because of the sadness

Louis C.K. explains, as only Louis C.K. can, why he won't give his children cell phones, and, in the midst of it all, visits the beauty of vulnerability, authenticity and the power of sadness.

**Be forewarned, profanity is present**

you're beautiful

It's true.

You are beautiful.

to come alive

Photo via French by Design

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My deepest apologies for the inconsistency in my bloggery lately!  As I said before, life has thrown a number of challenges and unexpected blessings my way, and it's been quite the task to take them all in and digest them.  Needless to say, it hasn't left much time for organizing those thoughts and reflections into a comprehensible blog post!

A couple of months ago, as we rolled into 2013, I began reading The Happiness Project, which chronicles one woman's year-long exploration into what makes people happy.  Each month takes on small life-changes, wrapped neatly (and hilariously) around a monthly theme.  January tackled boosting energy, while February worked through remembering love and relationships.  Amazingly enough, March's theme was centered on bringing happiness practices into work.  A couple of months ago, after weeks of corporate uncertainty and waffling, my hours working for a local non-profit here in Flagstaff were dramatically reduced.  In the weeks after receiving notification that my hours were to be cut in half, losing my health insurance and the knowledge of certain income, I spent hours (mixed in with anxiety-fueled freakout sessions) reflecting on my next step.  Do I move on from my years in social services?  Do I hold out for the possibility of added hours?  How do I maintain my motivation and my dedication to the families that I serve without knowing what the future holds?  Is this a tragedy... or an opportunity?

Opportunity.  It was this last question that proved the most inspirational for me during my bouts of uncertainty and anxiety.  It's as if the insecurity of my position was just the thing to knock me out of my career complacency and out of my comfort zone.  I was forced to ask myself the question: if not this, then what?  What would I do if I could do anything?  What changes would I make if I knew that I could not fail?  What changes would I make even if I failed?

The unknown and uncertain awakened in me the reality of possibility.  I could finally begin working towards goals that I had set aside for another day, could finally go after what I am passionate about.  Could finally make the bold choice, living out what this journey of courage has been all about.

Months and months ago, I had begun researching schools that specialized in nutrition, health and wellness, a clear passion of mine.  I dug deep into reviews and accreditation, contacted old friends and new connections to learn more about the options.  And, then, just like many of our passions in life, I set it aside, put it on a shelf for another day... when it would be more convenient.  I was waiting for the perfect timing, for the clouds to part with assurances of financial security and the guarantee of success.  Yeah... not sure what I was thinking.  Courage never looks clean and neat.  It's messy and sweaty.  Bold choices are not guaranteed to succeed.  Heck, many of them lead to leave-you-flat-on-your-ass failure.  But to be the man in the arena, face marred by dust and sweat and blood... is worth the fight.

The anxiety, the uncertainty, the insecurity... it's opportunity.

Last Monday, I began my studies with the Institute for Integrative Nutrition to become a health coach.  Thanks to the amazing support of my family and friends, I have taken the dream off of the shelf and decided to live it.  I am so excited for the next year -- to learn about our bodies, our connection with food, and how to transform our health into wellness.  I am so excited to begin building a career of passion and inspiration and to live out my deepest intentions for the process.  No longer will I let the fear of inconvenience allow me to live comfortably... it's time to live boldly.

not cool, robert frost

Two roads diverged in the woods,

and I took the road less traveled.

And it hurt, man!

Really bad.

Rocks!

Thorns!

And glass!

... not cool, Robert Frost!

But what if there really were two paths?

I would be on the one that leads to awesome.

numb the dark and you numb the light

Happy November, my dear friends!

I can't believe that it's already here, though the rows upon rows of Christmas decorations and toys are telling me that it's so (not that I'm one to complain... I am obsessed with the holiday season, something that I'm sure will be obvious in the coming weeks)!  

I pray that you all are safe and sound wherever you are -- I am sending love to all of you who experienced the wrath of Hurricane Sandy this past week, and I hope that you are warm and rested in your corner of the world.

For me, with each new month comes reflection.  I don't know what it is about the passing of each month, but something about the arrival of a new one reminds me to check my priorities, restructure my goals and recommit to my purpose.  It's as if the turning of that calendar page is a sobering reminder of the importance of mindfulness, somehow speaking deeply into my heart... don't let this experience pass you by, live in the present, be mindful of each day, each passing moment.

If you've been following along, you know that one of my recent literary goldmines has been the book Daring Greatly, by Brene Brown.  While I usually inhale a new book (like the one I finished yesterday while recovering from a sore throat in bed), this particular gem has had me working through it slowly.  It has so much goodness, so much meat to it, that I just want to savor every bite.  With each page, I am inspired and emboldened, not to mention soothed by the realization that my neuroses are quite normal.

