Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Howl Loud about changing not very nice stories!

Here’s what I have been thinking about lately: stories that speak of inhumanity, that whisper actions of humiliation and fling wide blankets of shame.

Not very nice stories.

And my heart feels them down deep. I have wanted to howl loud all weekend.

But I have not. I remain, well, still. Quiet. Enraged within. Holding it down.
Because damn it, that’s where stories like these are “supposed” to stay. Stuffed.

The story in my narrative closet goes something like this:

  • “You always take these things too seriously. Just…let it go.” 
  • “Stewing about this is hurting you more than anything. Why are you doing this to yourself?” 
  • “With all the good that’s happening in your life, you’re going to focus on this? Don’t bring anyone else down.”
“Talk about the good stuff: Shiloh Sophia McLoud, The Narrative Closet and your Relationship Re-Ignition Program.”

“Just…don’t be so intense about all that other goop.”

Wait. Rewind. “…about all that other shit” - because that’s what it was. Crap.

Dear Heart-Women, I haven’t howled. The very word I use to describe the Bad Ass Feminine Truth Telling work I do, I have not done. I got wrapped back-up in an old story.

I need to get naked. 

To ready the lap of story telling we will be doing this Thursday March 27th at Noon PST with Shiloh Sophia McLoud, the woman who embodies the expansive permission of the feminine heart, I will ROAR!  

Narrative Closet Step One: See the closet of stories.
NC Step Two: Identify the stories hanging there.
NC Step Three: Try them on and see how they fit.

I do not like how these “stuff the anger stories” fit, so I am redesigning a new one.

NC Step Four: Take them off, let them sit and get naked.  HOOOWWWLLL!

My naked heart hurts and is angry. So. Damn. Mad.

I met my now 24 year old nephew standing next to my sister after an interminable wait at the Portland International Airport so many years ago. He was a tiny baby carried in the arms of the last airline attendant coming off the plane that brought him from Japan to the loving open arms of my sis.

24 years later I now saw him sitting behind a glass window waiting…

My valuable, sweet, quiet nephew is a drug addict. He is in prison because he broke the law. That is not the source of my rage. The story that plagues me is not “follow the law” or, “if you break it you pay”.  I understand he earned his consequences.

The story gnawing at my gut is the one that seems to decorate the underside of our collective narrative closet that says “When you blow it, you are broken and will be treated as such.”

This was our first time to see him since he was transferred to a state prison. We had waited 3 months to be cleared and given the okay. From December to March my nephew had no visitors. Not one. We were all waiting to get clearance.

Finally it came. My sister made plans to come from her home in Colorado and even amidst the conflicting information on the website and the unanswered emails and phone messages…she managed to make two appointments for us to see him.

Neither of the appointments she made worked. Three times they changed when we could see him. Finally we got a meeting. Noon. We had been there since early morning. Filled with anticipation and nerves, we went through the heavy metal door as the lock clicked open, taking off shoes, belts and anything else that might buzz. I walked through the metal detector.

BZZZZZZZZZZZ. My sisters’ head flew up. I looked over at the officer. “What can it be? I have nothing left to buzz.”

He then asks the question that stole 40 precious minutes of time, two bras and some deep seated belief that in the end, all humans are valuable and we all believe that.

“Are you wearing an underwire bra?” Yes. We both were.

“Nope. You can’t go in there with one on.” Prepared to strip then and there, the female officer stepped over and loudly gave instructions. “Go to the bathroom and remove the wires. You may not go in without wearing undergarments. Go.”
We ran to the bathroom, threw off our clothes and with a ball point pen struggled, pulled, bent and tried to no avail. These things were not budging.

“What about the truck…is there something in the truck we could use to cut them open?” I asked. So we ran. Half dressed. Across the parking lot. A man we’d seen inside with his wife was walking back to his car when he saw us. “That happened to my wife last weekend”, he said. “Now I had one too many keys on my ring.”

And the clock ticks. In our minds eye we see my nephew, my sisters’ child, waiting…wondering where we are...

We find a box cutter and rip, cut, tear at the fabric. My sister cuts her finger. We laugh almost hysterically. Our hands are shaking so hard I think we are going to seriously injure ourselves or the upholstery.

Finally pulling the wires out, we stand naked by the truck doors desperately trying to get back into broken bras. We run back to the security check. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Sign the agreement voucher. Tick-Tock. Run to the next security check. Tick-Tock. Pass to the next check-in where we see him. In orange. Behind the glass. Waiting.

