Worst is the self-flagilation and belief that I “shouldn’t” be so sensitive to energies, thoughts, emotions, perceptions, interpretations, food, and to not responding immediately and completely to my inner guidance.

Self hatred is hell.
 
It’s frequently hard being me.

However...

It’s getting better
It’s much better than it used to be. My daily (24 hour) routine is coming into focus and into a groove of naturalness that is healing and lends harmoniousness within me. It’s taken years for me to get here.

I rarely wake up with that self-hatred – triggered by after dinner fat or carbohydrate eating. Sugar in particular is a demon in my body ingested at the wrong time, in the wrong quantities, combinations and motivation.
 
Trying to love and at once fighting myself
The point is, I live on the one hand devoted to self-care and healing, and on the other hand and at the same time, (running in the background) fighting that I need to. Believing that others don’t need to. That how I am is wrong and bad. That it shouldn’t be this way.
 
The belief running the motor of this belief is that if I’m who I am out loud – that is, without apology, free of shame and hiding – that I’ll hurt, offend and lose people. They won’t understand. How could they? I may be the second most sensitive person on the earth for all I know. Though I doubt it- probably the first 10,000 of them are in psychiatric wards or deemed village crazies or maybe ones with special gifts, depending on the society. So maybe I’m the ten thousand and tenth (10,010) most sensitive person on the planet. We’re not in the majority and we’re not approved of or valued in modern western culture.
 
Inside and Outside Me
I am a teacher of authentic Indian cuisine, where I’ve been sharing my passion and knowledge since 2011. Since COVID, I had taken a pause from classes. Recently, however, I felt it was safe enough to begin offering them again. I’ve offered two so far and they have been more than full, and extremely rich, positive, joyful and fun (and delicious) experiences for all.
 
Yesterday I gave the second class. After everyone had left and the house and kitchen had been mostly restored to it’s usual state, I was still flying on the positive vibes of the students and the time spent together in circle, in the kitchen working as a team, and dining leisurely on the roof.
 
I reflected on how I have these two parts:

One part is on retreat, at home for delicious and necessary days at a time. This is the majority of the time, when I am caring for myself, learning, healing, transforming, reaching into deeper connection with divine and myself. Much of this time is spent either feeling or reacting to my feelings of despair, fear, anger, shame and worry. At home, I am alone, not social, and I relish that.

Then there is the other part: the outgoing, out in the world, sharing, giving, offering, joyful, of service. This is when I’m glowing and shining and usually enjoying myself and others immensely. These times are at fixed times (business related), times I choose, or moments when it feels natural, for the most part.
 
Last night I saw the dichotomy clearly and marveled at it.
 
The sign says, “We Are Closed.”
Today, one of my students came back to my house to pick up something. She brought a friend because she wanted to show my house to her friend.

She asked if they could come in. I paused. “Okay…” I said.

At the door she said, “Is it okay if we don’t take off our shoes this time?” “Uh…..Okay…” I said, not liking it but trying to be nice.
 
In the living room, my student was excitedly pointing out different aspects of my house, “And here is where the class was in the kitchen, see how large it is?!” she said to her friend.

Meanwhile, the friend is standing in her dirty street shoes on my yoga mat. “Actually, you’re standing where I practice yoga,” I said. She bent down and wiped it off with her hands, apologizing.
 
My student asked if they could go upstairs. “No,” I said. “The house is not open and I’m busy right now.”
​
She quickly took her friend to see my office, anyhow, and I was now more than ready to have them out of my house.
 
I walked them to the gate and I explained to my student, “I am a very private person. My life is a retreat. My house is not open just any old time to anyone. I open it at the right moment. You didn’t know this, but now you do.”

It felt good to have spoken my truth, albeit “late".
 
I came back inside and felt (and still feel) anger mixed with tenderness.

​Not saying “No” is worse than saying “No”
That was not okay with me. My home is literally a sanctuary for me. It is my safe haven, my spiritual school building. It is where I do all my sacred work. It is private and it is mine. It is for me to decide when and if and how to share it. There is nothing wrong with me for being this way, this is how I am, period. I don’t like people in my home when they are not invited.
 
I feel violated that they saw my personal life. That I had permitted them to step into my magical space. For indeed, my home is my alchemical cauldron and playground. It is not for every day eyes. (They probably wouldn’t know the difference, but I do.) Ritual is in progress. Others seeing it feels raw and exposed and utterly inappropriate. Disrespectful. This is where my self-anger comes from today. I didn’t treat with respect my own sacred process and reality.

​Most people have no idea of what I’m doing and what is required to receive what they do from me. And, I don’t need them to. What’s important is that I honor and respect my contract with life and all that it takes to bring my offerings to others in the best way I am able. And those that specifically judge me for how I live, they’re neither who I need nor choose for my inner circle.
 
Fear of not being liked creates anger
I didn't decline my student’s request at the gate. Why? Because I believed that to say “No,” was “wrong”: She wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t comprehend, wouldn’t like me. But not defending my precious life and way of living is the reason for my angry feelings.

I am learning to set boundaries and say "No". I realize that had I been able to say a kind and honest “No,” at the gate, I would not have felt this anger. I would have simply felt and known that for me the request was not a fit at that moment, and I would have spoken and acted in line with that.

Wanting to be like everybody else
So much anger I have felt in my life, and how much of it is because I have not said a version of “No,” when that was the deeply felt response? And all because I have unconsciously continued to want to be like everybody else, be liked, accepted, seen as normal and therefore, all right and accepted.

It is so painful to be different – especially when a young one. It is more than time for me to love and accept myself as I am, as I am made, as I am as a result of every action and event that has happened in my life up to this moment.

Progress, not Perfection is the game
Life is a process, truly, and although I wish I had “nipped it in the bud” with my student and her friend, this afternoon, at least I clearly felt, recognized, and naturally (spontaneously, in the moment) addressed what I felt and wanted and needed. This for me is progress, and while I still prefer all or nothing perfection and completeness once and for all, I accept that today I did better. Much better.

And so with sadness and warmth I am grateful for the illumination of last night when I saw so vividly about the inside and outside parts of me. Today, I accept them as truer and more important to my health and harmony than I had realized.

I see how all the time, (which is the majority of the time,) when I am doing my inside work, that I am working hard, not only for myself, but actually, this is how I prepare myself for service to others. How I fulfill my mission. I have no choice. It is like this and needs to be like this. At least for now. I have a lot of gifts, creativity, knowledge, joy and wisdom to share, but not all the time and not at just any moment.
 
The sign says, “We are open”
I work for me, for you, for the world, here inside my home. And at the right moment, I open the doors and let you in. For awhile. Then you go, and I return to my inner work. Till the next time.

I have the image of a butterfly, its wings closed, as it drinks water and collects nectar. At some moment, the beauty and splendor of all that the butterfly has collected and assimilated for its survival is revealed, momentarily, as open wings.

Much of life seems to be coming to terms with all of who I am: exploring and finding acceptance and ways to lovingly accompany the various lost parts, with all their fear, trembling, and woeful lonely rage.
 
I scare myself, I admit.
 
Naturally tenacious, however, I continue to learn and explore, now surrendering and connecting in ever deeper, surprising and comforting ways.

Recently someone asked me if I thought Minimalism is a fad.

First of all, I live simply, consciously, because it matches my values, one of which is living in integrity with my values! To me, the term “Minimalism” smells like embarking on actions that will be prohibitive and draining of life’s colors. That said, as someone who has chosen to live simply for decades, I do feel authorized to respond to the spirit of the question.

Living Juicily
There are those who could be entering into minimalistic practices, such as scaling down possessions drastically, that will end up miserable, depressed, and feeling deprived — and who might have thought it was a noble or the “right” act, but in fact might be missing the point by starving their souls.

I believe life is best lived juicily — embracing passionately what brings you joy, fulfillment, a sense of purpose, being on the right track for you at any given time, following your bliss and talents, longings and breadcrumbs.

Respecting the Earth Naturally
At the same time, I believe a life in connection to yourself, the universe and your place in the world, will naturally lead to or include a loving awareness of and respect for the earth — our planet, our mother, our home, sustainer and giver of our life and all we have. With this consciousness, I believe one contacts a natural desire to use resources with care and appreciation, selecting what one uses with care, taking those elements, materials, products and what they provide for your life — as gifts.

Values Enter the Picture
That is why coming into contact with what you believe, your values, how you think life is best lived and having the courage to take steps into that — is a crucial part of an intentional, fulfilling, true-to-you life.

That is part of why I wrote Calling Myself Home: Living Simply, Following Your Heart and What Happens When You Jump, and it is what motivates me to serve the world as I do — through my writing, coaching, courses, and in the works — simple living retreats in Mexico.

Right now, for you, and for a limited time, in order to support you in harnessing the clarity and courage to live your life both simply and abundantly, I'm offering How To Skillfully Managing These Times We're Living In  for only $12.99!  Check it out here and by clicking the image below.

At this stage of my life, as a maturing adult woman, as a Scorpio, as one who is constantly transforming, I have arrived at that wonderful time of letting go of past ways: living for myself, my way, more fully and deeply than ever.

It has been a lot of work to get here.

At the same time, it has been no work at all, for I am merely on the slide, the river, the roller coaster of life; I am taking the ride. I am riding it. Life is riding me. It’s happening. I can´t stop this progression and although scary and sobering, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Newly 60 years of age, I have waited to arrive at this moment of freedom and release, of falling forward into the soft wide blossom of  my life and Myself.

There is no going back. That’s over. Now, to live to the best of my ability and truly, my imagination, guided by heart and spirit.

My life is my dream. As I dream my life, so it is.
 
And you, yours.
 
So, in the language of dreams,
But applied to life during waking hours,
Here is my story.

My Dream
A month ago I decided to hike up to my special place. It had been several weeks since I’d visited it, since I’d fallen in a hole on another solo hike and torqued my hip. That is another story.

I headed up and the ground was wet with last night's rain, but not slippery. Overgrown, but passible. Then after one turn and climb I looked up and - where was the path? Had I been daydreaming and took the wrong way? I stood still looking all around me for a good while. 

Where there had always been the path before me, were now many felled trees. Trees that looked like they had fallen on their own, from too much moisture or age or past fires or a combination. Large old pines with broken and splintered trunks, laying in long pieces from where they´d fallen or broken from up the hill, lying on the ground, covering and crossing and oblitering the path that had been. 
 
There was no path moving forward the old way. Uprooted roots, soft red moist earth, uneven and pitted ground, impassible. 
 
I stood a long time, unbelieving, contemplating whether I could make it through the felled trees, erosion and upturned roots. Perhaps the trail would continue once I passed through. If I dared try.

