Your Courageous Life

I’ll put off my musings about home decorating (!) and health care (!!) to pop in quickly and let you know that Kelly Rae Roberts is hosting a giveaway over the weekend for a free spot in The Courageous Year! 

Those of you who have already registered are welcome to enter the giveaway, too, and what I’ll do in your case, should you win the spot, is apply the registration you’ve already paid to Level Two or let you gift it to a friend.

I am really, really looking forward to grabbing dinner at Cafe Gratitude tonight. Also, looking forward to when my voice fully heals. I did some super-intense process work that involved yelling/screaming two weekends ago, and my voice has not recovered. Just stocked up on Throat Coat tea this afternoon.

More to come this weekend…

We are moving our things out of storage this upcoming weekend–wowza–and theoretically, we’ll start to unpack even though we still have some time left at this house-sit and we’ll be sleeping here for a while longer, feeding the cats, making sure things are locked up nice and tight (and having the benefit of a more relaxed moving process, we hope!). By Thursday of next week, we’ll be completely and totally back into our new place.

I’m really excited to be moving back to Alameda, which has always felt like “home,” and which I’ve missed dearly since we began house-sitting early this year.

But it was good for us to take this time. We got away from a housing situation that wasn’t working for us, saved money, traveled, explored other neighborhoods. I fell completely and totally in love with a kitty that I’m already feeling incredibly sad about leaving–we’re talking, I tear up when I look at her and imagine how next week, I’ll get home and she won’t be there and that’s just heartbreaking so I don’t want to think about it–but there is still the slimmest of slight possibilities that her owner will get back and decide that it would be okay to give her to us. [[ cross your fingers with me, please! ]]

House-sitting has also given us the benefit of this beautiful sky, which I had to share (nope–no Photoshop here, I promise). Our current house-sit is in Kensington, the hilly area above Albany, California. This bazillion dollar view was just one of the treats of this space. In the mornings I would watch as the fog burned off or I’d have the inside track on whether or not it would be a hot day, because any day where there’s no fog in the morning in the Bay Area is probably a warmer day! The sunsets would just astonish me. I’d walk through the kitchen or happen to look out the window and then–WOW–stop whatever I was doing to just go outside and quietly stare at the sky as daylight sank into night.

I’ve appreciated this time to get away from all of my “stuff” when we packed it into the storage unit. I just wanted a new, fresh start. There is a part of me that wonders how much I will keep once we start unloading boxes this weekend. After all of this moving and traveling, I find very little use for hanging on to things, and knowing that anything I bought would put me in the position of needing to store it or haul it has certainly curbed whatever tendencies I might have previously had for hoarding (I mean, I’m not much of a tchotchke buyer to begin with, but still). 

I’ve appreciated the opportunity to see both how I wanted to live and how I didn’t want to live. To live in someone’s home is to get a window into their lives. Perhaps if some part of me had ever wondered if I would want a house tucked away in the hills or given that thought any romantic energy, it seems to be disavowed for now–it’s seriously far more of a pain in the booty to tack an extra 20 minutes of commuting onto even the most random of errands than it’s worth to me at this point in my life (Basically, I’d rather commute out to the retreat area rather than living out there!).

And I’ve also learned–Andy concurs with this–that there is value in saving up money to purchase the home furnishings/looks that we really value, rather than getting something cheap from IKEA because it’s not expensive and sorta-kinda-mostly fits the bill. One of the houses that we stayed in was just so beautiful and perfectly put together, and it was evident that real care and investment had gone into getting quality items and creating a home, and I admired that immensely.

Fear is coming up, too. I mean, it’s crazy to think that these housing choices are made based on, basically, 20-30 minutes of walking through a place, tops. Will the place be too small, and we didn’t realize that when we were there because there was no furniture, and we’ll get in and hate how cramped it feels? Will there be some loud garage band next door that we just aren’t aware of yet? An infestation of ants underneath the house, just waiting for some nice new person to move in so they can take over the cereal supply? Drug dealers on the corner?

Okay, so this is sort of laughable–I don’t really think most of the fears I’ve had could really happen (okay, except for the too small fear and the garage band fear), but you can see where the “disaster planning” side of me wants to go with this. It’s taking a lot to reign things in!

And in addition to all of this, there is teaching and feeling far more distracted than I can ever remember feeling, my hoarse voice that hasn’t recovered fully in part because I keep talking (go figure), and getting The Courageous Year and Your Courageous Life going. I am sending out goody packets to people who want to help spread the word about what I’m doing–one part postcards to drop off at your local coffee shop when you head out for coffee (or your office, yoga studio, etc.), and another part free, fun greeting cards that I’m gifting people with because I’m so grateful. (If you want me to send you a packet, email me with your address and I’ll give you the hookup: kate -at- thiscourageouslife -dot- com).

And I’m sending a letter to each and every Courageous Year participant (crossing my fingers that they get to the international folks), but I won’t say much more about that because, you know, I want it to be a surpriiiiise.

And of course, there’s the Keri Smith giveaway going on here (ends 10pm Pacific on 10/28…)

There is so much going on that I am excited for two weeks from now, when I predict we’ll be packed and snuggled into our new home, and at least this will be one massive transition off of the checklist!

The first giveaway for The Courageous Year was a 2010 planner made by artist Kelly Rae Roberts. Once I thought of KRR, I thought next of the lovely Keri Smith. I had the gift of meeting her at a retreat hosted by Ms. Swirly a few years ago. That retreat lit up my whole life. I remember coming home so full of creative energy, I honestly wondered if it would be possible to “come down” (and, now that I remember back, that was one of the first signs that teaching wasn’t working any longer; I went in to work the next day feeling so happy and excited and then left feeling deflated completely). 

I contacted Keri, told her about what I was doing, and asked if I could purchase one of her Non-Planner Datebooks because the Little Otsu store was out–did she have any extras?

Would you believe that, generous soul that she is, she gifted two of them to me to give away? She also told me that they are currently in production to produce a new and updated version, so if you’re interested in seeing when that is available, head over to her website: www.kerismith.com and keep watch.

Again, as part of this new journey I feel floored and grateful and amazed by the generosity and support that shows up in all of these little ways. 

I’m going to space out giving the two away–so this week the first is up for grabs.  If you’d like to participate, head over to http://www.yourcourageouslife.com/resources/ and post a comment. 

Inside of the “non-planner.” Each page is different:

I’ve been working on healing a lot of things for a lot of years, and have at this point embraced the idea that healing and growing are what I’m committed to, regardless of how long the journey takes (this is nice in the sense of being able to (usually) let go of the “Why haven’t I figured it all out yet?” voices).

And one of the most tender and private opportunities to heal something that has come my way in the past few years is to heal my sexual self.

I’m still not there yet.

So this is your warning now that this is quite possibly a “TMI” or Too Much Information kind of post for some, though I don’t describe sexual acts in this post so much as I speak in very general terms about my own sexual self as it applies to the broader context of women’s sexuality–a topic that I think is perfectly healthy to talk about.

So, to continue, here’s where I’ve come from: Okay, imagine someone growing up in the post-feminist era. In one way, I have been living in the era of AIDS and teen-pregnancy, the “Don’t have sex or it could ruin the rest of your life” warning scenarios. In another way, I’ve been in the “have sex like a man” era, an era of treating sexuality as something to luxuriate in–that feelings and intimacy did not matter so much as raw, unbridled sexuality (and if you didn’t think sex was amazing, it was an indication that you were not an evolved woman). Still further, I have taken with me the pro-woman messages of exploring our inner goddess, inner sexuality, the inner woman and how it reflects in the outer. 

As a result of this, I have swiveled back and forth between so many different ways of viewing my own sexual self, at times seeing sex as dangerous and at times adopting the role of the carefree sexual woman (mostly because I thought it was what others found most attractive, and not because it was confidence I actually felt), and most recently I have been wanting to get more in touch with the inner goddess aspects of myself, the aspects of what someone might term divine woman. 