He sees us. We see him and I think my sister is going to knock down everyone in line ahead of us to get to her boy. But she doesn’t. We behave. We stay quiet. We wait again. This time the guard had to rearrange a table. It took another 3 minutes. I know. I was counting.

Finally. Finally. Friggin Finally we got to go to him. For 20 minutes.

Fire-Wisdom Women - my belly burns with rage for how we practice the story that worth is determined by performance.

My anger is for the mothers and fathers, grandmothers and aunties that waited for hours, walked back and forth to their cars to once again become “right” to go in and see their loved ones. Some never did get in. They left in shame and tears.

I howl for all of them – and for us – for We Can Change Our Stories!

There are no perfect mothers or fathers. Nor are there faultless children. We are in motion, works of art in progress!

I want to write new stories, design tapestries that speak of value, worth & love. Tell stories that BOLDLY affirm the human potential to emerge from pain, abuse and a plot line telling us that unless we are perfect we are nothing, to owning our naked, burning essences of unique beauty that IS within Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

Oh Ya! Uh-huh. That IS right.

I want this for you, lovely, in your life and heart. 

I want this for our communities, so we hold one another up to those stories as we reach for our stars and grasp our abundance!

I want this for all who feel small, demeaned and worthless and for each one of us who have been there.

I want new stories that dazzle! Come along with me and let’s make it so!

Start this Thursday, March 27 at Noon PST. Go here for all the deets! I know you will LOVE the lap of Shiloh Sophia McLoud!





Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Howl-&-Roar!

Dear Multi-Tasking Wonder Woman!

When was the last time you ROARED? I mean, really let it out; opened up your voice-box, breathed into your diaphragm, clenched the buttocks and let all that is held-in, out? When was the last time you roared without apology, with no explanation or reasons?


Dear Beauty-Heart, do you howl much?

I first learned how to roar from the guts of my pain-point when I was a young, naive and idealistic woman living and working in Washington D.C.

Personally, I was lonely. I desperately wanted a lover, an intimate friend who would share dreams while planning how we were going to save the world. I worried it would never happen; that he didn't exist and I would live alone forever without the future I had imagined. I was hungry for physical touch and regularly berated myself, appearance and body that there must be something wrong with me.

Professionally, the pain came from the day-in-and-day-out recognition of an f'd-up system that snagged  people in its net of low expectations. As a Special Assistant to the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development I had a daily lesson in “how to make people feel like shit and make it stick”.

It was my supervisor who taught me how to a) feel the pain and b) let it out.
He would do it in his car on the way home. Scream at the top of his lungs until he was hoarse.

This howling tool was new to me then. I had grown up learning that pain and any anger associated with it, was best served cold, silent and swallowed.  A good loud howl was out of the question.

In my 48 years of gained wisdom I look back on my young twenty-something self to say, “You have sacred permission to go ahead and ROAR! Be honest about your pain. Take off whatever neatly covers it up and expose it!”
Go ahead dear one! Give it a go. ROAR!
  • Roar from the hurt in your heart; from the place of the dormant dreams that still haunt your desires. 
  • Howl from the cold blanket of terror that wraps around you whenever you think of your kids leaving the house and you alone with your husband. 
  • Cry-out from the depths of guilt that rides up onto your chest asking if you made a mistake all those years ago.  
  • Release the familiar frustration of wanting physical touch and fiery desire that you had when you were single and is even more intense now. 

What is it that you can expose, uncover and let out into the universe for sacred reception?

When you howl, you liberate the anger, frustration and guilt crowding your insides and allow the gentle breath of nature to caress and transmute them into another life.

At the same time, you expand the space inside of YOU that can be filled with new ideas, beliefs and ways to speak to and heal your hurts.

You ALREADY hold all the dynamic, naked power you need to step toward freedom from pain. You begin by making space and taking off all the crud and crap that hides it!

And this my gorgeous, sparkling divine goddess, YOU CAN DO! Starting with a Raucous Roar with Other Rambunctious Women Tomorrow!

  • Wherever you are...
  • Whatever you are doing...in a meeting, at your desk, transporting kids, in yoga  or on a run...
  • HOWL LOUD! 
What form it takes is entirely up to you. Whether an audible cry, a written scribble or silent tears...choose to make it Your Time to Howl and Release!
  • Consider where your heart is hurting. 
  • What is the source of your anger and short-temper?  
  • For what are you longing and why does it seem out of reach? 
  • Jot down some notes. Journal. Enter prompting words in your tablet. This is YOUR time to release!
  • It's FREE
  • It's Your Visionary Women Talking to YOU 
  • It has a road-map to heal the wounds of your heart! 
  • It ALL STARTS next week with Tori Hartman! Roar with us about all the stories, expectations and crud that gets in your way of LOVING! 