I didn't feel comfortable continuing forward through the completely disheveled área, reminiscent of a disaster zone.

I accepted that the old path was no longer viable and that maybe the old path up to the ancient lookout place was over now. Or, that it might take quite awhile for the area to be cleaned up, or for a new, higher path created. If anyone decided to take that on, even.

I turned and went back down, thinking, “The old walk is over. What I thought would be forever, no longer is. I will find new paths. New ways. The old way is no longer viable. It doesn`t even exist now.”
 
Weeks passed.

The other day, a friend told me she’d gone up to that place that I’d shared with her, my special mirador (lookout).

“You went up that path? I asked, incredulous. “How?”

“It was easy, “ she replied.

“Did you see all the trees lying broken, obliterating the path?”

“I guess someone had been up there with a chain saw since you went. It was really fine. We just crossed through the fallen trees and picked up the path on the other side!”

I was intrigued. And hopeful.

Whose Dream? Take Two.
This morning I decided I’d try the hike again.

I climbed up, breaking spider webs as is the work of the day’s first hiker. I noticed gotu kola growing along the edges of the path. I picked a leaf and munching the stem, walked along, following the familiar meandering path upward. I was half expecting the disaster zone to be virtually non-existent based on my friend’s optimistic report.

Instead. I arrived at the site and perceived it as nearly the same as I’d first seen it.

Still, Margarita had said they passed through easily and continued on the path as usual.

Going against my own experience of the path as destroyed and no longer even existing, I decided to give it a go and do what Margarita and her friends had done.

It didn’t look easy or obvious to me though, at all.

It wasn’t like I could simply step over trunks. No, huge old pines with needle-filled branches rose sideways well over my head. Below, earth torn, showing roots, soft earth, deep ruts and ancient newly revealed boulders. 

It was a land I had never seen before, yet a place I’d been through countless times.

I started climbing down into the disordered, pathless, violently disheveled expanse. Unlike Margarita and her companions, I did not see how or where to pick up the path again. I didn’t even see where or whether the disaster zone ended. I saw no path. I edged up the steep mountain, crouching under trunks, climbing over branches. 

I ended up in a pretty spot, although strange and other worldly. Giant rough boulders rested all around, as if the falling of the trees had unanchored their long-held spot causing them to roll and tumble and land elsewhere.

I stopped on a little perch for a while, heart beating fast. I looked around. I seemed higher up than usual. I looked down, saw no path in any direction. 

Distinguishing Differences Between Dreamers
Why had I tried to do what wasn’t my dream? For Margarita, in her dream, the path wasn’t impassible, only mildly altered for a short while. For me, though, I still experienced the spot as drastically changed and no longer inviting nor feasible.

Trying to be who and how I’m not was the true disaster.
 
There I was, in a place I knew well, yet without any path. In a sense, completely lost.

I didn’t know how to get down nor how to return to the path I’d taken to get there.

From Comfort Zone to Chaotic Zone
Now that I’d crossed over the line of my comfortzone, I was in a chaoticzone. Nervously, I started clambering further up the incline to manuever through brush and tree ruins. I had no idea where I was in relation to where I had traversed this mountain in the past. 

Doubtful that I was heading back in an effective way, I changed my approach and scrambled down steep slopes, bracing myself so as not to slide, skid and land in deep crevices.

After all, I’d recently recovered from the aforementioned fall into a hole on another solo hike. From that experience I vowed to myself and others that in the future when I hiked alone, I’d let someone know where I was going, before I left.

I hadn’t done that today, though, rationalizing that it wasn’t necessary. I thought I was just going up to the mirador, a walk I knew so well. Had known so well, that is.

And there I was, once again, pathless, due to my tendency for reckless decisionmaking when out in nature. Adrenaline was coursing through me, heart pounding, legs trembling slightly. With what tiny bit of spiritual connection I could summon, I asked the angels and guides to please guide my steps and my way home, safely.

From where I stood, I glimpsed a path down below to the right. That was the direction back. I noticed part of the path went right along an edge where the earth had eroded. Edges scare me. I don’t like them. I like lots of earth all around me. But it was a path, and maybe it would take me back to the original path. I promised myself to go very slowly and carefully.

Arriving at that path, I stooped and touched ground as I inched through the scary spot. I was on the path, and feeling somewhat excited, following it.

Within a few meters, though, that path ended. Like so many paths up in these mountains. 

I turned back and looked around, not seeing any path. What to do?

A New Vision
I spotted an area that looked more clear and open. I headed in that direction, feeling hopeful, somehow. I noticed little piles of sticks and branches. Someone had been here. “Someone, at least sometimes, comes here,” I thought. “Even if I’m lost or get hurt, probably, eventually I’ll be found.” At least this was unlike the experience when I’d fallen into a hole of eroded earth covered with vines on another mountain. There, with completely overgrown paths, it was clear that noone had been for quite a while.

I followed the clear, light opening, although it wasn’t a path in the way that I’m accustomed. I followed along, trusting. Even though I didn’t have the relaxed “security” of knowing the path I was on, yet, I remembered to try to enjoy and feel the beauty a little bit, along the way. 

I kept heading downward. Down was where the fields are, the roads, the town, the church, my house. That felt like security. Even though I was traipsing through trailess brush, there was more light. The way was easier now, and I some farmer’s milpa I recognized was in view, lit bright green by sunshine.

In the way of my own living dream language, my descent guided me down to a fence that had one cut wire, showing me that someone had traversed this way and crossed this threshold before me, making it easier and sure. 

I ended up on familiar territory, though I arrived in a way I hadn’t known existed.

I climbed through the conveniently passable chicken wire fence, suddenly feeling nimble and proud of my fitness and adventurousness walking alone in nature.

I was back, thanks to Goodness.

But it had been a hard re-lesson.

The Re-Lesson
An astrologer had once looked at my chart and told me, “Trusting yourself is key. If you don’t, all else will fall.”

I’d not listened to myself on this day.

Doubting the Dream: Playing with fire
And then I chose to play with fire and doubt my dream.

In the physical sense the path and its changes are what they are. For Margarita, it was a minor alteration. For me, it was a finality. A definite ending.

I like my dream. I like how my life is evolving. 

Her dream is different, it’s not mine. It doesn’t feel good. It’s not my reality. It doesn’t work for me. Worse than not working for me – following somone else’s reality is perilous.

The resounding conclusion: I need to listen to my own living dream language and perception.

I need to trust and honor my experience, even if no one else perceives, experiences, and therefore affirms it as such. 

I am soley, souly, responsable for my life and perception of my experiences. My living dream.

We may walk the same path, but our experience is unique to us. 

Same path. Different dream.

I have realized I am a saver. Frugality gone haywire.
 
Sometimes I have dreams in which I want to go somewhere but I don’t believe I have, or am not willing to invest what is required in order to get there. 

The other night I had one of those dreams again. I woke up with inner disturbance.

In the dream, I was ready to go back to school, only it was a journey to get there. I didn’t have my own transportation. I was trying to figure out how I would get there. I remembered the school bus from when I was in high school, but I didn’t know if that was feasible. Riding my bike was doable but would be a lot of energy and time. School was a distance away; in order to arrive in time, I’d have to leave very early and I might arrive late or not even make it. I was asking some people if they’d drive me – I was depending on others to get me to where it was time for me to go, and they weren’t offering.

What is this not wanting to spend in order to get what I want?

Fear of Running Out
I do have a fear of running out of money, of not having enough.

I’ve been frugal for so long, that I don’t even consider some activities that would require what for me is an uncomfortable amount of money.

On one hand, I believe in honoring my feelings and trusting them. If I’m not comfortable, I’m not comfortable. Lately, I’ve been up front about this with certain friends in this regard; when I’m invited to meet for lunch or for a daytime expedition, I share clearly my limits and needs. I don’t proclaim an absolute “No,” but I do express the desire to find activities that cost little (to me) or no money. There are so many of them. For me, simply sitting together on the grass somewhere, or in a garden, or on a park bench, is lovely and perfectly satisfying. 

I don’t need fancy meals out as the only way to be with friends. Also, to be clear, when I feel drawn to a luxurious (again, to me) meal out once in a while, I treat myself to it, with ease. So it is not an always situation, but a sometimes one. More than anything, speaking my desires and needs around spending money is me not shaming myself, hiding, or trying to be who I think I need to be in order to be accepted. 

But this “saving” appears in other aspects of my life as well.

What Happens When Saving Equals Not Using
I have realized recently that I am worried about using up my vocal chords. Literally.

I have a prayer that I have been reciting for years. The instructions I received about how to optimally make the prayer told me to say it out loud.

For years I spoke the prayer out loud or quietly, or as a mumble, and also silently.

Silently feels safer and contained: it’s all within me and I feel it there, most potently.

But I have been instructed that voice has power.

Sometimes the energy involved in using my vocal chords to speak words feels like too grand an exertion. This might really be called laziness! 

One day upon saying my prayer silently, I realized, that behind this was the fear of wearing out my vocal chords. What if I used them and spoke out loud and then when I’m an old lady I can’t speak anymore. Wouldn’t I be sorry?

But, who knows about the future and what will happen and if by speaking my prayers and other senitments, or singing, out loud, I will in fact wear out my vocal chords, rendering me speechless?

What if I’m saving my vocal chords for nothing?

Speaking Out Loud is Powerful
I know from experience that prayers (and other motives for speaking,) spoken with voice, actually feel more powerful. Rather than holding and protecting them inside myself, prayers spoken with voice connect me with the divine, the universal consciousness, the Great Being.

When I speak my prayers out loud, yes, it takes more energy. And yes, I am using my physical resources. The powerful pivot is that in saying my prayers out loud, it is no longer just about me; safe and sound but alone. Now, I am in communion, the best feeling ever. The saving grace of living.

Why Not Spend What I Have Been Bestowed With?
It’s hard enough being here on the earth. Why not take advantage of the gift of voice my body has in place and perfectly functioning, and use it to connect with that which helps me feel accompaniment? Why deny myself that?

I have taken earth life in some ways as a punishment. I have felt abandonded by Great Being. Have felt hurt, angry and afraid to come out and play. I have hidden, forming myself into a tight ball, hard and immovable as a boulder.

Besides feeling too scared to come out and play – “saving” my body, heart and emotions from more hurt, with fear of making mistakes as my foundational belief – I hide, save (horde, really,) and protect myself from living on the planet in other ways, as well.
 
Saving my Heart
I have lived feeling so damaged and traumatized by being in this body, that I decided years ago, not to love too deeply.

