So, I’ve always been in charge of the Family Paperwork Ministry. I could give you all of my reasons why (I was faster, it was more of a priority for me, I sat at a desk, I had a pen), but you’d see right through me. You’d still call me a codependent enabler. Registering for school evolved into proofreading homework, which evolved into proofing college essays and now, overseeing tax returns and apartment leases. Today, with no small amount of trepidation, I put my 23 year old son in charge of finalizing the details of his new health insurance. My risk for the day—still feels scary, and it also feels just right.
How about you? What do you do for others that they could be doing for themselves? What would it feel like to let it go? Would it bring you more joy, perhaps in the long run?
I knew what I had to do today. The thought was scary. I was really, really hesitant. Is this the right decision? Can I be sure? What if I make a mistake?
I’ve held a license as an educational therapist for about 10 years. I thought, “Well even though I don’t want to do this work anymore, I should maintain this license, just in case….”
Just in case what? I’ve spent so much of my life doing things just in case. Now that I’m on the Joy Diet, just in case is not a sufficient reason to do something. Just in case does not come from desire, it comes from fear. Just in case is, in this situation, a joy killer.
So I just sent an email notifying my certifying company that I would not be renewing. Simple. Straightforward. Direct. It was scary to push the send button on my email. My hands trembled a bit and I caught my breath. And it feels fantastic. Clean, honest, clear.
Today, a coach I’d never spoken to before told me she’s planning a transformational coaching and yoga program in India next year. I decided that my daily risk would be to offer to help her. After all, one of my creative action steps is to tell as many people as possible about my desire to travel.
So I spoke up. “If you need someone to help carry your bags, just let me know,” I nervously joked. It fed all of my “I hope she likes me” fears.
And you know what happened? She was open to having some help. And not with her bags. With planning the program. And she likes me, it seems. We’re going to get together to talk soon. Pretty cool, eh?
Election fever is burning here in Miami. There are yard signs everywhere; on some streets, every house has one. Early voting has opened. I walked to City Hall with some neighbors yesterday so they could vote. It was Sunday afternoon, and several hundred people were waiting in line.
It was a big outdoor party. A group of drummers were pounding Caribbean rhythms and blowing horns as they stood in line, a woman on stilts danced to the drums, volunteers (affiliation unknown) handed free water bottles to waiting voters. A truck from a church unloaded folding chairs for whomever wanted one. I chatted with old friends and people I didn’t know. It was fun.
Everywhere I go, people are asking each other, very respectfully, whether they have voted. My friend Lise, who lived in Haiti under Baby Doc’s governance and is now a proud US citizen, laughs and says she will only vote on election day. She’s superstitious about having her vote count. My postal carrier smiled and told me she will take off Thursday to vote. I’ve heard that an 80% turnout is expected here.
My strongest desire today is to continue this heightened sense of connection and to be of service. What can I do after the election is over, to continue this exciting feeling?
Today’s ideas: volunteer in a library reading to kids, volunteer to do something in the schools having to do with civics or the law, continue to speak with strangers after the election as if there was still a good reason to do so, collect supplies for a school in Jamaica, raise money to renovate a school in Jamaica.
The idea that gets my attention today is to continue to speak with strangers, even after the election, as if I had a good reason to do so. And I do have a good reason, actually. It’s called connection and joy.
My yoga teacher, Natalie Morales, said this in class yesterday, “Let go of your struggles for now.” Isn’t that what we do with our Joy Diet practices? We let go of our struggles while we do Nothing, as we seek the Truth, as we connect with our Desires, as we express our Creativity.
As we let our struggles go, we discover they are optional. We learn that we can create struggles, and that we can let them go, for a few moments, for the length of a yoga class, and in many instances, for as long as we choose.
My creative exploration continues. My list contains Barcelona, Ischia, Italy, the Scottish Highlands, Jamaica, South Africa. Why? Barcelona for the beauty of the Gaudi architecture, Ischia to discover my great-grandmother’s home, the Highlands to connect with my mother’s forebears, Jamaica to be of service, Paris because its there.
Then I realized I could probably take my coaching practice to Paris or Barcelona, and stay there for an extended time. I know a writing coach who is in Paris for six months, and is still working with her US clients. She speaks with them on Skype, which is a free service. I could get an apartment in Europe, and stay as long as I wanted. Now that’s an idea that is really exciting. It seems really far-fetched and scary, too, until I realize that what makes it far-fetched and scary is the way I’m thinking about it.
The writing coach in Paris righ now obviously didn’t think it was such a crazy idea. For now, I’ll take Natalie’s advice, and let go of my struggles. I’ll just enjoy the excitement of this idea.
They say the devil’s in the details. I’m not finding that to be true. The Random House Dictionary of Popular Proverbs and Sayings says this is a variation of “God is in the details.”
For those who are uncomfortable with the word “God,” another variation substitutes the word “Truth” for “God.” The truth is in the details. I really like that.
The difference between “The truth is in the details,” and “the devil’s in the details,” is only a change of perspective. But that’s what Truth is. If I struggle with the details, my task becomes devilishly difficult. If however, the details are explored with curiosity, with commitment to full exploration, by showing up fully, then something Godly, spiritual, magical, deeply Truthful emerges.
