Your Courageous Life

A fan of Chris Guillebeau? Absolutely. When he posted a few weeks ago to see if he could get a few test readers for book version of The Art of Non-Conformity, I enthusiastically posted to the comments (along with, oh, 900+ other people) to see if I could get an advance copy for review. I posted:

“I’d like to participate because I enormously admire anyone who, as I put it, “claims their choices.” I think that the kind of work you do is this up-front, complete and total contradiction to the idea that our lives have limitations. I’m jazzed about supporting anyone who walks the world that way, excited about collaboration, and a reliable participant (aka, I don’t say I’ll do it and then not read it/do it/follow up/pimp it out/write about it/review it/speakup). Finally, I have been known to give people donuts (and or other baked, sugary confections of their choice) when we do something together. Who wouldn’t want that?”

I was totally psyched to receive AONC in the mail and have been enthusiastically reading it ever since.

At the top of the list of things that I appreciate about it? This is not a book that treats you like you’re stupid. Anyone who is interested in changing the game in their life already knows “how” to travel, or attempt to find more meaningful work. There are already a lot of books on this topic. What Chris spends time on in the early chapters are the things that really will swamp you if you endeavour to buck the system: fear.

For me, this book is about managing fear–and managing it in a completely hands-on, realistic, practical, get down into it, firm yet unwavering kind of way. Chris spends time anticipating the doubts that people will come up with, that friends and family will voice, the self-limiting beliefs of the world at large–and as someone who began working for myself in the past year, I quickly learned that the bulk of one’s energy when doing anything new can go in this direction.

“Intelligence is not a prerequisite, but determination is.” — Chris Guillebeau

But this is not “just” a book about managing fear. This, too, is a book about posing a challenge/invitation to think bigger, to not settle. There’s a good reason why Chris has a lot of supporters of his website work, and I’m glad that he’s now going to have something out in the print world, hailing its own ISBN.

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P.S. I just changed my RSS feed address–if you have been following this blog on an RSS feed, you’ll need to redirect it to: feed://feeds.feedburner.com/DailyCourage

As part of the Courageous Year process, one thing I like to do is honor where we come from.

The idea is that even as you shift something in your life, even as you transform, you don’t look at where you came from as this place that was bad. It was simply another necessary step in your growth along this path. You shift as you grow. And for the most part, we’re almost constantly shifting (it’s a brilliant thing).

I was looking through some of my archives from one year ago. One year ago today, I was just a month shy of the realization that I wanted to grow The Courageous Year. One year ago today, I was living in someone else’s house, house-sitting, and had no idea where I’d be living next. One year ago, today, I was in contact with some people that I’m no longer in contact with, today. One year ago, today, my relationship to myself and to others and to my partner looks very different.

It’s important to note that a year ago, I had no idea that I was capable of creating (beyond that inner knowing that knows before anything is conscious) what I’ve created, today. I say that it’s important because so often it can be easy to think, “I can’t do that,” forgetting that in everyone’s life there is a time when they don’t know fully what they are capable of.

This past year feels like the fastest passing year of my life.

And so I bring you: The Courageous Year Flashback. Click the link, read what was happening one year ago (“Deserve” was coming up big!), and feel free to add your comments!

Where were you, one year ago? What has shifted?

Okay, so. As promised, I need to update all y’all on the sugar thing.

In the past month, I had two cookies.

Let’s just get that out of the way, right now.

Other than that, it’s been really rocking out fan-freaking-tastic.

No, wait.

There is one other thing.

I am having, like, the worst acne breakout of my entire life. It really blows. I’m drinking a ton of water, and doing castor oil hot packs, and eating veggies, and really just doing this whole “Have acceptance” dance around it. This is so very contrary to my usual habit, which is something like, “Hot Tamale, Batman–I’m having yet. another. breakout.” and then putting some uber-chemically cleanser on it. We’ll see how it goes. It has been a rough year on the acne front. I am the girl who has, literally tried everything–every cleanser, every drug, and it’s not hormonal or due to an imbalance that shows up on a medical test–and my most recent program is simply to avoid wheat, dairy, and sugar, use really gentle and natural Mychelle cleansers and lotions, and to seriously just keep coming back to acceptance of the acne. It’s there. I can’t do anything about it other than what I’m doing. As far as I can tell, I’m detoxing from the wheat/dairy/sugar and that’s that.

Better out than in, right? End of story.

But you’re not reading this update to find out about breakouts, you’re wondering if I had a psychotic break after letting go of refined sugar.

The answer? Not so far. But I am pleased to report a few things.

For one, I have found it. Finally! The diet that works for me (not necessarily everyone, but for me): Avoiding wheat, dairy, sugar. The goal is to eliminate sugar entirely but at this point, I’m not being rigid about it past the point of not eating ice-cream, pastries, sodas, things like that. (For instance, I’m aware that there’s a bit of sugar in my ranch salad dressing. I’m not going to freak about that at this point). It works for me in the sense that I have so much more energy than I did. I include some (sustainable, non-factory, hormone-free) chicken and occasionally beef in my diet. Other than that, it’s tasty deliciousness of all kinds of other great things. My favorite new breakfast is Bob’s Red Mill Rice Farina topped with a bit of lite coconut milk, sprinkled with cinnamon and toasted almonds. Deeeeelicious! I’ve been really enjoying kale, grains, new salad combinations, soups, beans, etc. (P.S. My definition of “works for me” is that it’s a diet I know is healthy, is relatively easy to follow, and leaves me with lots of energy).

For two, I can do this. I had a lot of stuff coming up in that last entry around wondering if I could actually do this and stop having the cakes, cookies, etc. Other than the two oatmeal cookies I had, I haven’t had any of those things. It has been surprisingly easier than I had first thought. It now seems strange to me to think of eating a traditional pizza.

For three, I’m restoring and evaluating as I go, with no attachment. Since I know I’m going to eat whatever the hell I want when I spend the month in Italy and eat out with the retreat participants, I feel good knowing that I’m giving my body a restorative period in the months before I go. Then I’ll come home and be back on my good old California-girl juice-cleansing kombucha drinking leafy green path. I’m both acknowledging that I’m addicted to sugar while simultaneously open (and behind my choice) to have this period of the year where I’ll suspend reality.

For four, I am learning all kinds of great nuances of my body. For instance, a sugar craving is almost identical to a hunger craving (at least, the sensations are the same in my body). Or noticing when it is that I start feeling most nuts for some sugar and when it’s no big deal. Also, it’s been great to put more focus on things like drinking water, and noticing thirst more than I used to.

For four, the most helpful nuance I’m learning? How I respond to addiction. Addiction seems like such a strong word, doesn’t it? I get that. But truly, the sugar thing is such an addiction. As it happens, Andy has recently seen a Chinese Medicine nutritionist and she is doing some acupuncture with him and making assorted diet recommendations, so he’s been ditching wheat and dairy and sugar for the past month as part of a detox/cleanse. We were at a barbeque recently, and among the food on the table was a box of chocolate chip cookies.

After the barbecue, we talked about those cookies–how we’d both wanted one. We’d both thought about it. We’d both debated whether or not to have them. We’d both thought, “Oh, I’m sure one would be okay,” and then taken ourselves back from the brink.

We were laughing as we discussed this, because certainly we were not having these thoughts about the potato salad. Or the regular salad. Or the beans. Or the rice. Or the meat on the grill.