Why?

Because love can be fleeting.
Because I can love and it will end.
Because people I love will leave or die.
Because I know that the degree to which I allow myself to feel love, is the exact proportion of pain that I will feel when that love is no longer with me.

This includes people and nature.

I have been afraid to love life and therefore live it with heartfelt submission, because I have been afraid of not having life anymore.

In other words, I have been so afraid of loss and grief,  that I have been keeping myself from its contrasting partner: the light of the universe, the joy, exuberance and ecstatic bliss of loving, actively, out loud.

Too Hurt to Love and Spend my Gifts
Thus, I’ve spoken my prayers silently, ironically keeping myself from Divine with a passive-aggressive and non-trusting stance.

Thus, I haven’t spent money, or invested in getting to where I want to go, because I’ve been afraid of losing what I have and running out; keeping myself from living fully. So afraid of not being alive that I have kept myself in a living death state.

Thus, I don’t spend my heart: keeping myself apart, separate from messy and scary loving and love’s loss.

I have been given heart, skills, talents, health, abundance, people and opportunities – and I’ve  not been using them.

Out of fear of losing life, I am not living life. I have been squandering the gifts of life that Life bestowed upon me. I’ve been essentially spitting on Great Being and the Mystery of Being in Physical Form on the Earth Plane.

Re-evaluating Currency and Spending
So, what is another possible way of responding to living and the necessary hurt that is part of that?

Suppose that Great Being has given me the currency of so many resources: physical, mental and emotional, so that I have them to spend in this life? Suppose my life is a great big bank account abundant with a multitude of energies specifically meant to be used?

This is sounding like “jing” – the traditional chinese medical concept of the original life force energy that each of us is born with, a specific quantity for each of us that will run out, (thus ending our life).
 
If I unfurl from my fetal position as a boulder, if I soften a little, enough to stand;  if I advance into life, using my energetic and literal money consciously, what will happen? 

Will I be okay? 
Will I be hurt?
Will I die?
Yes.

 Dying with a Full Bank Account
The question is, do I want to die with all the investment Great Being has given to me intact, safely in its bank account? Will I feel proud about that looking back on this life?

Or, do I want to use all the varieties of prosperity that I have been given in order to follow where I’m led, living and learning with greater joy, surrendering to this unique and temporary human experience? It’s going to end anyways. What do I choose?

What I Choose
Uncurl fist’s grip gradually.  Breathe. Step. Be gentle with self. Forgive long-standing reactions to (especially,) early hard life experiences.

Start now.  Honor self. No hurry, yet also nudged forward by a sense of urgency.
 
And you, dearest reader, ever-evolving into luminescent elderhood, do you want to use all the varieties of prosperity that you have been given in order to follow where you’re led, living and learning with greater joy, surrendering to this unique and temporary human experience? It’s going to end anyways. What do you choose?

I think everyone is different, so I don’t feel I can generalize that one can or cannot live an unstructured life and be successful.

That said, I can speak from my experience:
​
First, know that Freedom is a primary value of mine.

I so appreciate the freedom I have in my life to live where and how I want to.
Sometimes I marvel at the freedom and goodness I am blessed with:

• I can walk in the mountains.
• I have the simple freedom of a healthy, flexible, perfectly formed, pain-free body.
• I can go to sleep when I like and wake up when I naturally do. 
• I can eat a variety of foods.
• I can decide how my day goes, which activities I choose.
• I can live quite easily without a car.
  
  

These are just a few of the simple freedoms in the life I’ve created for myself.
​
I mentioned Freedom because to my mind, to be Free means I can flow as I like, do what I want when I like, have no plans, just BE. Implicit in this desire, which comes occasionally, is living without structure.

Living without Structure
I have realized, repeatedly, first-hand, however, that following that desire does not serve me well.

When I allow myself to simply flow without any structure, I find I soon feel depressed, or at least less happy.

Time and life extends too far out in front of me and I feel groundless.

Groundlessness is uncomfortable for me, and ultimately leads to dissatisfaction with myself, my life, my day - rather than feeling the satisfaction and connection with “who I really am” and the “universe” if I were to flow without any structure whatsoever.

It actually makes me feel weepy right now, just thinking of it.

So, as much as I understand and even crave structurelessness, it doesn’t really serve me and so I have learned to avoid that calling into the void.

Middle Way Solutions to Structurelessness
The recognition I have around my need for structure does not mean, on the other hand, that living in a completely structured manner is required for peace, satisfaction and “success.” (Defining success is another large and important topic.)

Depending on what I have going on in my life, structure can look differently.

If I have a work commitment the next day, there is a list of tasks I must accomplish before I get tired the night prior, in order to be successful with my chosen work and those I serve through it. In that case, structure is necessary on a practical and functional level. 

Of course, the responsibilities I have created or taken on for myself if not respected and tended to with some structure, will lead to emotional and spiritual dissatisfaction or “failure” as well. In other words, structure is not just a practical and functional issue.

I'm finally accepting my inner HSC.
​
I’m doing a lot of inner child work these days, and it’s great. Finally, I’m able to give space to all there is “in there,” – my wounded, scared, angry, little me, still in the emotional torment and confusion of the deep past.
 
Inner work is not new to me, and I’ve tried to “deal with her” for decades, but honestly, I haven’t known how. I’ve swerved from resenting her neediness to letting her take over my life. I’ve felt resentful at how her restrictions get in my way of a “normal” life – that is – my unconscious mission to prove myself “normal” to others.

I’ve cursed and hardened against the sense that “my inner little girl” is “too much”. As if the little girl I have is a special needs child I don’t want, am not equipped to care for. I want a little girl who’s easy and fun, who I get along with, and who likes me and doesn’t encumber me – who I love to take care and do so naturally and skillfully.
 
Instead, I got a HSC (highly sensitive child) who finds interactions with the world frightening, who doesn’t feel safe with other people’s energies let alone asking for what she needs. She is rageful and alone, she doesn’t understand why others “hated her,” and she is burdened with wanting to please everyone but not knowing how. She is afraid to be alive and to exist. She is the Primal Scream I’ve wanted to let out since I was a teenager. At long last, I’ve touched her, and that. It is hell and it is also good. Because it is what is. 
 
Being Present for What Is
My feelings about being present for what is via “her” has shifted lately from dread and eye rolling, to excitement. I begin the morning asking, “What do you want to express to me today?” It’s kind of fun and a relief to be there with her, witnessing, seeing, and simultaneously putting together the puzzle pieces of my past and how they formed my strategies and “patterns”.
 
“Of course,” I say to her, to me, now. “How could it have been different?” I’m accepting that which has always been, which I’ve applied countless “tools” to try to fix, transform, and erase.
 
Acceptance and Growth
Acceptance and growth is being with and holding all there is. It is way too much to stuff into the closet, let alone annihilate. It is me, it is us. Here I am and this is it. How do I make it better from here, today?

I was recently asked this question: How do you live a simple and secure life? The question startled me as the two "S" words bumped into one another uncomfortably. My first response was:

Define secure!

With more time in our bodies (some call this "aging"), on the earth, and particularly during these strange times of restriction, our need to establish sound habits and safe outlets for our health and well-being are amplified.

Here is my list of seven daily steps you can take to stay healthy.

It sounds trite, right? Yet another article about finding joy in simple things.

We all know that slowing down to smell the roses is sage advice. We know it's true and that we "should" and that we really want to. But....meanwhile, how to really do what's required in order to live that way. I mean really.

Wouldn't it be great to read a short and easy article with a short list of truly simple things that are feasible and that could get you to experience living in tune with your heart's deepest longings and knowing?

Wish granted! Here's the list, followed by the how to's:

I find joy in simple things by

1. Slowing Down
2. Releasing judgment
3. Releasing expectations
4. Doing what I know I love

I circled around the row of bananas and pineapples to the vegetable section and picked up a couple sweet potatoes. I observed that the happy middle age woman with long dark hair was still at the check out counter, and indeed was there with a mid age man with long gray hair in a pony tail. The check out was taking a long time, but she kept smiling, as if truly ecstatic.

I picked up my one baking potato just to the right of the cashier and began waiting my turn.

The transaction between the woman, her companion, and Germán, was going on and on. There didn’t seem to be a problem, it was simply very slow. And, I’m impatient anyhow.

Their interminably long payment process gave me time to continue observing the pair – something I enjoy and do all the time, naturally.

He looked kind of familiar. Was he the native American man I had met a couple years ago when I took my American friends to a retreat center for a spiritual spa day?

The interaction between the three of them continued, no one seemed in any hurry. The woman continued smiling, as if at a private joke. Utter glee. I noticed subtle crow’s feet at the outer corners of her eyes.
 
She kept radiating and radiating joy without stopping. I wondered what made her so happy. Was she newly in love?

I was feeling pretty grotty that day and although I knew the importance and power of radiating how you want to feel, I wasn’t able to muster that positivity right then.

Continuing to study her from a distance I suddenly thought, “Hey, she looks kind of like my good friend Fernanda.” At that moment I was glad to be quite camouflaged between my mask, sombrero and glasses. I had run into Fernanda a few weeks earlier and with hugs and smiles we had promised to get together soon.

Their transaction finally was arriving at its conclusion: the amount owed had been stated and the man reached into his wallet and fumbled to extract money and a parking voucher.

The woman turned her face toward his as she laughed about how the various slips of paper he was pulling out were not from the nearby parking lot. Actually, it was more like she was the sun and simply turned her radiance toward him and the parking vouchers for the moment. The radiance remained what it was: Unconditional. Detached from any specific condition.

It was Fernanda. 
 
I felt shame and sudden gladness at not having been noticed, because I could neither match nor bear my friend’s effervescence right then.

They left and it was my turn to pay.

Laugh lines or frown lines?
My friend’s blissful countenance has stayed with me these last several days.

I know my friend is a spiritual practitioner, following a deep and respectful path of the ancient people of this region, the Mexica.

“Looks like it’s taking hold and working well for her,” I’ve said to myself. “I hope so.”

And what about me?
 
As I mentioned, I’ve not been feeling up to par. I’ve been obsessed with my digestive maladies, working with them quietly, diligently, on my own.

While I am feeling a lot of peace, a very welcome sensation, I’ve definitely let my concern for my physical well-being and longevity deflate my own joy.

But this smile of Fernanda’s. Those crow feet.

What a way to “age”.

Better to have laugh lines than frown lines (which I’ve noticed in the mirror, lately. Oh no!)

You are what you take the time to become
These reflections bring to mind something my mom said in her last year of living:

"This is what I've taken the time to become"
 
In other words, what you dedicate yourself to, becomes you. You become that.

