Cracks in Consciousness

Dance Space

2020-03-22T13:31:00.001-06:00

Namaste and Welcome. I’m McDowell Graham, founder of Cracks in Consciousness, where the world is more than we know.

For today’s thought shifting session, I want to talk about self-isolation and its effects on our well-being – physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Right now, countless blogs, videos, FB Live sessions, and Twitters are available that talk about the need for social distancing and self-isolation. I’ve seen lots of recommendations and suggestions for how to accomplish both.

But I haven’t seen much about the reality of self-isolation, specifically, how we navigate our daily lives in the seemingly constant, in some cases, 24/7 physical presence of others we share our homes with. And I call this, “Dance Space.”

In my business, I use Intuitive Mentoring to help share information that might be difficult for beginners to grasp on their own. Mentoring enables the student to learn valuable life lessons from the mentor’s experiences, mistakes, challenges, and obstacles, which can ease the way as they continue on their life journey and step into the unknown.

As it turns out, I have extensive experience with self-isolation, which I hope might help some of you during this time.

More that 15 years ago, I chose to live as a self-isolationist. Of course, 15 years ago, it wasn’t called that – and it certainly wasn’t acceptable. People like me were called hermits and anti-social. Now, how I live my life is suddenly “in vogue.” Who knew?

One of the most fundamental “new realities” of a pandemic world that most of us are facing now is finding ourselves in close physical proximity to everyone in our households 24/7. And, for most of this, this is an entirely new experience that we were unprepared for.

Just a few short weeks ago, our children would be out of the house at school. We went to work or to the gym or grocery store, often alone. And in those moments, we had physical separation from each other. And I believe that moments of physical separation is as vital to our well-being as physical touch is.

So what is the “Dance Space”?

Many of you have heard me say this many times: “This is my dance space, this is your dance space. I don’t go into your space, you don’t come into mine.”

Okay, in full disclosure, yes, it’s from the Patrick Swayze movie called, “Dirty Dancing.”

You never know where the big idea might come from.

(And since everyone is home binging on old movies, if you know the movie that the quote comes from about big idea, put it in the Comments. And well done you!)

In the dance space scene, Patrick Swayze is explaining to Baby how to maintain physical distance, while as the same time, moving fluidly and in synch together. The physical distance – the Dance Space – is essential to the dance.

And now, I’m guessing that for most of you, people are in your dance space. And I’m also guessing that for most you, you’re finding this to be uncomfortable, or tiring, or emotionally overwhelming, or just plain annoying. At the same time, you also might feel guilty about not enjoying this enforced “crowding” of your personal space.

But you have no idea now to maintain your Dance Space and to find the balance between separateness and togetherness.

So let’s talk about a few tools you can use to find this very important sacred place.

The first tool is giving yourself permission to create physical separation. If you’re lucky enough to have a place you can go in the house to be alone, go there. If not, sit in your car and listen to music. Go outside by yourself and simply breathe the fresh air. Just a few minutes of physical separation from your loved ones can restore your sense of self and oneness and your desire to be with others.

The second dandy tool you can use is called, “The Eightfold Fence.” It’s a poem from the “Kojiki,” the oldest surviving book of Japanese myths and stories from around AD 712.

Eight clouds arise. The eightfold fence of Izumo makes an eightfold fence for the spouses to retire [within]. Oh! that eightfold fence.

The Eightfold Fence is a tool of sanity. It is a spiritual wall behind which we can withdraw and disengage from the emotions that flood our conscience. Remember, we are all energetic beings. Being in a defined space not only confines us physically, it also confines us energetically. You might be experiencing not only your OWN emotions – fear, concern about the future, uncertainty – but you are also energetically participating in everyone else’s emotions.

From within the Eightfold Fence, we can smile when we are sad. It is the protection from senseless tragedy, the gates that are slowly opened to loved ones, the place where secret ambition is guarded, and perhaps the one thing each person can know is entirely unique to themselves.