(Here’s the disclaimer where I reveal that the first time someone started talking about my “divine woman” I was all, WRETCH, GAG, NEW AGE BLECH. But the more I tried the idea on, the more I thought there was in fact something very beautiful to me about viewing women as goddess-like, because there is a very beautiful power to feminine energy).

Something I am still working on fully releasing is my anger at the way some men are socialized to view women, whether it is through the lens of viewing woman as a hysterical neurotic just because she is in touch with her emotions or the “ball-buster” if she leaves emotions out of the picture totally and makes decisions with an authority and directness that makes some men uncomfortable. I’m also really working on healing how angry I am that some men are not socialized in a healthy way sexually, and that our society tolerates–on so many levels–the symptoms of this disease (in the forms of pornography, rape, sexual harassment, and the accompanying backlashes).

By the way, I’m going to try very hard in this post to not embrace absolutes, by using qualifiers like “some.” Through my work on gender roles, I’ve learned that many men, in fact, experience a lot of pain at the hands of those women who decide to stop trusting men altogether and who lump them into the same group as an abuser. So I want to be clear that I’m saying “some” men, and not “all” men.

I’ve talked to my women friends about our sexual selves over the years, and it astonishes me how alike so many of our experiences are or have been or were at the beginning. It astonishes me how many of us are/were in fact uncertain about what we really want(ed) from our partners; how dissatisfied most of us are/were yet confused about how to explain our feelings; how much we pretend(ed) and how much we hide (or hid)–and in particular, how much we have had the common experience of “numbing out” during sexual encounters, mostly because once something started we felt something akin to, “Well, wait, things have gotten pretty far along here and now I realize that I’m not really wanting to do this, but since I don’t want to disappoint you, let’s just get it over with.”

A huge–HUGE–part of whatever healing I’ve already accomplished was to be ruthlessly committed to saying the aforementioned, if it was my truth. Quite simply, I made a commitment to myself that I would not harm my body, my emotions, or my sexual essence any longer by entering into any sexual encounter for which I was not totally present and sincerely willing on all levels. If I’m lukewarm–nope. If things are getting intense and I suddenly realize that some old pattern of pretending has been responsible for getting the encounter started–I stop. It’s awkward, yes. 

And I’m willing to put up with awkward in order to heal.

As a result of doing that, I have learned enough about myself and the impulses of my sexual self that I now can gauge much more effectively what I’m up for, and just be honest from the start. 

The truth is that despite the work I’ve already done, what I keep finding when I return to looking at this issue in a core way, excavating it on deeper and deeper levels, is this: I’m still angry. I’m still so, so, so fucking pissed at the abuse of women that I hear about or see. The anger sometimes feels bottomless. I do forgiveness work around all of the experiences that I have had at the hands of men, times where my sexual boundaries have been violated, and still–the next time I process the issue, there is more anger there. I’m so angry at the messages that women are liars when they report being raped. I’m so angry at the sexualization of women that I see in the media. I’m so angry when I see men who sort of shame-facedly admit that they know that the pornography industry is full of abuses of women, yet they don’t change what they do (porn does exist that is made by actors who are protected by a sex-workers union! there are other options that are still erotic but that don’t involve sex slaves or women hyped up on drugs!). I’m so angry when I hear about stories of women being trafficked for the sex industry.

It made me so angry when, last week, I was cat-called at when I walked through a dark parking lot, and then when I didn’t respond, the guys were all, “God, you need to smile,” as if I was just such a bitch because I didn’t think they were flattering me by objectifying me. I was so angry that they didn’t see–or chose not to act upon–the obvious situation here, that I was a woman walking alone through a dark parking lot with a gang of guys leaning against their car, making comments about me purely based on my body. I was so angry that they would take advantage of their obvious power in that situation, to gratify themselves.

I know that in fact, what I’m angry at here is not actually men–I’m angry at the socialization of the culture. I’m angry that we live in a culture where we don’t teach our men to be men, to respect women. I’m angry that we live in a culture that perpetuates a lie of what a man must be. I’m also angry when I see women buying into that. I’m angry when I see women training their little boys to “be a man.” I’m angry when I hear about fathers who don’t step up and teach their sons how to handle sexuality (yes, I get it that they weren’t taught these things, either–I’m angry that with the wealth of resources at our disposal, they don’t just fucking step up already and get past their own selfish fears of not knowing how to do it, and teach already–teach, teach, teach your sons how to be men so that the women in this world can walk with strength and support you as men!). I’m angry at the sickness of the culture that I see and how powerless I am to snap my fingers and make it all stop.

And–you might see where I’m going with this–I’m angry at, and need to forgive…

ME.

Yes, me.

I need to forgive me for the times when I didn’t speak up about my sexual boundaries, thus further perpetuating the confusion and allowing myself to be violated on some level (I’m thinking here of encounters in which I was consensual and gave no indication of not being willing, yet inside I knew that I was consenting only to not disappoint, and that in fact it was not my truth that I was honestly willing).

I need to forgive me for all of the times that my anger has spilled over into hatred of men, my brothers on this planet. 

I need to forgive me for all of the times I’ve had an expectation of a man that stemmed from my conditioning around what it means to “be a man.”

I need to forgive me for all of the times that I’ve bought into conditioning and expectations of what it means to “be a woman.”

I need to forgive me for the times when I saw one of my sisters being mistreated and I didn’t speak up–the times I saw a couple arguing and a man said something totally degrading but I was too afraid to speak up; the time I was pretty sure a woman on BART had a guy talking to her in an aggressive way and she was afraid to change seats and I could have gone over and offered to sit with her but I didn’t; the times I’ve heard people make homophobic or gender-negative remarks and haven’t spoken up.

I need to forgive me for trying to take on/pretend roles that I wasn’t really into, all to please a man.

I need to forgive me for the times when another woman professed that she was completely comfortable in her sexual self and I let myself feel “less-than” because of that.

I need to forgive me for a few times when I didn’t speak up for myself when other women openly treated me as if something was wrong with me, like I wasn’t evolved, when I was honest about the very conflicts I describe here. 

When it all comes right down to it, I can only ever own my own part–that’s it, that’s all I have any control over–and I have learned time and time again that when I heal and forgive myself for those parts, the upset in other parts lessens.

But man, it is a current of anger that I find really hard to step out of. 

I feel it necessary to add that I’m not seeking advice (though feel free to chime in with your comments!), and that while my anger is what I’m present to when I type this entry, on the whole my sexual self is embraced and healed in a lot of different ways. It is not all doldrums (in fact, there is quite a lot that is nothing but fun, and that I won’t get into because that would be TMI). It is just what I notice coming up in this moment, and it struck me as something to speak into, because I know that as a woman, I am not alone.

There is power in asking for what we want, whether it’s asking the Universe at large for something, or making a request of another person. How often do we not ask someone for something, because we’re afraid that they will say no? ** confession ** I of course have done this, more than once. 

I think the fear is that by making a request, we’ll either be putting someone else out in some way and they won’t feel comfortable saying no and we’ll never know they wanted to say “no” and then they might resent us for asking in the first place…or we’ll come across as selfish and entitled, as someone who goes around and assumes that others will accommodate our needs.

It was pointed out at a Next Step workshop that when we don’t give our true yes and no to others when others make a request, it opens the door for us to question the sincerity of other people’s yes and no responses. It was suggested that stepping into a space of giving your own true yes and true no creates space for you to believe that others are giving their true yes/no, and that if they aren’t, that’s their work to do.

I’ve had a lot of experience with this, lately, and with the house hunt that Andy and I were on, I felt confronted with all aspects of this issue.

A few weeks ago, we found a good house in a great location. The only thing wrong with it was that it badly needed the porch repaired and a paint job. “Oh, that’ll be fixed,” the person showing the place, a rental agent, assured us. “The porch will only take a few days; the painting about a week.” Since we were looking at the place during the first week of October, and there was another month before we’d move in, there was no need to think the work wouldn’t get done.

But it didn’t feel great to drive past the place a few more times and notice that despite the beautiful weather, no work was being done on that porch.