As time passes and skin begins to lose some elasticity, it becomes ever clearer the importance of doing, being and radiating what I want to feel, every moment. Or as many moments as I can remember to, and muster that.

How to change “bad” into “good”
Several years ago I was dedicated to a neuro reprogramming protocol, called the Dynamic Neuro Retraining System(DNRS).

I practiced the system for at least an hour a day for a year and a half. The purpose was to retrain my limbic system so that it no longer acted from a misperceived (no longer) state of emergency. The idea (based on neuroplasticity) that by not “feeding” the parts of the brain that have circuited themselves from an original trauma of some sort, they will naturally whither from disuse. 

At the same time, by creating new (positive, happy, warm, loving) connections in the brain, these eventually replace the old ones. Thus, the limbic system, the part of the brain that deals with emergencies (and when stuck in the “on” position, over the long-term can create other physical symptoms and illnesses,) returns to calm. 
 
When the limbic system is “healed” in this way, it has been seen that the symptoms or illnesses that sprung from the original trauma reaction, can also calm. 

The system involves actively creating new associations to previous triggers in the brain. In short, I spent over an hour each day for close to 500 days in a row, imagining my life – both past and future - at its most beautiful and harmonious.
 
And you know what? It changed my present!

Only several weeks into the practice I realized that I had invested decades of my adult life in negative interpretations and beliefs about my childhood and that it no longer felt true.

Literally, by accentuating the positive and creating new images, feelings and memories, I had created a new story about my past. I remember standing there after a session and proclaiming out loud, with awe and wonder, “I had a happychildhood!”

My experience through DNRS showed me how what I focus on, literally becomes real. It happens. My new feeling about my upbringing was that it was very good, versus only bad, fraught with traumas.

Immerse yourself in your heart home and see what happens
Confluent with these reflections on “You become what you do,” my sister just sent me a photo of a recent mosaic she created.

The piece is so full of brilliance and splendor.

I know my sister has loved sparkly, twinkly, dazzlingly clear gems for years. She used to make jewelry out of these. Now she has turned her creativity toward mosaics.

I know my sister well. We are very close. I know she has suffered from patterns of negative thinking about herself and works constantly to heal the past, find her voice, and be the woman she wants to be, freely.

Like me, but in her own way, she has these extreme qualities: from worry and fear and belief in old childhood wounds and interpretations, to being in her shining, bright, heart connected spiritual beingness.

It hurts me to think of the severity of her pain, when the gloriousness of her love beats from within her – beautiful and glowing as her most recent mosaic.

I suppose it hurts because A. I love her, and B. It resonates with my own version of the same: I am a vivacious, generous woman when I am engaged with life, others, and doing what I love. When I get out of or am pushed out of my own way, I am joyous and fun, brilliant, and worthy of my name, Rainbow Gate.

Left to the weight of gravity and not pushing back, I can fall into what I refer to as a cesspool of negativity and personal doom – castigating myself for perceived failures that I am ruining my life. Severe disappointment with myself and this condition called Living.

But look at this art

When I see the artwork of my dear sister, knowing she is spending hours every week in endeavors such as this, I want to say, “Keep going!”

I feel gladness and optimism, imagining this brilliant mosaic on display in her home, something she sees regularly.

Why? 
 
Because, I believe that immersing herself in these colors and characteristics that resonate with her so deeply is time that couldn’t be better spent. Because, I believe that as she spends time seeing, handling and creating with these materials that match her heart’s truest expression, she will be and is becoming the woman she wants to be, more and more.
 
I know for a fact this works. This is howit works.
 
We can rewrite unnecessary and unhelpful stories.
 
We are able to rewire ourselves for joy and full expression of our highest, best, deepest glowing.

And the face lines? 

I remember a Buddhist monk leading a retreat I was on suggested that if we were having challenges with being stuck in difficult emotions, that we simply smile during meditation. This simple conscious facial expression sends a message to the brain of happiness, and so it is. 
 
Maybe it’s not too late to stop feeding our frown lines and instead turning toward cultivating laugh lines – and all that that implies.

At the very least that is the benefit and gift of doing a cleanse like this: my mind is quiet like a calm lake.
 
That’s a rarity, and while I notice the lack of usual sharp feelings, judgments and criticisms of life, others and myself, I notice the worrier part of my mind trying to stand up, waving, calling my attention.  I’m glancing in that direction but in a way, the old feelings associated with “when something’s not right” (which is usually, in my habitual way of perceiving or interpreting what is,) isn’t finding it’s foothold. The gears aren’t quite catching.
 
Nevertheless, here are the doubts floating about: Am I seriously ill now (did I cause more harm than good) or am I still recovering from the flush – which is an abrupt and strong affront to the body, really? Will I return to normal? And what is that? And would that be the best thing, anyway?

A new chapter
I’ve been working on changing strong habits – in behavior and thoughts. I feel that somehow my structure is shifting.  And so, if I choose a broader perspective and positive outlook, I can say that even though I feel calm and tired and semi-worried and in general (even before the flush) more and more fine with doing less and less – really, my life is amazing and good. I mean, how many people GET to choose how they use their time to be in highest alignment with what their spirit and body plead for?

Or, maybe we’re all free but we choose to follow societal norms and expectations and end up living these lives of DOING, disconnected to various degrees, from what WE really want, long for, would benefit from and indeed need.

Even me, here in my glorious beloved village in Mexico with all the freedom in the world and I know it – still, after all these years and even a book about following your heart and dreams– I stillcan get involved in actions that are addictive and designed for escape or distraction from the emotions really happening, which I fear I can’t trudge through.

So I stay on the computer. So I watch videos. Even worse, I spend hours SEARCHING for a video to watch and find nothing and there, that was how I spent my evening. Or I eat way beyond my hunger – only to hate myself in the morning. A decades long behavior pattern.

My priority right now, as it has been for the last several years, is to heal my relationship with my body.

Being a being in a body
At a more cosmological level, which is where I tend to live and tread, my desire and goal is to learn how to be a being: that sectioned off piece of All that I am, here on this plane and planet, where I coincide with this physical creature that is full of organs and cells; the body that is hosting me in this life.

It’s a mystery to me, and the very basic question of, “What is it to be me and how do I do it?” What is it that makes decisions for or against my body’s benefit and what ought it be? Is it my mind that has tried to rule the show all these years, leaving my body abused and distrusted, disregarded and disrespected? Wahhh, this makes me feel to sad.

Yet this is where I am, reevaluating this being/body intertwining, longing for peace and harmony between us.

I did this gallbladder/liver flush to try to get things on track once again with my digestion. But I don’t feel well, so maybe it didn’t work, or maybe I made things work, or maybe my body is processing and moving slowly in my judgment, but doing as well as it can. Maybe it’s considering my proposal and moving the pieces around to accommodate the change. 

While I don’t have those answers, I can A. choose to worry and lather myself into a panic, if I can muster the energy. B. Be with what is as it is. C. Do my best to take this moment of uncertainty and newness as an opportunity to listen a bit better to the desires of my body and consider the subsequent actions an experiment in the “new order.”
 
What about worrying?
I am a habitual worrier and so that is the direction I tend to go. Today I’m remembering what someone told me their tai chi teacher said once, when asked “What would you say about worrying in terms of energy and health?” The response was, “Don’t.”

If I don’t worry, if I take it slow and do the little things I feel drawn to do today, trying out gentleness and gradualness, I am favoring the calm that is there, in the midst of the unknown: “What is this? What’s happening? Where’s this going? Am I all right? Is there something drastic I ought to be doing?”

In other words, if I’m wanting to experience my existing in a different way, in harmonious comradery with my body, then maybe I WILL be feeling fundamentally different. Maybe this calm will be the new normal. Maybe I’ll be moving more slowly and consciously, enjoying small things like the dead blue and pink moth I found in a water tub outside this morning. Or the breathtaking (literally) sensation of the soft new bright green plant growth beneath my feet as I faced the sun and did my simple exercises with the elements.

How to feel safe when everything is different and I don’t feel like myself

This to me seems key, because – it’s easier to feel “Oh, this is me” when I feel well and “normal”. But what about times like now when my back hurts so much that it’s taking over my consciousness? If I am “lost” due to physical discomforts, then I could potentially be in trouble, because who knows if at some time in my life, I’ll be in constant pain or discomfort?

I’m so used to feeling pain-free, relatively well and energetic, that I take it for granted. But what if that disappears and I can’t count on the old normal as the definition of me to return to? If I depend on feeling how I most like to feel in order to feel like “me”, it is a limited and problematic strategy. 

I am a person who wants to feel connected to “myself” at all times. Especially aware as I am of the clock ticking and who knows when my time will expire? I want to be as connected to Myself and the deepest level possible, at all times, including up to and through my passage into the next experience and realm.

Seeking the divinity within
This pain and discomfort and discombobulation I’m feeling after the liver cleanse is an opportunity for me to seek out the divinity within that I know is always there, because I’ve felt it countless (how fortunate I am) times during decades of meditation – even when I’m not able to sit up straight and cross-legged in the usual, accustomed way.

Where is the real me, here now, with this feeling of lostness and listnessness?

That is what I’m pausing to do: find Me within, despite the circumstances and distracting physical maladies and sensations.
 
And it feels most important. ​

About six months ago I bought a sweet potato, called “camote,” where I live in Mexico. Before I used it, it started to sprout a little. I’d heard of growing vegetables from scraps and the idea had inspired me immensely. So simple it made me chuckle with glee.
 
When I saw my camote getting a head start, I researched how to grow sweet potatoes from scraps. The instructions seemed doable and so I began the process.

My heart went out to the potato. “I hope you’re okay,” I said. I felt a tender sadness and profound gratitude for the little tuber being transformed into a soft treat for me and felt not guilt, but responsibility.
 
This living thing was giving its life for mine. I made that happen by pulling it from its home and putting it on the fire. I felt care and concern for this creature that I had cared for for months.
 
I never imagined I would feel that way about sacrificing an edible plant I had cultivated.
 
I went to the kitchen and uncovered the pan. I probed the flesh with a knife. It was soft enough.
​
Placing the sweet potato in a bowl with a smidgeon of ghee and sea salt nearby, I returned to the table. I took the first bite. The potato had indeed grown sweetly. It had given me its sweetness.
 
The flesh was a beautiful orange, the color of most of the walls in my house. A warm color that has been my friend for years.
 
Every bite was conscious, appreciated, precious. I was touched by this life that I had helped. By its liveliness. This truly was a being giving its life for mine, and I felt humble.
 