So at any point during the day, if you feel your Dance Space eroding, you can erect your own Eightfold Fence like this:

Close your eyes.
Picture a fence that encircles you in love and light. Make the fence as dense or as “see-through” as you like. A privacy fence, a picket fence, a fence of green trees. It doesn’t matter what it’s made out of. It’s your fence – just be sure that you resonate with it.
Now, cleanse your mind of people – watch the sunset, listen to the rain or the birds singing, see the falling snow. If you really listen, if you really see, the present vanishes. You are alone and safe.

Do this anytime you need to honor your physical self.

The last tool you can use is one I use often: the White Light of Protection. This is especially helpful when you’re feeling emotionally overwhelmed. White Light is used to help you to clear your energetic space and protect you from negativity. It’s amazingly simple, and here’s how I do it:

Close your eyes.
Circle your hand and repeat: “I surround myself with the White Light of Protection. Nothing but love can enter within. Nothing but love can emerge from within. I am safe. I am myself.”
Now, picture being “encased” in a shimmering bubble of light and love

That’s it. Do this any time you need to be apart in your own energetic space.

Perception is a Matter of Choice

2018-03-25T07:39:00.001-06:00

Reprinted in honor of my soulmate, Kona, who passed away six years ago today.

From 2002 to 2012, I shared my life with the love of my life: a plush-coat Czechoslovakian Shepherd named Kona. He meant everything to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

He wasn’t the dog I was “supposed” to get. I wanted a solid black male. When the litter that I had placed a deposit on was born, there were two males, and one of them was all black. See, I told myself, it was meant to be. I had first pick of the males, and so I chose Black Boy. Fortunately, the Universe knew better than I did.

About a week after the puppies were born, the breeder asked me if I would consider taking the other male. Apparently, the family who had also placed a deposit on a male from this litter used to have a solid black that had passed away just a year before, and they were still heartbroken. “The kids have their hearts set on getting another black Shepherd,” the breeder told me. “So would you consider taking the other male?” I certainly wasn’t going to add to some child’s heartache, so I agreed to let them have “my” puppy.

And so, in the end, I got the dog that I really was supposed to get. Because he would turn out to be the dog that would change my life.

I love dogs. Charles Schultz said it best when he declared, “Happiness is a warm puppy.” Although in my case, “happiness” didn’t begin to describe how I felt about my Kona. Because what I felt for Kona took my breath away.

At night, I would lay next to him, listening to his quiet breathing, and sometimes stroking his long, soft fur. Every single time, my heart would fill with joy and gratitude that such a wonderful dog had come into my life.

Kona, on the other hand, didn’t feel quite the same way. He would sleepily crack open one eye and give me that look that said, “Yes, Mommy, I love you to the moon and back, too. But, I’d like to go back to sleep now, if you don’t mind.”

Life was unendingly good.

But then, in 2008, Kona was diagnosed with a life-threatening medical condition. The prognosis for dogs with Kona’s diagnosis was bleak at best; one vet told me that the longest any of his patients had lived after the diagnosis was three weeks. He also said that the dogs usually died instantly and with no warning—sometimes in their sleep or, more often than not, while playing or even just taking an easy walk around the block. He warned me that the only chance Kona had of surviving was to keep him quiet, avoiding stress, stimulation, excitement, and exercise of any kind. And he cautioned me not to get my hopes up for any reason because Kona’s situation was, in fact, hopeless, and only a miracle could save him.

To say I was devastated doesn’t come close to describing how I felt. I barely heard a word the vet was telling me, and I cried for two days.

I kept trying to imagine my life without him, but that turned out to be as hopeless as Kona’s prognosis. After all, Kona was my protector (I lived alone in a remote area, but never felt afraid), my constant companion, my confidant. My soul-puppy.

And now he was going to be taken from me?

No, I thought, I can’t bear that.

And so, I decided that I had no choice. Whether or not I liked it, whether or not Kona liked it, we would have to do exactly what Kona’s vet said had to be done if Kona was going to “live,” even though it didn’t seem like it would be much of a life for either of us. And, having decided this, I didn’t know which was worse—thinking that I had no choice, or picturing how awful and fearful every moment would be from this moment on.

But then, something miraculous did happen. Just not the miracle I was “supposed” to get.

I thought about something that Kami Garcia wrote in Beautiful Darkness, “We don't get to choose what is true. We only get to choose what we do about it.”

