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!

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?

Click here to HOWL with a bunch of brilliant women and hang on for a Wild ride!

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. 

Let it out. Howl Loud! 

Click Here for a good HOWL each week beginning Next Thursday, March 20th for a FREE Teleseminar with Bad Ass Howling Women! 

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!

Let's HOWL TOGETHER! 

Tomorrow – Thursday, March 13th – at 12:00pm PST (3:00 EST)

Get Your Roar On! 

• 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!

Get out those nifty tech devices and schedule it AND every Thursday through May 8th for an hour of Amazing Women Howling Loud & Getting Naked! Oh ya, you do NOT want to miss this! 

• 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! 

RSVP here for ALL the Juicy, Loud, Bold Goodies! 

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

In Fiery-Raised Voice!
AmyJo

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!

Click here to RSVP! 

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! 

Come Out of Your Closet!

Happy Birthday to Me! 

Today is my - Oh yes, uh-huh-got-that-right-48th Birthday! And it got me thinking. What really is the True day of my birth? Which day or moment in my life could that be exactly? 

•  Is it when I learned how to read and everything around me exploded into new dimensions, colors and yet unknown adventures?
• Was it when my body opened-up to totally new desires that sent tingles of electricity careening down my body, heating up my face and thighs?
• Is my birthday when I linked my destiny with that of another to whom I offered my body, heart, spirit and mind?
• Is the real day of my birth when I courageously chose to look at the stories I keep hanging in my Narrative Closet and asked “Do these still fit?”

Dear Sistah-Goddess – what about YOU? What is the real day of your Birth? 

It's easy to celebrate and honor the day we physically left the safe cocoon of our mama's belly. Easy because we were yet uncomplicated and so very genuinely, gorgeously naked. In the truest sense of the word, we were innocent. 

I think we have a misplaced loyalty to innocence. The language of purity gets laid like a blanket over and around us while not far away are the clothes of guilt, shame, sin, contamination and pollution. 

We idealize the state of pure simplicity and use it as a tool to judge and assess. As if once we've left the perfection of infant innocence we are forever struggling to get it back. The sick joke is that in the design of this story, we never can. 

Yuck. How very heavy and burdensome. Good thing it's a lie. Yup. 

As tiny babies we were in fact completely tuned-in to meeting the demands of our self-worth that we naturally claimed, owned and let flow! Yowza!

We howled when hungry, screeched when angry, cooed when content and giggled when tickled. We shit when it was time and spit up when necessary. All of it without apology because instinctively we knew we were worth receiving it. Delicious!

There were no questions of earned worth or measurements of goodness. The TRUE INNOCENCE was in our beautifully-unfettered nakedness; we were yet to be clothed with the stories of “how to be good” or “what it means to be a girl” or “this is the way you should look.”

Since then, your perfect naked self-love got dressed up, covered-over and burdened with stories that have told you what to believe and gave you measuring devices to determine how you – and others – are doing. Ick.

Time to get them OFF. Get Naked. Return to Your original birthday suit and HOWL for Your desires! 

She-Goddesses! This is a CALL to Come Out of Your Narrative Closets and leave the perceived safety of the old stories behind. 

On Thursday, March 20 @ Noon-1pm PST- and every Thursday until May 1- brilliant women will be up to doing just that! 

Each week, for one gloriously spicy hour, Amy Ahlers, Tori Hartman, Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, Sam Bennet, Shiloh Sophia McLoud and more will open the doors of their personal Narrative Closets so YOU can be empowered to open yours!

You do not want to miss this FREE Teleseminar Series that is already burning with the energy of fiery women who are not afraid to play with it!

 Details for registration will be coming to you soon. 

  

• Return to the beautiful insistence of Your first naked day!
• Re-member YOU are the dazzling colors woven into the brilliant playground of the universe that is JUST. FOR. YOU.
• Know again that for no other reason than YOU ARE – you deserve to be fed, loved, cuddled, laughed-with, dressed, kissed-on, held and rocked.

I can't WAIT to be with you on these LIVE-Fun-FUNNY-playful and REAL calls with some of the most brilliant, kick-ass, brave, wisdom-rich women who WANT to give their good stuff to YOU!

Happy Birthday to YOU gorgeous Goddess! See you on the 20^th!

Naked Freedom!

Today I invited someone from my previous life to sit across the table from me and share a meal.

In truth I asked him to share more than food; his ideas about God, sin, guilt and shame too, and not only with me, but my university class as well.

