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Down and Out

By |Mar. 19, 2024|

Just as nobody warned me how my easy life would turn upside down with the birth of a child, I apparently didn’t get the memo that it could be almost unbearable to grow old. The big difference is that with a child things got better, much better—lovely really...

What does self-love look like anyway?

By |Feb. 13, 2023|

A few posts ago, I reported that, when asked by my helpful coach Amanda about a future worth getting well for, I couldn’t picture a life without my beloved Trond. That realization shocked us both, but it didn’t mean I wanted to die; it meant I wasn’t yet ready to live again. Why get well when I couldn’t imagine what a meaningful life would look like?…

Who knew?

By |Jan. 25, 2023|

Who knew it would ever be a struggle to get two arms into a simple fleece? Or get up from a chair or pull up my pants? Hard to cut a piece of chicken or hold a cup of coffee? Or safely take a walk? And what about reading the tiny words in the many magazines I’ve had to cancel? Who knew? The Suzanne of even two years ago didn’t know. She hadn’t a clue. She can hardly believe it now. The good news is some of my problems might be correctable, if you don’t mind a little uncertain surgery.…

Sticks and Stones

By |Dec. 31, 2022|

“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Whoever says that and means it is either stone-cold oblivious or fully enlightened. I seem to be somewhere in between. The day before yesterday I was hit with a barrage of verbal abuse the likes of which I’ve never before experienced, thank God. Although I think I’m handling it pretty darned well…

My Burning Question

By |Dec. 10, 2022|

The other day, as I lay resting, which is pretty much all I am able to do other than eat and sleep, up from the bowels of my being came a powerful question. It’s such a big question, so critical to my future, that I am not quite sure if I dare to ask it…here, out loud. What, dear God, if the answer is no? But here we go…

On This Strangest Resurrection Morning

By |Apr. 17, 2020|

As I lay safely in bed Easter morning, this is the short Covid prayer/lament that came to me: As I look forward (so to speak) to the long gray hair that will add 10 years to my appearance, I work to feel as blessed as I absolutely am by my white, upper middle class privilege, in the midst of what for many is the nightmare of ten lifetimes.…

Uh Oh, It’s Christmas!

By |Dec. 19, 2019|

Eleven years ago the life coach I then was offered these words of would-be wisdom for dealing with the mother of all holidays. Have at my words and please share yours via comments.

I woke up the other 2008 late fall morning with that odd mix of anxiety and anticipation I’ve come to expect at this time of year. How can I do it all? Do I even want to? Why can’t it just be over? But strangely, those pesky questions arise alongside a mysterious, barely-contained joy…

Fighting The River is No Way to Live, Suzanne!

By |Jul. 24, 2017|

“Stop swimming, stop fighting.” These words rang loud and clear in the ears of my beloved teacher, Swami Kripalvanand, as he was swept away by the monsoon-swollen river Yamuna in India more than a half century ago. These same words, which came to him in the voice of his beloved teacher Dadaji, have lately come to me, if only from the old, familiar voice in my head.

“Stop swimming, stop fighting.” This simple admonition, which may have saved Bapuji’s life because he listened and let the water carry him safely to shore, might also save mine.…

A Death in the Family

By |Feb. 21, 2017|

If you lose your partner, the common wisdom is you don’t make any other major changes for three years. Not unless you want to go way off the stress test charts, and maybe expire yourself. No, don’t worry, I have not lost my beloved husband Trond, who is alive and well and splitting firewood or something of the sort outdoors even on this winter day. And thank God for him!

Trond and I are alive all right, but there is a pall hanging over us, which you too must be feeling.…

Activists for Love

By |Jan. 31, 2017|

Words crowd my head like gulls to bread on the beach. But having been silent for so long, I wonder if I can speak again. And after all that has happened—to me and to the world as we knew it (or thought we did)—I wonder if I can say anything to add value to the great wave of voices already being unleashed by the divisive election of one Donald J. Trump as President of our United States. Only time and the courage to sit here and write will tell. Here we go!…

A Call for Post-Election Healing from Charles Eisenstein

By |Nov. 16, 2016|

My friend, writer and radical thinker Charles Eisenstein has written far and away the most illuminating, helpful piece ever about our terrifying US election. I implore you to read through to the powerful ending. Please digest, share and weigh in, so that the deep and difficult healing conversation he points to can begin. Can't wait to reconnect with you and see where it takes us! We are indeed stronger together.

