Excuses, Excuses: How Passion Won’t Take No For An Answer
When it comes to creative expression, our tendency is toward all or nothing. We wait for that perfect opportunity to begin living into our true creativity.
We tell ourselves we need a designated space, a big chunk of scheduled time and all of the materials at hand before we can begin.
Unfortunately, this isn’t how life happens.
And so we have to improvise the space, embrace the tiny pockets of time, and incorporate our creativity into our daily living.
Or we may be waiting forever.
Several years ago I discovered the joys of paper mache. I loved the freedom and simpleness of the materials: recycled newspaper and sticky, white glue that I shaped into bowls and clocks and found object sculptures.
I absolutely loved the organic process, how easy it was to wash the glue off my hands, how the pieces dried quickly in the desert heat. I worked outside on a thrift store wicker table on my back patio, close enough to the kitchen sink, and still, I could be as messy as I wanted to be.
When I moved to my current home three years ago, priorities shifted and I stopped making art.
For the past year I’ve been imagining my hands in the gluey gooiness again. I’ve been envisioning hearts of many sizes, all smaller than my palm, free-formed by my hands and then strung with beads and other found items.
But whenever I’d think about starting, I’d hear the voices in my head:
I have no room to work.
With all of my business things, I have no time.
With all of the creative energy I put into my businesses, I have no creativity left.
Several weeks ago, I gave my Living Room Ladies a hugely creative assignment: To create a self-portrait expressing all that they had discovered about themselves in our work together.
As I described the project to them, I heard my own creative self speaking loudly, that all of this writing and business creating is one thing, but I wanted to start making things again.
I considered how I could make space for this kind of creative expression, both literally and figuratively.
Did I want to cut back on how often I write these blogs?
Should I rearrange my office to create more work space?
Should I just put it off like I have been for the last three years?
I asked the questions and waited for some definitive answers.
And then, one Saturday morning, I cleared the small counter next to my kitchen sink and put on my paint smeared smock. I found an old metal roasting pan among my art supplies and poured in some glue, mixed in some water to thin it and started tearing strips of newspaper that I had been saving for months.
It was delicious, my hands all wet and sticky as I slid the paper through my fingers to wipe off the excess glue. I shaped it and formed it, layering the wet paper and dabbing the edges with my finger.
I made three hearts that first day, all different sizes and shapes, all smaller than my palm.
They looked different than I’d been imagining them, but in many ways, they looked even better than the pristine and perfect hearts I’d envisioned.
And I couldn’t wait to try a new technique the next day.
The Nike slogan says it all. You have to just step away from the excuses and reconnect with the deeper passion, the drive, the inspiration for what you are dreaming.
And then, Just Do It!
So what excuses are holding you back?
Can you let go of those voices and reconnect with the energy of your true passion?
I’d love to hear your stories! Please share them by clicking the Comments below.
When The Only Way Out Is Through: A Paddler’s Story
It was advertised as a great family trip, a leisurely four hour, 15 mile kayak on the Manistique River through a wildlife refuge. I had watched the video on youtube of a father and son, all smiles as they paddled past trees and the chirping of birds.
Marika and I love nature, love being on the water. We’ve kayaked many times together, in bays, along sloughs, we even paddled across a stretch of the Pacific Ocean to get to a great birding spot. So we thought, what better outing than to kayak through the wildlife refuge.
“You’ll pass under the Ten Curves Bridge, then in another 2 miles you’ll go under the M-77 bridge.” The woman at the kayak rental pointed to a spot on the map. “That’s your last chance to get off the water. After that you’re on your own until the put out, 15 miles down.”
We eased down the muddy bank and got in the two seater kayak with Marika in the front for unobstructed bird viewing. We pushed off and started paddling. It was so nice to be on the water, in the quiet, surrounded by the forest of tall, green trees.
We found a rhythm of paddle left, paddle right, gliding, almost effortlessly in the water. We hadn’t kayaked together in more than four years but it was coming back so naturally.
The river was quiet and slow as we approached the Ten Curves bridge. The kayak floated, barely moving, as we stopped to take pictures.