And at that moment, I realized that I did, in fact, have a choice: I might not be able to change the situation, but I could change my perception of the situation. And, simply by choosing to change my perception, I could also change how I felt about it and what I could do about it.

And so, I wondered, if that’s true, then what choices do I really have?

Well, I could choose to let this news fill me with fear every remaining moment I had with Kona. I could, as the vet suggested, lock him in the house, never take him for long walks again, never let him chase birds or rabbits, never leave him alone for a single moment “just in case.” The only exercise he would have from this moment forward would feel like one slow, inexorable death march.

Or. . . .

I could choose to be grateful for every remaining moment I had with him. We could go on as we always had, him racing after the rabbits, excitedly barking at the cats next door, flushing the birds out of the trees, trotting alongside me on my morning jog—aware of the possible consequences, but consciously choosing to live our lives to the fullest.

Nelson Mandela said, “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” And so, I chose my second option, and decided to live life as hopefully and as free from fear as possible.

Which Kona and I did—not just for three short weeks, but, miraculously, for four more spectacular years!

Which is not to say that I didn’t have to come up with a plan for facing my fears and dealing with Kona’s condition realistically for however much time we had left together. Kona had good days and bad. He saw a posse of specialists monthly, and underwent quarterly monitoring to record the rhythm of his heart. And each time we went to the vet, each time a new test was run, and I waited nervously for the results, I was faced with the same choice: see this as a blessing, not a curse. Be glad for our time together or live in constant, never-ending dread that our time was drawing to an end.

Admittedly, I am optimistic by nature. But the choices I had to make during those final four roller-coaster years with Kona went far beyond trying to keep my cup-half-full attitude. Because there were countless days when Kona’s long-term prognosis was that his cup had run dry. Nights, when I stroked his lovely fur while he was sleeping, and my heart would fill with joy and gratitude, like it always had—except that now, it was for a different reason: simply because he was still breathing.

And when each new day dawned, and Kona had survived another night, I would chose, once again, to continue on as we had the day before.

Epictetus said, “If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. It is not so much what happens to you as how you think about what happens.”

Surely, there can be nothing more powerful, and empowering, than knowing we can choose how to perceive, and then respond to, whatever life throws at us. And, when things happen to us, the potential to turn them into good things is always available. Not always easy, but always possible.

Perception is a matter of choice. I have a choice every day regarding the perceptions I will embrace for that day. Learning to change my perception has helped me more readily accept and engage the difficulties of life and how I respond to the experience.

I don’t always choose wisely. But I choose. Granted, some choices are easier to make than others, like what to wear to work or what to have for dinner, than, say, choosing to quit a job or end a relationship. Choosing not to give up, no matter how dire or hopeless or just plain unmanageable things may seem.

Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” My years with Kona taught me the most valuable lesson I can ever hope to learn: No matter what happens, I can choose how to perceive the events that make up my life. And, it is this power of choice that makes life endurable, worthwhile, joyful, just plain manageable—or miraculous.

Today, I think I’ll choose miraculous.

There Are Always Options--Even When You Lock Yourself in a Barn on New Year's Day

2017-01-01T13:33:00.002-07:00

The author, Christiane Northrup, said this: “Our souls design many potent wake-up calls to get our attention back on track.” As it turned out, it only took one potent wake-up call for me to figure out how to extricate myself from any situation. Because everything I needed to know about finding my way out of any situation I learned by locking myself in a barn on New Years Day, 2005!

I’m going to begin by sharing with you a story from one of my favorite TV shows, “The West Wing.” Leo McGarry tells Josh Lyman this story.

This guy’s walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can’t get out.

A doctor passes by and the guy shouts up, “Hey you. Can you help me out?” The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.

Then a priest comes along and the guy shouts up, “Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?” The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.

Then a friend walks by. “Hey Joe, it’s me, can you help me out?” And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, “Are you stupid? Now we’re both down here.” The friend says, “Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”

I don’t know about you, but I have to admit that I’ve fallen into a hole with steep walls and no obvious way out more than a few times in my life.

Now I’m a business process engineer by profession, which means that it’s my job to help companies figure out how to scale their own steep walls of inefficiency and falling profits. How to find a way out of any mess, and turn that mess into a success.