Today me, the non-gardener had a taste of what perhaps many gardeners feel as they harvest, prepare and eat food they’ve helped to grow:
 
I always give thanks before a meal. I appreciate the elements and people involved in the production of the food I eat. But this sweet potato was different from all the other vegetables I purchase in the open air market. This sweet potato felt much more alive to me than anything else I’ve eaten. Because I had a loving relationship with it. And that connection makes all the difference.
 
Eating responsibly
It is truly the responsible way to eat, just like I’ve thought since I was 15 that if one is going to eat meat, one ought to be able to look the animal in the eye, ask for its life, kill it, and do all the field dressing afterward. Otherwise, one has no right to eat animals. 
 
Because I did not know how to do this and didn’t want to, when I was a teen, I became a vegetarian, as a matter of principal.
 
Years later, I did learn how to “sacrifice” some animals and field dress them. I had earned the “right” to eat meat from my wise awakened 15 year-old perspective. Years later, I did start to eat meat – but not from animals killed by me.
 
Now I see that it is no different with plants. Participating in the cultivation of this one little part of the food I eat, showed me the true value of relationship with the vegetable beings through gardening.
 
If you are wanting to live a more simple life and are struggling with all the parts, where to start, and how to do it – from where you live to what you eat, I can help. To learn more about my life and evolving relationship with food, nature, myself and simple living, I invite you to read my memoir, Calling Myself Home.

​What to do with all those journals?
When I left the States for Mexico in 2006, I went through all my belongings, including boxes and volumes of journals. I ended up burning most of them. 

As I’d written those dozens of journals over decades, I always thought the contents were important. That my writings and explorations revealed deep truths that in the future, would be able to help people when they read about me and my life story.

Surprisingly, When I went through each precious journal in 2006, however, I found so much of the content redundant. It was a bit sickening. “I was still writing about THAT?” I thought. “After all these years, still the same issues?”

​And so I ceremonially burned most of the volumes that I found repetitive and tiresome.
​
I did keep some of the “key” volumes as “data” to refer back to - journals from particular moments of my life - times of big changes, movements and decisions.

Journaling after a big change
During my first seven years here in the village where I live in Mexico, I wrote prolifically. My writing during that period (3) documented and recorded my experiences, reflections and learnings living simply, in the countryside on the outskirts of the village.

These writings, became my book, “Calling Myself Home: Living Simply, Following Your Heart and What Happens When You Jump.” Available on Amazon and other online booksellers.

Journaling now
Today, my journaling is completely different. I find I don’t have the patience nor interest in writing the details of my days. I’m fully occupied living them to the best of my ability. Now, my journal is filled more than 90% with (4) my dreams.

The rest are stray (5) short writings or thoughts; not even full sentences, often. At this stage of my life, I don’t have energy for mulling over the same old stuff, yet again. Now, I live the process of living in real time, and do my best, using my vast array of tools, to maneuver through them as they occur.

​How I’ve used journals
Mostly I’ve used journals (9, 10, 11) to write and try to help myself in the form of venting, processing, and recording in order to honor and remember certain experiences.
 
But I’ve also incorporated into my journals:

• (12, 13, 14, 15) Sketching, watercolors, drawing or writing with markers and colored pencils.
• (16, 17, 18) Pasting leaves, flowers, and other keepsakes

 
I have special journals that have themes, including favorite  (19, 20, 21)

• Lyrics
• Quotes
• Poetry

 
I’ve also created and used journals for specific events, such as (22, 23, 24):

• Spiritual retreats
• Travel
• Courses

 
Other journal themes have been (25, 26, 27)

• Gratitude lists
• Affirmations
• Notes from life-changing books I’ve read

​ 
This is a summary of my history with and varied and evolving use of journaling.
 
There is so much more you can do with journals. For me, as a natural teacher and ultra creative soul, I have created many exercises for myself within my journals to help me gain clarity, make decisions, express strong  emotions that words don’t reach. A benefit of my almost 45 years of journaling is that it has enhanced use of my imagination for creating inroads to healing – for myself and my clients.
 
I hope what I’ve shared here gives you ideas and reminds you of ways that you like to express yourself, some of which might work well through journaling. I’d love to hear how you use journals or how you’re inspired to give it a go!

If you're an experienced journal keeper or you're intrigued to use journaling for this stage of your growth and transformation, I invite you to check out How to Skillfully Manage These Times We're Living In - a mini course that will help you disentangle from, re-establish and re-emerge as who you want to be and at your core, already are, in the midst of all the changes we're living through. Course runs May 1-8. Register by April 27.

1. Prepare and eat unrefined whole food
2. Walk or ride a bike as transportation
3. Design your life to have time for these things.

It was during the filming of my short documentary “The Curandera of Teotitlan del Valle” in 2006, that I first heard of the importance of faith in healing, in Mexico.

The curandera (traditional medicine woman who heals with plants) said it’s faith that matters in healing. She offered that If you have faith, your ailments will go quickly so that other good things can come in. Without, they won’t.

Moving in Faith
Sometimes I move in faith.

And then what to do?

Returning to the Familiar Me
Sometimes I eventually listen to myself and retreat, or recollect my sense of my old, known self. Maybe it's a cop out, maybe I've reached a limit and have gone as far as I can at that moment, maybe I'm rebelling against authority. Nevertheless...

I must say I have never regretted those decisions.

So, maybe my answer is right there. Still, though, there are questions of lost opportunities, and of throwing the baby out with the bath water.
 
Maintaining Absolute Faith
If I were to continue on the path of absolute faith, which in the case of working with healers implies trusting in what they say, suggest and do, in one sense, everything would be “fine.”
 
Maybe better. Maybe this is the way to go, in fact.

But there’s always another part of me that in the end wants to rely on myself, my knowledge and thinking. My sense of what’s good for me.
 
It’s the same with my relationship with the Divine.

Relationship with the Divine
In my life I have oscillated between complete surrender: "Whatever you think is best, I have no idea. Just take care of it, please,” and, “THIS problem only I can take care of,” so, “I’ve got this, G-d.”

On the one hand, we seem to have free will. On the other hand, and at the same time, I can also see everything as already having been decided.

So why even try?

Because even if this is all an illusion and a game, the illusion and game are that we are individual human beings with will and the ability to act.

We cannot leave everything to some divine force. WE have to somehow get the food, put the spoon in our mouth, put on our clothes, step into the shower.

Whether G-d or a doctor, or anyone or thing we give power to, the questions are the same. We are in a paradoxical world of self, other, and unity. There is no one answer. Life is a dance, the answers and truths prancing about, evading capture.

How to Reconcile Doubt
When my medical bio-magnetism practitioner tells me something that doesn’t jibe with what I suspect, what do I do? Does it mean he’s a fraud, that he’s wrong, that he’s made a mistake? Can that fit into my need for safety and trust? Could he be good but also in need of revision sometimes?

If I receive information through the muscle testing that I don’t believe, does it mean I’m wrong? Do I always trust the muscle test and the tester over my own sense? 

I love when things flow, and I fear panic when the foundation upon which I’m standing, shifts and breaks apart. Will I be safe? Am I safe? Was I ever, or was I a fool?

If I leave this work, am I giving up too soon? Or am I doing a good job of listening to myself?
 
What I’ve decided for today is to take what makes sense to me of his suggestions, and discard what I know from experience is not tolerated by my body.

In this way I am in relationship with the practitioner, the information, my body and sense of me. We all exist, and all is constantly moving, not all or nothing. And it is complicated, the multi-leveled issues of health and well-being.

And there is no perfect that lasts, unchanging.

There is no Perfect that Lasts, Unchanging
I can fall into the blissful union of faith, orgasmic in the losing of my sense of self and the joining with the cosmos. But in the end, I come back to myself, my body, the experience of me – no matter how illusionary and ephemeral it is. It’s what I have, here in this life and place of learning by practicing being human.

Me the faithful, me the doubtful, me the partner to my body. 
 
I experience and juggle it all. I am the practitioner, the expert - ever-learning how to cope with the multi-facetedness of Life Here Now as me. And as Me.

Everything has its time, but when? Sometimes endings simply happen and we have no control over them.
 
But sometimes the time to accept, permit, let go and surrender is up to us. The challenge is how to know when and then how to release as gracefully as possible. 
 
Of course, many times we let go because we must. For the sanity or health of ourselves or another, or because there literally is no other choice.

Reading the Signs
My dog Leonita died recently and in honor of her I bought some beautiful, purple flowers on long thick stems from an older woman in the market. The flowers were Leonita’s color, expressing her essence precisely. They were perfect.

I placed the delicate blooms in a vase in the living room where I’d see them every day. They were long-lasting flowers, but everything has it’s time.

After about 10 days, I noticed some of the flowers were beginning to sag and wither.

Several days later, some petals lay on the surface around the vase.

I wondered, “Is it time to let these flowers go?”

I gathered the cool firm stems in my hand and ventured outdoors with them, toward the garden compost. 
 
But then, I couldn’t do it. It didn’t seem right to put these flowers, still with a great deal of life emanating from them, in the garbage.
 
I turned around and returned them to their vase, clipping the ends a bit, in case they had started to dry and seal in their little foray out of water.

The flowers continued a few more days like this, shedding petals now and then. That was acceptable and pretty to me, so I let them be.

The Moment to Release
Then came a time when it seemed the flowers really did not have much vivacity left in them. All the flowers were drooping, drying on their stems. A puddle of petals lay around the vase. 

​The flowers had passed their prime. There was still some life force flowing through them, but they were more dead than alive.
 
It was time to let them go. To say good-bye to the initial period of bidding farewell to and grieving the death of Leonita.

I carried the bunch outside, a trail of purple fluttering to the ground as I walked.

I was ready to deposit the flowers into the garden compost bin. They had served their purpose. And although endings and changings are often difficult, they are also natural.
 
Everything and one has it’s time.

Time to Move Forward
It was time to move forward, into life without Leonita. Into life with more strength and open-heartedness and understanding.

I surrendered the past weeks and said good-bye to this representation of my grieving.

I returned to the living room and lovingly gathered the dry petals. I scooped them into the muslin bag where dry rose petals await being sprinkled over her remains, one day soon.
 
This is moving through life.

Through this small experience, I contacted the feeling of when it’s enough. When it’s time. When the life of something, in this case a bouquet of flowers, is expressing its time has passed.
 
A poignant and conscious moment of letting go and surrendering to a death, an ending.

Honoring Endings in Modern Western Society...Not
In our culture, endings and death are not readily accepted and honored as a natural process in the cycle of life. We are not taught or practiced at it.
 
