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Everything You Need

May 18, 2023 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

In the midst of life’s ups and down, I am grateful for that which is steady, familiar, and comfortable.

I haven’t always seen things this way.

Too often, I’ve resisted the “ordinariness” of my life. I’ve fallen prey to the myth that I should be better and more. I’ve been exhausted by endlessly waiting for something, anything, everything to change. I’ve searched and searched outside myself for a fix, for respite, for “salvation,” so to speak.

I still do sometimes. Thankfully, less and less.

These days, “ordinary” feels like respite. Better and more feel like lies (because they are). I rarely wait or hope or pine for change. And bit by bit I am learning to look within and somewhat-miraculously discover everything I need.

Even this is comforting: these slow-but-sure shifts.

“Comfort is so much more than bubble baths and chocolate. Not that both aren’t fabulous, but the popular conception of comfort is often about numbing out or escaping, not about truly finding a way to face into things honestly and authentically.”  ~ Jen Louden

Amen.

True, deep comfort is found when we face things honestly and authentically, when we ARE our honest and authentic selves. The opposite is also true: when we are NOT our honest and authentic selves, (deep) comfort is impossible to find.

I came across a different expression of this truth in a book I read this past week (and highly recommend): Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May.

She says, “We ‘want’ in the archaic sense of the word, as if we are lacking something and need to absorb it in order to be whole again. These wants are often astonishingly inaccurate: drugs and alcohol, which poison instead of reintegrate; relationships with people who do not make us feel safe or loved; objects that we do not need, cannot afford, which hang around our necks like albatrosses of debt long after the yearning for them has passed. Underneath this chaos and clutter lies a longing for more elemental things—love, beauty, comfort . . . “ 

“Chaos and clutter” come when we look outside ourselves for wholeness; when we forget that WE are what we need. Said another way: WE are the font from which deep comfort flows. 

Quite frankly, even knowing what I know now, it is still a struggle to trust all that dwells within me, to receive the deep comfort that is and always has been mine. I want nothing more. And I am certain that every bit of this—this learning to turn within—is a process, a journey, a heroine’s quest, an endless discovery, the gift of life itself.

“A woman discovers the way home to herself in a quiet descent into the richness of her own life. In the descent, she reverses the tendency to look outside of herself for salvation. In the “deep places,” she reunites with her essential self and reclaims her natural resources.” ~ Patricia Lynn Reilly

THIS is comfort, yes?

A woman who knows to live in ways that are not dependent on external circumstances, other people, better and more, success or not.

A woman who knows to dive deep below the surface to find respite and calm; to be and remain whole.

A woman who knows she can quiet the clamor and din, discern among pressures and demands, by listening to her heart.

A woman who knows that being her honest and authentic self is her birthright – whether or not that creates dis-comfort for others.

A woman who knows joy is to be found in the ordinary, in the rhythms and routines that provide both structure and support.

A woman who knows she has more to express, more to reveal, more to offer, more to give; who nurtures all that she carries within; who cannot help but birth ever more of her true-and-beautiful self into the world.

We’re invited to all of this and then some. We’re invited home . . . to ourselves . . . at last. Comfort, to be sure.

May it be so. 

damned if you do and damned if you don’t

Oct 14, 2022 | Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I have had numerous conversations with clients in past weeks about the “damned if you do and damned if you don’t” place we inevitably find ourselves in.

Some examples:

  • A friendship that is one-sided and sucking the very life out of you.
  • A marriage or partner-relationship that you’ve waited-and-wished-and-hoped-and-prayed would get better…but doesn’t.
  • A job that you’re good at, where people rely on you, and you’re miserable.
  • A parent who can’t (or won’t) see/accept you for who you are.
  • A community of faith that you’ve been part of forever that would be deeply hurt if you left…and you know you can’t stay.
  • Fill in the blank.

No matter which way you turn, there is a price to pay. You feel forced to choose between your needs or the needs/demands/requirements of others. And unless you just blatantly ignore every signal within, every bit of your internal wisdom, every whisper of that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within, there is no sidestepping it, waiting it out, or wishing it away. It sounds cliché, but no less true: the only way “out” is through.

*sigh* 

If you’re there, I’m sorry. I know it well. It’s hard and messy and painful. It feels endless — and completely impossible.

I find it too simplistic to talk about circumstances like these only through the lens of “boundaries.” Yes, they’re in play — whether their violation, enforcement, or complete absence; but I think there’s more going on, more to consider and acknowledge when we feel like we’re straightjacketed and stuck.