Isn’t that what Joy is? If I show up fully and explore with curiosity, in the present moment, what else can there be but pure joy?
Today, the lightbulb in my head switched on while exploring creative ways to achieve my desire to travel more. I came up with this list:
–Make a list of all the ways I really travel easily (I’m not a picky eater, I am patient with delays. I enjoy walking. I’m strong enough to carry my own stuff. I’m a great houseguest. I’m curious.)
–Make a list of all the ways I don’t travel easily and change them (I over pack, try to do too much at the last minute, hesitate making plans, decisions, and commitments.)
–Watch for airline sales
–Get specific about where I want to go and why—this is it!!!
Getting specific is the key. I have to get specific. How can I travel more if I don’t know where I’m going? This one seems like such a “duh,” but it wasn’t obvious to me until right this second when I wrote this. I’m going to go back to Desire and let some destinations come to me. What places get me really excited? what do I really want to see and learn? Then I’ll get creative about those specific destinations.
So, how about you? Have you gotten specific with your Desires? I bet it’s easier and more effective to Create from a place of more detail.
One of the themes of my desire list is travel. Travelling independently and enjoying it. Here’s today’s list of creative ways to achieve more of it:
1. Keep in better touch with friends who live in other places.
2. Visit my kids in New York City, rather than having them come to me.
3. Find a good cat sitter, so I don’t worry when I’m gone.
4. Buy a suitcase that’s smaller than the one I usually use, so I can take trips a few days long, and bring less stuff, which will make it easier to travel.
5. Look for websites with house trading.
Although these are all good ideas, the house trading really got my attention and got me excited. And it’s doable.
After reading an email from Nerissa Neilds, a singer-songwriter/coach in our Joy Diet class, I looked at her whimsical website, listened to her music, and even went searching for her song lyrics. I was entranced by her artistry and her authenticity. She’s also the mom of a 7 week old and a 2 year old.
In one song a father sings about his daughter, who is growing up. This line got me:
I don’t want to hear your story
I can’t bear to know your world
I thought of my children, trying to make it as artists in New York City. And an old story erupted in my head—if only I had been more creative and whimsical and lighthearted when my kids were younger, they’d be happier now. The new twist to the story is that I should have been more like Nerissa. But, the story goes, I was a tense, crabby trial lawyer. I wish I could have a do-over, knowing what I know now. I should have shown them how to be happy. I should have been a better mother.
This is an old, very painful story—probably the most painful one I carry. It fuels deep sadness in me. Everything in my Joy Diet had to wait while I got back to the Truth.
How can I change this to another story that might work better? I can show my children a more joyful, lighthearted version of me now. I can’t do this when I perseverate on my “I should have been a better mother” story. I can help other mothers and children now, but only when I leave my past (and my painful untrue interpretations of it) behind me, and live what I know now.
Here’s the truth: my children are happy and they both recall having a very happy childhood. They might not have tried to live in New York City, or live artistic lives, if they hadn’t been exposed to my inextinguishable determination, which was part of my lawyer identity. Maybe they’d be miserable accountants if I’d been more creative. Without their exact past, including me as I was, they wouldn’t be who they are now. Their childhood was the perfect foundation for them.
After writing this and crying some, I re-read Nerissa’s lyrics. I realized that I’d focused on and interpreted lyrics in a way that created pain for me, and missed these words, the beautiful ending of the song:
She turns and says “I can see you
And I always knew there’d be a road back to here.”
Beautiful, my little Glory
You’ll always be my baby girl
Won’t you let me hear your story
Beautiful, my little glory
You’ll always be my baby girl
I am following your story
I am leaving you the world.
Who would I be without my story? Thanks, Nerissa, for helping me back to the Truth in such a beautiful way.
P.S. In the above video, Nerissa is playing guitar and the other woman is her singing partner and sister, Katryna. They are singing “Give Me A Clean Heart,” written by Nerissa. A perfect kick-off to a week of Creativity.
Today, while on a group phone call with Martha and some other coaches, I was overcome with desire. Impulsively, I told Martha that if she ever wants a photographer for any of her events, I’m available.
Later, I when I noticed that I was calm, I realized that this was totally out of character for me. I used to cringe if I stepped out of my habitual reticence to speak up about what I wanted. My usual, safer pattern would be to say nothing at all, which would have brought prompted scolding myself for not speaking up. Lose-lose, no matter what I did. (And, last time I volunteered to be an event photographer, I freaked out. I wrote about it here.)
But this is different. I feel completely free. Liberated. Joyful. I spoke up and it feels fantastic. No matter what else happens–the outcome is not the important part.
This is desire way beyond yearning for the creative act of photography. I want to speak up when I’m moved and to ask for something that I really want. And to have no regrets, no matter how it’s received.
So, I’ve always been in charge of the Family Paperwork Ministry. I could give you all of my reasons why (I was faster, it was more of a priority for me, I sat at a desk, I had a pen), but you’d see right through me. You’d still call me a codependent enabler. Registering for school evolved into proofreading homework, which evolved into proofing college essays and now, overseeing tax returns and apartment leases. Today, with no small amount of trepidation, I put my 23 year old son in charge of finalizing the details of his new health insurance. My risk for the day—still feels scary, and it also feels just right.