To be completely honest... warning: moment of vulnerability here... while I attempt to keep a mask of cool, calm and control (gotta love that alliteration!), I am, sometimes (more frequently than I would like to be), a total ball of neurotic, anxious energy, albeit a very pretty and well-groomed one.  My insecure thoughts like to run away with themselves, jumping from presumed weakness to weakness with glee, leaving me (and, let's be honest, my sweetheart) with a blubbering mess of anxiety and shame.  Yeah, it's as fun as it sounds.

And, from what I've learned... while it might differ in degree or particular neuroses... I'm not alone.  We may not all dissolve into tears at the end of an anxiety-producing day, or be victim to the disease of overanalysis, but our anxieties, our shame-filled insecurites... well, they're pretty universal.  And, we all work through these painful pieces of vulnerability differently.  Some of us exercise.  Others of us eat.  Some of us direct that anxiety onto our partners, fearful of speaking the words of vulnerability.  Some of us are proactive, recognizing our patterns and creating boundaries to manage them in advance.  Some of us hide in perfectionism, while many protect ourselves by desperately guarding ourselves against that pain and limiting our joy, as well.  The list goes on...

But, in our society of crazy-busy, fill-every-moment, must-be-productive-ness, one of our most commonly used defenses is that of numbing.  We use food, substances, even daily distractions to avoid our pain, our naked vulnerability.  

Brene writes:

"... numbing vulnerability is especially debilitating because

it doesn't just deaden the pain of our difficult experiences;

numbing vulnerability also dulls our experiences of love, joy,

belonging, creativity, and empathy.

We can't selectively numb emotion.

Numb the dark and you numb the light."

While I was reading today, red holiday cup in hand and curled up in the comfy corner chair at my local Starbucks, I was struck with how deeply engrained our numbing-strategies are within our lives.  Brene speaks of it as a kind of addictive behavior, and while it may not be compulsive or chronic like addiction, our attempts to numb our vulnerability, shame, anxiety and disconnection are deep-seated and desperate.  We numb with comfort foods, that glass (or two or three) of wine after a long day, with pills.  It's so habitual that it's normalized, accepted, even suggested. But we've also learned to numb with the distractions around us -- the tv, the internet, our smartphones.  Instead of mindfulness, we've turned to mindless distractions, transforming what could be beautiful, relaxing or connecting -- your favorite tv show, fruitful conversation, long-distance connection -- into compulsion and desperation.  We lose track of time online instead of having that sometimes difficult conversation with our partner.  We choose social networks instead of spending quality time with our family.  We compulsively check our phones to the point of drowning out the social interaction around us.  We're so plugged in that we're tuned out.

"For me, it wasn't just the dance halls, cold beer, and Marlboro Lights 

of my youth that got so out of hand - it was banana bread, 

chips and queso, e-mail, work, staying busy, incessant worrying, planning, 

perfectionism, and anything else that could dull those agonizing 

and anxiety-fueled feelings of vulnerability."

-Brene Brown-

My habits of distraction are deeply engrained -- constantly checking my phone, my social networks, my email.  Sometimes, I miss out on conversation. Or a passing bit of beauty on a long drive. Sometimes, I use my favorite romcom to check out of life for a bit -- numbing my anxiety with the familiar actors and predictable story lines.  Other times, I use busyness to think about something else, anything else than the nagging anxiety. And I'm missing out on the tough, vulnerable, messy, and beautiful moments for growth and joy.  I am tired of the numbing distractions, the unconscious bingeing, the habits created out of a wounded desire to disconnect.

This month, I am intentionally practicing being plugged into life, unplugging my phone and computer (other than for studying purposes) after 9pm with a commitment to return only after breakfast the next morning.  On the other side of the world, I have a dear friend who is unplugging completely one day a week to reconnect and refresh.  What about you? Do you need to re-program how you eat? Or drink? How can you cultivate connection, practice self-compassion and explore vulnerability? Where have you numbed out?  I would love to create a community here where we can share and learn and grow together, because I know that I am learning so much from you.

Sending love your way.  Be kind to yourselves!

love thyself

"... we can only love others as much as we love ourselves."

Brene Brown, Daring Greatly

Everyday, at 5:00pm, my alarm goes off on my phone and blinks the word, "kindness."  More than just announcing the end of the classic work day, this little reminder is one of the ways that I actively work to love myself.  My youngest sister calls this my "say-something-nice" time -- a moment where the rest of the world freezes, and I take a split second to appreciate and honor who I am with the tiniest little inward expression of kindness.  God bless her little heart, she's jumped on the bandwagon, too, choosing to use my 5pm reminder to speak kindness to me.  Just the other day, while we were Skyping (what a beautiful, miraculous invention!), she said that she wanted to give me my compliment in advance, bringing me close to tears when she told me, "I love seeing you smile... oh, and you do a really good job cutting [the boyfriend's] hair."  

Which, by the way, I do.