For the sake of level-setting though, lets define the term itself:

Boundaries are a conceptual limit between you and the other person. Simply put, it’s about knowing where you end and others begin. Knowing what’s yours and what’s not. Acknowledging that every adult is responsible for themselves. Having a functional boundary (one that works) means taking responsibility for your own actions and emotions, and NOT taking responsible for the actions and emotions of others. Source

If you had asked me to read this definition 30 years ago, it would have sounded like another language, one I could not begin to understand. You could NOT have convinced me that it was NOT my job to take responsibility for the actions and emotions of others! What in the world??!!

As a result, and as you might imagine,

I’ve learned about boundaries by not having any; by painfully and arduously wrenching myself out of habits, deeply-ingrained patterns, and relationships multiple times. Or not…and then living with that pain, as well.

To draw a line between someone else’s actions and emotions and our own, then stay on our side of it, can feel insensitive, uncompassionate, and harsh. We wrestle with who we are, at core, when forced into choices that make others uncomfortable or worse, actually hurt them. And so, lots of times, we don’t do any of it: draw the line, stay on our side, or make a choice.

(If I’m being completely honest, I should rewrite the whole paragraph above in first person…)

With hindsight’s wisdom, I can see that there is another way, multiple ways, far better ways to put boundaries in place and feel like a decent human being at the same time. So what is the alternative?

How are we to make hard choices, do hard things, establish healthy boundaries and/or extricate ourselves from situations, people, and institutions that make us miserable?

I’ve probably told you the story before: my beginning attempts at all of this in my former marriage; how I wandered through Every. Single. Day. silently repeating the same words over and over and over again: I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch. I needed the constant reminder. I HAD to believe that being honest and breaking our/my deeply-entrenched patterns, was NOT a reflection of some character flaw. I HAD to believe that what I knew was true: I am a good person. I am a loving person. I am kind and generous and compassionate. I am not vindictive or mean. I do not have ulterior motives. I do not intend harm. I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch.

Brené Brown wasn’t prolific back then or I would have leaned heavily into her family’s motto: “Clear is kind.” It sounds way better than my repeated mantra…

Here’s my point and hoped-encouragement for you:

Learning to believe in, trust, and value ourselves is what creates the benchmark for everything and everyone else.

  • The more I believe I am worthy of love and respect, any and everything less becomes clear.
  • The more I trust I am kind and generous and compassionate, then the thought that I am being mean or selfish or insensitive is probably about them, not me.
  • The more I value my time, my body, my beliefs, and then some, their compromise — in any context or relationship — is all the evidence I need that change is required.

A few more?

  • When I am disappointed, it’s NOT because my expectations were too high; rather, I have not been treated, talked to, or related with in a way that was equal to what I deserve. I’ve had to allow that this is not about me being “better than” or demanding or narcissistic; it’s about acknowledging that my expectations are actually consistent with how I value myself. (Just the opposite is also true: the lower my value of myself, the lower my expectations of others…) And on days when I can’t quite get there, I ask myself how I would respond if the same thing happened to one of my daughters…
  • When I fear upsetting the apple cart, I (now) realize that this is all the data I need. Fear is almost always the flashing neon sign that says “you’re on the right track; keep moving in this direction; don’t sidestep…”
  • The longer the list of how others might feel if I do or say X, Y, or Z, the more evidence I have that I’m wandering into compromise and compliance.

NONE of what I’ve named above alleviates the other side of this: all the emotions and heartache and grief we feel when faced with others’ pain or misunderstanding or reaction.

What if you saw your emotions as unequivocal confirmation that you are, in fact, kind and generous and compassionate? What if you allowed all your feelings to affirm, instead of deny, that what you long for and desire (for yourself and others) is goodness and grace and hope? Always hope.

So that I can (hopefully) finish this up, let’s go back to where we started: the damned-if-you-do-and-damned-if-you-don’t place…

Maybe it’s not quite the bind it seems. Maybe it’s far more expansive with possibility than you’ve seen or known. Maybe it’s invitation to honor yourself — in palpable and powerful ways. Maybe it’s not an either/or, a choice between you and someone else, but the capacity to hold and allow both…what you feel AND what others feel (without needing them to be the same). It’s definitely a clarion call to acknowledge and allow your sovereignty, your truest and most authentic self, that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within, to lead.

