A few months ago I bought a moonstone egg. When I roll the hard, cool stone in my hand, I visualize my memoir, which has not yet “hatched,” but is gestating. The blue tinge on the stone’s surface reminds me of the challenges I face writing it, the difficulty of mining the depths, telling the truth, and conveying complex human emotions.
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Last week, as many of you know, I attended Camp Scripps, a camp run by and for alums of Scripps College, a liberal arts college for women in Claremont, California. Sister alumnae reunited for four days of workshops, camaraderie, connection, and fun. Workshops included tiara-making, creative writing, belly dancing, flamenco, yoga, art journaling, T’ai Chi, water aerobics, needlepoint, meditation, flower arranging, basket weaving, soul collage, soap making, art jam, Nia, poetry, and more. There were also botanical garden and photography walks, lectures, and a panel on how to get your book published.
Often people don’t recognize the value of their creative expression until they share it.
That’s why I host literary salons featuring my students and their work. Last week in class, Amy, one of my writing students, said to a classmate, “Each day we have a choice: we can live with faith or we can live with fear. Though she didn’t know it, this was exactly what I needed to hear. I’d been having a rough couple of days, triggered by not having received recognition I felt I deserved. This set off an internal pity party hosted by my gremlins, who ransacked my guts and had me silently spewing self-doubt venom. I felt miserable, but wasn’t sure why. All I knew was that I was in “The Snarky Place” and couldn’t get out—until I heard Amy’s comment. Thank God for my classes—and my students, who teach me as much as I teach them.
Years ago, while traveling in Greece, I picked up a pair of worry beads (Komboli). It didn’t take long to incorporate these beads into my daily meditation practice. But I renamed my worry beads gratitude beads.
First thing every morning, as I slide each bead, I say something in my life I’m grateful for: my health, the health of my family, my husband, my daughter, our home, my mother, my sisters, their families, my friends, my students, my clients, my guides—both physical and spiritual—my enthusiasm, my love of learning, my computer, my car, my writing practice, my connection to God, my life itself, and so on. I try to stay in the moment and think of new things I’m grateful for each day. Yesterday in church, the Reverend said, “To a grateful heart, much is given. The Universe sees you as a satisfied customer and gives you more.” Then he asked, “Can you allow what’s good in you to change you?” I realized this is what I try to do each day with my gratitude beads. Thinking about the ways in which I feel blessed focuses me on what’s going well in my life. The more I do this, the better things get. Lately I’ve been looking for ways to give myself treats. Since my Greek gratitude beads are plastic, I thought it might be nice to make a pair out of a gemstone, such as rose quartz or amethyst. Purple is my favorite color. It is the color of the crown chakra, which symbolizes our connection to the divine. Amethysts are associated with nobility, spiritual awareness, meditation, balance, psychic abilities, inner peace, healing, stress relief, and positive transformation. But rose quartz’s properties enhance all forms of love, self-care, kindness, nurturing, and tenderness. I went to my local bead shop and held strings of rose quartz and amethyst stones in my hands: they both felt wonderful, but I selected the amethysts, and with the help of the women who worked there, created a new set of gratitude beads. Modern Greek worry beads contain 19-23 beads. My plastic set contains 21. But I decided to make my new set with 22 beads. In Soul Lessons and Soul Purpose, Sonia Choquette sites several reasons why the number 22 is auspicious: In numerology, the study of the mathematical order of the Universe, 22 is a sacred number that reflects how the physical world is manifested; in western Kabbalah, this number is considered the foundation of all things; the first 22 numbers symbolize the cosmic principles; the Hebrew alphabet is composed of 22 letters, each corresponding to a number that represents spiritual law; there are 22 archetypes in the Major Arcana of the Tarot; and in many spiritual traditions, the number 22 is an important and sacred number. But for me, the clincher was that my daughter was born on 2/22. The day I made my amethyst gratitude beads I visited a psychic for the first time in years, as part of my treat quest. When I showed her my beads, she said, “These are great, but you need another pair—in pink.” The rose quartz beads I’d been holding earlier flashed in my mind. “How come?” I asked. “You’re aura is radiating pink. There’s all this loving energy around you.” Great, I’ll take that, I thought, thrilled for an excuse to return to the bead shop for the rose quartz I’d left behind. The bit of guilt I experienced over acquiring not one but two new sets of gratitude beads vanished when I held the completed rose quartz creation. This second set was more radiant than the first; when I held it in my hands I felt serene and happy. I keep the rose quartz beads on my main home altar, the amethyst beads in my purse, and the original plastic set in my office, and I am grateful for them all. While preparing to write this post I found a website that explains the history and use of worry and prayer beads, including Muslim worry beads (Tespih); Buddhist worry beads (Malas); and Christian rosaries. The site includes information about gemstone properties, and offers exquisite beads for sale. I’m eyeing several pair, but am holding off for now. I want to make sure my desire to express is greater than my desire to possess. If beads aren’t your thing, you can use your fingers to count your blessings, or keep a gratitude journal, or just remind yourself daily how lucky you are to be alive. The simple act of expressing gratitude never fails to uplift me. Try it. Take five minutes. What are you grateful for? I wrote this in response to a client’s question, “How do I practice self-love?”