The Election: Of Hate, Grief, and a New Story, By Charles Eisenstein

Normal is coming unhinged. For the last eight years it has been possible for most people (at least in the relatively privileged classes) to believe that society is sound, that the system, though creaky, basically works, and that the progressive deterioration of everything from ecology to economy is a temporary deviation from the evolutionary imperative of progress.

A Clinton Presidency would have offered…

Start Where You Are and Follow Your Heartbreak

By |Jan. 19, 2016|

A fresh year. A clean slate. Two rousing reminders—Start where you are and, still more arrestingly, Follow your Heartbreak. With that, I may have emerged from the fertile, if often disquieting void and set one foot on an encouraging new path of service. We shall see.

Start where you are? Follow your heartbreak? Why did those particular calls to action, one simple, one pretty darned strange, get my full attention the other day, resonating deep into my soul like nothing else lately has. And why should they perhaps resonate deep into yours? To answer, I will back up.

“Start where you are” and “Follow your heartbreak” were phrases given to me during a recent group phone conversation called The Gathering, offered by The True Purpose Institute. Start where you are is the title of a book by the Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron, with whom I am familiar. The plea to follow your heartbreak originated, I think, with Andrew Harvey, a spiritual teacher whose long ago book Hidden Journey had a transformative effect on my spiritual growth. But I heeded the call of those resonant phrases only last Wednesday, from a man I’d never heard of…

A Confession of Neediness

By |Sep. 8, 2014|

If I had a prayer, it would be this: “God, spare me from the desire for love, approval, or appreciation. Amen.” In my last blog post, I shared that quote from Byron Katie’s brilliant book, Loving What Is, saying that it needs to be my prayer. I also said “As long as I look to anyone outside myself for love, approval or appreciation, I am bound to be disappointed or afraid of being.” Amen to that, too!

At the time, I was experiencing the most outlandish verbal assaults ever directed my way. They came out of the blue from an old friend who purports and has reason to appreciate me, and whom I really want to support. Pretty disturbing stuff, even though I understand it isn’t personal.

I return to Katie’s prayer again now because I realized this morning there’s another situation that calls me to heed her drastic stance. Although the spurning I am experiencing this time around is far more subtle and less critical to my long-term wellbeing than the other one (and it may not be spurning at all), there is a distinct parallel between my unhappy reactions that bares examination.…

Joy From Suffering

By |Jun. 17, 2014|

Oh, dear God, the things we do to each other—and to ourselves—the ongoing Boko Haram and ISIS massacres being but the terrible tip of the iceberg. I can barely stand it sometimes, and yet I must, if I am to be of service to the very ones among us who destroy each other. I’ve got to be able to stand it, and to stand in joy in spite of it all.

I’ve got to be able to stand it because the nasty stuff we do to each other is as much a part of the earthy, mortal mix we call life on Planet Earth as our good times and acts of greatness. We are all of it. It’s a complete package, the good right along with the bad and the ugly. We can’t have the stuff we want without embracing the shit that we don’t. And I’ve got to stand in joy in spite of it all because: is there any doubt we need more joy in the world? Also, I’m good at joy.…

Summer Lessons of Sticks and Stones

By |Sep. 18, 2013|

Who said words can never hurt you?

Well, they were wrong, at least about me. For almost two months I’ve been balanced on the edge of a sword that showed up laser-like out of nowhere and is only now showing signs of letting me off. Mean words have been part of it, and they hurt. I am here to discover my part in it, however great or small.…

Please come on my elephant ride!

By |May. 28, 2013|

I am doing my little happy dance and eager to share the good news. I just submitted my first blog post to the wonderful, wildly popular elephantjournal.com. It’s a reader-created open forum bringing together people like us who work & play to create an enlightened society.

Elephant has more than 100,000 likes on Facebook and presents the possibility of a whole new league for my work.…

The Cautionary Tale of Mother Teresa

By |May. 14, 2013|

We cannot give what we do not have. Many of you agree. But your illuminating comments showed me it’s also true that we cannot have what we do not give. Yep, and I’ll explain that too.

First though, It’s so critical to understand the role self-love plays in devotional service I have to say more before exploring the flip side. As some of you wise sister travelers suggest—and as I watched coaching clients learn—trying to love and provide for others without loving ourselves first and last simply doesn’t work. We really, really cannot give what we do not have. Why?…

Radical self-acceptance—are you ready?