Then, just as we were getting closer to decision time, it was revealed that the painting wouldn’t happen before we moved in. “The porch needs to be fixed, first,” we were told. We’d had one day of major rain in the Bay Area–one. The agent told us, “Well, weather delays have been a problem.”

Now the red flags were starting to go off that something wasn’t right. If weather delays were really the problem (that one day of rain), then why had the house sat untouched for the past week and a half? We asked when the painting would get done, and she said she’d check. “But the painting won’t take long,” she kept saying, “and the painters won’t bother you while you’re here.” Yet this was no small comfort–neither of us believed the painters would bother us. We just didn’t want to deal with painters or house work, period.

At the end of the day, it came down to this–the painting would happen 8-10 weeks after we moved in, “provided there were no rain delays,” which felt to both of us like the invitation for blaming a delay on the weather, since one day of rain was already the apparent culprit in getting the porch fixed.

“How did we go from less than a week, to 8-10 weeks?” Andy said to me when I reported this to him, and rightly so.

But the space was pretty good, so we didn’t want to give up on it. (Famous last words…that’s what we’ve said before and it has not served us). So we tried making requests, and this was where the first difficulty arose–it was hard to make requests. It was hard to say, “Here’s what I’d like to see happen if I’m going to sign that lease.”

We tried requesting that they use a painter that we found who had great recommendations, who could get the job done before we moved in. Nope (and then the revelation that they were really wanting a particular painter). We tried requesting that the painters get started on the job now, and just start painting the back of the house and moving forward while the porch was being fixed. Another nope.  We tried requesting that the job was done in 4 weeks. Nope–and now the revelation that the painter had not been hired yet. We tried requesting that if the job went longer than 8-10 weeks, there was a stipulation in the lease that gave us a rent deduction until it was done.

“I’ll get back to you after I talk to them,” the agent said, and she promised to follow up at the end of the day on Friday. We didn’t get a call.

I had all of this stuff coming up for me in this situation of not wanting to be “asking too much” or “hard to deal with.” It’s ridiculous to me to think that as I type it–It’s a rental house! I have a right to make requests!–and yet this was what I felt. It was a really hard thing to ask them to put it in writing if the work didn’t get done. I felt “pushy.” This is particularly silly when I consider that in this economy, with the rental market in our favor, with the holidays coming up, and with our excellent credit and references, one might say that the landlords could be asking us what else they can do to ensure our happiness.

So when we didn’t get a call on Friday, on Saturday we began looking again. We figured we’d go with House #1, and just look around today in case something fell through. Then we walked into the cutest little house ever, we’re talking little flower boxes in front of the window with a wee little porch cute, in a quieter area of town, with a sweet little back yard and a guest house out back, permission to have a cat, and all work completed. Same price. We told the owner that we were interested.

Needing a break, we pulled in to the Alameda Free Library and brought Andy’s laptop in to take advantage of the free wi-fi and do searching for more recent listings. Just as we did this, House #1 called and wanted to set up an appointment for Sunday, the next day. The owners were willing to put it into the lease that they’d get the house painted within 8-10 weeks.

“Great,” I said. And then I felt that little niggling “you’re pushy” Gremlin come back up as I asked, “And what did they agree to, in terms of a rent reduction?”

“Oh, well, you see, I have to talk to them more about that,” the rental agent said. “I think it’s better to talk to them about that in person.” She wanted to meet the next day to get our final decision and sign a lease.

I got off of the phone and reported this to Andy. House #2, the place we liked better that we had just viewed, was going to start enlisting the use of a rental agency as of Monday. There was a whole process to go through with them. If we let go of House #1 to wait and see if House #2 could happen, we might lose on both counts.

We both felt pretty stuck.

“Wait,” I said as we were leaving. “Why don’t we just ask? Maybe this sounds crazy, but we could just explain our situation to the owner [of House #2]. We could tell her that we’re liking her place better, but that this other place wants a decision. We could ask if she’s willing at all to let us send her our W-2′s, tax records, credit reports ourselves without waiting for this other agency, and then from there she could tell us if she’s open to having us or not, and then we could give a final decision to House #1.”

So we did. House #2′s owner agreed to do things this way (which was incredibly generous of her, since this was her first time renting to someone and she said herself that she was feeling a little overwhelmed by the process of renting her home to people). By Sunday, we were approved and were able to give a final decision of “no” to the first place–which felt good, actually, given all of the run-arounds we’d heard.

So, that is the power of asking. Being open to any response that someone gives and letting that be what it is.

I am thinking of this in relation to the e-course as well, because someone recently contacted me and said they really wanted to participate but that they didn’t have the entire payment now. Would it be possible to pay half now and half by the time the course began?

Well, sure, I said. Why not? And now she’s in!

It’s good food for thought: where in my life might I hold myself back or limit myself, simply because I have a fear of making a request?

When I was taking the Mondo Beyondo e-course, one of the things I wrote down on my list was to have a relationship with Andy that “left God speechless.”

What has resulted since then is that I have felt some of the hardest, toughest…CRAP come up. Even though we use tools that were taught to us by an amazing couples counselor, and even though we both do personal work, and even though we love each other–

yup, it’s true, there’s no getting around it: we run into conflict, get stuck, handle things without integrity, and then the challenge is put before us to clean up the mess.

I believe very strongly that in any relationship, it’s not how big/bad the mess is that matters the most. What matters the most is how you clean it up. Relationships can recover from big traumas, little traumas, and in-between traumas, but they really wear and tear when the trauma does not get a complete cleanup.

Not cleaning up a conflict completely is an open invitation for withholding and resentment–and, might I add, a complete and total energy drain. I equate it with knowing I need to take care of something and then not doing it right away and then all of that energy of going, “Oh yeah, I need to do this thing!” just completely wears at me, nags at me.

But I’m noticing that while my default is to go to an attitude of, “I wished for an even more amazing and loving relationship and now we’re fighting more–this must not work, this must be the wrong relationship, this must mean…” etc., etc., the truth is that this period of conflict could in fact be exactly what is needed to push us past a history of routines and habits and patterns that naturally developed after four and a half years of being together, three and a half of which have involved living together.

After all, I think, aren’t I learning something? Aren’t I learning lessons or practicing old ones of accepting people where they’re at, not controlling, not assuming that I know what is best for them? Aren’t I also learning lessons about caring for myself and taking care of me, even when I disagree with someone’s behavior?

This past weekend one of our conflicts centered around a behavior that I take issue with, yet it’s rightly stated that this is “my issue.” If someone else doesn’t see an issue with their behavior, it officially is my issue if I’m bothered by it or the meaning that I attribute to it. End of story. For a while, I was stumped. Where do I go with that? My partner isn’t going to change his behavior because he doesn’t want to. I’m not comfortable with that behavior. There are aspects of it for me that involve healing that I need to do. What now?

The gift of this was that it became this opportunity to reach out and get support, and to see how the perfect support that I needed showed up at the perfect time. By the time I was done doing process work (screaming and crying with my anger/frustration/sadness) and getting support from someone, something had lifted for me and while I still didn’t feel a change in my way of thinking about this particular issue, I did know that now I could be in the same room with Andy without resenting him or passing off passive-aggressive remarks.

I’m reminded that “it doesn’t always look the way I think it will look.” I could attach to a story that this conflict spells out some dark demon. Or it can be the single greatest thing that has ever happened to either of us. I simply don’t know. It doesn’t serve me to attach to a story about it.

I will say this, though, I am re-reminded of the truth that open communication in relationships, used on a regular and consistent basis, is always–and I do consciously use the word always, here–easier than cleaning up the mess later on. 

It’s a good reminder for me, when I want to cop out on/be lazy about being in integrity.

* * *

Click here for free iPhone swag, as part of The Courageous Year/ Your Courageous Life.

What. A. Long. Weekend. 

There were arguments! There was a complete lack of integrity! There was recouping! There was fear and anxiety over making major decisions! There was walking into a house that we were looking at as a backup and going, “Oh. This works so much better than the other one, and it won’t look like an abandoned shack for 8-10 weeks while waiting to be painted.”

There was the last-minute app! And the references! And the financial statements! And the feeling nutso calling the other place to cancel just hours before we were due to give a decision!