Yes, the “hard and messy and painful” remains. But that’s the way of it, the complexity and expansiveness of what it means to embrace all of life vs. holding on to a happily ever after.

This is what it looks like to be a woman who is wise and yes, kind and generous and compassionate; a woman who is beautiful and amazing, tender and strong; a woman who is, well, you!

*****

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Letting go of happy endings . . .

Sep 30, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been ensconced in fiction lately. There is a LOT to be said for getting lost in the pages of a book, stepping vicariously into the realities of others, witnessing their happy endings and imagining them as my own. I often feel a palpable ache when I turn the last page; I’ve become so attached to the characters. It’s like their story is somehow connected to mine.

Which, of course, it is. That is the power of story! When we immerse ourselves in it, we more acutely feel our own desire, disappointment, loss, loves, trials, tribulations, and hope. The very best stories are ultimately less about the characters themselves and far more about us! Even in the most fantastical or tragic of tales, we find ourselves between the lines; we see aspects of ourselves mirrored back in actuality and in aspiration, again and again.

For all that is the same, one thing is vastly different: most of the stories we read or watch have a happy ending. Perhaps not perfect or Disney-esque, but wrapped up nicely with some kind of bow, some kind of resolution, something that makes sense of all that’s gone before. Understandably, we want the same for ourselves! And there is absolutely nothing wrong or wasted with such a wish. The problem occurs when we compare the goodness or worth of our own story, our very life, to that which can (only) be captured so neatly in fiction.

Unlike the books we read or movies we watch, our lives are not neatly packaged. They are messy and unresolved, difficult and confusing. The plot is not clear. The characters are conflicted. Bad things happen. Good does not always triumph. Any sort of ending feels illusive and often far from happy. Ours is a story that is “true.” 

In Untamed, Glennon Doyle says this:

“The truest, most beautiful life never promises to be an easy one. We need to let go of the lie that it’s supposed to be.”

She’s right, of course. Not “happily ever after,” but most definitely true (and beautiful).

I would love to tell you – with conviction and personal experience – that “everything works together for good;” that your endurance (and compliance) guarantee success and/or bliss and/or endless love; that if you just persevere, everything will eventually turn rosy and bright – an amazing story with an enviable “happily ever after.” I cannot promise or speak to a bit of this. But if you want to know what is true, I can both promise and speak to that with vast personal experience and lots of conviction.

The hardest realities in your story, the loose ends, the impossible twists and turns, seemingly no fairy godmother (or god) to be found, are exactly what make your story worth being told…and lived. 

Little consolation, I know, but no less accurate or important to know and name.

When I look back over my life thus far, I see so much that I would have never predicted or foretold. The most painful seasons have invited profound growth and transformation. My biggest mistakes have been converted into a mostly-unswerving belief in my value and worth. My fear and anxiety, depression and grief, anger and frustration have somehow, miraculously and unwittingly, become the most gracious of teachers, the closest of companions, and my dearest of friends. No pretty bow. No tidy conclusion. Unwieldy and unpredictable. Hardly easy or perfect, but honest and real and “true,” even beautiful.

Pages worth turning. Stories worth telling. A life worth living. And uniquely, surprisingly, amazingly…mine.

“Happily ever after” remains to be seen. It’s all that happens along the way that matters most, that we remember, that makes a story – your story – worth writing, telling, and living. 

About “someday”

Sep 16, 2022 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

You know of Lizzo, yes? Her music, her recent show on Amazon — Watch Out For the Big Grrrls, her incredible voice as a singer, but also in the world. I am enthralled by her, quite honestly; taken aback (in the best of ways) by her boldness, her courage, her defiance, her fierceness. 

I recently came across something she said that feels worth sending your way — along with some thoughts of my own and hopefully prompting many of yours! 

“My movement is my movement. When all the dust has settled on the groundbreaking-ness, I’m going to still be doing this. I’m not going to suddenly change. I’m going to still be telling my life story through music. And if that’s body-positive to you, amen. If that’s feminist to you, amen. If that’s pro-black to you, amen. Because ma’am, I’m all of those things.”

Many if not most of us hope to do something groundbreaking, to enable some kind of significant change, to leave a lasting legacy. And right alongside that desire — whether secret or stated — is our lack of belief that such a thing will ever be so. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 

There is so much I’d love to be able to do, transform, create, dismantle, build up, leave behind. I have the greatest visions, the biggest imagination, the strongest hopes and a voice within that says, “Keep it in check. Tone it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Who do you think you are?”