It's been almost ten years since I last saw my former professor, and while the pain and betrayal I experienced in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America was not associated with him, inviting his theology and teachings still rooted in that doctrine to be on my turf and in my presence, was liberating.

YA-HOO!

Autonomy of forgiveness is important to me; choosing from our inner wisdom what it means to forgive and when we are ready to release the anger, pain and hurt received from the actions of others.

Over the holidays I had numerous dreams filled with characters who had made choices that harmed me. For several nights in a row they appeared, not as the perpetrators of their negative choices, but as normal, even friendly people.

So I tuned-in to my body and asked: Am I ready to release? I heard a full body yes. RELEASE!

Since ritual is in my blood and bones I knew I wanted to ritually honor the release. But how?

Around that time I had been drawing a lot of gorgeous, full, lovely lips. Lips that had, in the middle of their pout, intricate designs of nature; swirls, eyes, feathers, stars, wisps of light. I loved these active, feminine speaking lips. I decided they would be a beautiful gesture of release.

I reproduced them and wrote underneath “Peace and Love in 2014” and signed my name. I meant it.

I put them in envelopes addressed to locations I hoped were still accurate, and released them to the U.S. Postal Service.

And I felt – SPACIOUS! I had sketched, created and sent those Lips in Love of me, letting go of any negative power any one previous act by another had over me. The result was more room for new adventure, risk and giggly, silly, buoyant joy. Oh ya! This affect was in no way dependent on the response or actions of another – it was all me. I had the power. I owned the responsibility.

Sitting in my classroom today with my former Professor and openly discussing our differences while claiming our common ground, was beautiful. Another act of clearing out and making room.

Over lunch I told him about my Spring Teleseminar series “The Narrative Closet" - of course he thought it ROCKED!- where I talk with incredible women visionaries about the closets we all have, filled with stories we have been told about who are, who we ought to be and how the world works. Stories of being wronged hang in their too.

We all have these closets of stories, the very recognition of which is the first step to getting naked and claiming our authentic power. Goose-bumps Galore!

“We have the Power!” and responsibility, to clear the clutter from our narrative closets and make space for new designs that fit who we are and who we want to become. Including those stories we keep hanging around about the old hurts, wounds and deep pains.

What about you? What old story about a hurt do you keep hanging around? Try this: take it out of your narrative closet and try it on. Listen to your body. Pay attention to your wisdom-gut response, the beat of your pulse, the heat in your cheeks. You will know when it's ready to slide from your shoulders. Maybe you are even ready to release it for good.

Either way, you can do a Spirit-Shimmy! A Big-Woop-to-me-Boogie! Because just seeing the closet of stories is the first step into your naked unstoppable power.

Valentine's Day 2014

In honor of the holiday I have never appreciated - even while in the ripe juicy blossoms of love – this Valentines Day Blog will be about…drum roll please….

“How it’s Good to Know You Don’t Want to Die”.

Not very many weeks ago, a member of the faculty at the university where I teach, died. Suddenly. Unexpected. This was not foreseen in any cards or medical reports.

I later learn that it all started with “one of those flu bugs” making the rounds among us. It turned into pneumonia, and, well, he died.

Not five days later, I am hit hard by “one of those flu bugs” and before I could fling the arm of my intellectual critical thinking up to block and deflect it, it happened. The tale of my impending death swirled and spun around me. And. I. Died.

And for one moment I was enveloped in the beautiful darkness of sweet clarity.
“Why did I ever think there was anything more necessary than hanging with my kids?”

“Why would I ever want more than loving with my wild succulent husband?”

“What could ever be so embarrassing…What failure could ever be so big, that I would rather remain quiet, small, unannounced and “safe” – instead of experiencing it?”

And then it was over. It felt like 30 seconds, but I suspect it was more like 10.

10 seconds of PURE Fiery Wisdom.

It is good to know you don’t want to die – and WHY. This 10 second spin into my early death has now lasted weeks. It has become a new tool in my story telling kit. Here’s how it works.

When I was feeling tentative and shy about putting myself out to ask my Shero's and Mentors to play with me on a FREE Teleseminar I am hosting (I am inviting the stars baby!) I reached into the envelope of dark, ready wisdom and brought out the story of my death.

“Would you rather die wrapped in the perceived safety of silence instead of risking the feelings from receiving an “F' No, I don't want to have anything to do with you”? Wouldn't you rather hear “F'No!” than hear nothing at all and die bunched up and small, afraid to have been rejected?”