No, the thing that we were debating were cookies, because we both knew that one cookie would lead to two and then to another and I just have to say that for me, even if I have the willpower to stop at two cookies (and I do), part of recognizing the addiction is that when I cave and have the refined sugar, it just makes it harder to resist the next day. I am coming to a far fuller understanding of why it is that alcoholics pretty much have to stop going to bars when they get into recovery. (P.S. I don’t think anything is wrong with having cookies. I just notice that I’m trying to see how far I can go with this phase of letting go of sugar, what that’s like, etc. )

So many of you commented or emailed me regarding my last post on letting go of sugar–I had no idea there were so many others out there who were working through something like this yourselves. Thank you for the support! I immensely appreciate it.

Did any of you recently decide to let go of sugar (or something else that’s hard to let go of)? How’s that going?

So I did this kind of nutty thing about six weeks ago: I stopped eating refined sugar.

I started this little experiment because for the longest time ever, I’ve felt as though something was “off” with my body. Just generally, lots of achiness. Tiredness. And the dogged and persistent acne–good grief. It is embarrassing to still be breaking out in your thirties. Ridiculous. I’ve been on every pill, every medication. It’s not hormonal. My bloodwork is fine. Like everyone else, I could stand to lead a more Om Namah Shivayah kind of life, but frankly, I don’t think self-care is exactly my weak spot. Are we forgetting that I spent last summer in Italy? I’ve tried letting go of dairy. Wheat. I’ve been on a raw foods diet (an experiment I can’t imagine I’d ever take up again, not because it doesn’t work but because good golly, I simply can’t spend that much of my life planning meals).

So I decided I’d try the one thing I’d never, ever tried before: letting go of refined sugar.

Now I commence with telling you that I finally understand the true nature of addiction.

Speaking of this, as part of my sugar detox, I was not doing honey, either–or agave nectar (which I’ve since learned through various and sundry research, agave is not actually this all-natural superfood, and it’s terribly environmentally offensive because most agave is grown in Mexico and then trucked/flown thousands of miles away to the United States). For fourteen days, I had zero refined sugar, and no foods that spike insulin levels when the body converted it to sugar–such as anything with flour in it. No wine. When I shared this with my dear friend Margo, over lunch (salad for me…) she said: “Oh my god. What do you eat?”

Answer: Lots of things. Carrots with hummus. Brown rice and lentil soup. Lots of steamed greens. Quinoa–oh, I looove quinoa. Cashews. Dried apricots. Canned fruit (in pear juice and water, not high-fructose corn syrup). Steamed kale. This really great wild rice casserole inspired by Andy’s sister–sautee some onions in garlic and then toss with wild rice, chopped black olives, and chopped (steamed) green beans. Sooo good.

I was doing a great job with the no sugar thing–couldn’t have even really said that I missed it–until Day Six. Some switch flipped on Day Six and suddenly it was like, “Where’s the sugar? Where? Where could I find me some sugar, honey?” Thus commenced a rather terse couple of days. Mood swings? Check. New acne breakout? Check. Tired and cranky? Check. There was one day when Andy made an offhand comment about cupcakes, something like, “Oh, cupcakes sound good,” and I felt this lift in my mood as I thought of how–YES!–a cupcake would be delicious. Why not have some? And then I remembered that I was off sugar and my mood just fell in about 1.3 seconds flat and tears sprang to my eyes because a cupcake sounded so tasty, and so good, and so fantastic, and I was not having any and life just felt unfair.

But I made it through the fourteen days–the limit I’d given myself for detoxing sugar from my body. I no longer craved it. I was feeling great. I hadn’t lost weight but I had noticed that (probably due to lack of carbs) I was looking pretty muscular, or “cut up” as they say. I had a ton more energy. My acne was clearing. I switched over to organic, all natural cleansers and noticed that my skin was still clearing (which is great, because sometimes even with really strong stuff it would be resistant). I felt more grounded in my skin.

And then. Then I decided I’d try having some sugar. What I noticed: that even small quantities of sugar felt as if I’d just eaten five baklavah. Also, even small quantities of sugar would bring on epic headaches, maybe even some feelings of nausea, and–curiously–a crash in which I feel slightly depressed.

And, those small quantities of sugar? They made me crave more. This is why I say I now understand the nature of addiction. I really believed that if I were to detox the sugar out of my system and get to a point where I was no longer craving it (and I did reach that point), then I’d be cured. Done. I could have small bits of refined sugar here and there, and it wouldn’t matter.

Sadly, no this is not how it works. The little sugar addiction receptors in the brain start bargaining and calculating the way they did when I was on Day Six, looking around, wondering if there were any way that I could push this no sugar thing just a bit and still be keeping my commitment to myself. Which is how I now find myself in the curious predicament of wanting all of the lovely benefits of not having refined sugar–all of that energy! waking up in the morning feeling alert! not crashing in the afternoon! feeling really chill and calm! muscles! –while simultaneously craving it and thinking about it. The other day I was at a party where someone sliced a cake. I noticed myself eyeing the cake on the plate of the person in front of me, watching as bites traveled from plate to mouth.

I mean, Jimminy. Come on.

I was in the midst of my detox when I found this article written by Havi, and now’s the part where I quote from her:

I don’t often mention the no-sugar thing. Or the no-caffeine thing. Because it’s been my experience that — when it comes up — people tend to think that I’m secretly implying that they should do it too.

So let me state as clearly as I can:
The choices I make in my life are only about my life. You can totally drink coffee and eat cookies all day and I will love you just the same.

Seriously. I could not care less.

Whatever guilt or “shoulds” come up for you, they’re not coming from me. I’m sorry if talking about stuff that goes on in my life makes you feel uncomfortable about stuff going on in yours. That is never my intention.

People vary. What might be poisonous to me could be completely harmless — or even beneficial — for you.

I am not interested in being an evangelist. “You” just the way you are right now? Fine by me. I promise.

I feel exactly the same way–big love for anyone reading this, and I’ll support your choices that support you. Swearsies. But I am sharing about my process here, because I’m realizing that if I keep trying to tempt the Sugar Monster, bargaining, swearing I’ll just have a little bit and then I’ll quit tomorrow, I’m going to lose. There is a reason why 12-step programs have you give up trying to have control, first thing. I get it, now.

Ugh. I’m posting here because deep down, I want to be all accountable and stuff, and Numero Uno way to be accountable for me is post it on my blog. Enough people read it and then say later, “So whatever happened with…?” that it is an effective integrity check. I’m also sharing that right now, I’m in the middle of my process rather than on the other side of it, and I’m feeling whiny and icky and all of the Resistance is coming up. It is not attractive.

So I’m saying it: I think it’s time to quit sugar. For reals. And honestly? That sort of scares me. It sort of drives all of these buzzy, annoyed nerve impulses down my spine. Whaddya mean, we gotta quit sugar? It’s not just an experiment?

But for reals–For me, I think it’s time. During the weeks when I had no refined sugar, I had the lovely feeling of being grounded and energetic and healthy that I’ve been looking for. I want that back.

Okay, now I’ll also take another tip from Havi. She has this thing called “Comment Zen.” It’s basically her sharing what she hopes to see in the comments and what she doesn’t want to see. So I’ll share a bit of Comment Zen: My vision would be that we’d share support, tips for getting off the sugar bandwagon, resources–and not “Oh, but how can you give up brownies?”

I’m also going to assign myself a check-in–something to check-in on one month from now, in which I follow up. I’m even going to put it in my little iCal and set it to ding at me so that I’ll remember. And if you want to support the cause by dinging in on August 6th, please feel free to pop back in.

Six months of courage from Kate Swoboda on Vimeo.

Oh, dear. Once I finally finished everything I realized that there are a few transitions in this that clip off a word. I hope you’ll forgive me…

One thing that I do with Courageous Year participants is offer the opportunity to take a moment for assessment. I think that this is, rather than being an exercise in self-hate (“Oh, man, now I need to assess myself and see all the ways that I’m STILL not doing what I should be doing…”) it can be an exercise in commitment & accountability and in acknowledgement.

