Inner180

Do you ever say “yes” or “maybe” when you really want to say “no?”  Or do you muddle your “no” with explanations, excuses, or apologies?

Consider these alternatives:

–I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.  But you know, I don’t know, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.  I’m sorry.  Please don’t be mad at me.

–No.  I’m not ready to have sex with you.

How about these:

–I really don’t want you to use my car tonight because the last time you went out in it you stayed out until 4 am and you didn’t call me and  I was so worried about you and I just don’t sleep when that happens.

–No, dear.  You can’t borrow my car tonight.

Or these:

–I don’t know.  I’m really tired, and I’m not sure how I’ll feel tonight.  So, I’ll have to call you later.

–No, I’m not available tonight.  Thank you for asking.

How about these options:

–You know, my credit card balances have really crept up and I have to get my washer fixed and go to the dentist and I don’t get paid for another two weeks.  So, I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.

–No, I can’t lend you money.

When we are not clear in our no’s we open the door to debate and  argument.  We set ourselves up for difficult relationships.  We often agree to do things that conflict with our real desires and our core values.

And whether we reluctantly go along with something because our “no” was never clearly expressed, or we somehow wriggle out of it by offering up enough excuses, we never enjoy ourselves.  Either we wind up doing something we didn’t want to do, or we’re exhausted by our guilt and the effort to get out of it.

One of the most empowering things we can do is to say “no” honestly, clearly, and cleanly.  It gives us both inner strength and peace in our hearts.

Try it out and see how it feels.

I recently spoke with Carolyn Gable about Fear and Finances on her radio show.  Carolyn Gable is a Chicago dynamo who went from high school grad and waitress to CEO of her own $30+ MILLION company.  How’s that for fearlessness?  She now has a weekly radio show dedicated to empowering single moms.  You can learn more about Carolyn here.

As a former single mom (with a 12 month old nursing baby and a high-energy, high-needs toddler), I know how scary it can be.  I’m honored and thrilled to have participated in this effort dedicated to helping single moms!

You can listen to our conversation on the button below.

There’s an ancient mango tree next to my cottage; it’s magnificent, with a thick, gnarled brown trunk and long glossy leaves.  How many hurricanes it’s withstood is anybody’s guess.  It’s been barren for at least 35 years, which is how long I’ve had this place.  This year, inexplicably, it flowered, and then, magically, massive clusters of fruit appeared.

A few weeks ago, its mangoes began falling.  I sampled one, but it was tasteless.  The fruit drops day and night, thudding on the roof and plopping to the ground, but I’ve ignored it, except to gather it up from time to time and bury it, to keep it from attracting insects.  I have two other trees providing fruit, so I gave it no further thought, except at midnight whenever a hard, green mango smacks onto the roof and rolls to the ground.

As I cleaned up the fruit this morning, I spotted a couple of really pretty, golden specimens.  Curious, I took them in to sample, and they were an extraordinary surprise–sweet, tender, and delicious.

I think the tree is telling me that we can always regenerate,  sweeten, and offer the best of ourselves to the world.  And that sometimes, our assumptions may not be true, even when we think we’ve investigated them.

Aren’t those messages we can always take to heart?  No matter how many times we’ve told ourselves we couldn’t do something, no matter how many times our creative mind seemed barren, no matter how many times we’ve failed to seize the opportunities that come to us, we can always regenerate and bloom and sweeten.  And even when we’ve told ourselves the same old story, over and over, we can look inside again, and find liberating new truth.

The mango tree is just outside my bedroom window, and late at night, as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear it out there, releasing it’s sweet golden offerings.  I hear them rustling through the palm fronds as they descend, then landing in the thick jungle of vines below.  Each time I hear it, I remember all of the regeneration and opportunity and sweetness and truth in the world.  And that whether I pay attention or not, they’re there–delicious surprises,  just waiting for me to notice.

I bought these orchids yesterday from a street vendor.  My reward for a risk and well worth it, I’d say.  The risk didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I got my treat anyway.

And, here are some more treats from my morning walk today.  An iguana suns himself on the seawall.

Biscayne Bay is clear and sparkling.

The bougainvilla are spectacular.

I love this door.  Looks like Rumi himself might live here.

Start walking towards Shams*
Your legs will become heavy and tired
Then comes the moment
When you feel the wings you’ve grown, lifting

–Rumi
*Shams was the name of Rumi’s mentor, and means “the Sun.” We can interpret this as walking towards our truth, towards our hearts’ desires.  Above is Rumi’s tomb, in Konya, Turkey.

A foot rub with orange aromatherapy cream.  It doesn’t get much better than this.

If you ever wondered what full throttle power sounds like:

This is the best week yet of my joy diet.  I love having treats.  I love having permission to have treats.  I love having an excuse, no, a command to do things just for the pure enjoyment of it.

My treat last night was a Yoga Nidra class, which means “sleep of the yogis.”  I normally wouldn’t have considered going to this class, telling myself it wasn’t enough exercise.  But for a treat, why not?

After a series of low to the floor poses, there was a guided meditation, a half-hour of which is said to be as beneficial as three hours of sleep.  I have no idea what the guided meditation was like.  I was out cold.  Strangely, I woke up, a bit disoriented, just at the very moment when it was time to sit up.  I floated home, and slept like a baby.

How are your treats going?

A morning walk today, with artist friend and neighbor Lisa Remeny, was a treat. She calls her work tropical realism, but to me, it is pure tropical magicalism.  Her brilliant, whimsical paintings are an instant magic carpet ride to an island in the Caribbean, where I’m barefoot and a light breeze cools my bare skin. Sitting under a canopy of palms and flowering trees, I nibble ripe mango and papaya slices and nothing is more urgent than watching the sea as it sparkles and dances in the sunshine.  Lisa calls the above painting, which is six feet long and magnificent, “Under the Flamboyant.”  Go to her website for your own tropical vacation.

This evening’s Treat: a brag—the volunteer work I’ve been doing in connection with Tuesday’s election was as part of a team of over 5,800 Florida lawyers responding to the turmoil here during the 2000 presidential election.   During early voting and on Tuesday, we covered the entire state, with volunteer lawyers inside and outside of every potentially troublesome precinct.  Other lawyers staffed hotlines in every county to back up those of us in the field.  Another group was on standby in Tallahassee, the state capitol, if an emergency lawsuit was needed to keep things rolling.  The election came off without a hitch.

Here’s the extra cool part—after the polls closed, I stayed to observe the poll workers unload the voting machines. The precinct clerk and her assistant followed a precise written protocol, removing the paper ballots from a lockbox underneath the voting machines, sealing them in special cases, then printing the scanned results from each voting machine.  Every ballot and every voter sign-in was counted and had to match the number of votes counted by the voting machine on the printout.  The clerks patiently explained each step to me as they proceeded.

It was a real thrill to watch the computerized tape print out the results from each voting machine, and to see the vote counts for each race and referendum.  Three copies of the results were printed by each machine, and one of those copies was posted on the front door of the precinct for public inspection.  The results got posted like this in every precinct in the state. The other two copies of the printout were locked up and taken downtown to the Dade County Election Department, along with the paper ballots.

I’m really in love with democracy today.  And feeling like, in this teeny way, I was part of it.  Worth bragging about, don’t you think?