By |Apr. 24, 2013|

How do we get so friggin’ happy that we can enjoy the gifts of an abundant life, with joy to spare and share? That’s my question. Last post I decided happiness ain’t happening till we’re happy with ourselves. We aren’t talking narcissism or self-indulgence here. We’re talking about learning to accept, nurture and love—really love—our singular selves in a way we rarely dare do.

So let’s talk about it!…

Happiness is an Inside Job

By |Mar. 18, 2013|

Happiness is the new black. The topic is showing up everywhere, from NPR interviews to the latest AARP magazine cover story. What makes us happy and why? It’s the question du jour. So how about we get to the bottom of all this happiness talk—and get in on being happier too!

I know, I know. We would-be-enlightened ones aren’t supposed to be so interested in happiness; equanimity is the thing and, on a rare day, as I point out in my book, there’s bliss. There’s also the question of what we mean by happiness…

Angel’s Facebook Fast

By |Feb. 25, 2013|

Among the many insightful comments on my last post came one that I’m making the focus this time. It’s from Angel Pricer, a young writer who’d been longing to share herself and her “word soup” with a wider world. I am happy to oblige! HEEEEERE’s Angel:

Thank you, Suzanne, for your invitation to expand on my last blog comment about how totally liberating it was to disengage from social media. Turns out you were complicit in a universal conspiracy designed to get me to read my journal for what yearned to be plucked out, added to what I call my word soup, and shared. Here’s my social media withdrawal story.…

Ours is a breadcrumb journey

By |Feb. 5, 2013|

Two different worlds we live in. That’s the 1950s tune my head and heart have been singing to each other in a growing rift that’s been tearing me apart. So I’ve made the hard decision to start letting the heady world go and see where my heart might lead. It’s scaring the shit out of me.

Am I avoiding something I should stick with to “succeed,” my head keeps wondering? Or am I veering back into territory where I really belong? I’m still not sure if it’s a siren or wake-up call I’m heeding here and I have no idea yet where I’m headed next.…

Ikaria: Siren call, wakeup call, or what?

By |Jan. 14, 2013|

Is Ikaria merely my latest sun, tempting the Leo/Icarus I am to fly too close and burn? Ouch! That was the radical conclusion of my friend Ron Blouch after reading I was smitten with a Greek island in my last post. I felt I’d been punched in the stomach or caught with my pants down. (To understand why, you may want to read that post.)

Maybe Ron’s right, I thought, maybe I’ve simply leapt into “the grass is greener territory” big-time, to avoid staying stuck where I am. How disturbing, and how silly of me!

I sat with Ron’s words and the complex feelings they evoked until more clarity emerged.…

Goodbye Icarus, hello Ikaria!

By |Dec. 10, 2012|

“The Island Where People Forget to Die.” That’s the title of a NY Times article my brother Sam sent me several weeks ago. I began reading it on my iphone and, though I had to squint like crazy to make out the itty-bitty type, I devoured the whole enchanting story as if my life depended on it. Maybe it does.

Every now and then—once in five or ten years—I get such a huge hit from something that happens to me I know I’ve got to act on it. Sometimes I realize right away what I’m supposed to do and sometimes I haven’t a clue. But the electric current shooting through the heart and soul of me leaves no doubt that the wake-up call ball has landed in my court. It happened big-time when I met Ilana Rubenfeld and it happened even bigger-time when I first laid eyes on Bapuji.…

Breaking up is hard to do, Part III: A soul-wrestling finale

By |Nov. 28, 2012|

I woke up much too early this morning to find myself grieving two related losses: the long-ago, lingering connection with my former spiritual home and, with it, the death of a dream I’ve apparently harbored—that I might some day, somehow, feel I could be actively part of it again.

In my last post, I asked what Bapuji would do if he’d been completely ignored as I was. I decided he’d have dealt with it by letting go and letting God. I suggested he’d have expeditiously and gracefully returned himself to the more essential, less worldly business of self-realization.…

Breaking up is hard to do, Part II: What would Bapuji do?

By |Nov. 6, 2012|

What would Bapuji do indeed? That question is the chorus for this “Breaking up” blog saga of mine. Last time, I shared how a virtual cold shoulder by my once beloved spiritual home left me saddened and confused, about my relationship with Kripalu and my life purpose as a whole.