Chaos!

I do not want to repeat!

However, by the time you read this my 8am class will be seeing a real, live brain in class. That’s kind of cool.

And also, there’s free stuff here for iPhone users.

And a new article by Alma posted here.

And a daily dose of inspiration here.

Which means there’s no case o’ the Mondays…here. Or if there is, I’m sure it’s nothing a non-fat single shot flat vanilla latte won’t cure.

Was heading home today and listening to Deb Talan (of the Weepies)–her solo album, “A Bird Flies Out.” One of my favorite songs on that album is “Big Strong Girl,” which has the line:

“You can’t do it all alone, and if you could, would you really want to?”

It is a line that speaks to me about collaboration and support, something that I am feeling such gratitude for these days.

I notice that I tend to trust people more when I know that they have witnessed me “completely fuck it all up” (that’s the way the Gremlin likes to put it), or, more kindly, “not step into the vision of myself that I want to step into,” and then they are willing to let go of that and be connected or supportive anyway.

I was thinking of Christine today when I was listening to Deb Talan’s song, because Christine has seen me “completely fuck it all up”/”not step into the vision of myself that I want to step into,” and I’ve watched as she has not bought into a picture of me as “that way.” I appreciate that so much. I feel really grateful. 

Here is who I believe Christine to be–someone who is authentic to her core, even in revealing the parts about herself that might be scary to reveal. When you see that Christine supports another artist on her blog, it’s not because she’s pimping a product. Instead, I know Christine to be someone who actively seeks inspiration in the world, and because she’s a collector of it, it comes to her quite naturally, and then she gets to share it.

I see Christine as someone who actively lives the belief that “there is enough for all of us.” 

I love her book, Ordinary Sparkling Moments. I bought it around the time it first came out, and have looked through it many a time. It’s a book that I love just spending time with, whether it’s to drift among the beautiful pictures or read her words. I gifted my mother with a copy last year for her birthday, and she loved it, too.

I am actively fantasizing about what it would mean to take a little weekend trip down to L.A. to see the show that she’s participating in (Anne Carmack is putting it together, I hear). At the moment I don’t know how that would work out, what with me moving and so much going on (and goodness but yesterday was frustrating, as it now appears the place we were all set to move into isn’t going to work out, because yet again while showing us a place, someone said that work would be done prior to our moving in–sure, no problem, easy, three days, already on top of it–and now it’ll probably take 8-10 weeks. To paint a house and fix a broken porch column. Sigh. NEXT!).

But I’ll hold that possibility anyway, and nonetheless just feel really grateful for who Christine is and how she shows up in the world. If you haven’t already picked up your copy of Ordinary Sparkling Moments, consider gifting yourself! I am an official “Book Fairy” who is distributing two books at supah-secret SF locations for people to discover a part of the 100 books project.

From the first time I ever went to Cafe Gratitude, I really fell in love with the place. I love that they ask a question of the day when you come in; I love the atmosphere. I even love the food, though I no longer subscribe myself to a raw foods lifestyle.

On my most recent visit, I indulged in a book I’d noticed on several occasions and had wanted, but had been holding back from: Sacred Commerce: Business as a Path of Awakening.

Stepping out on my own with my own business, I wanted to see what they shared about their model/philosophy. There is so much that I am finding to be tender about stepping out there as a business person. I’ve noticed how a lot of my defaults are stepping out these days–defaults of doing, doing, doing, trying to fit in one more thing in a desperate effort of feeling in control by doing.

It is at these times that I am reminded that what I work on with clients, what I want to share with the e-course, with all of it, is that this is a practice. It’s not “finished” at some point. Life is always bringing in new challenges to look at and turn over. The practice becomes noticing and choosing what I want to think about those challenges–are they burdens, or opportunities?–and then going with a certain course of action.

Although the book is really designed to be for business owners who have employees, I am finding that I can use whatever they say about an employee as a model for how I would treat myself.

And I really loved the authenticity that I found here, because basically the #1 problem I’ve had with every job I’ve ever worked is that I was supposed to put aside who I was in service to something else, usually with an expectation of showing up in a fake way in order to be “of service.”

“The traditional model of wage-employment is one in which alienated employees force themselves to suppress their beckoning stream of personal anxieties, obsessions, and desires long enough to do the work for which they are receiving a wage. This often leads to customers receiving service that is not really service, but rather acquiescence to the necessity of the worker to earn a wage by minimally fulfilling the needs of the customer. The customer almost always senses this perfunctory level of interaction, which lowers the level for everyone, giving the customer the devastating impression that they are not really cared for; rather, they are on the receiving end of a kind of prostitution.” — from Sacred Commerce by Matthew and Terces Engelhart

So what I endeavour to give to myself as I start working for myself is this same space for my “personal anxieties, obsessions, and desires.” Inspiration can go–very quickly, if not monitored–into overdrive mode. 

Before I know it, the day is gone and my wrist is hurting from being on the computer and I’m going, “Whaaaat…?”

But aside from giving myself care, I’m thinking a lot about giving in general–like the giveaways that I’ve watched others do for years now, and that I am doing myself.

I didn’t even realize until I had this idea of how I would do a giveaway how well it ties in with my feelings about abundance and flow.

Any time I notice a lack of abundance in my life, one of the first places I look at is where I might be grasping. Where I’m holding on tight. Where I’m not allowing something to breathe. If it’s a lack of abundance with friendships–where am I placing expectations on others? If it’s lack of abundance with money–where am I tight, constricted, not fully breathing around money? If it’s lack of abundance with time–where am I most likely to start chanting in the back of my head, “I don’t have time, I don’t have time, I don’t have time.”

One of the first things that “rights” me again is the experience of stepping straight into giving.

Give my friend space to be where she needs to be.

Give away money or treat someone to something.

Give myself more time by canceling something or arranging to arrive later than planned.

This isn’t so simple as it sounds for me–it is a choice to step into living this way. Of course I have my judgements about how people “should” spend their time or the money “should” be coming to me or how I “should” be better at arranging my schedule. 

The choice becomes noticing the “shoulds” and not buying in.

If you really knew me, you’d know that one of my Gremlin-ey fears about stepping out on my own is that no one is really going to “give a shit” about what I’d like to co-create with the world. I am so excited about the very concept of courageous living, of bringing the quality of courage to all that we do.

But the snarck comes up. “Who gives a shit about all of that fluffy stuff?” it says.

My truth is that I do. I care about the fluffy stuff. I care about giving. I care about making choices that feel good.

“This is the true joy in life. The being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. The being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole of the community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no ‘brief candle’ to me; it is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.” –George Bernard Shaw

Giveaway: http://www.yourcourageouslife.com/resources/

Last night, Fear hit–BIG TIME. It hit the way it had hit over a month ago, when I first decided to make so many changes in my life.

I’m not sure if it was the gray skies all day with not a single peek from the sun, or if it was working too much, or if it was being alone during the day and being very, very tired with a slight headache because goodness but these earrrrly mornings of teaching are seeming harder and harder when it’s dark outside…whatever it was, I noticed as the night was going on that I was feeling incredibly fearful.

I had difficulty sleeping all night. I was rocked awake by thoughts of things to do, fears about the new house we’re moving into, fears about money, fears that I was doing it all wrong and grasping, fears about my relationship, fears about friendships. I made a mental scan of people that I could call. It was either too late to call or I knew people were out of town or busy.

These are the times that are hardest–alone, with All of the Feelings Coming Up.

As I lay in bed, waking up and then trying to relax, slow my breathing, slow down, trying to not try, finally not trying and then being woken up by the loud patter of rain or sudden gust of wind rattling the windows, which started the whole process again…as I lay there, I felt fear, I felt scared, I cried a little.

And it was okay on some level, because I knew that it was all just moving through.