And so, such a seemingly insignificant example of life’s passing and the appropriateness of moving on served me as a real-time reminder that it’s okay.

Death and endings is normal, inevitable, sometimes sad and challenging, but also, simply THE WAY.

In reality, endings happen all day long. We end a task. The meal is prepared. The meal is eaten. The dishes are washed and the kitchen cleaned.

We move onto a new beginning, the next activity. And that too has a life-span.

And so it all ends. But also time moves and transforms into the birth of the next thing.

And as I heard yesterday on a favorite podcast, "We have no control over what happens in life. We can only control how we deal with it. May we all find the strength to embrace and move through everything that life throws at us."
 
The first part of the quote I had heard so many times before that I take it for granted. (Though do I take it IN?) The final sentence however struck me. I reflected, “Maybe this is the meaning of life: To move through all that happens, embracing it with strength and surrender.”
 
With a sense of relief, hope and gratitude, I contemplated, “Maybe that’s enough, because our lives happen, and we can’t control or stop that. Embracing and finding strength to move through what life throws at us might really be the best and most we can do.”

I was recently asked, “Do people use minimalism as an escape mechanism?”

My response was as follows:  

​I’m sure some do - as life is full of everything.

​What I fear, more, is that many use minimalism as a way to shame themselves and curl away from the delicious, abundant juiciness of life.

Minimalism as a denial of materialism
Minimalism often seems hard and cold and like a withholding or denial of materialism.

Nevertheless, that motivation toward minimalism holds valid points: Materialism, consumerism and Industrial Age thinking that has tried to control nature and deny the divine - all that has created the very situation and untenable mess modern culture has created for itself.

Sacrificing pleasure and joy for correctness and austerity 
I think one has to be careful not to deny pleasure and what brings joy in life as exchange or sacrifice for being “correct”, responsible, and austere. Unless that is one’s true nature and feels truly nourishing, healthy and harmonious!

Looking into your cultural programming and brainwashing
We do live in a physical world. We are physical beings. So, my invitation would be for folks to investigate the way they’ve been living, yes. Look into the programming and brainwashing by culture and even their/your families, and come to your own, deep, true and honest view. I have a free Intentional Living jumpstart worksheet to help you in that process.
​
And eventually, or all at once if that serves you, make changes to live in accordance with your values, while honoring your joys and passions – all in balance.

This can be a difficult road and process. And I remember for me, I knew I was entering into territory that would threaten and exclude me from familiar and cultural support.

So, I created a Voluntary Simplicity Support Group in the city where I lived - just for this purpose. It was so helpful to have community and kindred spirits, fellow seekers and sensitive souls, to share, explore, bounce ideas off of, learn from and with. We did this for over eight years.

Courage to live life my own way
The experience gave me the courage to live life my own way. In the process, I became a leader and model of simple living (called voluntary simplicity at that time) where I lived.

I certainly have continued to follow my heart and values in the life I now enjoy in an indigenous mountain village in Mexico.

My book, “Calling Myself Home: Living Simply, Following Your Heart and What Happens When You Jump” is the story of this journey - where I came from, what I went through, and where and how I arrived into a new life in an old world - beyond any fiction I could have made up.

I also coach, teach and (in the works) lead retreats to help support midlife folks in their simple living transition and journey - to their most fulfilling, true to them, soulful life.

​But you, dearest, are you sacrificing joy and pleasure for "correctness" and austerity? If so, I encourage you to inquire  within your heart about the beliefs and burdens you've chosen and picked up along the way. Do they serve? And what would be a gentler, softer, self-loving way for you to live out the rest of your days?

If you are interested in, grappling with, actively seeking or considering a move towards living simply or minimalistically, here are some other articles I've written that specifically address minimalism vs. simple living. Definitely worthwhile food for thought.

Click on the links to read these articles:

Do you think you could adapt a minimalist lifestyle?

Are You a Yes or a No Woman?

Are You A Minimalist? What Do You Own Or Don't Own That Gives You Contentment?
​
How Does Minimalist Lifestyle Contribute to our Society from an Environmental Standpoint?

Earthquake Post Shock

​My parents were both artists. I loved my dad’s bronze, emotive sculptures. My mom’s artwork, however I didn’t appreciate.
 
Oh, I appreciated that my mom was a passionate, creative woman who welded, sculpted, designed one of a kind jewelry and painted into the wee hours.
 
I loved having a studio in the house with access to all sorts of materials, learning and creative expression.
 
What I didn’t appreciate was my mom’s outrageous concepts, compositions and color combinations.

My mom and I shared art – both as writers and as visual artists. It was where we met most most joyously and easily. 

I didn’t tell her, but I think she gathered – that I didn’t care for or appreciate her art. It was so….unpretty, out-of-the-box and  disturbing.
 
I remember when she proudly hung her latest painting next to the piano where I practiced daily. It was a large square painting with black spray paint covering the outer third of the canvas, petering out with cloudlike edges, revealing a grayish white background in the central portion. Then, in precise hard lines was painted a scarlet red set of lips – mouth or vagina – I’m not sure. And coming out through these labia, a torn white lace hankie.
 
Between songs, I studied this anomaly on the wall next my piano bench. I didn’t get it. And I didn’t like it. The painting wasn’t pretty. It was strange.
 
My mom’s latest work of art didn’t make sense to me. I thought it was silly. Funny, even.  So I decided to play with it, to interact.
 
Next time I had a dried, wrinkled used piece of Kleenex, I tore part of it, elongating the stiff white tissue. I then carefully threaded one end of the Kleenex through the hole in the torn hankie, chuckling gleefully. I didn’t mean to be cruel, I was responding honestly to what the piece was to me: ridiculous.
 
My mom was upset and surely felt disrespected, because I got a talking to that drilled into me the absolute requirement to treat other’s art with respect.
 
 
Color
In the last years of my mother’s life we were sitting together discussing art, or maybe the way I dressed, and she told me I was a colorist.
 
I had never heard the term before, but I took it as a compliment and inherently understood the term to describe me appropriately.
 
Growing up amid my mom’s large car parts sculptures and paintings, I inwardly grimaced at her color combinations.
 
I described my mom’s use of color as dissonant. She juxtaposed sharp-colored forms with oddly contrasting strong tones. Every time I looked at my mom’s paintings I grimaced inwardly. Why so unpleasant? Did she realize what she was doing? And why was she using such colors that created in me a sensation of unrest?
 
Now I Understand
Then, tonight, I was weaving a Huichol “Ojo de Dios” (eye of God). The basket filled with pretty balls of yarn on my lap, I stared, aware that I had color decisions to make.
 
In winding the yarn around the crossed wooden sticks in a spiral fashion, every so often I’d feel the urge to switch to a new color.
 
Normally, my way has been to juxtapose colors as I would ingredients in cooking, especially when I’m preparing authentic Indian cuisine: what will create a harmonious, pleasing affect? What will bring upliftment and depth to the spirit?

Tonight though, as I gazed inside the basket waiting for the tone and theme of this Ojo de Dios to reveal itself to me as inspiration, I made a new type of color decision:
 
I decided to wind whichever color I felt like, regardless of how it would look, next to the previous color. So whatif convention or my normal sensibilities would not be soothed or touched warmly. In fact, GOOD if that does happen! I don’t needto please anyone or make anything pretty or conventionally pleasing. I don’t have to be smart. I can be without control. Wild and without order; the only order being my acceptance, admission and proclamation of the non-sensical, seemingly random, misfitting, unpretty, displeasing aspect of life.
 
Fuck, life is like this and so I can be too. There is no one to please, no one to impress. I’m winding yarn around sticks in the form of a cross and it’s okay not to be the best or even to be “right” in terms of my divine colorist knowing.

​This time, I’m letting it go. I’m choosing dissonance, like my mom. Because at this point – coming to terms with and even compassion for my hag-like qualities – I’m allowing a different and other sensibility to enter the creative process: this is how it is. It’s like this. And if you don’t like it, fine. And if you don’t get it, I don’t need you to. But maybe someday, sometime in your advanced years, you will get it too. And we will meet in our outrageousness. Like the Garuda, we will fly by one another on our endless flights, soaring in well-deserved and time-earned freedom.

When I was diagnosed with low thyroid function, I began to entertain the idea that I was now a flower wilting into middle age, that maybe I justcouldn’t do and sustain everything anymore. I considered that maybe at this point in my life I actually needed to slow down and do less in order to feel clear and connected. I considered that I was being carried along toward my own death, that this was part of the natural cycle and winding down of life. e notion of living a life in connection with myself and the Divine was relieving and calming. ​

​Then the masculine Do-er part of me kicked in. The part that wants to be able to do all I want for as long as I want, without limits. The part of me, surely influenced by cultural values and messages, that has an opinion that I should be able to continue “doing it all;” that to change my approach would be to cave in, give up, lose. I pushed the concept of a different lifestyle away and continued working full time, having a side business, and being strongly involved in my spiritual work and community. I functioned like this for several years, until one day at work, I was expected to stretch and expand one too many times. The membrane I had pulled so often finally began to tear and I began to believe that I could not continue in this way any longer. (excerpted from Calling Myself Home.)

This was the start of my real life change. The moment that defined how I would live the rest of my life. Would I continue to do do push force run hurry to be good enough and “successful” as a human being? (And where did I learn that?) Or would I listen within, follow my heart’s inclinations and life my life as I wanted to from now on. No matter what anyoneelse thought or spat?

I chose the latter, obviously – that is why I’m here writing to you, offering courses, coaching and my book. To help you come to the same point, and more, to take your hand and help you cross over the threshold. Into the life you want. The life of your making. The one you were made for and don’t want to die without having experienced fully.

Does that resonate?

Finding vs. Reclaiming
So, are we finding or reclaiming our midlife? 

Finding midlife implies you don’t or never had it, and you want it.

This could be the true state. In our modern western culture, we aren’t taught or modeled what midlife is about or looks like, especially as women.

We are expected to keep going, to never stop. 

What happens to aging then? How does our natural “maturation” process fit in to the “never die, never give up” cultural message? 
​
We are part of nature. Nature moves in cycles. It’s just that simple and that way.
We change. Our energy is less. Our consciousness is more. We’ve learned through our experiences, including regrets. We’ve served others for decades. 

Midlife is time for culling and harvesting our wisdom and moving in our own direction.

That takes strength, confidence and trust. Because our culture isn’t saying to do that. Likely your family and people you know aren’t all understanding and supporting the next volume that your life story is calling you toward.
You feel you need to findyourself at midlife. Because you don’t know what it is. No-one’s ever shown you. You feel alone in this. Only you’re not, because we’re all in this together.
​
This having-forgotten-what-is-womanhood–whatis moving through the stages of maiden, mother, crone? It’s all denied in our society. And so, if and that you’ve forgotten is not your fault. But it is something to grieve. And to stir awake. For your own fulfillment.