Whizz. Bam. Boom! And I mean it! The body response I felt to that juxtaposition had kick-back! I landed on my proverbial spiritual back with the same sense of seamless clarity staring down at me.

Of course I didn't want to die not knowing, not risking and not being able to say “I put myself OUT there! I announced my DREAMS! I REACHED for the Moon and Howled!!”

Telling my story this way, there was no question. Immediately: what I had conjured in my mind as fear of rejection became Anticipation of Feeling the Pulse! What had felt like risky behavior to expose my heart and hopes, suddenly morphed into Courageous Tall Bad Ass Power! The actual response from the stars I invited took a back seat. It wasn't the driving force anymore. My reverberating blood flowing vision became FRONT and CENTER!

I am infused with this new story-telling tool. It is not a focus on death. It IS a fresh lens that cuts through all the crap of lies with laser-like precision that does not allow me to hide from my own habit of complicity. Yup. Complicity.

The old stories we wear, the ones we put on every day that say “are you sure you want to ask that? What happens if they say “yes” - can you handle it? Are you ready? Are you really able to do this? Better think twice. Wouldn't it be safer if you waited?” - they remain on us and in our Narrative Closets because we let them.

Ick. That's an uncomfortable truth. I don't like it. And – I LOVE it. It hurts so good. The sweet juice of naked liberation is inside and when you risk starting there – you begin the journey to clear out the clutter and zoom in to the clarity.

The Laser Beam Tool of “I don't want to die because...” holds your deepest loves and desires. It will open up the stuck doors of your Narrative Closet and beckon for you to enter with fierce permission to GO! and look inside.

Take this tool for a spin! Look through that Lens and SEE!

P.S. Keep your EYES PEELED for my delicious FREE Teleseminar “The Narrative Closet!” Guests from the Amazing Amy Ahlers to the Unabashed ColorFULL SARK  and MORE will be joining me!! It all starts Thursday, March 2

Unreasonably Passionate!

When I was little, I was LOUD, lovely and Bold! I laughed BIG, exclaimed fearlessly, cried out emphatically, and spoke with passion and energy. I was FULL of myself and I believed it was ALL beautiful!

That began to shift when the “shush-ing” started. The worst was at the dinner table.
Growing up, dinners were required. We ate at a table-clothed, milk-in-a-pitcher, cloth napkin-ed table with lit candles every night. There were almost no excuses to miss. Dad would be home for the meal and it was the one time each day we came together as a family and had Dad to ourselves. I am heartened that cell phones were yet to be inflicted on us. For almost an hour each night, our family attention was on, well, our family. No interruptions. It was pretty awesome.
Except when I got shushed. I hated it the most when my Dad, trying to get my volume to an “acceptable level” would, in response to my exuberant dialogue, speak slowly and almost inaudibly to me. It was humiliating. I remember feeling like I wanted to screech and scream at the top of my lungs but instead, as my face grew hot with shame, I shut up.
And I learned. My authentic voice was unacceptable and what I needed to do was alter it to “fit” into the parameters given to me.
This is one of the many stories I was told as a child about who I needed to be and what it meant to be a good girl. It didn't change as a young woman or adult, and I worked hard to be small, quiet, unseen and calm, none of which came naturally. The toned-down volume of my authentic self flowed through my veins and I became known as “intense”, interrupted by occasional bursts of laughter that could be heard across the quad. I tried to downsize myself and actually got so good at it, I very nearly agreed to live in the strict confines dictated by that story.
Very. Nearly.

But Hell No. Uh-Uh. Turns out, I LOVE my laugh. And, I discovered, we – you, me, each other, the WORLD – need more willingly intense, unreasonably passionate, wildly dancing to the beat of our own-and-different-drum individuals!!! We need to go for it!

When was the last time you connected with your deep-down-slightly-wild-organically irreverent voice? Have you laughed loudly, danced feverishly, or spoken with passion?

Do it this week. Promise yourself to listen...to YOU. The deep-down-inner-fire-before-you-learned-to- “be appropriate” YOU.

This week – make it your mission, your challenge, your playful task - to be gorgeously loud about something you feel deeply about! What is it in this world, in your world, that needs the ring of your particular voice? Is it an injustice that you see? A stand for your own value? An insistence for joy? An open receiving of LOVE and ABUNDANCE? An expression of anger?

Listen for Yourself. Re-member You. You will not be alone – and if you lean in – trust that you will hear my voice joining yours! Yup. I am THAT big!