We followed the lazy turns in the river, steering left, then right, then straight ahead. Marika spotted a kingfisher so we stopped to watch him hover, then dive into the water. Further down a great blue heron fished along the shallow bank, then took flight, his wings spread wide, as we got closer.
We approached the M-77 bridge a few minutes later. The air was cool, the sky clear and open and, after two miles, neither one of us was at all ready to call it quits.
We passed the sign welcoming us into the Seney Wildlife Refuge and paddled alongside a pair of wood ducks near the river bank. We followed the curve of the bank, scanning the trees for birds. Suddenly the river narrowed. The low hanging branches of the trees that had barely been touching the water now reached halfway across our path.
We steered the kayak sharply to avoid the branches, then had to quickly turn in the opposite direction to avoid a submerged log. The clear calm water had become an obstacle course of low hanging branches, sunken logs and jagged rocks.
A canoe with two men and a woman appeared with fishing rods. We watched as they guided their boat ahead of us, the man in the back of the boat nearly losing his fishing hat as he limbo-ed under a very low hanging tree.
We followed their path, Marika calling out directions – rudder right, hard left – as we maneuvered around the low tree, We turned a sharp right to avoid another branch and got caught on top of a fat log. We were balanced along the length of the log, but our kayak was completely out of the water.
Before we had a chance to consider our predicament, the canoers paddled over and pulled us off and into the water. After many thank yous, they paddled ahead and disappeared around the next curve.
Marika continued to navigate, avoiding the obvious ripples in the water that indicated there was something underneath the surface. We got stuck on a sandbar but easily pushed ourselves off with the oars.At one point we got caught against a big log. We couldn’t paddle left or right so we let the current turn us around, then we paddled hard against the water to get back on course.
We passed the sign marking the first five miles. Marika looked at her watch–we’d been on the water almost two hours and we were getting hungry. I took two apples out of the dry bag that I was using as a foot rest to give me more leverage as I paddled. We floated and ate, keeping a keen eye out for the path of least obstacles.
We took turns paddling and resting. Marika’s shoulders were sore. My hands were cramping. I dragged them through the cold river water, fingers spread, to relieve the tightness.
The map indicated a wide sandy beach just before the half way point where we planned to stop for lunch. We passed several small patches of sand, then saw a wider stretch of beach and paddled to it. With the front of the kayak solidly on the beach, I got out and pulled Marika and the boat out of the water.
We sat in the sand and opened up the dry bag, preparing for a feast. But Marika’s ham and cheese sandwich was now a squishy mayonnaisey mess from me stepping on it. She managed to pull one thick slice of ham from the wet mess. We shared some carrots, my leftover chicken tenders, some lettuce, a package of peanut butter crackers and an orange.
Back in the water we found our rhythm, still navigating the fallen trees, the submerged logs, the hidden rocks. The sun was lowering, casting its own shadows on the water so that now we couldn’t tell which way the river turned, much less, what was in our way.
We paddled slower, with more precision, ready to act quickly when we came upon a hazard. I traced the curves in the river on the map, calculating how far we’d paddled, scanning the banks for the sign that would indicate we only had 15 more minutes before we’d see the place to pull out.
“I see the sign,” I said, ecstatic that we had made it. But as we got closer to the sign, I realized that it wasn’t the sign that we were almost done. It was the sign for the halfway point.
Words cannot express our shock, our disbelief, our incredulous realization that we still had 8 more miles and at least 3 more hours to paddle.
We were tired. We were sore. We were spent. And yet we had no choice. There was no rescue boat to call. No bank to pull out on. There was no way out except to keep going.
“Oh my god, you ‘re kidding me,” was all I could say, while Marika kept repeating, “We just have to do it.”
We laughed at how ridiculous our situation was. We imagined scenarios where a motor boat would come speeding down the river and tow us to safety. We joked how the rental place never asked us about our kayaking experience or our endurance.
“I have to cry,” I said. I needed to release the frustration, to get past the wall I’d hit. The tears helped and after a few minutes I had a second wind.
We paddled steadily for what seemed like hours. We wondered if we would make it to the pick up point before dark. We hoped someone would still be there to pick us up.