This video felt a little tender to make–I am being courageous and leaning into that tender spot of admitting to fear (“terrifying” is the word I use most!)–but it is honest. Thank you for bearing witness.

Before you got anywhere near your computer this morning, you probably executed a series of routines that you use every single morning as you’re going through the process of waking up. Everything from how you turn off your alarm clock and how much time you give yourself to wake up before moving out of bed was probably couched in some semblance of a routine. Maybe even firing up your computer at a certain time, and hitting certain blogs in a certain order, is part of that routine. And why not? Routines are what make the world go round, or so we’re taught from an early age.

The idea that everyone needs routines and that they are critical to success is one of those things that is pimped as a Whole Truth when in fact, it is only a half-truth. It’s a kind-of, somewhat-useful, good to hold onto in a pinch kind of truth. It’s a modify as necessary  truth.

But many of us treat it like it’s the holy grail of truths, and when we set our minds to doing something and then that something doesn’t happen, we blame it on lack of routine.

I think there’s a different way of looking at routine that could be embraced.

First, I think that blaming routine when some new lifestyle change isn’t a “go” is a way of circumventing our inner wisdom. We don’t ditch exercise routines because of lack of routine. We ditch it because somewhere, deep inside, we just don’t want to do it yet. It’s really that simple, and I think there’s a lot of lovely juice that we could look at there, if we risked being tender with ourselves and owning that. What if, the next time you bailed on something, you took a powerful step towards owning your process, not being ready to make a change, forgiving yourself for any shaming and shoulding, and then looked at the wiser pearl of: “Why am I not yet ready to make this change? What Stories do I have around who I’d ‘have to’ be if I did this? What’s my fear?”

So in essence, blaming the routine can be the booby prize that maintains an illusion that will only re-execute itself, next time.

The other thing about routines is that they’re only really useful if they’re used at the right time. For instance, I find routines really helpful when I have Resistance to something. Let’s say I tell myself I’m going to be more regular about my writing practice. The Resistance comes up, but it’s not so strong that I’ll quit (if it was, I’d refer back to looking at the “Why am I not yet ready to make this change?” question). The routine is what will get me going each day, and start to make it a habit that I will simply do because it’s routine.

But–and this varies by individual–for me, a long-term routine around writing is a recipe for disaster. How many times have I told myself I’d have a “regular writing practice” and then got into it for a few months and then quit? More times than I can count. It took me years to figure out that the routine itself was killing the creative endeavour. The routine itself was this thing that helped me get out of the starting gate, but it had lived past its expiration date. Routines that live past their expiration date are just as icky to have around as expired milk.

So the next question becomes: When do routines serve you, and when do they not?

I’m not going to lay out the “Follow these three simple steps” deal. People’s reactions and experiences with routines are highly individual. There are some of you reading this who will think that this way of looking at routines differently is like their first taste of freedom from a lifetime of being told they were doing it “wrong.”  And– There are some people who love routines, who use them as a wonderfully grounding practice that help to live more fulfilled lives.

An excess of routines does not function in a fulfilling way in my life, and so I think that there’s a lovely middle ground that myself and many others can take where routines are like this tool that has a sticker on it that says:

ONLY USE WHEN NECESSARY.

This brings up a whole host of really lovely questions. When do routines serve you? When are they helpful, and when are they not? Have you ever considered before that there could be times when routine is not serving you, and you’re still holding onto it?

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I thought I’d at least give it a try for the camera–bow pulling pose, my favorite of the series. Which is funny, because when I look at this picture, I can see all of the things that I need to adjust in the posture. My body needs to come down more, parallel to the floor. My raised toe needs to be pointed. But of course, this is one of those deceptive postures that looks much easier than it actually, physically is to execute. Try it, sometime–and be sure to lock that standing knee. Oh, and ignore my sweaty Bikram shorts and towel that are conveniently dumped in the hallway in this photo.

I have executed that posture at least 60 times in the last 30 days. Twice per class.

When I started the 30-day Bikram yoga challenge that was going on at my studio, I did so as a challenge to myself. Going to class 3-5 times a week had produced noticeable, measurable results in my body, and I read Bikram’s book and he advocates a 30 or 60 day initial sequence. So, okay, I thought. If the person who invented this sequence of yoga says do it daily for awhile, I’ll do it.

At my studio, they’re offering a free t-shirt if you complete the Challenge, but let’s just be frank–a t-shirt just isn’t enough motivation to go into a 105-degree room every single day. When I first began Bikram a few months ago, just getting through the class itself was the challenge. The next challenge was going regularly–confronting my resistance that didn’t wannnnna do it, didn’t feeeeel like it. I’ve never had this regular of a yoga practice. I have always been a wannabe yogini, and have taken various and sundry classes since my freshman year of college. One of the things I was most excited to do once I began working for myself was to start practicing regularly; it’s something I’ve said I wanted for years and have felt really challenged by as my schedule shifted and changed every few months depending on the classes I was contracted to teach.

Bikram was an accident. I searched high and low and could not find any yoga studio near me that had affordable classes on a regular schedule, one that was the same every day. This regular schedule thing was important to me, because I know that when I am starting something new, I need to have a rhythm to it or else I get discouraged easily. My mornings quickly became: Pop into yoga, shower, eat breakfast, scoop the kitty litter box, check email, work. Very easy, a nice routine, a lovely way to start off a day that would entail a lot of sitting.

The Challenge has been hard for all the reasons that you already know it would be hard. It’s physically hard. It’s emotionally hard. And I have this pissy thing about people setting up their mats right in front of me, which happens a lot.  The hardest days were 15-20. I had thought that once I hit the halfway mark, I’d just sort of soar easily from there, but no–the Resistance stepped it up a notch and I so thoroughly resented going that I didn’t even enjoy class with my favorite teachers. Get me in, get me out, I said. I gave myself a lot of treats on those days–indulging in getting a Zico (sooo tasty!) even if it conflicted with my other newfound practice of not using packaging on products. Skipping postures I hate was another treat I gave myself. I believe in building in treats.

Also, at the eleventh hour–Day 28!–our hero encountered that One Last Obstacle. I rocked out in Sunday’s class in bow pulling pose. I mean, I ROCKED OUT. My body was down. I was parallel. Stomach sucked in. Stretching and kicking equal and opposite. That wonderful floating feeling. And most importantly: KNEE LOCKED (which is to say, leg straight, no bend, thigh contracted). This was the longest I’d ever stayed in the posture!

Suddenly, I felt it: I was falling out. No. No! Noooo! But I held in! I stayed in! My standing knee stopped locking, but I was holding myself up! It was beautiful! It was fantastic! The teacher ended the pose! My leg went down! I ROCKED IT! SHE SHOOTS, SHE SCORES! No, wait! This is bow-pulling pose–SHE SHOOTS, SHE SOARS!!!!!

And a few hours after class: Shit. They really do mean it when they say to lock that knee and contract that thigh. My IT band and knee really started to hurt, probably from those last few delicious yet ridiculous moments when I pushed it past the point of no return without stabilizing my leg.

I iced and alternated heat and stayed off of my leg for the entire rest of that day, but by bedtime that night it was obvious that I had really strained my right thigh. Dammit.

If I hadn’t been in the midst of a challenge, I would have given up right there. I would have simply taken a few days off and let my leg have some time. But, no. I was not going to quit at Day 28.

So on Day 29, I headed back into the studio. I let the teacher know what was going on. I didn’t do any pose that involved contracting my right thigh muscle. I determined that dammit, if the only pose I could do was savasana, I was going to finish this Challenge.

