consciousness

monthly round up: october was…gripping, generous + golden

: spiritual salve for worrywarts. There's pain all around us. It's tempting to fret, pace, yank your hair...and worry yourself into the ground. But it's not pro-active. So refuse to do it. TRANSFORM ANXIETY INTO ACTION, and be helpful, instead of harrowed.

: transparency as a teaching tool. As Malcolm Gladwell says, "Authenticity is the new cool." So give details. Name names. Spell it out. And share your Big Emotion Moments. Dig into my TRIED AND TRUE transparency techniques to rock your blog, your biz, and your authenticity barometer.

: self-flagellation, posing as purity. Minimalism is the go-to trend across the blogosphere. I'm all for white space, clarity and concision -- but there's a dark side to the de-cluttering movement. Fear, loathing and self-denial can masquerade as "right action." And that ain't right. AFFIRM YOUR GOODNESS, not your lack. (more...)

 

one of the most powerful questions, ever

"What's dying to be born?" Lianne said to some of us women over mint tea earlier this year. Kelly. Ronna. Gwen. Lee-Anne. We nodded, quietly, taking it into our hearts. It was a lot to take it.

This question wouldn't leave Lianne alone. (What question won't leave you alone?) Until she knew she had to give it it's own red tent in which to be explored. She sent out a fiery, impassioned request to dozens of global-hearted chickas - among them, Martha Beck, Meg Wheatley, Brene Brown, Patti Digh, Colleen Wainwright - and midwifed a veritable feast of wisdom and art. (NOTE: creating a work of art can be that easy when you don't hold back.)

Click here to download free copies of What Is Dying to Be Born. It's generous and intense. Leaders of every kind should read it. And because Lianne Raymond is such a multilingual mystic, it's full of gorgeous art work.

My contribution to the collective goes something like this (an excerpt):

What is dying to be born?
The beauty of our DNA is dying to be born: an acceptance of the order of chaos; the reverence of High Priestesses in the grocery store; the force of incredibly tender men; the critical necessity of senses that transcend technology.

The genius heart is being born.

NOW THAT DAMN QUESTION WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
This question has since set up it's own lounger in corner of my psyche, and it's been demanding to be fed. When I worked in Washington DC with a team of futurists and freaky braniacs, this question, to varying depths, drove everything we did. Scenarios on AIDS in Africa, water wars, extraterrestrial contact, the evolution of consciousness. The Future In All Its Gore and Glory. Naturally, we were obsessed with it.

But these days I'm much less interested in the future and fancy suppositions as I am about the present. If we can penetrate the present, we can be more pro-creative with what's next. When we can clearly see the now - as the hologram that it is, we step into to our Godliness.

WHY THIS QUESTION IS SO POWERFUL (IF YOU LET IT BE)
There's a similar question that I've come across with organizational development consultants and high-minded facilitator types: What wants to happen? It's effectual, for sure. It allows for authenticity to surface. But what's so freaking brilliant about Lianne's question is the double entendre of it:

1) What is dying to be BORN - gotta hatch, must happen, on the way, what emphatically desires to be real?

2) What is DYING to be born - crumbling, fading, breaking down, in order that something therefore can be... born?

I'm interested in the dying part today. Because this question comes with a premise, I think: something must die in order to be born. Today, I believe that.

And if this is true, then we've got to ask this of our lives: What needs to die?
Fears. Perceived failures. Contracts that bind too tight. Excuses for hatred where compassion is called for. Limited thinking. Antagonism. More fear. Callousness. Lethargy. Cynicism. Greed.

These are big sweeping concepts. We tend to place them "out there" on groups and nations and others. But each of us has some stinky, life-sucking behavior, or paradigm, or dis-ease, that is having it's way with the best of us - the part of us that always wants to be born. And whatever it is, (and it's probably ugly) it needs to die so that you can be You. Fully.

Euthanize whatever is holding you back. (Might I suggest that you do it gently, swiftly if you can, ideally with gratitude and free of aggression.) That's the only way to know what's dying to be born.

. . . . . . .

POST THE POST

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self hatred: beneath sugar-coated criticism + self improvement

Self hatred.
Could there be a heavier, shame-soaked, cringe-inducing concept?
Hating yourself.
Hatred.
Hate of self.
You hating...you.

Park that thought for a minute.

