alarmed, you may just have to chill while the circus leaves town and circles back around.
Give them time.
They’ll get used to the new Eyes Wide Open you, and they’ll either embrace the new, improving you….or not.

In any case, just love them.
The key is kindness and the very thing we all desire – acceptance.
Send them light and love and the courage to open their eyes.

How are the people around you behaving? Are they accepting your “eyes wide open?” How do you avoid getting hurt and angry? I’d love to hear about it!

Sending circus love,
Xox

*This is reprise of a popular post from November of last year, so it will be new to many of you. Enjoy your weekend!

Standing and staring at my naked reflection in the Nordstrom’s dressing room mirror (that in its previous life was a circus fun house mirror.) I’m cringing under that hideous fluorescent lighting that is so bright you could preform neurosurgery, yet somehow, it still manages to cast perfect shadows on every lump, bump and divot my thighs possess; I suppress the urge to cry as a Cadillac sized lump forms in my throat.

I am not trying on swimsuits, although that form of torture is just as necessary an evil.
I’m standing with a pile of Spanx at my feet, racked with waves of intense vulnerability even though I’m the only one in the room. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m a tougher self critic than a thousand Joan Rivers’.

But everyone can relate to that…right?

Oh, what about singing alone on stage?
Is that vulnerable enough?
Under the unforgiving gaze of a spotlight on a pitch black stage, I’m positive everyone in the front row can see my lips trembling…
Deeeeep breath…can they smell my flop sweat?

But all of this is my own damn fault.

When spring had sprung back in 2010 and I realized, shit,
who am I now that I don’t have a job, let alone a career?

Life appeared black and white to me, drained of all color.
I fell into a funk. it was deeper than a funk actually, it was my own personal, dark swirling edie of despair.

During that long summer, I would sit at the computer in my pajamas at two in the afternoon (something I NEVER do unless I’m ridiculously ill, in which case I don’t troll the internet, I watch I LOVE LUCY reruns) and I would search the World Wide Web for something to make me happy.

I’d spend hours watching silly cat videos, and babies laughing at tearing paper.

What brings me joy? I would ask myself.
Myself thought the question was rhetorical, so it just kept putting different searches into Google.
What makes me happy, besides what I’ve done all these years?

Who AM I without that?

Singing used to make me happy, I thought one day, remembering the ancient history of that time long, long ago, before I turned 30.

MUSICAL THEATRE ADULT WORKSHOP

I had sung and done theatre from the age of about 7 until I turned 30.
That was the day I became a grown up.
Better said, it was the day I realized I wanted to live above the poverty level. I wanted to have more than $50 in my my bank account.
I wanted to see the world, AND I also realized that if I worked as long and hard at something else, Anything else, I could be a success.
So I did, and I was.

Cut to: 
20ish years later, 
no store,
No career,
Epic debt,
What’s a girl to do?

I decide to sing again.
Cause THAT’S what people in dark swirling eddies of despair do.
They make GREAT decisions AND they break into song.

I hadn’t sung a note since quitting all those years ago, my husband, having met me in my 40’s, didn’t even know that side of me.

But the fear that came up when I thought of getting back on stage, was different than the fear I had been experiencing around the loss of the store.
It felt familiar, like an old friend somehow.

And the pounding of my heart and the stage fright,they brought me back to life.

So I hit SEND on the application, and left it up to the Universe.

Six months later, as a Christmas present, I got an email back.
They were doing CHICAGO, and was I still interested?
Hell NO! CHICAGO!!! Really!?
I can’t dance, and I hadn’t sung since Jesus was a boy.
And those skimpy little costumes? I’m over fifty.
NO WAY!
FORGET IT Universe. Nice try. Jeez.
I just want to ease back in, stick out my toe, not dive off the deep end.

Above is a picture my talented sister took during the show.
That’s me in the middle, I’m Velma.
So…you’re starting to get me now huh?
I can’t do anything half way. When I jump…I jump!
See that woman?

No more black and white, back to a Technicolor life.
That’s a picture of me, Janet, finding her bliss.

*much love to Amanda,Jules,Mark and Jeremy for their immense talent and endless patience

Dearest, Darling Failure,

Do you mind if I call you by that name?

I realize it’s much more politically correct to refer to you as re-direction, contrast, un-met goals, course correction,
blah, blah,blah.

I admit, you do possess ALL of those more soul soothing attributes; but let’s be honest here, let’s call a spade, a spade.

You are greatly under-appreciated but let me be clear — No One wants you around!

When shit hits the fan, when careers crash and burn, when marriages end, when we get fired, sued, or otherwise fucked over, when things in our lives fracture and give way under stress, it’s YOUR face we all see at the scene of the crime.

In any case; I’ve come to know you well over the past few years and – well – I’ve fallen for you….
Hard.

I don’t mean to sugar coat things, but you came into my life with the face of my foe; and you have become my friend.

You shook things up for me BIG TIME.
You took my tiny Etch A Sketch of a life, with all of it’s perfectly drawn straight lines, and you hurled it into an F-five tornado.

But I love you for that, ya big lug.

Just uttering your name, failure, can definitely set a negative tone and cause anxiety; please don’t take it personally, we just don’t want you in our lives and when you do show up – we’re afraid you’ll never leave.

But truth be told, you are just as fleeting as success, THAT you’ve taught me.

When you are standing next to me knee-deep in the rubble of my life, you know what I do the next day?
I get up and put one foot in front of the other, each step moving me forward.