My dilemma seems small now, even to me, in light of the suffering unleashed by the Super Storm, not to mention the exigencies of the election. And before that, your comments were balm for my wounds. Still, I am moved to continue my strange saga, eager as I am to get to the bottom of it…

Breaking up is hard to do, Part I: My Kripalu Conundrum

By |Oct. 22, 2012|

“What would Bapuji do?” That zinger of a question popped right out the other day, not of my mouth, but of my beloved husband Trond’s. It was exactly the right question to help us cut to the chase in the peskiest conundrum I may have faced since becoming a published author. The problem has been building for years and is coming to a gut-wrenching head.…

Falling Into Fall. Ouch!

By |Sep. 24, 2012|

Oh, the irony! What did I do the day after I decided it was time to start up this blog again? With a post that began “I’ve realized I need to slow down and put aside everything that isn’t in the interest of my peace” no less? I flew headlong down a bunch of steep steps and landed SPLAT on my face. Peace Smeace. Seems I wasn’t getting my own message.

As a Facebook friend smartly asked about my face-defacing fall: “Was it a slow down or a watch where you are going message?” Both, I knew at once. While I am not a big believer in “signs,” the fall stopped me dead in my tracks all right.…

Am I awake and making my difference? Maybe.

By |Jul. 31, 2012|

It’s time to wake up, fall in love with ourselves and make the difference we’re born and dying to make. If my book Bare Naked at the Reality Dance had a subtitle, that would be it. I also often say this: If I can do it, so by God can you. The implication is that I’m awake and self-loving enough to be doing what I’m here to do, and that if we hang together, you might gain ground in those departments too. Maybe so and maybe it’s time to take a look at what’s behind what I say.…

Seeing the light again, thanks to you

By |Jul. 16, 2012|

Time flies when we’re having fun, and sometimes when we aren’t. So here goes another post. And hey, after my share of dark days (inside and out), you might be glad to hear that sun and fun are coming around again, and—if I may stay with the clichés—a spot of light beckons from the end of the tunnel. What’s changed? Why do I wake up recent mornings with a budding sense of joy instead of the dread that’s been my wont of late? Do such sudden turnabouts happen to you?…

To give love we’ve got to live love

By |Jul. 3, 2012|

Self-love above all else. That’s the title of my last post. We cannot give what we do not have, I wrote. To give love—and to receive it, I might add—we’ve got to live love. It’s got to come from who we are and the way we be with ourselves, from deep inside out. All well and good so far. But now it’s time to get real, and really personal.…

Self-love above all else!

By |Jun. 18, 2012|

Usually it is the sun that draws me outside. This morning it was the rain. It was the sweetest, most gentle downpour we’ve had all spring. I pulled a patio chair up close under the eaves and sat down to soak it in.

This spring has been rife with hard rain. Violent thunderstorms, destructive of the delicate blossoms going hog wild in the front garden, have often driven us deep inside our stone house till they blow over. Their ruthlessness is an all-too-apt metaphor for my own harsh treatment of myself—the pushing, the doubting and the unrest. This rain is the one I’ve been waiting for.…

Love in the face of pain

By |Jun. 4, 2012|

The world is too much with us, late and soon. I woke up too early this morning, the weight of the world—my own little one and the great big wide one—heavy on my heart. Fifty Syrian children, and their mothers, shot in cold blood, and Assad still firmly at the helm. Word that our gifted Bodega Bay friend Scott killed himself last week and that Trond’s always robust Norwegian childhood friend has cancer. Then came the news of a Florida man eating another man’s face.

I couldn’t bear to hear any details. And I didn’t need to.…

Awakener and Scribe (not Bookseller!) am I

By |May. 9, 2012|

I’ve been at another crossroads in the life of the newly published author and, for a long moment,  it was a very yucky, sucky place to be. I stood, unsettled and uncertain, somewhere between a too-pregnant Mama’s urge to push like hell—to deliver success—and an opposing urge to give my baby up to God, to let life have me, the pursuit of success be damned.…

Shame on us! Not if we listen to our guts

By |Apr. 24, 2012|

Is it just me? Or is it painful for you, too, when you think you should be doing some supposedly critical thing you don’t feel you want to do? Isn’t it still worse when you don’t know why you don’t want to do what you think you should? Am I being a coward? Or am I onto something and need to find another way to proceed? Since writing helps me work out these kinks, here we go.…

Ready to trash your nasty karma?

By |Apr. 11, 2012|

If you’ve read my writing, you know I’m not much for the “ten steps to enlightenment” approach. What I offer you instead, they tell me (and I’m pretty sure they’re right), is inspiration, through words and by example. Seems to come naturally to me, thank God!