12 Ways to Practice Self-Love
In Martha Beck’s book, The Joy Diet, risk is listed as an essential ingredient for joy. According to Beck, the criterion by which we should decide which dangers and fears to face, and which to avoid, should not be measured by our chances of success, but by the depth of our desire. She says that any risk worth taking is worth taking whether it leads to success or failure, and if your objective is not something you really want, even a tiny risk is a stupid one.
Eight months ago I wasn’t interested in taking any more writing risks. After thirty years cultivating my craft I wanted to be paid to write a book. So I hired a coach, hunkered down, and wrote my proposal for The Raw Years: A Midlife Healing Memoir. Now that I’m agent shopping, which takes time, I’m returning to writing my chapters. My gremlins got pissed when they realized this. “That’s not the deal we made,” they hissed. “You were supposed to get an agent and a publisher so this manuscript wouldn’t end up in your file cabinet with all the others.” In other words, they said, “Show me the money!” But I had nothing to show. Not a publisher or agent (yet), and no guarantees. I knew I couldn’t predict the fate of this or any other manuscript. All I knew was writing this book made me happy. It’s my dream and I don’t want to let it go—no matter what happens. To help me get past my petulant writing gremlins, Brooke Warner, my writing coach, said, “Success in writing is reaching your readers—and there are many ways to do this. Everything is changing. The ground is rumbling underneath the publishing industry. Commit to your readers. You have the potential to reach people—with or without agents and publishers. The main thing is to reach your readers, and keep the faith.” My life coach, Tracey Brown, told me to think of outcomes as extras, and focus on actions I can take, such as writing one chapter at a time, and to consider the hearts, minds, and souls of the people I’d like to touch. Gremlins dwell in the land of ego. Engaging them is fruitless. Turning to Spirit, on the other hand, guarantees I’ll feast at life’s banquet. So with a prayer that my life’s work will one day reach as many readers as possible, and touch them deeply I’m moving forward with my memoir. It feels great to be writing it again. My gremlins have quieted down since learning that I plan to divide my project into milestones, and celebrate future accomplishments with treats. This is much more empowering than dangling a carrot I can’t control, such as getting an agent or a book deal. I will honor the completion of each chapter with an artist date and plan something special for myself, perhaps something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I will go see a film; visit a museum; go to the beach, or a garden, or an art gallery; maybe a workshop or lunch out—something nourishing and fun. Completing a section of my book, there are three—Body, Mind, & Spirit—wins me a weekend retreat alone or with my husband, but the emphasis will be on celebrating my accomplishment. When I complete the book I’ll spend a week or more at a gourmet raw, vegan spa. I’ve got my eye on the Hippocrates Health Center in the Philippines. My daughter’s drama teacher grades his students on effort, participation, and assignment completion—and not on talent because talent is subjective. So is all creative work. It’s essential to do our creative work for ourselves, but also for the people who are waiting to receive it, and whose lives will be enriched by our efforts. This morning I completed a draft of chapter four (of 27) of my memoir. Writing this book is a risk near and dear to my heart, which tells me it’s a risk worth taking. In terms of assessing risk, Beck asks, “Is this a risk you’d regret not having taken? Would your regret be worse than potential failure or disappointment? Which would be worse, your disappointment over failing or knowing you never tried?” To me the answer is clear: trying is the most important thing. Trying is within my control. The rest is not. So if you’re wondering whether to take a risk, either personally or professionally, look not to your chances of success, but to the depth of your desire. What risk are you taking? Or thinking about taking? I’d love to hear about it. My meditation practice helps me sit still, observe my mind, connect with and listen to my spirit. This is harder to do when my body is tense, which was the case this morning. I’d awakened with a stiff neck. When my neck, a bridge between my body and mind, is stiff and shut down, I experience congestion, both mental and physical. So I moved my body.