And, over the years, I figured out how to apply what I’ve learned as a process engineer in the corporate world to my own life, to get out of any hole I’ve fallen into.

So are you like me? Have you ever found yourself in a steep hole and couldn’t figure out a Way Out?

Well move over! Today I’m going to jump down into that deep hole with you and show you the way out.

Today, you’ll learn a simple three-step cure for curing what I call The No Way Out Syndrome once and for all! It’s your personal roadmap to seeing the way out of any hole you might have fallen into, scaling those steep walls, and finally climbing out.

So, how and when did I find this amazing cure?

January 1, 2005.

A day of possibilities. We close the door on the past year. We look forward to the coming year.

And so it was with me in 2005.

I began the day by closing the door, not only on the past year, but on the last 20 years of my life as well. I was packing up the rest of the things that belonged to my about-to-be ex-husband who had moved out two months before.

And I was looking forward to the coming year, and the rest of my life, with a little fear but also with lots of hope and excitement!

I had been packing up my husband’s things for several weeks. And, whenever I had a few boxes for him to pick up, I’d leave them down in the barn so he could retrieve them when I was at work. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

On this day, New Years Day, 2005, I packed up the rest of his tools, loaded the toolbox and the dogs into the car, and drove down to the barn, which is about 2 acres behind my house, and about 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor’s house.

Let’s be clear about one thing: to call this structure a “barn” is probably a stretch. It’s really just a big storage shed. The walls and the doors are just plywood boards that are 4 feet wide and 8 feet high. The roof is corrugated metal tacked onto the top of the plywood walls.

I don’t have horses or any kind of livestock. Which means that I’ve never actually used the barn to stable anything other than some boxes and suitcases. Which also means that there’s no water or electricity. Plus, there are windows, but they’re boarded up with pieces of plywood.

So I drive down to the barn, let the dogs out of the car, grab the toolbox, and go to open the barn door.

Again, calling this a barn door is another stretch, just like the rest of the barn. It’s just one of the 4-foot-wide by 8-foot-high piece of plywood. It’s attached to the barn by two gate hinges, and there’s a big gate latch on the outside that keeps the door securely closed.

Now, because the door is pretty big and just attached with two gate hinges, if you want to keep the door open, you have prop it open with a big piece of concrete.

But on this day, I wasn’t planning on staying in the barn. I just had to swing the door open, drop the toolbox inside, and drive back to the house to enjoy the rest of the day and begin planning my future life. Easy!

I drop the toolbox on the ground. I unlatch the door and swing it open just enough for the dogs to run in excitedly and sniff around. With my one hand on the door, I pick up the toolbox with my other hand, step into the barn, and lean down to place the toolbox on the ground.

As I lean over, I lose my balance every so slightly, and the hand I’m holding the door open with comes off the door. As I turn around to catch the door before it swings shut, I hear this big WHHOOSH, a huge gust of wind sweeps by, I hear a big BANG, the barn door slams shut.

And then I hear a quieter, but more ominous sound – the gate latch on the outside of the door locks shut.

I am now trapped in a dark, empty barn 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor in the wee hours of the morning on New Years Day. No electricity, no water – and no cell phone because I wasn’t planning on staying down at the barn so it didn’t occur to me to bring it along.

And as the darkness closes around me, my life passes before my eyes because clearly, I’m probably going to perish out in this barn before anyone comes to rescue me. So for all intents and purposes, there is now No Way Out.

But, hang on a minute—aren’t I a process engineer by profession? Don’t I have a proven track record of being able to assess any situation and come up with a blueprint for getting from mess to success? Surely I can apply what I’ve learned from those experiences to getting out of this barn!

And exactly what have I learned that I can apply to this situation? In process engineering, we use a three-part methodology called, “As Is, To Be, Implement.” So how could I use this approach here?

Well, I just have to take stock of my “as is” surroundings, figure out what my options might be for getting to my “To Be” end-state (which, in this case is out of this barn), then implement the option that we achieve that end state (freedom!)

So, as my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, I take a look around, and I realize I have not just one option but several options.

