I’ll admit to there being times when I’m consumed with guilt for my very existence. While not helpful to anyone, there are those times. I almost feel like I got away with something, being born a woman in this place, in this time in history. These are pretty unreal living conditions. The reality of the cultural conditions for so many alive today and who’ve come before- and here I am. Here. I am. I get this life? Why? My own mother can bring me to tears with tales of her childhood and I do say she exceeded her intention
Do your Work
How do you measure your worth? Is it by how hot you are? How much money you make? How accepted by your father you are? Is it measured by how much you get done in a day, or how consistently you’ve been meditating? Is it measured by your generosity or spiritual piety? Is your worth measured by how big your thighs or circle of friends or book collection is? It is how many deals you score? Chick you score? Grades to you score? Is your worth measured against others? You ideals? Your values or your boss’ expectations? Is it inherent and assumed?
Most of us are busy. The world’s just so fast now. With so much to hook our attention, our energy output can start to feel like a fish on a line thrashing this way and that as though all the motion is bringing us closer to something. Whatever that something may be. I’m compulsively busy. Always have been. Maybe it’s my personality. Maybe it’s my passion and drive. Maybe it’s my need to express art and ideas. Maybe it’s my longing for connection and intimacy with others. Maybe it’s my limited capacity to say no and create limits. Maybe it’s
How much is enough? How much love or money or praise or approval? How much proof or displays or interest or evidence do you need? What would happen if you got everything you wanted all at once? Could you take it? I feel like my life over the past few years have been like a rocket in the direction of what I most want to give and receive. It’s been the hardest and the most rewarding years I’ve faced so far. It’s an interesting feeling, this becoming. As I work and write and continue to bring myself to the edges
Let’s be clear, this title is ironic. When it comes to saying no, I’m no artist. I’m barely a practitioner. My impulse towards yes is so strong and habitual that no gets caught by and wrapped in a whole swirl of emotion. I want to please you, honour you, support you, show appreciation for you, help you, receive from you, offer all I’ve got to you and opening up and saying yes feels like the way to do that. No gets caught in my throat. No presses on my heart. No tightens me up and feels unnatural. No feels like I’m rejecting you, disappointing you, letting you down.
Every time I hear someone say that they’re not disciplined enough, lack willpower or obviously just don’t want it badly enough, I can feel my heart break a little. This is not because discipline or will may not be factors, but because what is carried with it is a form of aggression that undercuts the potential for motion in the desired direction. How we organize around the meaning we form matters. How we view ourselves and the world will cause us to move in particular ways and fail to move in other ways. For self-proclaimed undisciplined people, trying to become
Does working with the Law of Attraction really lead most people to an expansive experience of manifesting all the delights and treats life has to offer or does it leave us bound up in knots of cognitive games that fiercely deny the shit, pain and disappointment of how things are for fear of attracting more of that? You’ve got to let the Universe know what you want, right? So you make vision boards and say mantras. You use language that affirms that you’ve already got what’s coming your way. You cultivate gratitude. You focus on what you want to have
You know when you see a kid in the playground acting like a complete jackass to all the other children and you’re all ‘where is your mother?!?’ That’s how I felt with this guy working in the hardware store. I can’t even remember what I was shopping for, the experience with the clerk was so distracting from my task at hand. He was on the phone and didn’t look up when I came in. His conversation was clearly personal and not at all urgent and he rattled along, casually cussing, before finally saying that he should probably go as though
It got bad. Like sooo bad. The walls of my mind were covered with to-do lists- pinned there, piercing any chance of peace. As I waded through all the things the more energetic and enthusiastic version of myself said yes to in the months before, I could feel myself losing contact with the ground of my being. I know I’m under stress and have totally lost the plot when I earnestly believe that the solution to my stress is getting more done. That’s NEVER true. That’s my red flag warning sign…I’m ramped up, tossing every behaviour that grounds and nourishes
My keys had been missing for over a week and I just wasn’t concerned about it at all. Losing my keys has been with me since I was a kid and would feed into the narrative that I’m irresponsible. So I became responsible. Then, losing my keys was a testament to the truth that I must be a flake. Turns out I’m not a flake either. I just happen to suck at keeping track of my keys. This used to cause me excruciating pain. I’d misplace my keys most days. The missing keys weren’t the painful part. It was the