The feeling was very similar to being sick and laying in bed, unable to move or really do anything, too sick to even watch television or read, and just being completely in that. When I’m sick like that, I feel as if I’ll never get better. It seems positively unimaginable to think that there’s any way of recovering, and it’s difficult for me not to start beating myself up as I mentally go over every single possible thing that I ever could have done that would have resulted in me feeling this awful (not working out enough? forgetting to take vitamins? neglecting to see my chiropractor? not washing my hands after using BART? getting too close to that student who seemed really sick?).

But what else is there to do? It has to move through the body. It has to have time to do what it does and the cells in the body need the time to do their thing, too.

So this is what I experienced with the fear last night. I was laying there with it. There was no tool in that moment that was going to pull me out of it–no affirmation or stepping into positive thinking. So I just surrendered to it. I lay there, and I just went ahead and felt the fear.

It was total. It felt low and hopeless and shameful and like a secret to keep.

Yet even then, it was as if I was living a split life. One part of me was experiencing that fear and not resisting it, just completely surrendering to the experience. Another part of me knew that this was only a temporary state, it would not last.

It is true that eventually, I did fall asleep. Eventually, I did wake up and start my day. I have treated myself well today, and I did shake my booty and do some dancing this afternoon.

I relate this for a few reasons. One is that I think I would do a dis-service to others if I did go ahead and let it be secretive, to not admit the fear. I don’t think it matters how much work one does on oneself–the fear comes up. And that’s why I love the very concept of courage–it creates a space for ALL of it, rather than trying to pummel away the parts that are uncomfortable or hard.

Another part of me relates this because I like noticing how different this experience was, compared to past experiences. In the past, the fear would have come with a story, and that story would have been about how the fear was real, nothing else was real, and this would have made me spin into even more fear. 

I don’t “believe in” the fear the way I used to. It’s part of my experience, but it no longer has quite the influence on my belief system.

I want to be really honest about this process, about the ebbs and flows and ups and downs and challenges and rewards. I want to share all of it, even though I notice myself also feeling drawn to the nice little fantasy of appearing to “have it all perfectly figured out and together” (ha!). 

There’s enough self-help crap out there on the market, stuff that tries to convince us that if we follow XYZ step we’ll be guaranteed never again to have anything “come up.”  My aim is to create a space in my life where I am simultaneously having a big, far-out, completely huge vision for my life, and at the same time to create it as a process or a journey so that even as challenges arise, or the discomfort bubbles up, there’s gold in there.

Sitting with it, loving all of it, accepting all of it, releasing all of it. It is the closest thing I know to free.

Giveaway: Enter the giveaway here to win a 2010 Kelly Rae Roberts planner. What will you plan for your Courageous Year?

If you really knew me, you’d know that I’m the kind of girl who can have one perfectly functional planner, but I’ll still ogle other planners. I confess  I have an actual “thing” for office supply stores. I can cop to this oddity only because I know there are others of you out there, others of you who peruse the aisles at Office Max thinking about the different options for recording receipts, the sleek new 3-hold punchers, the latest in top-o-the-desk organization, and considering new ways of using post-its or organizing your tabbed filing systems.

So, I had this idea for the Courageous Year: To buy some spiffy planners (the kind I would want for myself) and then to give them away. 2010 = The Courageous Year = Planners. And there are so many cool planners out there, so I was actually excited by the prospect of hitting up my local Paper Source.

Then I got there and while I saw lots of stuff that was absolutely fantastic, I suddenly realized that the only thing better than doing a 2010 giveaway with cool planners was to do it while supporting artists that I have met or know or admire already.

Resolved, I decided that my first giveaway would involve a Kelly Rae Roberts planner. I have had the honor of meeting her, and found her to be sincere and sweet and full of heart–someone who lives their vision. 

Want to participate in the giveaway? Head over to Your Courageous Life’s resources page, and leave your comment there (not here).

Giveaway ends October 15th at 10:00pm Pacific time.

I’m sitting here on a quiet, gray Sunday–the only downside of living in the Bay Area, as far as I can tell, is that we don’t have a proper fall, a burst of color and beauty that accompanies overcast skies and chillier temperatures–and thinking not just about the change of seasons, but about the changes that have come into my life more recently and in the past year.

There’s a lot that is different.

I marvel at how much is changing all at once, however. Like the job thing, and the haircut and color thing (such that each time I look in the mirror can be a bit of a surprise), and the friendship thing, and the relationship thing (lots of reckoning with Andy lately, getting clear, making the relationship more of a priority), the adopting a cat thing (I’m still crossing my fingers on that one, though, hoping and praying that this little fuzzball can come with us) and the living situation thing. 

The living situation thing–I hadn’t mentioned much about it given everything else that has been going on. But we are letting go of being house-sitters, and have found a cute little bungalow for rent that should accommodate enough space for us to both have an office area. It was a hard decision to come by in some ways, because all of our things are in storage and it would be so easy to just keep them there and continue to drift from place to place, save up money for rent or for being self-employed.

But there are other things about house-sitting that have been more difficult, perhaps the biggest being that Alameda has always felt like home. It’s this little island in the Bay Area next to Oakland. Most people haven’t heard of it. It has a low crime rate, plenty of free parking, and two little downtown areas with local businesses. The rent is cheaper than the rest of the Bay Area. Even if I bring commute costs into the equation, one can get a larger space in a nicer neighborhood with fewer parking hassles for less money living in Alameda, than living in San Francisco (or Berkeley. Or Oakland, for that matter).

I often describe Alameda as “very Mayberry.” The fire department comes out if the elderly have heart attacks, and when that happens I have personally witnessed as neighbors poked their wee heads around the front door to see why in the world they heard sirens. It’s not an every day occurrence. And the Alameda Free Library is one of my favorite writing spots, with a great collection of books and such nice lighting and comfy chairs. And the crew at Peet’s know my drink when I come in, and Dan’s Produce has fresh, in-season produce that’s so vibrant it feels like a treat to eat a salad, and Ole’s Waffle House makes the best blueberry-topped waffles ever, and the beachfront in Alameda is my favorite place for photoshoots.

Alameda is home.

We’ve lived in Oakland and Italy and Berkeley/Albany (California, not New York) in the past year, and no place has felt quite like Alameda. I’m excited to head home.

I’m excited to create a home, actually.

Andy and I were talking this weekend about how this is really the first time that we will be moving and creating a home. Our first move-in experience was so god-awful. Imagine–arriving with a truck of your things on move-in day and finding carpets half-torn up, piles of tools everywhere, broken windows, a leaking roof…no joke, man. And then to be there two months and have them announce that they are selling the place, and someone new is coming in, jacking up the rent and replacing the foundation, wiring, plumbing, roof, etc., while we live there?

No, sir.

So the next place we were moving into felt like flight. Getting away from the place that had been so awful and putting that experience behind us.

Except that we had great difficulty putting it behind us–we were fighting constantly during that time. It was insanity. Every little trigger either of us had about one another was exacerbated by having to move twice in one year, plus the time spent living in a house that was frigid cold (due to those broken windows) and had a leaky roof.

It was insanity.

And from that insanity, we moved to a different kind of insanity–living in a place where the neighbors below us, we would later learn, were upset that the owner had rented to us without checking first to see if they would like to occupy the top floor apartment. They set out from Night #1 to make things difficult, coming home loud at 2am screaming outside of our bedroom window and turning up the television. We went down and talked to them, but didn’t notify the landlord that first time, thinking Hey, everyone makes mistakes, right? Surely they didn’t mean it…. Then they did the exact same thing on Night #2, at which point we did notify the landlord and thus commenced the next year and a half of our lives, living above people who watched Run’s House and Paris Hilton’s My New BFF at top volume while the owner failed to do anything about it. Complicating the matter was the issue of the two very adorable–but very excitable Chihuahuas who were adopted by the people in the house directly adjacent to us, and who began barking their heads off if they smelled anyone walking past the house. There was also the house behind us that was packed with people coming and going at all hours, like Gabe who parked underneath our bedroom window and then headed out at 2am, revving his souped-up Honda muffler before pulling away, or his brother who got up at 5am and let his motorcycle warm up at high throttle (which set off barking from their Pekingese, who was never once hushed). Talking about the issue or making requests did not make a difference (other than positing us as anal-retentive among the neighbors, who had lived with this kind of clamor for years, so who were we to question it?)