What I love to do is encourage us—help you and me find the will, rather than prescribing precise ways, to get ourselves happy and free. That’s all we need to do here, because once we get fired up at the level of heart, we can do pretty much anything we set our minds to. And we each know better than anyone else what those things are for us. But first there’s our karma to deal with.…

Guest post: “Want inspiration? Go to bed!”

By |Mar. 2, 2012|

Are those old standby new year’s resolutions to eat less and exercise more gone? No need to fret, sweat or lose sleep over a lost resolution or two. The single most important resolution, the Queen of resolutions, is well within your grasp, any night of the week.

It’s a far easier habit to form than skipping cookies or skipping rope. And it’s helped motivate me to do those harder things like dieting, working out and working hard.…

My first guest blog post drew lovely comments

By |Feb. 9, 2012|

Years ago I wrote and, with great trepidation, mailed a much-labored-over book proposal to a renowned New York book editor. I had met her quite unexpectedly over the coffee urn at a wedding brunch, where she’d expressed interest in my work. I was sure that what seemed like a wildly serendipitous cup of Joe momentspelled imminent publication of the book I’d long felt destined to write.…

Suzanne’s answer to Becky’s burning question.

By |Jan. 19, 2012|

I am hugely grateful to Alex, Mary and Carol Chris Hudson for their compassionate comments about Becky’s big question. Becky had asked how she can possibly leave the kind of lucrative job she has but hates while her family depends on her for support. Alex encouraged Becky to involve her family, so she doesn’t turn into a “martyr” and, Carol added, so as to include and empower the family in decisions affecting them all. Mary encourages Becky to do as she does, pursuing her passions elsewhere and treating herself to massages, inspiring books, a women’s group. Carol said her family found they could live modestly so long as they were “rich in love.”

Here is what I’d written to Becky before the comments came in…

Becky’s burning question

By |Jan. 10, 2012|

The morning after this website went live, I opened my email to find my first message from the site’s Connect page. It was from a stranger named Becky, and the subject heading said: “My Fear.” Becky was writing to ask for help with a huge, very tough life question faced, in one form or another, by several women and men I have known and counseled.

Because I want this to be a place where people share concerns and support each other, I asked Becky if I could share our exchange, so those of you who have been in her situation, and those who haven’t, might add valuable perspective to what I chose to say to her. Becky welcomes all the support we can give her. And her willingness to tolerate the intolerable out of fear of poverty —and I’d add, probably also of change and of disappointing others—is a familiar litany many of us will relate to. Her desire to live with passion and power is one we can all embrace.

Here is what Becky wrote…

Over the moon and under the porch—it’s B Day

By |Dec. 11, 2011|

Holy Moly, me-oh-my-oh! I am doing my little happy dance all by myself. My long-awaited B Day is here. (No, I don’t mean my birthday, though it feels like it and then some.) This B is for my bare-naked book. Bare Naked at the Reality Dance, the book I’ve dreamed of and labored over for seven years is now in my hot little hands and up for order on Amazon. And last night, this website, so gorgeously designed by Shannon Bodie who also designed the book, went live for all the world to see. I can hardly stand it I’m so excited and, also, friggin’ frightened to death.…

You’d have thought I was going on Oprah

By |Oct. 18, 2011|

The second I finished the first draft of this post, the fearsome pictures arrived. Thank God—and Goddess (a photographer who, like my book/web designer, is improbably named Shannon)—they are great! But if you’d watched the lead-up to our shoot, you’d have thought I was going to be shot—or on Oprah, a prospect now relegated permanently to daydream land. Far short of a trembling-in-my-boots Oprah turn, I worked myself into a royal swivet over having my picture taken, frivolous as that sounds…

Giving the universe space, part two

By |Sep. 15, 2011|

Note: In my last post, “Giving the universe space, part one,” I described the miracles that can only happen when we get out of the way by letting go of pesky people and/or activities we have outgrown and thus no longer serve us. I gave a dramatic example from my yoga teaching days. Then I cut to the recent past, where I’d just fired the second person I’d hired to help me develop an online presence in advance of my book publication. Difficult as they’d both been for me to work with, one right after the other and for different reasons, I was feeling helpless and scared without them. But not for long.…

Giving the universe space, part one

By |Aug. 25, 2011|

I said I’d write more about how the miracle of letting go of what doesn’t work makes room for the universe to offer us what does. What was I thinking? I have no idea how that happens. I only know that, for me at least, it does happen, every single time. The trick—and it is a trick of magical proportions—is to do the letting go part when the time is right. As you too must know, the ego doesn’t like to let go, so we often need to figure out an end run that lets us get by her.…

Practice what you preach, Suzanne

By |Aug. 3, 2011|

Here’s a sorry, ironic truth about the summer of 2011 for a couple of quirky, well-intentioned Central Pennsylvanians: Trond and I have worked ourselves into a pair of royal swivets publishing a book about the critical importance of people becoming calm and collected enough to make a significant difference in the world. I am not a little ashamed of myself that it has come to this.