And then we saw our canoe friends. It was such a relief to know we weren’t alone. They had snagged several of their lures on the logs but had caught two good sized pike, but they were also tired and ready to get off the water.
They stayed close behind us, following our trail around the debris in the water, encouraging us, saying we were looking good, that we were, indeed, gonna make it.
And then we saw the sign marking the 15 minutes to the pullout. We all cheered, keeping our eyes on the banks for the concrete marker. “We’re almost there!” I said, as we turned a curve and saw our kayak outfitter guy standing on the shore.
We paddled close enough for him to pull us up the steep bank. We were too sore and too stiff to say much as he pulled Marika and then me, up and out of the boat.
But we did it! We paddled fifteen miles in six hours on a twisted curvy natural river with fallen trees and submerged logs. We didn’t give up. Because we couldn’t. We had to keep going.
Life is like this, too.
You hit a patch of pain, or grief or uncomfortableness.
It hurts so much that all you want to do is stop.
Or turn around.
But you can’t.
The only way out of it is to go through it.
If you’re lucky, you have someone to help, to get you unstuck, to cheer you on. Maybe you even have someone who paddles along with you.
But ultimately you have to have the strength and determination within yourself to keep going if you’re going to make it through. Because it’s the only way.
What Happens When You Say YES To A Stranger
I didn’t know Yvonne. But she knew me. She was the vice-president of the local Mac users group and had been reading my Mac Tips newsletter for years. Several months ago she had invited me to give a presentation to the club and that’s when I first met her.
She was so thrilled with the presentation that, afterwards, she said,” You know, I’d love for you and your friend to come up to visit us at our cabin in Michigan this summer.”
I graciously said thank you, that I’d think about it.
But I had no intention of following through.
I didn’t know Yvonne. I couldn’t even begin to fathom staying with people I didn’t know and I had no plans to vacation in Michigan again.
And so I forgot about the invitation completely.
And then mid-summer, Yvonne emailed me from her cabin and repeated the invitation, reminding me that her friend Mery, who lived next door, was also one of my subscribers and they’d love to show us around their little part of the world.”
When someone invites you once, it may be a courtesy. But when they ask again they mean it.
And so I asked Marika if she was up for the adventure. And she said YES!
We decided that a whole week with strangers might be too much, so we planned a wonderful exploration of the western coast of Lake Michigan, up to Lake Superior and then down to the ladies in Land O’ Lakes.
It was a great time. We climbed up lighthouses, tasted those famous Upper Peninsula pasties (the compact meat and veggie pastry that the miners eat for lunch) and got to wear layers and jackets in the middle of September.
We kayaked 15 miles through the Seney Wildlife Refuge, toured the Marquette Maritime Museum and learned all about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
We saw eagles and deer, loons and elk and a wonderful junkyard art sculpture garden.
But some of the best times were with Yvonne and Mery. The moment we pulled into Mery’s driveway, we felt like like old friends. There was no uncomfortableness, no hesitation, no wishing we hadn’t come.
They took us on a day trip along thickly treed roads up to the Porcupine Mountains and on a night adventure to the mysterious Paulding Light.
We sat around Mery’s table playing new card games and laughing, already recounting the stories of our adventures, how we lost the car at the falls parking lot and how they were out of everything except french fries at the Friday night fish fry.
We are already old friends. And we have plans to get together in Arizona this winter, once Yvonne and her husband return for the season.
And none of this would have happened if I had been too fearful, too inflexible, too wary to say yes to a genuine invitation.
So consider this, the next time someone asks you to do something that feels uncomfortable, out of the norm, even a little adventurous, take some time and think about what great gifts you might reap if you said YES!
Click here to see some photos from our trip.
Hearts and Lighthouses
“Broken hearted often leads to broken open. And broken open is the perfect environment for finding out who you are and why you’re here. Break and grow.” – Michele Woodward
As you read this, I am on vacation with my dear sister-friend Marika, exploring the lighthouses along the western shore of Lake Michigan.
It’s a special trip, really. Not just because we will be staying with new friends along the way, but because, four years ago, we were exploring the eastern shore of this same big lake, climbing up the hundred steps of the towering lighthouses, and I was struggling to breathe. My inhaler did little to calm the constant coughing and I tired so easily.