Turns out, some of the stretching I did on Day 29 totally helped, such that I left that day with my thigh feeling better. And I walked into today’s class, Day 30, with only minimal soreness and was able to complete most postures.

And now, what I notice from 30 days straight of Bikram yoga. First, I’m proud. I did it! This is huge, to me! Shifts have happened around control. I can tolerate people putting their mats in front of me far better than I did, as well as the more tangible things such as sweat running into my eyes. I feel now like I could start something new–something that might take time over the long haul–and trust that I wouldn’t give up, even when it felt difficult. My arms. look. awesome. As does my butt. My thighs. All of it. I feel genuine pride in how much my body has responded to the practice. As I said in a previous entry, I feel great about my body not in an “I’m so thin” way, because I wouldn’t actually call myself thin, but more from a “rocking out in my own strong skin” kind of way. Physically, I feel different. A few weeks ago, I went to a class where I had a splitting headache, and the headache dissipated by the end of class. My posture is more upright. I notice my abdomen flexing if I bend over to pick something up. I can’t remember the last time I had lower back pain. I have more energy. I’m still breaking out more than I would like, but even that has eased at least a little bit. I’m sleeping more deeply and waking up more naturally, 20-30 minutes before my alarm clock goes off.

So there it is. Thirty days of stepping into something that seemed monumentally difficult when I began, and at various points, but I saw it all the way through. This thrills me and excites me and makes me want to do a little happy dance.

To complete the process, I’ll be doing a few things. One: a haircut and dye job are desperately in order, as is a little shaping of the eyebrows. Two: Tattoo time. I wanted to complete this challenge before getting my next tat, because I knew that I would need to give my skin ample time to heal up without any sweat. But I’ve been thinking about these (yes, two, plural) for awhile, and had planned to get them done months ago but then when I decided to do this Challenge, I thought “Hey, why not make them coincide?” It would be kind of cool to remember, for the rest of my life, meeting this Challenge, even though the tattoos will be symbolizing other things, as well.

So now I’m curious: What in your life seems, right now, like an insurmountable challenge? And what might be awaiting you on the other side?

One of the things that I love best about leading The Courageous Year is that inevitably, whatever the group is working on at that moment becomes something that I’m working on, too. Right now, Group A is in Level 2, and we’re working on Commitment & Accountability (the Year is divided into levels that devote time to particular topics). The funny thing is that we’re only a few weeks in, and that I didn’t even notice that I had just started a 30-day Bikram yoga challenge at the same time that they were starting Commitment & Accountability. Ha! I hadn’t even made the connection that I was starting something that would require me to be committed and accountable at the same time. And Group B is working on Level 1 right now, and their topic is self-care, and just by virtue of following along with them, I’ve noticed myself putting more attention and focus on self-care. Brilliant!

When I take on something new, I usually tend not to say anything about it, because when something is fertile and just being birthed, I’m clear that I don’t find it helpful to hear other people’s opinions (this is not a “right” way of starting something new that I advocate; some people find great value in talking things through with others before beginning). I did this when I started Bikram, swearing Andy to secrecy that he would not tell anyone, and I’m glad I did–because a few weeks after, when people did start to know, then come the judgements of Bikram. It would have been really discouraging in the first few weeks to hear people tell me that it was “so hard” or that they knew someone who had been injured while doing it, or that it was “dangerous” or…you know, whatever it is that people express when it’s negative. While people of course have a right to their opinions, I often notice (and practice noticing in myself) how sometimes the expressing of them isn’t always helpful, and try to see whether the expression is more about my Ego’s need to make sure someone knows how “right” I believe I am, or if it’s to provide an alternative or another insight. (And P.S. another good reason to notice whether it’s helpful to tell people what you’re doing in the early stages is because sometimes we unconsciously sabotage ourselves by telling people who we–subconsciously– know will downplay what we want to do).

The flip-side, however, is that at some point, we need to tell people about our goals, our dreams, our lifestyle changes, because again and again it seems that when we tell people what we do, we automatically become more accountable and more likely to commit to and then finish what we start. I urge my Courageous Year participants to declare what they are doing within the e-course, publicly, as well as other places in their lives. This is why I’m now publicly declaring that I’m ten days into this thirty day challenge. I’m getting right to the point where it’s hard–really hard–and I want to quit. I mean, of course I want to quit. Going from doing this 3-5 times a week to every single day? No breaks? It’s tough stuff.

So if you’re thinking about taking on any new endeavor or making a shift in your life, and you’ve noticed in the past that telling people has not brought you the support that you had hoped for, I encourage you to:

1.) Tell only the people who you trust will support you, and even among supportive people, tell few. Sometimes people think they are being supportive when they offer caution. Since I believe that my experience will be my experience, I prefer not to hear cautionary tales.

2.) At some point, do start being public. Declare what you are doing. And then be prepared to let other people’s opinions about it roll right off your back. Or–even better?–declare it while sharing that “at this time, I’m not feeling open to feedback.” True, people might not respect that, and yet there is such value in declaring for yourself what you need.

And with that, I now bring you: The Bikram Update. Warning. I am going to share some stuff below that’s a little raunch. Click away if it’s not your thing.

I’m on Day 10 of the 30-day challenge. Waking up in the morning is getting easier and easier over time. The biggest challenge is one that expresses itself outwardly, but it is all about within: CONTROL.

There is one thing, and only one thing, that currently makes this practice difficult: my desire to control that room. It drives me nuts when people don’t set up their mats in such a way as to allow room for others, even when there is plenty of space. It drives me nuts when the same people come in late, every day, and then want me to move my mat–me, who got there early to get the spot I wanted–to accommodate space for them. The woman who did this today is someone who comes in late every day. Normally, I could care less whether she comes in on time, but when she comes in late and then wants me to move, and crowds the space around me, I get ridiculously distracted fantasizing about ways that I could extend my leg and kick her and make it look like an accident.

Then I breathe, and chill out. But still.

Lately, the biggest challenge in that regard has been Ball Boy. You probably already guessed that I’m not calling him Ball Boy because he brings basketballs to yoga class. Nope, Ball Boy likes to come in, set up his mat directly in front of someone else (not always me, but a few times now it has been). Usually I set up my mat in the room and then leave and sit outside until class officially begins, and then he comes in and sets up his mat while I’m not looking. Hip to his game now, I have realized that if he does this again, I am going to physically move his yoga mat, the ultimate yoga faux-pas.

And why?

Because I do not want to spend another 90 minutes watching that guy grab his balls. Stop reading now if a discussion of someone grabbing their balls is not humorous to you. I find it both irritating as well as–I confess to being a bit declasse in this regard–funny, kind of like a well-timed fart joke. But not every one is me.

Seriously. It’s unbelievable. It goes like this: The instructor says, “Hands up, arms over your head for half-moon pose.” [grabs his balls before going into the posture, adjusts, arms go up] “Stretch to the right and left a few times. Each time you come to the middle, stretch up towards the ceiling.” [intermittent ball grabbing/adjusting with one arm as he stretches]. “Alright, take a deep inhaled breath, arms straight, and stretch your body to the right…inhale and come back to center.” [he stays in the posture but then when we get back to center, down goes one arm to--you guessed it--grab his balls ] “Deep inhaled breath, lock those arms, stretch to the left…back to center.” [balls, balls, balls ] “Inhale and drop your head back and just breathe for a moment; this is the first back bend of the series; your back may hurt a bit.” [I have no idea if he grabs himself here, because my head looks back for the backward bend, but I imagine he does] “Inhale and come back up to center. Keep your arms straight and bend forward.” [a quick, covert ball grab and adjustment of his shorts before leaning forward]

You get the picture.

This reminds me of the Sex and the City episode where Charlotte dates, briefly, a ball grabber and says: “Why do men DO that?”