Reclaiming
It may be hard to think of the stage of midlife you find yourself in as a reclaiming. First, because you’ve never been in midlife before in this life, so how can you know what you haven’t experienced?

For some, and arguably for all of us, there is a seed, a knowing, maybe dormant, but it is our nature. It is the power and strength of what womanhood is. The aspect of the masculine/feminine/yin/yang duality we hold.

We’ve forgotten because it was drilled out of us by our patriarchal culture. Why do you think our European masculine thinking ancestors worked so hard to conquer and control nature, and to deny spirituality? Because the feminine, intangible, mysteriousness and power of life scared them. They didn’t know how to connect with it for no fault on their part. Their solution was to collectively find another way.

The way of mental, rational, logical, left-brain, scientific thinking. And all these masculine qualities (we all have both masculine and feminine aspects,) were put into focus and force to overtake the feminine, which some say had a direct and conscious affect on the suppression and negation of natural woman power and knowing. Case in point: the burning of witches, whose innate powers of healing and intuition were met with violent attempts at annihilation.
​
If you’re a woman whose ancestral witchy embers remain smoldering within, you may receive the midlife change as a reclaiming.

A third option
Perhaps the finding and igniting of your midlife, and the direction your path is showing you, meets at claiming. 

Claiming your wisdom and intuition. 

Claiming your right to determine your life from here on out. 

Claiming your responsibility to show up and exhibit wakefulness and intention in your world as the unique creature you are. 

If you are like me when you read those words, there is a hush, and chills. You are transported to and areroots in the cool, damp mother earth. So, let’s dig in right now. Not so simple or direct a process, especially when you’ve grown up in modern western patriarchal culture. 

Where is the compass? 
It’s here, right now, and the needle is pointing not in one of the cardinal directions, but clearly downward. Into the dark mysterious power and source of life. The unique ray and gravitational pull that flows from you to the core of the planet and back again.

This is where you can connect with what it yours to claim, now, finally, as a woman who has lived enough lies and is ready to drop that cloak. You, a woman whose peaceful, inner-affirming power is due.
 
To help you plunge ever deeper in this very moment, I’ve made a worksheet for you with prompts that will call you further into your unique and ancient wisdom. Click here now to receive your FREE "Claiming Your Crone" gift.

There's no cost, no obligation. I made Claiming Your Crone to help you deepen your connection with You at this stage in your journey, and to help you skip (or hobble) joyfully along your path as the YOU you are free and ready to claim, now. ❤️

S​omething that I noticed soon after arriving to Mexico in 2006 was the (to me) strange and inefficient way things were done here.
 
Example: At a little stand that is offering something novel like hamburgers. That’s all they make. You get a hamburger on a bun with ketchup and mustard if you want it.
 
Suppose you go up to the stand with three of your friends and each one of you place an order for a hamburger, all the same. The lady or man will start with the first hamburger, cooking it, heating the bun, making the sandwich, adding the condiments, and serve it. Then they will start cooking the second hamburger. It proceeds like this, with all the attention on the entire process of making each hamburger, one after the other.

​Incredulous at inefficiency
When I have seen this I feel incredulous. How can they be so inefficient? Don’t they know how to organize themselves? Don’t they see how we’re all waiting and now we can’t eat together? Don’t they understand that they could cook all four hamburgers at the same time and complete all four orders at once?
 
I’ve never understood this “way” that I observe here regularly, in various situations. It’s frustrating for me, but I have experienced a benefit as well:
 
Your unwavering attention….Ahhhhh
When it’s my turn to be served, all the attention is on me. One hundred percent, and the vender/clerk has all the time in the world to serve meand tend to my needs and desires. This feels good and I like it. It takes a long time to arrive at this moment, but as I wait in line for an excruciating amount of time, I sometimes console myself with the reminder that, while the employee seems extraordinarily slow and is taking sooooo long with that customer, “soon it will be myturn to receive that!”
 
My turn, my turn!
Yesterday I went to a pharmacy that sells good quality KN95 masks. Only one person is allowed in at a time and an elder woman was at the counter finishing up her purchase. I waited at the entrance, ready to pounce forward the second she got her change. Instead, the lady, who didn’t realize I was there waiting, (and now someone was waiting behind me, as well,) noticed a cosmetic product of interest in the glass case. She and the young woman behind the counter started to talk about that. The conversation went on for minutes. Nothing was purchased, and then the lady began to fumble with her bag, trying to close it and put it on her shoulder. This, too, seemed to take minutes. Clearly I am not a patient person. I tried to have compassion for her, reminding myself that I might be in the same place some day. Indeed, I’m sure I slow down the line many times as I try to zip up and quickly organize my backpack before hoisting it on my back and leaving a shop.
 
I waited anxiously – not because I was in a great hurry, only because I simply wanted to zip in, buy my mask and zip out. I knew how quick it could be. Instead, I waited until it was my turn. Finally, the older woman was all set and started to exit the pharmacy, noticing me as she neared.
 
It was my moment. I approached the nice lady and asked for a mask. She went to retrieve one and I waited, aware of the lady behind me in line, waiting at the entrance of the store. But it was my turn, I had the shopkeeper’s total attention. She had all the time in the world for me, and I enjoyed the deliciousness of the moment and the exchange. I was aware of the lady waiting outside but knew – I could take my time here because it was my time, my turn, and she’d have hers soon enough.

​Present moment and nothing less
What I appreciated in this exchange, similar to the hamburger making, is the complete attention in the present moment. There is no hurry. Only now, this experience, this exchange. 
 
Fluid order
And they are here for it, completely. There is something I value in that. Maybe it’s another example of the Mexican fluid “order” of things that is definitely not the calculated and fixed order I experience in the States. It’s mysterious, and I don’t understand it. Usually I don’t even feel it. But it seems there is an invisible flow, a pulse, that “they” all are in and aware of – which orchestrates and moves all the pieces – in the “divine right time.” 
 
Irresponsible, inefficient and unprofessional or…
I endeavor to feel and be in this flow as well. The way of the “Mexicans” (folks with indigenous Nahua roots where I live) has its own sense of time or timelessness. I often judge it as, irresponsible, inefficient and unprofessional. This is my perception. But I also experience the people in some other multi-dimensional interrelated flow than I. And they seem not only pretty happy, but interconnected and vibrant – with some vital energy flowing within and between them.
 
While the inefficiency that I perceive frustrates me often, being in The Flow is something I recognize, admire and long for.
 
I believe the current that many Mexicans in my midst seem to be carried by, is the same current and web that allowed their ancestors to understand and record the mechanism of the universe which materialized as the Aztec and Mayan calendars. I believe it is through clear present moment awareness that mysteries and energy flows and the interweaving of infinite threads and facets of the ALL – can be consciously experienced.
 
So, the family members that make one hamburger at a time at the roadside stand, the young clerk in the pharmacy who has complete focus on our exchange, with all the time that is required – not only exhibit a different way to me, they are teachers.

Perhaps part saving our present modern day world problems would be resolved, reorganized and adjusted if we were all to slow down and be fully with what is. Within ourselves, with nature, and with those beings who cross our path.​

I used to be afraid of winter. I dreaded the going within, the darkness I was sure to be confronted with there.
 
Then, one winter I made a project out of working through my attitude about winter.
 
That winter I read through "The Dark Side of the Light Chasers," by Debbie Ford.

I learned that the Universe is all one thing, with light and dark, duality, contrast.

I learned that everything is a mirror and that whatever triggers me is evidence of some aspect of me that I'm not at peace with.

This is a tool and truth that has stayed with me over the decades.

That winter, I healed my relationship with winter. I lost my fear and rejection of this natural part of the cycle of time, life and the year.

Now, I look forward to winter.

Now, I understand that the quiet, internal time of darkness, is necessary and natural and not to be feared nor rejected. On the contrary, I have learned, and continue to learn, that the yin, the feminine, and that which I fear and want to push away, out of existence - is in fact a treasure, and a magic doorway to all the riches I seek.
 
How Do You Feel About Winter?
How do you feel about winter? Is it your friend, or do you prefer to keep your distance, keep busy, stay in the masculine energy yang flow as much as possible?
 
Is the fear of Winter, of stillness in fact a fear of a representation of death?

Do you ignore the call from the cool dark earth to be quiet and listen, ear toward the ground?
 
Our culture and many of our upbringings emphasized productivity as part of the definition of a worthwhile life.

Have you ever doubted or questioned this? Would you dare to challenge the status quo? Would you feel like an ungrateful traitor to consider quiet time just for you? Purposefully non-productive?

Fear of Stillness
I used to be afraid to do nothing. Back in 2006, I spent five months in Guatemala. I thought I’d do volunteer work there. I didn’t especially want to, but it seemed like a nice thing to do. Volunteering in some NGO was what many foreigners like myself got involved in. So I tried.
 
I looked into various projects, but none of them really ignited my engine. And I have based my post-divorce life on doing what I feel passionate about. 
 
Once volunteering was cast aside, I set to pursuing what really did interest me: In Mexico I had been introduced to the ancient metaphysical view (called cosmovision) and traditions. This information, these teachings, lit and fed my fire. I decided to see what I could learn about the old ways in Guatemala. I received several leads, but I felt a reserve, as if the door was not fully open. Unlike where I had been in Mexico, where I felt this information was accessible and vital.
 
So I gave up trying to gain entre to the ancient wisdom of the Maya.
 
I took a language immersion course at a school down the road, and I liked that. But eventually that too, ended, and I was left with, “What to do?”
 
All doors seemed to be closed to me. There was nothing for me to do.  So I sat.
 
Sitting Still and Doing Nothing
I sat on the bench in front of my bungalow and looked at the grass growing in my front yard. I beheld its vibrant shade of green. I took in the blue waves on the lake. I sat with the warm breeze pushing gently at my cheeks. I observed the emergence of flowers at the side of my yard. Sometimes I walked to the water on sandy narrow paths. Sometimes I sat on shore side rocks where ladies hip deep in hitched up skirts beat their clothes.
 
I did this for months. I sat and was. Something began to change.

The Change
It was as if a show was happening before my eyes. I saw and felt veils lifting and floating away.
 
Layers of perceptions about who I was and what life was. Translucent veils slid off and I began to have a different sense of who I was and what life was.
 
Me and life were one. I felt quiet, calm. 
 
My days, my life, were simple and clear. I no longer had to do something to feel alive, valid, worthwhile.
 