You're self-referencing. You're successful (and you're bright enough to know that that's a relative term.) You're a generally wide-awake, highly confident, compassionate, secure citizen of the collective. You know who you are. You're committed to knowing more. You practice mindful speech, you send light to the people who piss you off, you get regular massage treatments, you own a few sex toys, you do workshops. Clearly, you treat yourself well. You know you're worth it.

Self hatred? You?

Me?

I HATE MYSELF. THERE, I SAID IT.

I used to think my list of self-criticisms, we're just criticisms. Innocuous opinions I held about myself that were mild, understandable, reasonable even - part of being aware of my "shadow". Growth points. That on-going, fucking incessant chatter (as chill and dignified as it is,) goes something like this:

I SORT OF SUCK BECAUSE I SHOULD ... (and I bet you can insert your own list here...) lose ten more pounds, work less, be kinder to my man, more attentive to my boy, less concerned about "arriving", more responsive to my readers, less fixated on Twitter, more informed about world politics, less spendy, more willing to adopt a child, less judgmental of all of the shitty customer service and mediocrity in the world, more motivated to get my ass on my bike, less obsessive about strategic planning, more inclined to socialize, less irritated by small talk, more inclined to do less, and blah-blah-fucking-self-critical-unrelenting-BLAAAAH.

Add to that list: dust bunnies, a few missed birthdays, a grandmother that deserves a phone call, an overflowing Facebook inbox that I ignore, a nightstand piled high with books in progress (although I keep buying more books,) and some memories of thoughtless things I said to good people who may have been hurt by my ego ... and, well, it's not adding up to a lot of self-compassion or oozing Goddess worth, is it? It's not sounding so light, so harmless, or so innocuous, is it?

Park that thought for a minute.

I ADORE MYSELF. TRULY. NO QUESTION ABOUT IT.
I could list 10,000 reasons, here and now, why I'm The High Priestess of Loveliness. My heart is galactic. My mind is laser-razor. I've made some good choices this time around. AND YET ...

Those little paper cuts that I inflict on my spirit are not random or rootless. They are effective. They have a source. Yes, self-criticism may be well-intentioned. It may be fed by old hurts, family of origin, past lives, modern culture, mortal coil. But it's seeded from the murky marsh of loathing. And to greater and lesser degrees, it's part of everyone's psychic biosphere. The trick to drying it up is to shine some light on it.

Self-criticism is not "love", and it is certainly not indifferent. It's a form of hatred. And when I name that, when I see it for what it is (raw and uncomfortable and saddening...) when I refuse to sugar-coat self criticism, judgment, agitation, and constantly trying to improve myself, then I'm one quantum leap closer to freedom. Out of the swamp. Grounded in love.

. . . . . . .

The most lucid material I've come across on self judgment, ego and presence is The Unfolding Now, by AH Almaas.

. . . . . . .

 

the best list ever, by Danielle: vol. 1

The best of anything and everything. Random fantastic stuff that left an impression on my frontal lobe and softened heart. Do your own list. Do it here if you fancy, we've got the time and space. "The Best List Ever, by [insert your name]: Vol. 1. It'll make you simmer with sweet memories and proof of excellence. Here we go. This is gonna feel goood.

MY BEST LIST EVER. 100% adored. In no particular order.

1. The Missing Piece Meets The Big O, by Shel Silverstien. The most elegant and charming description of human relationships. Heartbreaking, really. It's my favourite wedding gift to give.
2. Wim Wenders', Wings of Desire and Far Away So Close. Made me want to fall in love, fly, move to Berlin, french-kiss Lou Reed, and talk to my angels.