You know what I do the days success holds my hand?
I get up, put one foot in front of the other and move forward with my life.

Success has its value don’t get me wrong, but you, failure, your lessons have marked me deeply and profoundly, and I love you for that.

Success never caused me to grow, gave me depth or made me an internally richer person. 

But by God, you have failure.

Success made me lazy, afraid to try new things and take chances.

You gave me a glimpse of my true nature. You have delivered to me some of my most agonizing moments, but they have transformed me.
You made me better. Better in business, better in life. A better friend, sister and wife.

Damn it, I love you man.

We all go to extraordinary lengths to avoid you, I know I did, but I realize now that was a mistake.
It’s like trying to avoid aging, which is a similar double-edged sword, and just as futile.
There are as many benefits to be gained from failure as there are from growing old, and BOTH are a privilege.

I truly love you failure
If you had not come into my life when you did, I would not be the person I am today.

Big hug and a sloppy kiss,

We’ve all failed at something, What have you learned from your failure?
Do you agree that it’s made you a better person? All the action happens in the comments below, don’t be shy, your feedback could help someone.

Xox

“I had this conversation with my daughter about a boyfriend after her relationship ended and I said, ‘What do you miss about it?’ And she said, ‘I miss how I felt while I was in that relationship.’ And I said, ‘Well, you can give yourself that.’ She didn’t miss him. She missed who she was. These are all things we can give ourselves. They do not depend on a man… “
~Arianna Huffington

I wish Arianna had been my mom, imparting that kind of insightful wisdom to me as I sat sobbing into a vat of Ben and Jerry’s while watching another relationship crash and burn, all those years that I was single.

I did finally figure that out, but I was around thirty and it was hard won; I had the skid marks on my heart to prove it by then.

Every man that I had shared a relationship with left his emotional imprint on my life.

Some more than others.

“Oh Ouch, THAT one’s gonna leave a mark.”

Besides the break up yuck, they very generously left me with some lovely parting gifts.
One guy had a great sense of humor and loved music, another was smart and a foodie, while another was so sensitive and loved so purely that I wanted to wrap his heart in scotch tape and bubble pack so it could stay that way forever.

Many DID make me feel like the best version of myself when I was with them; funny and smart, possessing impeccable taste and wisdom; a vixen who could recite poetry, cook and wear sexy lingerie all at the same time.
You know, THAT version.

It finally became apparent to me that it wasn’t the guy, it was the attention and energy he focused on ME.

When someone shines their light on you, when they gaze at you with eyes filled with newly minted love, you can have the biggest nose zit or spinach in your teeth, and they make you feel like you’re freaking Angelina Jolie.

I felt worthy; and I had to figure out a way to feel worthy without someone else’s validation.

Once the glare of their spotlight dimmed, I soon figured out that some of the guys weren’t all that great.

With some distance between us, I realized I didn’t miss THEM , I just missed the travel, nice restaurants, fun filled weekends, jazz tapes and smart banter that each one of them had added to my life’s repertoire.

Okay, I can do this, I thought, I won’t wait for a man to do it, I’ll make my own damn jazz mix tapes and take myself out on dates.

I unapologetically saw every chick flick I wanted to see.
By. My. Self.

I love live music and theatre, so I would buy a ticket, or two, and go with a friend.
Eventually, I purchased season tickets to the Hollywood Bowl and The Pantages and a membership to LACMA, where I would wander unselfconsciously, and watch with relief, all the other couples awkwardly navigating their first dates. The museum’s Friday night “open house” with wine, cheese, music and free art made for fantastic people watching.

I started to treat my weekend nights like date nights, only I was dating……myself.

If someone mentioned a great new restaurant, I’d grab a girlfriend and go for happy hour, or Sunday brunch.

I missed the weekend trips so I started traveling alone.
I drove from LA to Steamboat Springs Colorado to see my friends, and visited the same friends in Europe for three weeks By – My – Self.
I’d do weekend jaunts to Santa Barbara, Big Sur and San Francisco.

My days and nights were full and fabulous.

Dating myself helped me get to know me better.

Previously I would morph to please a man, not wanting to seem too high maintenance or valuing his preferences over mine.
Not any more.

I knew what I wanted to do and I went for it.

I’m pretty sure that’s when the worthiness came in.
It won’t stick if you’re not 100% authentically yourself.
You can’t be posing on some guys arm, acting as if you like Ethiopian food, violent foreign films and polo shirts.

Worthiness will evade you until you live your OWN life.

You can even carry this into a committed relationship.
My husband goes off riding motorcycles with Mad Max style gangs of middle aged men in some remote desert around the world pretty regularly; leaving me to my own devices.
This is when I take the opportunity to reacquaint myself with myself and do only the things that please ME.

At this stage of the game me, myself and I have such a long and rich history there’s no need for a ton of chit chat, we communicate telepathically.

We go buy our favorite Non-GMO cornbread crust pizza that my husband thinks tastes like drywall, and plenty of rag mags like People and US. 
We go play with our make up and false eyelashes, and cook eggs in a teddy.
We usually earmark some time for a massage, a long, turn of the century British film, and a bubble bath.

We may even go shopping and buy ourselves a little something at one of the expensive local boutiques – because, well, because we’re worth it 😉

What do you do to give yourself an interesting and full life? How do you get away from needing the outside validation to feel worthy?
I’d love to hear your stories!

Sending only love,
Xox