So, um, yeah, that wasn’t fantastic. The opportunity to house-sit in a new neighborhood, in a quiet house, to save money on rent in the interim, was a dream. I still remember how, a week after moving into the the first house-sit, I walked into the house with Andy and stopped suddenly and said, “Oh my gosh. I just realized that I walked in here feeling tense, listening to see if I could hear the neighbors downstairs. But there are no neighbors downstairs!”

On some level, house-sitting has provided a feeling of adventure, a sense of living a vagabond lifestyle. It actually feels good to not have so much “stuff.” Other than computers and clothes, none of the “stuff” here is ours. There’s a lightness to traveling that way. It’s been really neat to explore different parts of the Bay Area, and it has been a blessing on so many levels to experience living in places that are quiet and calm. It has been a blessing to save money. It has been a blessing to have made the space to travel to Italy this past summer without worrying about paying double rent for a place there and a place here.

But now, we are moving and we get this opportunity to create a home, really for the first time since we moved in together.

There was this moment this weekend that might not seem like much to someone else, but it meant a lot to me. We were out and about and Andy spotted this dish set that was on sale and suggested that we get it for the house. “I never really liked the other set,” he said, “and this is so inexpensive.” We’d been walking around that day with the express purpose of noticing what we might need for the new place, given that we gave a lot away before putting stuff in storage, and we’ve also been talking a lot about making our new place a real home. We want to let go of the furniture that we bought just because it was cheap and worked in the moment, and replace it with items that will last. We want to make the home more of an investment.

The moment when he turned to me and said this, my first thought was that we didn’t really have to have this dish set; it would be one more thing to move; etc., etc. And then I just said, “Yes. Let’s do it.” The set was very simple–bright yellow plates, bowls, mug. Cheerful. Vibrant. It hit me that my partner had said he’d never really liked the other set, that he’d probably agreed with whatever other dishes we’d found just to avoid another argument, and I was reminded in that moment of all of the petty arguments we’d had when we first moved in together, about this bedspread or that bedspread, or how this needed to go here and that needed to go there, and how we had been under so much pressure and stress and we’d both been wanting to feel powerful so we had pursued artificial power–power over each other, power over the decision-making process. I was reminded of how I had felt scared of moving in with someone and how I’d defaulted to control and pushed for my way, and how sometimes he’d pushed back for his way, and then we’d had a fight.

I just said “Yes” to the new dishes, because they weren’t at all expensive and I could see that my partner, this man that I love so much,  was thinking about mornings spent drinking tea from a yellow mug while he sketched. I shared his vision for that. I want him to drink from a yellow mug while he sketches, to eat cereal from a bright happy bowl, and to set the table when we have people over thinking about these cheerful plates. 

In another moment, while talking about how we had fought so much back in the beginning, I said, “We were under so much stress. And we probably just weren’t ready.”

“Yeah,” he said, “we probably moved in together a little too soon.”

 I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a hug. “But I don’t want to say that,” I said. “I felt like a million-gazillion dollars when you asked me to move in with you. I felt so loved. And I’m so glad that we’re together. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

I nuzzled my head against his chest and he rested his chin on my head and his arms encircled mine, and there we were, standing in the middle of a dish aisle, eyes-closed, remembering and letting go, while together, we will now create this home.

How BIG do you want to live? from Kate Swoboda on Vimeo.

Note: To have an uninterrupted experience, you might want to press “Play,” then press “pause” and let the video download all the way before pressing “play” again.

So, truly, my aim with having an online journal is not to talk incessantly about workshops and retreats. The thing is, it’s on my brain lately (which is why it’s been really great for me to take time off from the computer on the weekends). 

Please forgive me–I beg of you. I can only offer up that for the first time in my life, I am doing something that I really feel passionate about, that I really feel called to do, and this feeling is kind of like a low-grade “high,” a constant buzz of excitement/giddy stuff in the background. I’m feeling so full of inspiration and ideas and I’m having so much fun with what I’m creating.

A new retreat date has been confirmed: April 16-18, 2010 in San Francisco, CA!

To see what signing up looks like, go here: http://www.yourcourageouslife.com/retreats.html

The video above is one that I originally made with the intention of showing people interested in the retreat what the area would look like.  The house I’m renting is on the Marin Headlands Hostel property, and it’s gorgeous. Hardwood floors, a curved staircase, an entire dining area for us to eat in and make art in, a cozy living room with plush couches and chairs to sink into, the smell of cedar and eucalyptus trees all around. The house that you see pictures of in this video is our house.

The beachfront, which I put both video and a picture of in this video, is only a 20-minute walk from the house. The air smells so fresh and pure. It’s amazing. 

I have been thinking lately that it seems to me that everything in my life up to this point was a preparation for this point, even though I could not have seen it at the time. But now I do–I sat down to make this video, and I had so, so many years worth of photographs from which I could choose…so many sunsets…so many pictures that signified friendship…so many pictures that said “beauty”…photographs of San Francisco. It was all just there, waiting to be pulled together into this one video made on this one day. I have wanted to do something with retreats, have wanted to do an e-course, have wanted to be a full-time coach–all of this wanting, and it seems to me that now was the right time. It even seems to me that the choices I made that lead up to this decision were perfect–for instance, I took on an extra course this semester when it was offered to me at the last minute, and as soon as the first day arrived I was cursing this decision. Why did I take on the extra course? Why didn’t I just teach two classes, so I’d have less going on?

But this, too, was perfect just as it was. It pushed me to a new point of burnout–and subsequently, of clarity–that then pushed me to ask what wasn’t working and then to be willing to grow and step towards something that was working.

And with Mondo Beyondo, and the inspiration that came from that? Some friends of ours were having a going away party, and dear Laurie Wagner was there, and she was telling me about being excited for the course to start. I felt this pang of envy, like, “Darn! I missed out on that!” and then I was moved to email Andrea and ask if I could get in on this last-minute. She agreed (thank you!) and it was a great experience…which lead to meeting other people who have been helping me along the way.

There is a sense of the continuum, of it all just being right for right now. Sometimes with this energy and inspiration I notice myself going into a space of wanting to do one more thing, then one more thing, then another, and it’s really great to keep stepping back from that…

…because this train is rolling, baby. It’s off. It has started. I gave it a push and now I can give myself the gift of not lashing lashing lashing out of fear. Instead, I just get to enjoy the ride.

**Popping back into just tell all of you how completely blessed I feel in this moment to have friends who would say this, and to share the love by saying what an amazing, true, heartfelt person I think Vivienne is…she is all soul!

What is Courageous Living? from Kate Swoboda on Vimeo.

After all of these years of doing simple updates via FTP with .html files that I was editing in a text editor, this past year has been a huge technological leap forward. Now I’m a total WordPress fanatic–loving how simple and easy it is to use–and have a WordPress install on nearly all of my sites (and I thank my lucky stars that I just happen to be dating the most amazing man who can skin a WordPress page like it’s nuthin, son.) Just a few weeks ago I got on the Twitter bandwagon, and in addition to my Facebook profile, just today I added a profile for Your Courageous Life. Cray-zee.

The video thing is just my newest and latest experiment. This video is my second (I’ll post the first one tomorrow) and it answers some questions about The Courageous Year. I confess I feel a little shy putting up this video because, well, now you can see my face. And hear my voice. There’s a sudden “internet distance” that no longer exists with this. Also, whenever I watch the video I feel a little shy because as I’m talking I can see how I’m just about giddy, just about to pop out of my seat and needing to restrain myself. And finally, there’s this little piece of hair that falls across my forehead for the whole last part of the video, and I keep wanting to reach over and push it to the side.

So after allll of that, and after figuring out the basics of iMovie, and getting the whole thing ready and exporting it and then realizing that I mis-spelled “music” on the very last frame and then re-doing that…it was ready. 

I hope you enjoy it!