Invite your Gorgeous Goddess Circle and be part of “The Narrative Closet - Howl-&-Roar!”

In Fiery-Raised Voice!
AmyJo

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Let's DO the Shimmy-Shrug!

I discovered something this week. I wonder if you have ever had this happen? Feel HIT between the eyes by a totally Ka-Zam discovery?!

I realized that an old story I have wanted to change out of my life - one I had long known needed to go but that held on with doggish zeal - (I'm talking slobber, growl and the whole enchilada drooling down and around my life) - was something I CREATED!

Yup. Turns out its my spiritual teeth that have refused to release and my growl that warned me “Don't take me off or give me up because you need me...come on now, what would you do without me?”

Urgh. Enough growling and drooling. Time to HOWL!

Here's the deal. Growing up, I had a messed up relationship with the green-back. My dad was an educated professional who worked constantly. As a pastor he was part of the “Service Professionals” that, after living and working as a pastor myself and oh ya, being married to one, I have officially renamed “The Servant-Professionals.”

But I digress. The long and short of it meant that I grew up with a shortage of dinero around the house and money, or lack thereof, was the source of arguments, anxiety and shame. Wrap all of that up in a divinely ordained package of “We are rich in Christ and that's why you wear hand-me-downs” and I had some pretty nasty money demons living in my closet.

From a variety of people, places and practices I learned the story that:
a) I was not intended to have money
b) Jesus wanted me to serve the poor
c) Wealth took me away from God
d) My duty was to live with less and...on and on.

In my closet of narratives, I would say this story was my “Money Ensemble”; a variety of separate pieces that all together created one big, hairy deal of a smack-down story that told me “I needed to not have money.”

And I learned the story well. Memorized it. Acted it out and MADE IT REAL.

Did you get that Gorgeous Goddess? I...me...thee...this one here...made it my reality.

I somehow believed, where those kind of way-deep-down-gotta-go-digging-for-them beliefs reside, that I needed to not have money.

True, the story was given to me from a variety of sources, and, as a kid it was not my responsibility or ability to stop it. But let's be honest – I am not a kid anymore (well, at least not in mind!) and the past is well, the past. The freedom question is: What do I want now and for my future?

Yes Please! New stories will do nicely!

What an AWESOME discovery! Freedom is at my door knocking – nea - HOWLING for me to OPEN it! And open it I will. Creak, pull and fling wide the door to my Narrative Closet, that subconscious space where I keep these sorts of  ideas and beliefs - and - where I can CLEAN UP!

And there-in lies the KEY!

When we SEE the story...
Recognize it in OUR narrative closet...

Swish-Boom-Bam! YOU have the POWER. 

And THAT is what HIT me over the head this week. I saw a new story in my narrative closet that I hadn't looked at before. Oh, I am no stranger to the wardrobe of money stories I hold. Over the last 5 years I have done a kick-ass job of clearing many of them out and redesigning others so they fit my gorgeous curves.

Yet this week I discovered an accessory to the overall ensemble that has been so subtle, so sly, I hadn't been able to suss it out from the whole. Here it is again: I need to not have money.

Doin' the naked shimmy-shrug! Time to release!

My new mantra: I release my need to not have money.

Put another way: I am grabbing hold of this old, damaging, too-small-for-me story and getting it out of my closet!

Knowing what it looks and feels like (yuck) is the key to getting and keeping it off! When that happens and I feel the old story creeping onto my shoulders it's time to DO THE SHIMMY-SHRUG!

Yup, Wild, Succulent Women it IS true! Moving your body, dancing to the earthy beat of your naked nature is what will Get the Old Stories OFF!

Lovely, Wild Woman - What story do you need to release this week? Which one hides from view while tenaciously biting into your spirit and soul?

Clear out that Clutter! 

And do it with a gorgeous gathering of Goddesses! Join me and seven simply sumptuous women each week  beginning Thursday, March 20th - Noon-1pm PST.

"The Narrative Closet" is a FREE Teleseminar where Tori Hartman, Amy Ahlers, Shiloh Sophia McLoud, Sam Bennett, Christine Kloser, Christine Arylo OH MY!!! AND Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy will open the doors of their personal Narrative Closet to share how they've cleared it out and which stories they struggle to keep off!


These are hot, spicy women! Don't miss it! Pass it on - grab-a-Goddess and listen! 

Together we will all DO THE SHIMMY-SHRUG!