Two weeks after we returned from that trip, I had emergency open heart surgery to remove a myxoma, a rare benign tumor that was almost completely blocking my left atrium.
A client recently asked me if I experienced a white light epiphany during the surgery, if that was when I decided to change how I lived my life.
The answer is no.
It was everything that happened after the surgery that got me started on the path of this new way of being.
When you are recovering from open heart surgery you can’t busy yourself with too much doing or distract yourself with a lot of meaningless activities or mindless chatter.
When you are recovering, at first, all you can do is sit. And breathe. And even THAT is so painful. Maybe it was that painfulness that made me so aware of my breathing. It kept me in the present moment.
I wasn’t interested in TV. I didn’t have the concentration to read or watch a movie. Everything in my world slowed down. And I rejoiced in the simplest of things, like being able to open the refrigerator, walk a full circle around the pool, reach the shower massage so that I could take a shower by myself.
Friends called and came to visit. My parents brought me my favorite foods. I was so utterly aware of the love and support in my life.
And, while I never thought I would die in the surgery, it suddenly struck me that I could have died climbing those lighthouses. The tumor could have easily broken off and caused a fatal stroke.
And so, in the weeks and months that followed, as I regained my physical strength, I began to take a close look at how I was living my life. I started asking myself what did I really want to do, what did I want most in my life, and how could I best give back.
Slowing down to notice and appreciate these kinds of things is what brings us back to what matters, what’s important.
Slowing down creates the space for us to begin to ask the deeper questions.
This is what I teach and share in the groups that I lead.
We have to begin with slowing down, getting quiet. And breathing.
We have to learn how to listen inside, to appreciate the simpler things, to trust ourselves enough to ask the bigger questions.
Only then we will be ready to hear the answers.
If you are ready to slow down, get quiet and go deep, join me for a magical women’s retreat weekend. Surrounded by the healing red rocks of Sedona, we will leave the noise and busyness of daily life behind and explore what really matters to your own heart.
Click here for all of the information.
Never Assume
In an episode of the original Odd Couple on TV, Felix, the neat one, is in court, defending himself after being arrested for scalping tickets. As he interrogates a witness, he writes the word ASSUME on the court’s blackboard, circling the letters as he proclaims, “Never assume. Because when you ASSUME, it makes an ASS out of U and ME.”
Assumptions often hold us back. We think we already know the answer, the outcome, how the story is going to end, and so we don’t even try.
A client wanted to build an addition on her house. When I asked her what was stopping her, she said she couldn’t afford it. I asked her how much it was going to cost and she said she didn’t know.
She had just ASSUMED it was out of her budget.
It turns out that she COULD afford it and now, three years later, she loves her new living room addition.
As many of you know, I am planning to move to Morro Bay, CA in the spring. In the back of my head, and from several of my friends, I keep hearing that everything is more expensive in California than in Phoenix.
Today I called my car insurance to start getting a handle on how MUCH more. It turns out that my six month insurance policy will cost 35% LESS than I am paying now, living in a big city.
So, don’t let your assumptions hold you back from action.
Do the research.
Ask the questions.
Avoid making an ASS out of U and ME.
| click the image to watch the entire ASSUME scene |
When have your assumptions prevented YOU from doing something? I’d love to hear your story. Click on the Comments to share.
What We Get When We Give
We’ve all heard that it is better to give than to receive.
Giving and doing for others is the fastest way to get out of depression and woe is me. The selfless act of doing something for another human being or animal or nature or cause can fill the heart with pure wonderfulness.
And the best part is, we think we are only giving and often, what we receive in return is even bigger.
Last week I had the honor and privilege of facilitating a workshop at the local senior community center that my Dad enjoys. My mother used to love going to the center for the activities, the people, the sense of community.
I wanted my workshop to honor my mother and her time at the center and so I shared some of the tools and practices that helped her maintain a positive attitude, despite her health challenges, age and circumstances.
I invited the attendees to draw a big heart on their papers and write inside of it all the things they love. Then each person stood up and read their list out loud, filling the room with so much positive energy.
We talked about how, when we choose to focus on the things that bring us joy, our bodies don’t ache as much, we forget about the negativity in the world and we don’t feel so alone.