“Are you open to all of this being a process, with the judgements, attachments, resistance, guilt, shame, stories, right/wrong, good/bad, better than/worse than?” –my Coach, Matthew

If there was one thing I could snap my fingers and shift about myself, it would be my tendencies towards attaching to a judgement. The attachment to judgements that I have had about friends, situation, life circumstances have caused me more pain in my entire life than anything else.

We all have judgements, and in and of themselves they aren’t bad. They are part of how we make meaning of the world. When I say that I’ve had “attachment to judgement,” what I mean by that is that at some point, I let that judgement dictate my story about a person or situation. This person is bad…that person is good…this experience is bad…this experience is good…

A few weeks ago, I fully internalized (which is to say I had my “A-ha” about it, rather than just intellectualizing) about attaching to a negative  judgement–that people can feel it even when I don’t voice it. When I say that I have wished many times over to just snap my fingers and no longer attach to judgement, I say that because as a result of my attachment to judgement, I have lost friendships. I attached to my judgements about a person, and even though I didn’t voice it–they could feel it. They knew. They could tell.

Now, before I had this realization that my attachment to a negative judgement was the problem, I tried many other things to control my circumstances. I’m no stupid duck. I tried things like smiling a lot while judging, softening my tone of voice while judging, asking inquisitive questions that would convey what I really thought without allowing the person to pin me down with an accusation that I was judging them. I modified my behavior without letting go of the negative judgement because having negative judgements about people was its own odd brand of power–not true power, but a masked substitute.

For example, if a friend was contemplating a course of action, I might say, “Are you feeling sure about XYZ course of action?” while holding my judgement.  Of course, energetically what I was feeling was negative judgement, not actual concern, so what the person felt coming from me was: “I’m having doubts about your choices.” I was resistant to releasing the judgement entirely because of a myriad of reasons, some of which stem from not being safe to voice opinions in childhood and also from this false sense of “power” in having an opinion.

The kicker in all of this is that I’ve had friends who did that before and it drove me nuts when they responded that way to me. But did that stop me from doing it to others? Nope. 

[Insert the Indigo Girls: "You have to laugh at yourself, because you'd be crying your eyes out if you didn't."]

There I was, thinking I was all ‘stealth’–and even, in some cases, thinking rather indignantly that I had a “right” to my judgements so long as I didn’t voice them, because as long as I didn’t voice them it “didn’t hurt anyone”–and all along, the truth is that when it comes to attachment to a negative judgement, people can pick up on it and tell.

The whole “energy conveys more than words” concept is not new to me; the recent difference is that I’ve internalized it and now fully own that if I’m attaching to a negative judgement of someone, not only can they feel it, but it actually speaks volumes louder than anything I may say, and it hurts my relationships.

To come to this internalization felt really painful. It meant fully owning a lot of my own shit that I’ve done to others–stuff that I’ve blamed on them, the pain of watching them turn away and realizing after all that in fact, I brought the rejection upon myself. Most people turn away from those that are negatively judging them–and in fact, that’s a great choice for them to make. The process of acknowledging my part in negatively judging others has also been ‘getting’ that when they turned away from me, as painful as that was, they were stepping into self-care. 

I choose to support that, rather than hate them or wish that they would have been able to see the parts that were behind all of that attachment to negative judgement–the parts that were hurting, that genuinely wanted to find other ways to communicate concern but that didn’t yet see a clear way to step into that.

This may sound like the cheesiest example ever to bring up, and granted I’ve seen all of two episodes of the Jon/Kate show so I can’t claim to be an aficionado, but from what I did see, and from the subsequent divorce I’ve heard about in bits and pieces, I actually feel incredible sympathy for Kate Gosselin. What I see when I saw her snapping at her husband and generally regarding him as an idiot is a woman who is scared of being vulnerable, who judges people and sees her behavior pushing them away and yet cannot claim what she does, doesn’t fully understand why she does what she does, and thus cannot stop. 

Basically–while I am not saying I act just like Kate Gosselin–I do see glimpses of own behavior in the judgmental behavior of others, and I’m owning that. 

This blessing of all of this is that it’s a behavior that shifts first by noticing. Just since noticing where I judge, I have found it easier to shift the behavior–to take time to ask myself why I might feel a need to judge. What am I getting out of that, exactly? Where do I mistakenly feel powerful from those judgements? How do they serve me? How do they limit me?

In essence, change becomes part of a process. When Matthew asked me “Are you open to all of this being a process, with the judgements, attachments, resistance, guilt, shame, stories, right/wrong, good/bad, better than/worse than?” he was then inviting me into not hating myself, not expecting myself to have done better than I knew how to do in that moment.

“What if losing those friends was the best thing that could have ever happened to you?” I remember him asking me a few years ago, when I was in the midst of a breakup of sorts and had dissolved into tears during our session. “What if it is the thing that makes you grow past this old pattern?”

And my reaction then was thinking, “This psychobabble twaddle bullshit is crazy,” while also knowing, deep down, that what he was saying was true.

It’s of course very tender for me to write about any of this in a public way. Of course, it might be easier to pretend as though this isn’t an issue that touches my life, because if there’s any pattern of behavior people have difficult being with, it’s a pattern of negative judgments. 

Yet I also believe that we are only as sick as our secrets. I want to step, more and more, into courageously believing that this world can support all that I bring into the circle, all the pain and mis-steps as well as all the love that there is to express. If I want to stop judging others and fully embrace who each person is just as they are, there’s an opportunity here to start with not judging myself–to fully embrace that everyone just does the best they can with whatever they’ve got. Truly.

Release starts here.

At the Marin Headlands

When I began telling people about letting go of teaching, everyone I spoke with was supportive. I was surprised by this. I anticipated hearing more, “But what about…money/time/health insurance/making it?” types of fears. Instead, people congratulated me on making the shift, and what I was left with was my own little room of these fears.

They weren’t anyone else’s–they were my own.

Then, as the weeks went by and I began building the websites and they were starting to take shape, I needed to define for myself what my hopes were. My hopes were simple: that initially, the sites would have resonance–and that ultimately, the e-course and retreats would fill.** 

“I get that the e-course starts in three months, so people aren’t going to sign up right away,” I told Andy before the sites launched. “All I want right now is resonance; I want to see that what I’m wanting to do resonates with people in a positive way. To me, that would look like supportive emails or comments. People saying ‘Like’ when I post the link on Facebook. Sharing the video with others. Stuff like that.”

By Thursday of last week, it was clear that I needed a break from the computer. I’d managed to come down with a cold right after a visit from my sister, my arm was hurting, my carpal tunnel was flared up, etc. Starting Friday, I decided to just…let…go...and take a break from the computer for a few days.

So you could have knocked me over with a feather when I got a call from someone who had registered for the course on Saturday afternoon, while Andy and I were out looking at apartments (it would seem at this point that we are likely letting go of house-sitting because the hurdy-gurdy moving around is wearing on us). And then I get home and try to log in on the computer, now excited to see what else is there–but the internet is down! Nonononono! gah!–and then finally later the internet is back up, and…oh my gosh. People are signing up for the e-course. Three months in advance. And joining the mailing list-serve. And sending me emails. And being so unbelievably wonderful and supportive and kind that I just want to send all of you the good things of life…things like gerber daisies. And buttercream cake. And vanilla lattes.

Holy tamale, Batman!

The personal work that I’ve been doing for years now means so much to me, mostly because it has gotten me out of a really, really stuck space. Being a Life Coach means so much to me. The e-course–something I’ve been thinking of doing for years, to the point where I’ve kept all of these little bits of notes in a file-folder that I’ve dragged around to every house I’ve moved into (and if you’re counting, that’s a lot of moving)–it means so much to me.

The fact that any of you see enough resonance to sign up this early in the game means more than I can say. You are helping me to create my own Courageous Year. I can promise you–this is not going to be some half-hearted, pitch it together at the last minute kind of deal. I’m putting my heart and soul into this course and hoping (trusting!) that when all of us collectively step into that space, something pretty amazing will be created–this group of people who are letting go of whatever doesn’t serve us to step into a vision for something new and more powerful.

** April 2010 retreat dates to be announced soon! Sign up for the mailing list over at http://www.yourcourageouslife.com for the announcement when I have our space confirmed.