I’m sure there’s a lesson here.…

My cat is putting himself “to sleep”

By |Jul. 18, 2011|

My cat is dying today. In the midst of so much other craziness—in my little world and the great wide one—the death of this dear friend of 17 years is suddenly all that matters. He and his demise have my full attention. I say that, yet I sit inside writing while he lies outside, where I cannot see him from here. On this most perfect July Sunday, I check on him, I touch him, I weep. Then I come inside to tell his story, while he expires, muddy and unable to arise or clean himself, at the damp grassy edge of our backyard stream. I am here and he is there, drawing what must be his last, very gentle several hundred breaths. He wants to be alone. It is how it needs to be.…

Is the social media marketing big tent folding?

By |Jun. 28, 2011|

In my last post I said I was behind the times (as well as behind time) for not riding the gargantuan wave of social media marketing to promote my book. Mea culpa for lacking a virtual fan horde. But guess what? I’ve spent another few weeks at the social media marketing circus (if I may mix metaphors). And after yet more exposure to the many rings where I might share my wares with an audience of virtual strangers-cum-friends, I’m having second thoughts.…

Suzanne vs. a virtual tsunami (or to tweet or not to tweet…)

By |Jun. 6, 2011|

So here’s one of those weird, hard book-related things I said I’d talk about: I’ve been drowning in a sea of way too much information about social media marketing. It’s all the rage, of course, to use Facebook, Twitter & friends to hawk whatever you’re selling to your ideal market. And it’s all the rage for the slew of folks who say they can help you hawk to be hawking there too.

It’s all the rage, yet I’m enraged by the virtual flood I invited and didn’t dare call a halt to. I didn’t dare because it’s way past time, they tell me, to let people know about my wares—the book that’s almost ready to head for the printer. That’s the book that hasn’t been touted via fan page or tweet. A book by that soon-to-be-author who’s not gotten around to getting on board. But here’s the scary thing: it seems I don’t want to get on board, not in the usual way anyway.…

Hold the spinach, bring on the tears

By |May. 30, 2011|

I am blessed beyond words, crazy blessed—always have been—and I am having a really hard time right now. A few days ago a monster storm knocked down a lot of our trees, gouging lawn and just-mulched garden. There’s a huge dent in my new car—again. Matters too personal to share prompted a big cry yesterday. Publishing challenges persist, this morning’s being an email from a well-known author saying she hasn’t time to read (and as I’d hoped, endorse) my book.

But I am not here today to kvetch about the petty details of my mostly great life (maybe another time). I am here because I believe that sharing with you how difficult gratitude can sometimes be for me might help you feel less guilty too.…

Finding my outrageous voice

By |May. 23, 2011|

Thank you, dear reader, for showing up at my new Monday morning health practice. Granted, it’s not as calorie-burning or heart-strengthening as jogging—blogging. But if I let it, this start-of-the-week writing ritual will connect me with myself, and with you, at the level of heart. These words I write can strengthen that beautiful blood-red muscle at the core of both of our beings. And it is the core of ourselves, our deepest values, greatest fears, and most precious desires, that interests me above all else. Who are we? Why the hell are we here? And what are we going to do to make a difference?…

The very bad habit of fearing ourselves

By |May. 9, 2011|

I am a long time writer about to become a first time author, and while I told you I was worried about starting this blog, it’s as nothing compared with the book. I am scared shitless. But why?

Of course, it might be the familiar fear of not being good enough—in reality (whatever that is), and in the eyes of the world I hope to enter and influence. Now that the book is just weeks away, ye old fear of being seen and judged less than (and boy do I open myself to judgment in Bare Naked at the Reality Dance) is moving front and center. It’s bound to get worse and get to the bottom of me (I mean that—IBS!—literally), unless and until I get to the bottom of it. But I’m not here to make it all about me, so I hope scoping out my fears may also help you face yours.

Is it really the fear of not enoughness that has me by the throat? …

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