We talked about paying attention to what makes us happy and living with an attitude of gratitude. Then went around the room, sharing something we are each grateful for.
We talked about how good it feels to be able to do something for someone else. And even though we would sometimes rather be able to do something ourselves, letting someone do something for us is a wonderful gift that we can give another person.
It was a real pleasure to work with these brave, wise folks. We had a lot of laughs and we all learned something about living from the heart.
But more than that, it was such a gift to be with people who knew my mother, who came up to me and shared a memory of her, of how much they liked her and admired her and missed her.
I was surprised by the experience. Standing in the middle of the room that was filled with everyone else’s gratitude and love, my own heart was truly overflowing with gratitude and all that I had given and more: it was filled with all that I had received.
How do you give?
Do you take care of someone in your family?
Do you belong to a committee?
Do you tithe a portion of your earnings?
Do you donate money to a favorite charity?
Do you volunteer your time and special gifts?
I’d love to hear how you give back. Please share your story with me and my readers on the blog at www.sparktheheart.com
The Hardest Thing to Do Is Doing Nothing
- “Beautifully Balanced” by Deborah South-McEvoy
We’ve all been there. You hear a great motivational speaker or attend an uplifting event or read some inspiring article and a million new ideas swirl around your head and you can’t wait to take some action.
In fact you’re so ready to do it all that you don’t know where to begin and maybe you attempt several things at once or you are overwhelmed with all of the choices and you do nothing at all.
But doing nothing can actually be a good strategy. By not immediately rushing forward, you are allowing all of the stirred up possibilities to sift down to the single most appropriate action.
Several weeks ago I attending a very inspiring week-long workshop all about movement and improvisation. All of the pins were firing in my head during the classes and I was so excited about all of the new ways I was playing and expressing myself creatively. I couldn’t wait to come home and write about it, dance about it, share what I was learning with my friends and clients.
And then I got vertigo. Room spinning, light headed, dizzy dancing vertigo.
And all I could do was sit still and not think at all. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t dance. My head was an empty vacuum and I struggled to express a single coherent thought.
And I realized I had probably shaken up all kinds of things with all of my moving. I had tapped into so new ways for my brain to think and express my thoughts that I had hit overload.
And my body was telling me I needed to stop. Slow down. Be still. And wait.
Once I gave in to the stillness, the vertigo lessened. The pressure was off to take immediate action. I rested. I meditated. I allowed everything to just sift down into my being, trusting that, when the time was right, I’d be ready and able to share what I’d experienced.
There is no shame in doing nothing when it’s what you’re body is needing. In fact, it’s the greatest gift you can give yourself, to listen to what you need and honor yourself with it.
How do you do nothing? Please share your story with me and my readers by clicking on the Comments below.
The Body Connection
I know me. If I don’t find enjoyment in doing something, I’m not going to follow through. If I don’t have a deep motivation for WHY I am doing something, I won’t stay with it.
Some people are able to go the gym every morning, even when they don’t feel like it, because it’s “what they do.” This doesn’t work for me. I am highly self-motivated and disciplined, but if I don’t WANT to do something, it’s not going to happen.
And so it’s been a challenge to find ways to connect with my physical body.
I don’t mean just exercising, working out, lifting weights and losing weight, I mean really connecting with my body.
I know that, as in touch as I am with my heart and my thoughts, until I am just as connected with my physical body, the big shifts that I desire can’t happen.
And so, many weeks ago I set an intention to find new ways to connect in my body.
Without a clear idea of what that would look like, I opened up to possibilities. I’ve been able to schedule in a second yoga class some weeks. I attended a friend’s Creative Movement class where we expressed emotions with our bodies. As hard as it was to move and breathe, it felt true, right, and I remembered how I used to move in my own living room years ago, dancing out the grief that I couldn’t express in my journal. And it was dancing that slimmed my waistline and taught me balance and flexibility and re-awakened my sexuality.
Moving to wordless rhythms, the beat of drums, called me back into myself and I knew that this kind of moving is my way back into my body.
Within two days of that class, an invitation arrived in my inbox to attend a workshop with Nina Wise in Big Sur. I was excited beyond myself.