And I no longer feared being still with myself, worried about what might come up. What I might discover or feel.
 
That was the greatest gift of my time in Guatemala: I am no longer afraid to just be. It is quite lovely, actually.

​An unusually small group sat on ledges, walls and rocks, waiting quietly in small family groups. The padrinos of the event passed out atole and tamales to warm us up.
​
The mayordomo from the church still hadn't arrived with the estandarte (banner with image of La Guadalupana painted upon the large cloth attached to a long pole). We couldn't begin without that so we continued waiting. 
 
I overheard some people talking about how our village is not having the normal 12 days of processions, unlike some other outlying villages which would be conducting them as usual. 
 
One woman commented, "It is because we're not allowed to have our Masses in the church that COVID isn't going away. What has happened to people's faith?" She went on to express her feeling that continuing with these traditions is important for the future generations. Noting the small crowd assembled, she lamented her concern that the youth of today won’t know the traditions, that the old ways will get lost, and that part of the problem is the outsiders.
 
I was standing on the periphery of this conversation and found it intriguing that the comments about outsiders was not hidden at all from my ears. I wondered if I was not considered "one of them," or whether saying what was perceived and felt honestly was simply okay for them: nothing to be hidden; on the contrary, something to be heard. Either way, I appreciated knowing these true perceptions and opinions of at least one member of the community, and I imagine she is not alone in her view.
 
In our village I see more and more outsiders - mostly Mexicans. If you’re wondering how Mexicans can be considered outsiders in Mexico, stay with me here.

What are Outsiders?
During the early, urgent months of COVID, a distinction was made in our village between the locals – those from this place, and those who have moved here. Regardless of cultural heritage, age, social standing, beliefs and practices – the second category, (myself included,) are all “avecinados”. For a brief time, announcements emanating from the loudspeaker at the mayor’s office were for the first an only time I know of, made in Spanish AND English, demonstrating realization of our presence and the particular type of impact we make in the community. 
 
The Impact of the “Outsiders”
Why, in this pre-dawn conversation, were “Outsiders” mentioned as being to blame for the relatively tiny group gathered to conduct an age old ceremony? 
 
Here is my take on it. "Outsiders" represents the modern western world with all its consumerism, materialism, ways of thinking, speed, technology, virtual interaction (vs. in person in the moment with the world - the nature, beings, people in your midst). The influence of the Outsiders is increasingly causing separation from the natural world and how to be in harmonious conscious relationship with it – both “there” and in tiny villages throughout the world, thanks to internet and satellite TV.

Did you ever consider that you could beautify your home while attracting what you value, appreciate and desire? 

Our homes, the spaces we inhabit and which hold and protect us, have the capacity to also be sacred energy portals for our dreams and intentions. 

Altars and Home Decoration
 
For me, altars are part of how I decorate my home.

At the same time, altars  honor, proclaim, and remind me of who I am and what I love.

My altars also serve to organize and categorize my various interests and values.

Practical yet powerful and yes, magical.  Doesn't that sound easy and fun?

​How exactly do altars make your living environment a personalized projection of and magnet for what you appreciate, value and desire? 

Altars and Living Intentionally
Think of altars in your home as raising the intentionality of your life.

While making altars are beautifying for your outer living environment, they simultaneously demonstrate your uniqueness - nourishing your inner beauty.

My Introduction to Altars
When I separated from my husband over 25 years ago, I moved into my own apartment – the top floor of a funky old house near the university. 
 
Unlike the suburbs where I had been living, this house had wooden floors, moulding around the doors, and three fireplaces. I loved it.

And I loved decorating this home – including scavenging interesting furniture that the students would leave on the curbs at the end of every semester.
 
One day a dear friend came to visit. She was much younger than I, a pagan, and wise beyond her years.
 
She went from room to room getting to know the space and concluded by stating, “You have little altars everywhere.”
 
“I do?” I replied.
 
I hadn’t thought of the small, artfully arranged collections of various objects on the fireplace mantles and bookshelves as altars – I had simply gathered and displayed things that were important to me and which I found beautiful, together.
 
“Rachel’s” recognition of my inherent spiritual knowing (witchiness), opened a door to myself revealing awareness and honoring of my own innate wisdom.

Since then, I still create little altars everywhere. I do so naturally. 
 
In terms of “witchiness”, I am not trying to make anything happen with or through my altars. 
 
What are Altars for?
What are altars for, then? What purpose do they serve? Are they mundane or spiritual? How do they “work”?

• Altars are expressions and declarations of who you are. 

 

• Altars help organize and categorize your various interests and sensibilities.

 

• Altars add style and character to your home environment. 

Every time you pass by an altar, it naturally reminds you of who I are and reinforces that.

• Some altars represent appreciation of things you love.

Collections of shells, rocks, feathers, miniature kitchen utensils are all examples of altars based on things I love. Each altar brings special memories and honors different aspects of our being.

• Some altars are functional as well as tools to help you do and live what you value.
  
  I have an altar for dancing. I keep it in my living room where there is space for dancing. In this case the altar space is a large ceramic bowl which holds sacred and fun dance objects such as rattles, feathers, ribbon, and even a jump rope!
  
  Every time I pass by my dancing altar it is a reminder and invitation to me to dance and move and express myself whenever I feel like it – as I know for me movement is a tool for bringing up and out emotions that don’t have words, yet which reside in my body and which I want to know and release.

Making Altars for Manifesting Dreams and Desires
You know how oftentimes there are actions you know would be good for you, but you keep not doing them? 
 
Altars can raise the intentionality of your life.
 
Altars and Intention
What are activities you want to have more of in your life? Make an altar for that and see what happens!
 
Want more travel? Make a travel altar. Put objects from past vacations and images of future intended ones. Want to keep a journal? Get or make a pretty journal. Choose writing utensils that feel easy and which work for you including their color, texture, thickness, and weight. 
 
Every time you pass by this altar, the gentle breeze of that dream will caress you, making it ever more part of your energetic patterning. The more you embody what you desire, the more it becomes you.

What you see, think, feel, say, write, draw, dance, take in and do – is what you become. The more you take in what you desire through all your senses, the more “that” becomes you. You become that. 

​Caring for your Altar
Like your life, your altar is a creative process, ever-changing, evolving and growing.
 
Now you get to watch and enjoy how your altar brings you:

• Inspiration
• Beauty
• Connection to your essence
• Affirmation of how you love what you love
• Organization and order

 
Other Types of Altars
When I think of altars, I think of them traditionally as devotional power spots.
 
And they are. With intention, love and authenticity – even more so.
 
My meditation/prayer altar for instance, is much different from what I have described in this article. That category of altar is a place of refuge and connection at the deepest level. 
 
Think of churches, synagogues and other religious places of worship. Bring to mind your most favorite place in nature where you feel safe, held and a sacred presence. If you are inspired to make an altar of this sort, let me know and I might write an article about that!
 
Till then, if you’re up for some home decoration and bringing magic and power in to the process, give the tips above a try and leave a comment about how it went!

Are you wanting to add more grounded spirituality into your life? Do you enjoy creative projects such as the one in this article? Are you ready to take steps into your most embodied next chapter? I specialize in and love coaching women such as this. If this you're curious and attracted, you can find out more about how coaching with me works and apply for a free consultation here.

What is selfishness?

Paying attention to yourself at the exclusion of others?
 
Others may balk, argue with or judge your new behavior, if they’re accustomed to being the focus of your loving attention and care.
 
It may feel to them and to you cruel and drastic – but is it? Or is it just a shift in how you use and direct your precious life force energy?

​This can be challenging and it can be healthy, too – rebalancing the equation.

Rebalancing the equation so that you’re in it and weigh at least equal to others.
 
You may have come to a place of burnout in various ways. Burnt out from focusing on others and tending to their needs, desires and comforts. But what about you? We all know that giving and giving until you’re running on fumes and adrenaline isn’t sustainable nor healthy; though the energy surge can feel exciting and oddly enlivening for awhile.
 
But at what cost?

Now’s the time to care for you, to tend to your needs, desires and even comforts.
 
All the inherent feminine gifts you’ve shared with others live within you, and you deserve to be recipient of them as well.

​Don’t dry up and be a wrinkled prune.
Our skin might be changing on the outside, but self-care and juiciness is holographic – across the board.
 
You’ve arrived at the stage of life where your thirst, your inner dryness, is calling to you and doesn’t want to be thwarted.
 
If you’re worried about focusing on you now to find out:
Who am I now, really?
What do I long for, crave and need to feel juicy and alive?
What will I regret if I never do it?
What kind of model do I want to be for the future women and even crones?
What do I wish I had been modeled by elder women when I was a younger woman?
What legacy do I want to leave?
 
These questions and so many more can help you see and feel what you need.
 
In order to have the courage and willingness to step forward onto this new path revealing itself to you….

What gets in your way?
If you’re like many midlife women, the answer is “guilt.”
 
Guilt at paying so much attention to yourself.
 
Fear that others will disapprove.
 
Anxiety at the risk of loss – of the status quo of comfort and relationships.
 
That they’ll say you’re SELFISH.

But here’s a different perspective for you:
 What if this looking within and tending to who you are and what you want and need now, in order to feel complete and satisfaction with your life is different that what you’ve been taught and thought?

What if we do two things right now?

1. Reframe selfishness
We can erase the connotation of selfishness as being a negative act and replace it with another option: Selfishness can be redefined now as 

• Paying attention to your needs
• Tending to your longings and dreams
• Giving yourself the time you need to develop different aspects of yourself calling for attention
• Spending money/using some of your resources on activities that will be educational and nourishing for these new (or old) parts of you asking for recognition and to be valued.
• A healthy attitude recognizing and valuing your unique place and role on the planet

 
2. Consider selfishness as not only an act of self love, but of responsibility.
Because, you’ve been given the body, upbringing, learnings, gifts and passions that you have and nobody else on the earth has exactly what you have. No one. It’s uniquely yours.
 
And so, why not embrace your you-ness and allow it to flourish?

Not only allow it, but nourish it, help it along to it’s fullest, most exquisite and embodied expression.

When the two come together – it yields

• Bliss
• Empowerment
• Connection to your essence and simultaneously Divinity

 
Not felt all the time, but when you experience it – there is nothing, in my experience, more satisfying. When I am in this place, doing what I feel called to do, which I can do, which I love to do – there is a feeling of timelessness and completeness. Satisfaction and profound gratitude.
 
And I bet that you’d agree – experiencing that is well worth the cost of embarking on your glorious, well-deserved, timely and appropriate path of healthy selfishness.