I don’t think Ball Boy does it for attention or because I or any other woman happens to be behind him. I get the sense that he just does it like, “Oh, yeah, I’m going to get comfortable, that’s it, perfect. Now I’m comfortable.”

Now, back to the control thing. Kate likes to control things. I mean, most of us do, and certainly this tendency in me has dialed down in the past few years, but still. Yoga brings up everything. When I’m not in class and when Ball Boy is not right in front of me, I can see the humor in how I’m supposed to be in that room, focusing on my health, on postures, concentrating, not passing out from heat, and instead, what am I getting upset about? Some dude grabbing his package.

Anyone care to join me in laughing at the ridiculousness of that? It’s quite funny.

And I think that if I weren’t picking on that detail, instead I’d find something else to pick on, because there are so many yoga = life and life = yoga connections to be made out there. Whatever we are working on in our daily lives shows up in the yoga room. I believe this. The people who come in late to class are working on lateness. The people who give up easily and fall out of postures after a few seconds are working on giving up easily. The people who are too intense with it and push themselves too far in the room are working on being too intense. The people who are inclined to blame an instructor for the way they feel in class are probably working on blaming external things in their daily lives. And here’s little old Kate Swoboda, working on control in her daily life and having success in so many ways, but boy howdy–put her in a hot room early in the morning and watch how the control comes out!

———-

So if you made it this far, here’s a challenge for you in the comments. I mention above that when you want to shift something in your life–follow a dream, meet a goal, change a focus–declaring it publicly reaps results, upping the ante of commitment and accountability. So, what would you be willing to publicly declare? What do you want to shift?

Either post it here in the comments or write about this on your own blog and then post the link to your blog in the comments.

From bikramyoga.com

There are a number of ridiculously hard poses in the Bikram sequence–ridiculously hard to be doing even when one is not in 105-degree heat, much less when one is.

One that I particularly love is Standing Bow Pulling Pose, which frankly always looks easier to me in pictures than it actually is. I love this pose because when I can do it, I feel like a total rockstar. Finding the balance in that posture is, to me, the closest human beings must ever get to flying. When I’m in it, I feel light and weightless, as if the one leg supporting me no longer exists and I am suspended in air.

Years ago, I was taking a YMCA yoga class and the teacher was leading us through another pose that I love, tree pose. In one class in particular, I figured something out that would be valuable to me forevermore: balance is breathing.

I was wobbling and falling out of tree pose, trying so hard, efforting to balance on that one leg. Suddenly, something in me noticed that when I would breathe in such a way that my inhale felt like one long breath that was traveling up through the center of me, as if my lungs had turned into a column of air, that core would completely stabilize me. The trick was to focus on that breath so that I could establish that core and stabilize.

An older gentleman comes to our yoga class, sometimes. He seems a little grumpy, but he must like coming because he has continued to come for awhile. He has trouble balancing, lots of it, and as he tries to go into the posture and falls out again and again, he gets more and more frustrated and I can hear it in his breathing–the exasperated puffs of air, the grunting and groaning. If I take my focus too much off of my own breathing, I start to wobble all over the place, falling out of the posture myself.

So my mantra becomes: Balance is breathing. Balance is breathing. Balance is breathing.

As in, if I want to stay balanced, I gotta breathe. (And keeping the focus on myself, rather than someone else, certainly does not hurt!).

It occurred to me that this is another one of those yoga = life moments, where some thing that is true to get you through a posture is equally as true in the daily world. I try to notice how often throughout any given day, my breathing gets more shallow and I’m not taking full inhales and exhales, even though it’s so good for my stress levels, my respiratory system, my blood, my circulation.

On the yoga mat, when I remember to breathe, the rest of the posture seems to mostly take care of itself. I’m curious to see how much this is just like life–where, if I focused on just breathing, just staying with that inhale/exhale pattern, other things might “magically” take care of itself, as well.

Where in your life would you like to have more breathing room?

Photo from www.bikramyogasouthslope.com

I can’t remember where or when I heard this, but I did read something somewhere once (I’m specializing in vague intros, huh?) a phrase: “You don’t work on the yoga. The yoga works on you.”

To some people, yoga is just yoga. It’s just this bendy stretchy form of exercise, and that’s it. While I admit that I am someone who is inclined to just a wee bit more analysis of things than other people, I have to say:

This yoga practice is changing my life.

Totally dramatic statement, yes? But there’s no other way to put it. It is bringing up everything–physically, mentally, emotionally. I have torrents of resistance to going in the morning, and then afterwards I am never sorry. If I don’t go, my body craves it. It brings up all of my issues around judgement and control. It brings up fear–like–I have a total fear of both “fixed fern” pose and “camel” pose. Here is the fear–that if I lean back, I won’t be able to sit back up and that the tendons around my knee cap will tear and I will have to have knee surgery.

Seriously, that is absolutely my fear–it is crystal clear. Pose = tendons tear in knees = knee surgery = knee permanently damaged.

Why I should have this fear, I don’t know. But I did do “fixed fern” this week for the first time, very slowly, and only when we were doing the second set because it was too scary to do it twice, and it was absolutely fine. My knee cap did not pop off. I keep noticing connections to the practice everywhere. When Jen Louden posted about the “scooped out pumpkin” this week, the first thing I was thinking of was my experience with Bikram, how there is resting between each posture and how it prepares you to give 150% to the next posture. I keep thinking of my word for 2010: surrender. I keep thinking of how I will go into that hot room and I don’t even fight it anymore. The room is hot; what else is new?

Now on to the good stuff, the stuff that doesn’t hint at the hippy-dippy new age talk that can make so many people squirm: I am finding that for me, Bikram yoga is a HIT. I think that everyone has “their exercise” that resonates with them. For me, the requirements of exercise are simple: I need to not hate it too much; it needs to give me the energetic benefits; it can’t keep me from doing things in my daily life; I need to lose any extra pudge if I have it and maintain my weight. By “maintain my weight,” I mean that I want to eat bread. Chocolate. Coffee. Cheese. All of it–in moderation, but all of it.

For years, running satisfied that need. Then almost two months ago, I tweaked something pretty badly in my neck and through working with a neuro-muscular therapist (it’s as sexy as it sounds, I tell people) I learned about some postures I’d been holding my neck in that were not helpful, and at this point in time, running is not a match for my body.

Bikram is a total match. I don’t hate it and it doesn’t keep me from doing things in my daily life (weight lifting has that unfortunate side effect of periods of seriously sore muscles).

Also: It is slimming out my tummy and thighs, giving me toned arms, a nice backside. Not in a “If I keep doing this for long enough, I’ll be a size two” kind of way, but in this really powerful, “I am rocking out and feeling fantastic in my own strong skin” kind of way. I think feeling fantastic in my own strong skin is a lovely way to feel.

Also: It is detox city around here. My body is–ahem–”processing food more often” shall we say, and while I did have a particularly nasty breakout, that’s starting to go away as well. I know that my symptoms are those of detoxing because when I’ve done juice cleanses, the effects have been similar. The nice thing about this version of detox is that I’m getting the rocking strong arms at the same time, rather than laying around on the couch feeling consumptive and weak the way I do right around Day Two of a juice cleanse.

Also: It is rocking out my posture. I’m not even trying to stand up straighter. I just notice that it’s happening. There are a number of poses in the sequence that really help with back muscles.

Assessment? Bikram yoga seriously rocks. Speaking of which, I attend Funky Door Yoga in Berkeley and I have a free 30-day pass. I’m happy to pass it along to the first person who comments below and then contacts me via email to get it (please comment below so that others reading this will know if someone has already claimed the pass, and then also email me with your physical address so that I can send you the certificate).