I have been wanting to work with her and her practice of Motion Theater ever since I bought her book A Big, New, Free, Happy, Unusual Life in 2003. But schedules, circumstances and old beliefs prevented me.
Until now.
In so many ways, this was a dream come true. The funny part is, when I first received the email, I actually heard myself say, “Let me think about it.” Then I heard myself answer “Really? You know you want this. What is there to think about?”
And so, last week, I traveled to a most beautiful place on the California coast, immersed in a workshop that was all about connecting in my body and expressing without thinking. I combined sounds with movement to express what words cannot reveal, moving deep into my cells where memories reside, shaking them loose, releasing the old stories into new ones that I can joyfully dance into.
I’m sure that this is where my work is. I know that this is how I can best connect with my physical body. Dancing. Moving. Exploring and expressing where even words cannot go.
And I’m excited for all the ways that I will bring my body back to myself. And how I will choose to share it all with you.
How do you connect with your physical body? I’d love for you to share by clicking the comments below.
The Power of Community
I believe there is great power in working with others. Sharing ourselves with people we trust and respect helps us see many more possibilities and options than we can imagine in our own minds.
I live with myself and my dogs and am self-employed and so I know, first-hand, how important it is to step outside of my solitary comfort zones and seek the wisdom and companionship of others.
As humans, we need contact and connection with other people. But what I’m learning is that basic contact isn’t enough.
Several of my Living Room Ladies joined the circle to meet like-minded women. One of them has little social contact outside of her family. Another works with with a group of colleagues but realizes that this is not real connection. A third has many women friends but their conversations and interactions are somewhat superficial and safe. “I could never talk about this stuff with them,” she shared in one of our groups.
If we are really honest with ourselves, we crave intimacy, really talking with a person and connecting at a deeper heart level. We want to be heard and understood and we want to be supported when we share our wildest dreams and deepest fears.
Where do you find this connection in your own life?
There is a difference between going to a gym and working out in the same room with 20 other people doing their own thing and joining a yoga or dance studio where the same people show up to the same class each week. Moving and stretching together creates an energetic connection. The class becomes your community.
Gathering with a group of like-minded people to hike or paint or whatever it is that you love to do creates connection. Daring to share beyond the surface conversations creates trust and camaraderie. Real friendships begin to form.
You are no longer just one person in a vast and lonely world. You are part of something bigger and real and this is the power of community.
I’d love to hear your comments. Please share them with me and my readers by clicking on the Comments below.
If you’re ready to step into community, check out the Virtual Living Room Ladies Creative Coaching Circle that I’m facilitating. Click here for all the details.
Mom’s the Word
As many of you know, my mom passed away last June.
With Mother’s Day and her birthday coming up this month, I am, of course, filled with all kinds of emotions–sadness and loss, naturally. But also great gratitude and love.
The theme for this year’s Mother’s Day Hallmark commercial is “Celebrating all that our moms have given us.” And so I am actually looking forward to these special occasions because they are another opportunity for me to honor and remember my mom, and to say thank you.
Growing up, I was at constant war with my mother. I challenged her, aggravated her, even ran away from home twice. We were very different and she just didn’t know how to handle me.
But over the years we worked hard to find ways to better communicate, forgive each other and create a new relationship based on respect and love. Really.
My mother taught me, by example, how important friendship is. That everyone learns differently. That kindness is more important than anything. She told me I was smart. Bright. And she encouraged me to be my best, most creative self.
We took vacations together, played Scrabble every Sunday and shared eggrolls at our favorite Chinese restaurant. And last year, when she was in the hospital, choking on her own breath, I was there, holding her hand, helping her let go.
Not everyone has a wonderful relationship with their mother. Not everyone is even in contact with their mom. You may not see eye to eye, or share things heart to heart, but we each have a connection with our mother.
Like her or not, your mother gave you your precious life.
And, if there is nothing else, this is the thing to be grateful for.
Can you make a list of everything your Mom has given you?
Can you share it with her, even if she is no longer with you?
Can you find it in your heart to say Thank You?
I’d love to hear your mom stories. Please share them with me and my readers by clicking on the Comments button below.