I used to feel guilty moving during meditation. I thought I was supposed to sit absolutely still. But there are many ways to mediate, and as much as I savor stillness, movement is as life-giving as breath. Intuitive movement also breaks habitual patterns and helps you discover untapped resources. It creates additional pathways in the brain, which leads to new and original thinking. A couple days ago my friend, Kathy Dolin, a massage therapist and yoga teacher, was talking to me about fascia, the layer of soft, connective tissue that runs through our bodies and protects our muscles, blood vessels, nerves and other structures. She mentioned the work of John Barnes, the leading authority on Myofascial Release, a holistic, hands-on therapy designed to treat a range of maladies, including back pain, headaches, carpal tunnel syndrome, painful scars, sciatica, Fibromyalgia, women’s health issues and more. Barnes is the source of the wonderful quote: “Healing is not an event, it is a process.” Therapeutic release can occur directly—with hands-on pressure, but also indirectly, through dance. “Dance is a way of myofascial unwinding,” Kathy said. The body is a wise teacher. Intuitive, creative movement is a great way to listen inwardly, relieve stress, and heal. It doesn’t matter if you move alone or with others. I recommend both. To find creative movement venues in your area check out Conscious Dancer Magazine. Here are a few creative movement facilitators and venues in the Los Angles area: Spirit Weaves with Anneli and Michael, Medicine Dance with Fred Sugarman, Body Freedom with Tarnie Faloon, Moving Theater with Camille Maurine, and Soul Dance with Alisha Hayes. I will be offering my BodyTalk Creative Movement and Writing Workshop this summer or fall. Movement and writing are exquisite muses that work beautifully together. Giving voice to body parts is a powerful, surprising, and joyous process. It’s also a wonderful way to integrate body, mind, and spirit. Comments? Questions? Thoughts? I’d love to hear from you! Yesterday I visited the Hippocrates Health Institute (HHI) in West Palm Beach, Florida. I signed up for a spa package, which included a body wrap and massage, use of pools, sauna, steam, and lunch. But what I enjoyed most was attending a graduation, where people spoke about their experiences at HHI. Most of the people I listened to had attended the three-week Life Transformation Program. Two things struck me about these testimonials. The first was that people had travelled from all over the world to attend. Men and women from Egypt, Switzerland, Russia, Canada, the United States, and elsewhere spoke about their commitment to take healing into their own hands. In many cases traditional medical doctors had offered treatment (drugs), but little, if any, hope for healing. The second thing that amazed me was that even though people spoke about diverse illnesses—colitis, multiple sclerosis, cancer, high blood pressure, diabetes, and lupus to name a few—everyone had healed or was reversing their dis-ease by adopting a raw, vegan diet in conjunction with other holistic practices. Not everyone in the program was struggling with disease. Some had come to lose weight, others to detoxify their bodies, relax their minds, and rejuvenate their spirits.
Dr. Brian Clement, who co-directs the institute with his wife, Dr. Anna Maria Gahns-Clement, spoke about the importance of focusing on, committing to, and following through on what matters. “You have to create your new world,” he said, “You have to be a walking, talking, living example of what a human being can be.” He talked about personal health, evolution, and transformation as being the norm, not pain and disease. As I lay in a poolside hammock gazing at palm trees and blue sky, while awaiting what I knew would be a delicious Hippocrates dinner (after the fabulous lunch, I knew I had to stay for more), I repeated the words I’d seen printed on T-shirts and canvas bags throughout the day: “It’s not the food in your life, it’s the life in your food.” Hippocrates, a Greek physician born in 460 B.C., and known as the father of modern medicine, said, “Let food be your medicine and medicine be your food.” At HHI, this is absolutely the case. Never before have I seen such abundant bowls of organic greens, varieties of sprouts, and water coolers filled with green juice (cucumber, celery, and sprouts). The meals are served buffet style, and eating there brings new meaning to the words salad bar. You won’t find any mayonnaise-drenched potatoes here, no hard-boiled eggs or bacon bits. But you will find walnut tacos, avocado sushi rolls, veggie wraps, raw hummus, pad Thai noodles, and other vegan delicacies. Hippocrates believed we all have a doctor living inside us, and that the natural healing force within is the greatest force in getting well. I am sure he understood that miracles happen and that there are as many ways to heal as ways to move through life. I imagine too that this wise healer knew that love also heals. Another T-shirt the Institute sells says, “The Number One Silent Healer LOVE.” This is consistent with what I learned while pursuing my masters degree in spiritual psychology, where my professors often repeated “Healing is the application of love to what hurts.” I am a living example of the power of Dr. Clement’s words to “create your new world.” Only I had the power to do this for myself. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t developed chronic stomach problems. My illness was a blessing, a gift, and an invitation to focus on, commit to, and follow through on what mattered in my life. These seven years have been a healing journey. The fear, discomfort, and dis-ease that once dominated my days are distant memories. It was wonderful to see during my HHI visit that nourishing myself with raw food and love has not only transformed my life, but the lives of countless others worldwide. |
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