If you are interested in starting Bikram, a few suggestions:

Don’t wear long sleeves or long pants. A poor dear woman showed up for her first class today and was wearing long sleeves. Oh, my. Not in this heat.

Trust that the heat will stop bothering you (eventually).

Bring two bottles of water–one for during class, one for after. The one that is for after can have regular water in it. The one that is for during class, however, should have a teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of sugar and a wee bit of lemon juice mixed in, before placing it in the freezer overnight. This will freeze the bottle into a chunk of ice that will rapidly disintegrate once you are in the yoga room. The wee bit of sugar, salt, and lemon will help to keep you hydrated during class (and tastes better, too).

Don’t be put off by the “Bikram talk.” When the instructors say things that sound really arrogant or confrontational, like, “Put your forehead to your knee. For those of you who don’t know, your forehead is that space above your eyebrows and below your hairline,” they are reciting a script. It’s not personal.

Don’t take the bait. My friend Jen said this after she pushed herself too hard in Bikram and reignited a back problem. The instructors are going to say things like, “Push your body harder!” or “Put your forehead to your knee, or the posture hasn’t even begun yet!” Just do what your body can do and stop at that. Don’t push harder if you think it’s not safe. Don’t struggle to put your forehead to your knee and worry that you’re not doing it right. Half the class doesn’t have foreheads to knees, so just do the best you can and leave the rest. After you’ve been practicing regularly for 6 weeks, then start questioning yourself if you’re not pushing. But before then? Focus on just doing what you can.

Arrive early to set up your mat, and if you arrive late and the only spaces left are the super hot ones at the front of the room, then–for the love of christmas–don’t put your mat right in front of someone else’s. Stagger mats so that the person behind you has at least a shot at seeing themselves in the mirror.

Finally, if you notice that you are feeling afraid of “fixed fern” or “camel pose,” I hear ya.

The Courageous Year…A New Opportunity from Kate Swoboda

So, I’m pretty tickled and excited (and, let’s be honest–feeling the overwhelm, the fear that comes along for a ride with this wave, the impulse to control and then a conscious choice to let go and surrender!) because not only did Across Mediums start today, and not only did the first group of Courageous Year participants transition from the Self-Care portion of the course to the Belief & Story portion of the course, but–

A new group is invited to register for The Courageous Year. You can read more about the course here, or watch the video above.

I think e-courses are fantastic ways of connecting across thousands of miles, sharing who we are, and moving forward at our own pace. There are so many great ones out there, all serving their different purpose. The way that so many of us are connecting through the e-course process reminds me of the line from Deb Talan: “You can’t do it all alone–and if you could, would you really want to?” It speaks to collaboration, a huge coming together of people who are creating something that was not there before–an experience.

I’m constantly refining and adding to The Courageous Year. When I first began, I thought that lessons would be delivered primarily in text format. Then participants responded enthusiastically to a random video that I added, so I started to add more of those. There was a call to find a way to document the process and organize thoughts about the lessons, so I made an e-book–which turned out to be 100 pages of goodness. I was granted the opportunity to interview several inspiring souls, who I could never thank enough for being a part of my wee little project.

What do you think of e-courses? What do you like about them? Is there anything that you think would make them more effective?

For the past two weeks, I have arisen every morning at 5am. Wait. No.

I have not arisen. My alarm clock has gone off. I have turned it off. I have sat up in bed and braced my neck back to stretch it, and I have almost fallen asleep again more times than I can count. I contemplate going back to sleep. What drives me to get my ass up and out of bed is this one simple thing: I am somewhat convinced that if I arrive to yoga class late and have to put my mat in one of the few open spots remaining at the front of the room, I might DIE.

So I get out of bed and shiver as I pull on one teeeeeeensy pair of yoga shorts and one tank top, then pull on another layer of pants and long sleeved shirt and a jacket over that. Then I fill one water bottle, and grab the other water bottle that I had filled and put in the freezer the night before; it is a stainless steel Kleen Kanteen and it is one hard, solid chunk of ice. My yoga bag with mat and towel are also next to the door.

The idea is to take care of as much as possible the night before, so as to not have to think at 5:30 am.

At 5:30 in the morning, it is very quiet in my neighborhood. Turning on my car feels loud. But there are actually cars on the highways, and as I drive the paltry seven miles to the yoga studio–seven miles that would take at least a half hour each way if I were taking a class later in the day–I’m wondering where they are going. Are they early birds? Going to work? It is still pitch black out, and since I’ve only been doing this for a few weeks, I find myself wondering if I will discover that it is light out when the seasons change.

Fast forward to 6:00am. Class begins. The lights are unflinching. I have set up my mat at the back of the room, close to a window, where I’ll get at least a bit of a breeze if the instructor is kind enough to crack the windows. Arriving late would be a death sentence–the only spots remaining would be front and center, where one imagines the heat pools like the core of the earth.

I fucking hate the breathing part at the beginning, because a few weeks ago I had a neck spasm thing and my neck was in total traction, and while it’s healed up now, I still wake up in the mornings with stiffness. So I don’t want to bend my neck forward while my elbows go up, nor do I want to tip it that far back, thank you very much. Basically, I’m grumpy the entire first ten minutes in that 105-degree heat. I am someone who typically likes heat, loves that feeling of getting into a car on a warm day and keeping the windows rolled up for just a minute. And conversely, I hate–loathe–being cold. Yet that first ten minutes, I’m like a judging factory. Imagine a widget factory with a conveyer belt popping out widgets, only instead of widgets I’m popping out judgements. She sounds pissed off today. He’s too perky today. Quit telling us to breathe louder. It’s fucking hot in here. Why is it so hot? It’s hotter than normal, isn’t it. Did they crack the windows at all? I hate it when people who can’t balance stand at the front of the room and then their wobbling gets my balance off. I’m a good balancer normally, except for when people like YOU are standing in front of me. Ugh. Why is that guy up there wearing paper thin WHITE shorts in a Bikram class? Whoa. Whooooaaaa, buddy. Watch it on that backward bend. That’s more than I wanted to see at…yes. 6:15 in the morning.

And then at some point, usually when I start needing to balance on one leg for something and quit it already with the mental dialogue, all of that falls away. I even stop thinking about the heat. I don’t do any of the postures perfectly. They keep telling us to “put your forehead to your knee” and I’ve started looking around, thinking, “I’ve been practicing yoga for more than ten years now–my forehead just doesn’t go to my knee. Maybe I have a weird body or something?”

By the time the warmup is finished (yes, I too thought, “We need a ‘warmup’ in a 105-degree room?” the first time an instructor called it that), my “block of ice” has melted halfway and now I have ice cold water and a little iceberg that clinks when I tip the bottle back.

And after class, I feel great. Freaking fan-tastic, like every single cell in my body is alive. The second bottle of water–the one that I didn’t freeze–is waiting for me in my car. I drive home feeling really peaceful, thinking deeeeep thoughts, thoughts like:

Water is soooo goooooooood.

I head home, get there at about 8am, strip off sweaty layers, and–look, I’m just going to be honest here–admire my body in the mirror. For real. You cannot get up at 5am to do 90 minutes of yoga in an oven, and then not stop to notice how after only 2 weeks, your ass looks great. And your arms. And your abs. And your thighs. And your calves. And your cheekbones are more prominent. Jawbone, too.

Now, to be fair, I’ve been doing mirror work, checking out my body in the mirror for a few years now–I’ve been doing it whether my thighs were muscular from triangle pose or soft and pliable, all in service of loving my body no matter what state it is in, thanking it for all that it does for me, all the ways that it works, all the ways that it bends, all of the messages that it sends me to let me know how to keep it protected. Looking more and more muscular is just a cool side benefit.