The truth is that I have a habit of being my own worst critic.  Every tiny flaw, every little blemish, every moment of imperfection -- my instinct is to seize it and use it to further prove to myself that I am not enough.  Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not good enough... on and on.  And I know that I am not the only one.

We live in a society where we are never enough, and, despite the narcissistic leanings of our culture, the "love" that we may have for ourselves is oftentimes a mask for the shame, insecurity and fear of being "not enough."  We cake on our make-up, bulk up our muscles, and stroke our egos.  I think of our usage of social networks, the masks that we carefully reveal to the world, and the inner comparisons of our daily lives to others' "highlight reel."  Our "love" is the armor we put on when we don't believe that we are worthy of being loved, even by ourselves.  Even more than that, we are taught that to appreciate the deeply beautiful parts of ourselves is to break some fundamental societal rule.  Ask almost anyone and they will tell you ten things that they think are wrong with them before opening up with what is most right with them.  To appreciate our greatest qualities is an act of vulnerability, to do it in public a frightening rebellion against the norm.  We've confused humility with self-deprecation.  We somehow believe that loving others means denying ourselves the same compassion.  

There was a point, about a year ago, when I was just fed up, exhausted even, with how I treated myself.  I was my own bully.  It was heartbreaking and internally degrading.  But I felt tied to this pattern of self-deprecation, confused about how to truly love myself without being "in love" with myself.  There was something almost scary about entertaining the idea of loving who I was and an unhealthy comfort in the familiarity of the shame I experienced -- like opening that door to love would be more work, more pain.

And guess what?  I was right.  Opening that door sucked, in a way.  But it was worth the work, worth the pain in the discovery of unhealthy patterns and relationships, worth the painstaking unveiling of the greatest parts of who I am.  And it has left me with deep gratitude.  I am grateful for a remarkable therapist who inspired my "say-something-nice" reminders, which, by the way, began as a three-times-a-day practice.   I am grateful for the reminders from family and friends to be kind to myself.  And guess what else?  I am finding that I am grateful for who I am, as well.  

To truly love others, to be in whole, complete, vulnerable and compassionate relationship with others, requires that we first love ourselves.  When I actively practice self-love, my relationships with others are deepened.  It changes the way that I love my partner, my family, my closest friends.  And, hey, if that weren't enough, I'm just plain happier.  It's transformative.  In fact, studies show that self-compassion (which goes beyond the highly touted self-esteem) could be the "key to unlocking your true potential," as well as a barrier against anxiety.

As for me, my daily "say-something-nice" time is only one weapon in my arsenal of self-compassion.  How about you?  What weapons are in your arsenal? 

dare greatly

Happy Friday, my dearest friends!  

I can't begin to tell you how beautiful it is today here in our little mountain town -- Autumn has arrived!  The leaves are turning, the sky is clear and the air is deliciously crisp!   We're finally bundled in warm sweaters and blankets, drinking in all of the autumnal wonderfulness (not to mention my fair share of tea and Pumpkin Spice Lattes).

Photo credit: Kate Krueger

As I have mentioned before, one of the biggest blessings to arise from this blogging experience has been in reconnecting with old and very dear friends -- the kind where you can not talk or see each other for months or years and, in coming back together, can connect on an even deeper level.  I am truly honored and beyond grateful.  

One of these beautiful souls is a woman that I call my "heart twin" -- for many reasons beyond the fact that we were both born on the 27th of October (or, as my parents like to call it, 'the day that life began.').  I could go on and on about her lovely and compassionate heart (but she's heard it all from me before).  She, like me, is obsessed with books, and mentions of our favorites are regular occurrences in our emails.  This year, for our birthday, she sent me -- from almost 20,000 miles away -- a book that I have been beyond desperate to read: Daring Greatly, by one of my favorite researchers (and regular toliveboldly resource), Brene Brown.

While I have had the urge to just inhale the words (yes, it's that good), there is so much inspiration housed within the pages that I have been forcing myself to slow down, even reading some of the chapters twice while I underline and fill the margins with notes.  My mind is percolating with inspiration, and my heart is challenged by her call to vulnerability and authenticity.  

Instead of writing my usual post, I wanted to limit my words and share with you Brene's inspiration for Daring Greatly, by a man who was also, believe it or not, born on the 27th of October.  I have read it at least a dozen times and each time it speaks to me in a different way (oftentimes, moving me to tears).  I would love to hear your thoughts, my dearest friends, and hope that it inspires you, as well. Have a beautiful weekend, and remember to be kind to yourselves.

"The Man in the Arena"

"Citizenship in a Republic"

Theodore Roosevelt

April 23, 1910 * Paris, France 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out 

how the strong man stumbles, 

or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,

whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;

who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again.

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;

but who does actually strive to do the deeds;

who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions,

who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,

and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly..."