3. Leonard Cohen at the Palo Solari in Santa Fe. Circa '95. Under the stars. A hot night. Angelic backup singers. Oozing the most Zen-Let's-All-Make-Love-Right-Now vibe humanly possible. Religious.
4. Dip big strawberries in sour-cream, and then dip it into brown sugar. Divine. Great picnic treat.
5. Pangea Organics Japanese Matcha Tea with Acai & Goji Berry Facial Mask. Incredible product from one of the most eco-progressive beauty companies, ever.
6. WordPress. There's a reason why Google bought it.
7. The Arlington Institute's FutureEdition. Best aggregation of news in global trends and outliers.
8. Pecha Kucha Night speaking events. 20 slides. 20 seconds each to talk about whatever inspires you (or me). Brilliant format.
9. Honey Beeswax Candles. I'm fanatical about them. They clean the air, are thus merciful on your lungs, and last forever. I order mine from an equally fanatical craftsman in a small town in Ontario.
10. Tweezermans.
11. Krishnamurti. Total Freedom.
12. Allan Watts. Beyond Theology.
13. Sir Ken Robinson's TED Talk. How schools kill creativity. Hilarious and profound.
14. Soul centering sessions with Navjit Kandola.
15. Project jamming with Dyana Valentine.
16. The lavender milk chocolate sauce on Belgian waffles at Medina Cafe, Vancouver.
17. Jim Morrison's An American Prayer.
18. Maya Angelou speaking on stage in San Francisco. Proud poetic power personified.
19. Cheryl Sorg's text art. Got me one this year.
20. Patricia Larsen's abstract paintings. Got me one last year.
21. That time with S. in the cabin, doing that thing S. does so well.
22. Silk Concept duvets. Lux sleepies, no more cold feet, eco-kind.
23. Little Miss Sunshine.





24. Eminence Organics Yam & Pumpkin Enzyme Peel. Indispensable for ye ol' skin glow. Use it twice a week.
25. Paper Mate Medium Point blue pens. I've tried fancy fountain pens, mechanical pencils that made me look designy-cool. But it's the good n' cheapies that do the trick.
26. Your Sex is on Fire, Kings of Leon
27. Red Hot Chili Pepper's Stadium Arcadium. If you don't love this double CD, I'm not sure that we can be friends.
28. Rilke! "I want to unfold, for where I am folded, there I am a lie."
29. Rumi...Rumi...my love. "You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?"
30. Mary Oliver, sistah. "What will you do with your one wild and precious life?"
31. This advice from a mentor when it all fell apart: Know your rights.
32. Anthropolgie
33. Bella Cucina's Artichoke Lemon Pesto. It even made Oprah's list. (Tho' my list is so much juicer, don't you agree?)
34. Beauty, by John O' Donohue. Anything by John O'Donohue, really.
35. Hallelujah, as sung by kd lang, whom I think is one of the most masterful song interpreters ever. This performance makes me want to pull out all the stops in my life. And then be incredibly modest about it.




36. Pet insurance. Just get it.
37. Ten Thousand Waves. Santa Fe, NM. Heaven, hot tubs, and Indian oil in the hills. Heav-en.
38. The best moment with my kid, ever. We're eating chocolate cones outside an ice cream parlor at dusk. Me: "So, pookie, what's it like being alive?" The Kid (without missing a beat): "Oh mama! It's AAA-MAZ-ing! If I were a telephone, I'd be ringin' all the time!"

... to be continued ...

 

i’d eat books for breakfast if i could

Announcing my Amazon a-store. Think of it as private tour through my neuroses and brilliance. Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO HEAD ON OVER.

 

Soul Without Shame, Byron Brown

a deeply personal approach to compassion that stopped me in my tracks. I totally reconsidered how I "talk" to myself.

 

what is your relationship to…life?

I'm not sure there is a bigger question than this. It bears repeating:
what...is...your relationship to life?

I was in Kauai in the fall and read Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth between beaches. And this question of his became my walking, rambling, meditation. "What is my relationship...to LIFE?!" Daunting. Spectacular. Galvanizing. Perhaps my favourite question of all time.

It opened the floodgates of inquiry for me. I spiraled it backwards to look at my relationship to my man, my child, my families of blood and soul ... my portals of connectivity and on good days, communion. What was the majority experience of me showing up in the world? How is it that I am vulnerable? What feels pure and steadfast within my cells? One question led to another. What do I bring forth from the well of my essential self, and what do I keep in reserve, locked, frightened, greedy, proud, and practical? When I engage with people what is my motive? How do I greet strangers and friends with whom I have history? What is my most regular waking thought? What is my favourite feeling? Who am I trying to impress? How do I stand in crisis? Where does my generosity stop? What gets to the core of my core?

I actually didn’t need to delve into the deep recesses of my psyche. It turned out to be a remarkably basic exercise - one that I bet you could find your own answer to by the end of today. It all got down to this simple sub-plot question: How am I with people? (more...)

 

it’s ALL about freedom

 

getting yourself

 

The Simple Feeling of Being, Ken Wilber

Embracing your true nature