But you know what the hardest part of the entire thing is? Getting up at 5am and getting myself out the door. Nothing compares to how monumentally difficult that feels.

In essence, the hardest part of all of it is simply showing up.

And to keep showing up.

To come, complete a class, and know that the next day I will get up and complete another one.

I’m curious: Where in your life is it hardest to show up? Where in your life is hardest to keep showing up?

P.S. Registration for Across Mediums ends today (Friday!).

This might be the oddest thing for me to suggest one “tries as a new thing,” yet it is something that was new for me to try, and something that I’ve found really valuable: hiring a financial advisor.

My interest in hiring a financial advisor began at the time that I started working for myself. I knew that I frequently had questions about my assorted money options, and I knew that I wanted to feel like I had more of a plan for my finances. I am not “rich” by comparative standards of The United States or California (I’m always careful when making statements about myself financially that I am not getting too out of touch with how rich, in fact, the majority of us in the 1st world really ARE), but I do feel it’s important to save money and plan for my future. It hasn’t escaped my attention that we are in the midst of a rapidly changing economy, and furthermore was feeling pretty pressed for time–quite pressed, in fact–and sensed that without some outside accountability, the day when I would actually head to the library, hunt down the books, and then read them, would be too easily put off.

Now here’s the thing–I totally could do this on my own. I could go snap up some Suze Orman books like it’s hot, maybe check out a little CNBC programs on money. Who’s that guy who’s always yelling and screaming when he gives stock tips? I think I’ve seen them making fun of him on The Soup. Nonetheless, through a series of serendipitous turns, I was given a recommendation for a money manager and decided to go in for the free consultation that she offered.

I went out to her office, a little fearful I noticed, and when I got there it quickly became apparent that she would not only save me the time that it would take for me to read up on how I want to invest for retirement, but she was also someone who wanted to work with clients on their emotional responses to money.

Basically, it’s like…money therapy! 

And it’s money therapy that comes in an affordable package–about $100 a month. This includes a 2-hour consult with my financial advisor in which we have gone over all of my finances to create the most accurate picture possible of where I stand, established goals, and discussed some of the triggers that I have around money and what to notice about those next. Bonus round? Because she’s been doing this for 20 years, she can offer me, the new business owner, a lot of informal perspective on trends, business growth, etc. I really don’t have anyone else in my life who can offer that–certainly, my own coach can offer stress-relief around money, but he doesn’t have the business background.

Finally, I see this as a positive step towards really being an adult with my finances. Instead of money being something that I deal with when I “have to,” it shifts and becomes something that I am making a conscious effort to give time and care to. I feel more present and the sessions help to keep me focused.

So, try something new: start dealing with your money. Whether or not that means hiring a financial advisor is a personal choice for you to make, but at the very least, set up an appointment with yourself once a month to look at your finances and figure out where you’re at and where you want to go and to assess whether you are on track. Give money some attention–the good kind, not the, “Ick, I hate dealing with you please go away” kind.

What steps will you take next? What resonates for you as a new thing to try involving money?

San Francisco sidewalk.

Like so many others, I heard the news about the earthquake in Haiti and carried it with a heavy heart. It is such, such unimaginable sadness, and of course living in California, where the threat of earthquakes is always in the background, there’s a lot of resonance with this issue.

But what I have been thinking about this week, is how this situation can be a call to action for myself, and how much I wish it would be a call to action for society as a whole to do more than just react to emergencies.

I was thinking this week about how it is that a person walking down the street with no health insurance who falls down and gets injured would be denied care by a hospital if it wasn’t life-threatening, but that same person with the same injury would be given care if that injury were related to an earthquake. I was thinking about how food and medical supplies are so badly needed by so many countries, and on a daily basis we as a society are allowing people in many countries to go without clean drinking water, but as soon as an earthquake hits, then we’re willing to start talking about problems relating to clean water infrastructure in Haiti.

Why do we, as a society, wait?

I was listening to a public radio broadcast in which someone being interviewed shared that–sadly–most Haitians are so used to having lack of access to good drinking water that they “already know” how to test for water, that they need to use water filtration systems, etc. So basically, lack of access to clean drinking water is already a struggle–a struggle that is so direly, horribly intensified by the earthquake.

So why do we, as a society, wait? We know these things are happening. We know that people are suffering. Where is the call to action–and I don’t mean this as a guilt thing for you, reading this, so much as I ask this question of our entire social system. When will it be worth it to us to invest in certain societal structures like education and clean water and telecommunications and transportation so that when disaster strikes, it’s not hitting people quite so hard?

And here’s why I think it’s so important to invest as a society–because since there’s a great infrastructure in the U.S. for clean water, power lines, natural gas, communications technology, port development, and transportation, I don’t worry about earthquakes in California.

Can we see the full luxury of that? I live in a state that is, without a doubt, going to experience a massive earthquake at some point within the next twenty years, and I’m not worried about it. Why not?

If an earthquake happens in California, I have a reasonable assurance that I will be able to find shelter and food and water. I have access to money that has allowed me to procure enough food and water to last myself and my partner for at least a week (plus emergency blankets and batteries and a flashlight and an inflatable mattress and sleeping bags…), and it’s stockpiled in our storage unit behind the house. I’m recalling that we spent approximately $150 on assorted non-perishables and canned goods–and I can’t even remember how much the other things like the battery-free flashlight and sleeping bags cost–and the average income of a Haitian per year is $270!

What luxury that, because of the solid infrastructure and the support of so many systems coming together, that I am able to spend almost as much as someone from Haiti makes in a year on food that I can just have sitting around “in case of emergency.”

What I’m asking myself in the wake of Haiti is how much more I can do to invest in permanent infrastructure and systems that work within a society. It is one thing to donate money during times of crisis–and that money is so needed, and I am so grateful that you have given anything, whether it is your dollars or your prayers. Yet I can’t stop asking myself where all of us can come together with a collective voice to say that it is not okay that people who are already living in poverty only get the help they need when hit with the direst of circumstances. Even from an economic standpoint, wouldn’t it make more sense to invest in a good system beforehand than try to clean up the mess? According to websites like water.org, a U.S. investment of 11 Billion per year in solid water infrastructures could reap 84 Billion in profit returns (and, might I add, do quite a lot to convince the world community that despite our reputation as a bully, we actually do care about collaboration).

We spend millions or billions of dollars per year on singers and songwriters who sing about love; love for each other, love for the world. We do the same with movies that have a theme of “love triumphs all” in the end. And what love are we, as a society, showing for society on a regular basis? The songs and happy endings are nice–and in the meantime, what’s our call to action? What if, for just one weekend, we didn’t spend all of that money on a movie and that money went, instead, to something else? Would it be okay with us, as a society, if “Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel” did not earn $178,451,165.00 at the box office, and that money went somewhere else?

I cannot say enough that this is not a post to chastise anyone else–this is what I’ve been thinking about these past few days. I’ve been asking myself how much more I can do, and how much more aware I can be. I don’t consider myself to be “outside” of this problem–after all, I do all kinds of things that are technically not the “best” for our society, such as buy my toothpaste from corporations like Target or drive a car that uses regular gasoline.

I don’t have answers right now, not for myself or for anyone else. Well, perhaps one–that it really no longer seems okay to me to go on waiting, whether that’s waiting for the “right” solution to appear or waiting for something else. No more waiting. No more hesitating. Time to act, try things out, see what works and what doesn’t, and above all else, to continue to affirm my gratitude for all of the luxury I do have as well as affirming that there are solutions available to us if we will simply work together and insist on a world where solutions, rather than crisis-management, is our priority.

Poppy, the cat that I house-sat for from July through October

I realized that I haven’t updated anyone on the cat situation, which is basically that there is no longer a cat situation.