Ready for something new: new blog, new coaching site, new e-course

I don’t even know how to start this entry. For reals. I’m sort of laughing at myself because I feel almost…I dunno, shy to explain all that I’ve been up to the past few weeks. Like I’m going to show you some part of myself that is really hopeful, and that likes being so hopeful and wants to hold that for just a little bit longer before I open it up and put it out there–the possibility that in fact, you’ll think it’s ridiculous. Or that you’ll love it and yet it still just won’t work. All of those Gremlin fears rise to the surface at these moments, and it’s only the strength I’ve cultivated and that I will choose to stand in that keeps me typing.

I could start in so many, many different areas. I guess I’ll start by saying that I feel very vulnerable about all of it, and this is the thing I am most reluctant to admit to anyone–so this must be the best place to start. When all else fails: tell the truth!

Well first, the URL change–which is actually the last thing to change in a series of changing events, but since you’re here, I’ll start here. I’ve had the domain name selftaughtgirl.com for many years. When I bought it, I had this idea in my head that it was a fitting name because I was, in so many ways, “self taught.” I carried with me a story that whatever I had achieved in my life, I had done by my own good graces and with a lot of grit and determination to surmount any obstacle or challenge that might arise.

And it’s funny, because after the past few weeks of working harder than I can ever remember working in my life, on something that means a lot to me, it hit me just less than a week ago that in fact, I was never “self taught.” I was never alone. Where in the world did I get that idea? When I think back, I think of so many helping hands or moments of grace where something unfolded in just the way that I needed it to unfold. The idea that I was alone and creating my own path without collaboration or help was just a story. Thus, I purchased a URL that I think more accurately expresses what I really believe myself to be about.

Then rewind, to go back further…

I keep trying to feel my way to remembering “where this story began.” Where did this chapter begin? 

I’m still not sure. I can say that this most recent trip to Italy changed me in big ways. The realization that I want to become a mother changed me in big ways. I have been actively stretching myself into a new space ever since.

And then a few weeks ago, as part of doing Mondo Beyondo, as part of the growing realization that I wasn’t feeling fulfilled by teaching any longer and that I was no longer getting the gifts I’d hoped to get, I started looking around and asking myself what I really wanted to shift in my life. I’d felt so good in Italy, so whole. The weeks after my return from Italy were also full of that goodness and wholeness and then when school began again, the balance slowly began to waiver and totter–then bam!–back to feeling pressed. The headaches began.

If there is one thing I always told myself growing up, it was that I would not work a job just for the money. I watched as both of my parents worked jobs that they massively resented in order to put food on the table. I have always been determined not to do that to myself. As I’ve become an adult myself, I’ve learned that part of the work is to work on myself–that unhappy people are unhappy in jobs everywhere, regardless of what the job was. 

Now, I generally consider myself to be a pretty aware, “with it” person around what is true/resonates for me, but somehow I had just completely missed that I was not happy with teaching and that I craved something different. When I asked myself what I craved, the answer was just sitting right there, with no real work: I want to fully step into being a Life Coach. I’ve done it for the past three years, I love doing it, and I want to do more of it. Also, I want to lead retreats. And finally, I want to actually put together that e-course I’ve been kicking around ideas with for the past few years.

But right on the heels of that admission came this: but you can’t do that you can’t quit teaching you can’t give up the security what about the money what about the job what about the security in this economy are you crazy that’s ridiculous teaching isn’t that bad so just shut up and deal with it.

And I feel very fortunate that I had that reaction and it happened during a moment of clarity, because had it happened at some other point, I’m not sure I would have “heard” it. When I heard myself in this way, loud and clear, I went: “What? Excuse me, what? That is not me.”

But of course, it was me. I sat there and let it sink in that what I wanted to do was let go of my job as a teacher of English and step into being a different kind of teacher. I just let that sink…in…that this was what I really, really wanted. I watched as that run-together voice of fear came back. 

I began to cry, because now I have enough experience that I heard that run-together fearful voice the way I would hear it if I were holding space as a Life Coach for a client. I cried with compassion for all the times I’ve heard that voice in my clients, and I cried with fear,  knowing that now I knew what I wanted to do and there was nothing to hide behind. I knew that I would be out of integrity with myself if I stayed in a job that was not fulfilling me fully, even if there are many parts of it that are wonderful, just because I was afraid of the “what about the money” part.

I had a friend once who had dated a guy for a bit. He seemed pretty nice. We were IM’ing one day and she mentioned that she had broken up with him. I asked her why, because she’d never expressed any truly serious, deep issues with him, and she replied–and I can see the IM clear as day–”Because I was only 75% happy, and I wasn’t willing to settle for 75%.” 

And I thought: WOW. I admired it. Some might read that kind of statement as narcissism. I read it as a declaration to the world that is about living big, and being unafraid to do so.

The entire weekend before I gave my leave of absence from teaching, I was sick to my stomach. I felt as if I’d swallowed rocks. I woke up in the middle of the night with my stomach in agony. I was terrified to do it. And then, that Monday, I typed out my letter and headed in to campus and knocked on my Chair’s door, spoke with her briefly without getting into too much drama-laden detail, she was completely supportive, and then I left. 

I felt lighter, having done it. I manifested, I read books about wishing. Then, I buckled down and got to work.

I had known that my coaching website felt sadly outdated for awhile. That was what I worked on, first. I give you:

http://www.yourcourageouslife.com

and then I began working on the e-course. I have known for awhile that I wanted to do an e-course, something that got more in-depth than many of the e-courses I’ve seen (and that is not to knock them–I think that they look lovely and sound like a lot of fun, and Mondo Beyondo was a wonderful experience for me). Having worked as a Coach these past few years, I’ve arrived at a place where I combine a lot of magical thinking and play in my work with the nuts and bolts tools and making powerful choices. I’ve wanted to make a course that did that for some time.

Here it is: http://www.thecourageousyear.com

So between thiscourageouslife.com, yourcourageouslife.com, and the courageousyear.com, you might notice a theme. And no, it’s not that my design skills have improved over the years. That word–courageous–has carried me farther than anything in my life. It is this word that I realized, as I was thinking about the domain selftaughtgirl.com, was really responsible for whatever I have created. 

I define courage as feeling the fear, doing it anyway, transforming. Whatever I have achieved in my life has not been because I was alone and “self taught,” it has been the result of tremendous courage and the helping hands of so many beautiful souls and experiences.

The past few weeks, I’ve been working as if I had two jobs. Teaching, teaching, teaching, coaching, coaching, coaching. I sense a huge shift in the very way that I’m setting all of this up, as compared to any of my other freelance endeavors. The other things I was setting up were things that I could do in my spare time. I am setting this up as the sole focus of my work. This has involved new bank accounts, setting up a meeting with a financial consultant, meeting and starting to work with a marketing person (who, I think, I will start referring to as my “marketing guru” because I think she’s so damned good). Also, lots of telling the truth–admitting again and again that I feel afraid, admitting again and again that my hope is that this leave of absence is in fact permanent and that I make a true transition to a new career, the one my heart has been yearning for ever since I left graduate school, really (I read an article at the career development office about a woman who had become a Life Coach, and something in my heart said “I want to do that” but it was another few years before I would act).

And with all of these very scary steps, I am learning in a bigger and deeper way what courage really is. I had had no idea that I was so afraid until that moment when it all sort of descended. Then there was the lightness of letting go and the past few weeks there has been the stress of trying to build something–and I have had many, many frustrated moments where I’ve suddenly asked myself, “What the hell am I doing? Am I crazy? Do I even want to do this?” (Note to self: they usually happen when I am Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired. Or sitting in front of the computer for far too long, trying to get oooooonnnneeee more thing done because I was so excited about this 10/01/09 launch date). 

And now, after all that, I feel more of a sense of just being along for the ride, and being curious, and being willing to see what is on the other side of the fear. I have wished, I have worked hard, I have hoped and I have had fear, and now I release it into the world, the way I would open my palm to let a small bird fly.

~ with so much gratitude ~