Who do I think I am? Well, if I lean on Lizzo’s wisdom…

“I’m all those things.” 

It’s not about becoming more, somehow transforming ourselves into who we yet want to be. It’s about acknowledging who we already are! 

Consider listing out all of the things you most hope for and dream about in your own groundbreaking-ness. 

Now, will you (can you) acknowledge them as who you already are? Not who you might or might not become. Not someday but today! Not what you wish could happen, but don’t dare dream. Not what you visualize or long to manifest. But already within you, part of you, all of you — right now.

Lizzo’s self-acknowledged groundbreaking-ness has to do with being body-positive and feminist and pro-black. “I’m all of those things.” My groundbreaking-ness has to do with redeeming women’s stories and inviting/compelling women into their inherent sovereignty. “I’m all of those things.” 

And your groundbreaking-ness? What is it? What do you want it to be? What would you hope-beyond-hope it could be? What if you are all of those things? (You are, you know?!)

If, like me, your inner critic is already working over time to convince you of just how impossible all of this is, that’s the BEST news!

It’s evidence that you are on to something, that your groundbreaking-ness is not only imminent but inherent within you! Otherwise, the voice wouldn’t be speaking at all!

The gap between what you desire and what you doubt is the very path to take. It IS the discernment you need to keep moving forward. It’s the direction that’s yours to walk. 

Not easy, but clear. Not without risk or cost, but worth every one. And “when all the dust has settled,” the you-you-already-are you will still be standing — in all your groundbreaking-ness and gloriousness. 

May it be so!

About Courage & American Ninja Warrior

Oct 22, 2021 | Mothers and Daughters, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

I do not know how to explain why I love American Ninja Warrior.

My youngest daughter and I started watching it a few years back. We sat on the couch, side-by-side, mouths agape at what these individuals were able to do. Willing to do! She would laugh at me as my body would move in rhythm to theirs — whether they were swinging on some kind of contraption or trying to jump up to catch a ring, or trying to make it up the 14-foot warped wall — as though I could somehow will them success by fully participating in the comfort of my own home. The two of us would ooh and aah and cheer as they did amazing things, took spectacular falls, and always, always triumphed — no matter what. And we both cried through all the stories about the athletes, their families, hardships, tragedies, and miracles.

So why does this impact me so? Why do I cry? What is that about? It’s American Ninja Warrior!! I’m sure there are lots of reasons for my reactions and responses. But bottom line…It is a privilege to witness the inherent beauty of courage. I cannot help but be moved.

The beauty seen in their stories, their physical capacity, their falls, and their triumphs only comes because of the most incremental of efforts they’ve extended over a very long time. What we witness is the accumulation of small, almost imperceptible courageous acts.

We often think that courage has to be big and dramatic, bold and audacious, crowds cheering, loved ones weeping with joy, “victory,” of some sort. And though that may be true, I have a different idea.

Courage is small and incremental, slow and steady (sometimes fits and starts); the tiniest of choices made, actions taken, words spoken, behaviors altered, and/or lives changed.

This perspective matters.

As long as we see courage as big and dramatic, bold and audacious, we are often stopped before we start.

Instead, what about this:

  • Courage is extending yourself some compassion, practicing self-kindness, and allowing yourself grace.
  • Courage is only one sentence, once a day, spoken in truth. (Yes, just one!)
  • Courage is voicing your opinion just once this week at work. (Yes, just once!)
  • Courage is taking the time to list out the specific steps related to the big leap (Yes, just the list!)
  • Courage is reading a book for even 30 minutes before turning on Netflix. It’s also watching Netflix without guilt or shame because you know that rest matters.
  • Courage is letting yourself honestly name your emotions to yourself. (I am furious. I am devastated. I am afraid. I am in grief. I am lost. I am stuck. I desire. I am actually happy.)
  • Courage is taking the time to write down what you would do if you felt even more courageous.

Cleary, I can go on (and on and on). But far more important than my words and thoughts — are yours. What are the smallest and most compassionate and kindest and most grace-filled acts of courage for you? (Start a list, add to this one, give yourself permission to consider courage as small; but no less significant, powerful, or transformative.)

This quote from Mary Anne Radmacher bears repeating:

Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying “I will try again tomorrow.”

Exactly!