We let go of Buddha.

Buddha was presenting so many behavioral challenges–challenges that kept mounting–that it was becoming more and more apparent that keeping him was just not an option. And then the kicker came…

He’d started peeing when he didn’t like something. He kept getting off of the lead and harness that I’d set up for him in the back yard (being deaf, I didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to run around the neighborhood freely; he wouldn’t be able to hear cars coming down the street–plus they told us at the shelter that since he was all white was at risk of skin cancer and really needed to be an indoor cat). He got off one night and came home with some really nasty juicy scratches all over his face. Sigh. We took him to the vet, and she gave him a clean bill of health. She said that his behavioral issues were just due to stress. But then he wanted to go outside, and if I didn’t let him? He’d pee on the floor.

So a few nights after this diagnosis, after going to the pet store and spending even more money trying to find a toy that would hopefully entertain him (he showed no interest in anything we brought home), plus this expensive pheromone spray thing that was supposed to calm him down and was recommended by the vet, I called Andy from school to say that I was on my way home. Andy reported that he was reading in bed and Buddha was laying in my spot. I asked Andy to move him so that he would have time to fall asleep again before I got home (and hopefully give us a normal night’s sleep). Also, since I have a mild allergy to cats, I didn’t want Buddha right near the head of the bed.

So, okay. Buddha was moved to the foot of the bed. Andy later reported to me that  Buddha gave a mild grunt of displeasure at being woken up and moved, but that after a few minutes of petting, he was purring as usual and settled right back down.

Andy nodded off.

And sometime after Andy nodded off, Buddha peed on the bed.

I can’t say that I would have accepted this well under any circumstances, but man–I definitely don’t accept it well when I come home at 11:30 at night when I’ve stayed late at work to grade papers (a task that is “not my favorite”) and then drove a half hour to get home, and then the quilt on the bed is brand-new as are the bedsheets and the pee is on my side of the bed and it has soaked through a quilt, a down comforter, all of the sheets, and into the pillow top of my mattress–my pillow top mattress that was a graduation gift to myself that I saved money for and scoured stores for a good price on and finally found on clearance…

He was a wonderful cat, and yet also an extremely, extremely high-maintenance cat. I feel I can say this with some authority, because we house-sat we sat for two different people who had two cats in the home, and neither house with two cats was nearly as much work as just this one cat. Granted, none of those cats were deaf, and who knows where Buddha came from before he came to us–who knows whether he was abused, or how he had been treated.

Nonetheless, it was just very apparent that he was not a fit for us. I felt so much fear of judgment around that and hesitated in telling people (wanting neither to hear people say what I “should have” done nor get read a riot act on responsible pet ownership). I cried as we walked away from the Alameda Animal Shelter, feeling so sad and missing him because really, when he was chill and just laid with you on the couch? He was a great cat.

While we were there, they suggested that perhaps we consider getting another cat. We declined.

But really, who am I kidding?

There is really only one cat that I want, and it’s the little bug that I still miss all of the time. I miss the way she would pace around the coffee table while scoping out the lap situation if I was on the couch. I miss how she would purr and her peculiar habits of always needing to knead something before settling down. I miss how silly she was, how she would look at me and then even be willing to step on my laptop to get onto my lap. I miss how she would give a little grunt of protest when I would pick her up or move her if she was sleeping. I miss how she only wanted to sleep on chairs where our things were–a coat, a canvas grocery bag. I miss how she followed me from room to room to see what I was up to, and settled herself into a corner. I miss all of it.

She’s my little bug, Poppy, and I miss her so much. Prior to meeting this cat, I never would have believed someone who told me that it was possible to get this attached to an animal. I am here to say that in fact, it is, and I feel hard, and now I find myself sifting through a lot of strange emotions as I continue with the process of letting go.

* * *

The Keri Smith giveaway continues (see the Dec 9th entry) until tonight at 10:00pm. Be sure to comment on *that* entry to enter the giveaway.

And on the Your Courageous Life facebook page, I’m encouraging you to reach out, connect, and create community. Check out the first topic posted on the Discussion Boards!

Photos don’t express how great the Next Step groups are!

There is this phrase that we “work on ourselves” and “personal growth” types sometimes use: “choosing out.”

As in, “I’m ‘choosing out’ on participating in that activity.” It’s a way of saying that beyond deciding not to participate, I’ve thought about my options and I’m consciously choosing what I would like to do, and my decision has nothing to do with the other people involved, though I respect them.

After another lovely Next Step weekend, I realized that part of this journey of letting go of teaching and fully embracing the work I want to do in the world involves “choosing out” of flying solo.

I don’t yet know how to walk in that space!

Here’s what I mean by “flying solo”: I have been someone who is….well…”self taught.” I have been someone who has been happy to share whatever I learn, however, I have often shied away from collaboration.

Collaboration can be disappointing. Collaboration can be frustrating. Collaboration has resulted in people criticizing my ideas. Collaboration has sometimes been full of betrayals or dishonesty. Collaboration has been a scary space for me to be in! So a pattern emerged from childhood and beyond: after seeing people flake or drop the ball, and feeling disappointed, I pulled back and flew solo. And after seeing people act in ways that were really frustrating, I pulled back and flew solo. And after hearing criticism, both well-delivered but hard to hear as well as unfounded and incredibly mean-spirited, I pulled back and flew solo. After a few instances where people said one thing but thought another (and, painfully, combined that with “behind the back” talk), it became easier to just do my own thing, stick with the person I knew I could trust (me) and fly solo.

And, by the way, I don’t want to give an impression that working with me in the past, with my own limited communication tools, has always been peachy. I have no doubt that I’ve done things that were frustrating, or flakey, or I’ve delivered criticism in ways that were far from kind–and man-oh-man is it hard to own my stuff around talking about people behind their backs and gossip!

This weekend, it occurred to me that this entire past year has been paving the way for really living in a space of collaboration and connection, rather than doing that space sort of “halfway” and “sorta kinda” and “if it feels safe.”

I’m choosing out of flying solo.

“The adventure you’re ready for is the one you get.” –Joseph Campbell

I’m so excited for this adventure!

The really cool thing is that as I’m choosing out of flying solo, all sorts of people and experiences are stepping out of the woodwork to help guide me along, to actively help me with collaboration. I’ve been talking to other creative and talented people that I know about putting together workshops that I’ve always dreamed of doing, and the excited energy of talking about that is just amazing. I’ve had multiple people reach out to me to offer marketing help as I continue to refine the new websites that I’ll be introducing here on October 1st. This is such a gift because marketing is this area that I have just avoided like the plague because I haven’t known how to do it authentically, and haven’t wanted to waste precious time pursuing a marketing avenue and finding that it doesn’t work.

Beyond that, the support has been amazing. I feel literally carried by the friends and family who, in my moments when I’m telling them that some inner critic Gremlin thing has come up for me, say, “Of course you’re going to be just fine!”

And that is such a huge gift, because the scary moments do come, the moments when I wonder if I’m just a huge fool to change careers “in this economy” (anyone else notice a lot of people tacking that phrase onto things?).

I feel very held by the people in my life, who are nothing but encouragement and excitement for me. And it is a testament to the changes I’ve chosen to make, too–if I may toot my own horn for just a second–because there was a point in time when I did not have that support from the people around me, and it has only been through letting go of some relationships and having this huge reckoning with others that I have been able to create this new community of people in my life who are all so, so amazing.

I wish, wish, wish that I had more time to write here lately. The lessons are coming so fast. Every day has this new gift quality to it. Something new to discover and get is in every moment. There’s new clarity. I’m asking old questions and the answers are astonishingly there and present.