Option #1: I can do nothing. It may seem paradoxical but doing nothing is always an option. Those of you who are hikers—what do they tell you to do when you get lost in the woods? “Do nothing. Stay where you are.” However, sometimes there are consequences even for doing nothing and, in this case, the consequences could be dire indeed if no one finds me. Plus, my dogs are starting to whimper and whine, so clearly they don’t think much of this option either.

Option #2: I can scream for help. Of course, my barn is 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor. Plus, it’s New Years Day, and it’s unlikely that any of my neighbors are even awake yet, let alone hiking out near my barn. It’s an option but probably not my best option.

Option #3. I could run at the barn door with all my might and hope to break the lock. Ashleigh Brilliant once said, “In order to get from what was to what will be, you must go through it.” Sound advice, no doubt. However, it might take a few tries before I actually succeed in breaking out through the door, during which time I would probably also break one of my shoulders and one or both legs, in which case, I won’t be able to crawl back to the car, let alone drive myself to the hospital. So, here’s another option that probably isn’t my best option.

Option #4. I could try to escape through the roof. Because the roof isn’t nailed down securely, I can see patches of daylight in some spots. And since I’m using the barn as a storage shed for lots of boxes and suitcases, I could pile everything up like a ladder, climb up, and try to push the roof away from the wall enough for me to shimmy out and drop to the ground. But remember—it’s at least 8 feet straight down, and that’s even assuming I can get up there and swing my legs over in the first place. Which ultimately means we’re looking at that whole “break my shoulders and my legs” outcome again, so this doesn’t seem to be my best option either.

Things are beginning to look bleak indeed if these are my only options. So not wanting to perish in a barn, I continue to take stock, and, looking around once more, I notice the boarded-up window.

Aha – another option!

I know that there’s no glass I have to break through because, as you recall, I never put the windows in. I just need to remove the plywood board that’s nailed over the opening on the inside of the barn. But how am I going to do that? I don’t have any tools.

Hang on a minute. I DO have tools – a bunch of tools. Which is why I have managed to stupidly lock myself in the barn in the first place!

So, I open up the tool box and take out the hammer. I pry out the nails, and the plywood board swings open just like a door! I climb up onto the window ledge, swing my legs out, and proceed to drop gracefully to the ground, which is about 7 feet below, managing to only scrape my arm and pull most of the muscles in my upper body in my fall from grace. I brush myself off, look around sheepishly to make sure that no one has seen me, because in the immortal words of Louisa May Alcott, “Let us be elegant or die,” go back around to the barn door, and open it to let my dogs out.

And as I drive back up to my house on this New Years Day of new beginnings, I realize that everything I will EVER need to know about finding my way out of any situation I’ve just learned by stupidly locking myself in the barn!

And at the heart of my wake-up call is a simple three-step process that anyone can use to Break Free From the No Way Out Syndrome: to move from where they are to where they want to be and transform any mess into success.

And just what are those steps?

1. Examine.

2. Envision.

3. Emerge.

So let’s look at how I discovered these steps and how I applied them to getting out of the barn. And as I tell you how I applied these steps, I ask you to begin thinking about how you might also use them in your own life right now.

Step #1: Examine. In order to get from where you are to where you want to be, you begin by taking stock of your present circumstances WITHOUT JUDGMENT.

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, wrote this: “If you start to look around, you will start to see.”

If you’re going to break free from where you are in order to transform your life, the first thing you need to do is start to really see. See what might be keeping you locked in the barn, down in that steep hole, or trapped in the corn maze. Look around. Take stock. Look for your options. Look for the tools that might be available to you.

Now the most important thing about this step is taking stock NONJUDGMENTALLY. And why is this so important? Because if you’re too busy beating yourself up for getting locked in the barn or trapped in the maze in the first place, you can’t see clearly.

The moment I realized that I had locked myself in the barn, I thought to myself, “Are you stupid? You just locked yourself in the barn! There’s no way out. No one knows you’re down here!”

But then I realized that beating myself up was NOT going to get me out.

So I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then I took stock: I examined what was IN the barn that I might be able to use to get OUT of the barn: the door, the roof, the boxes and suitcases I could pile up, the boarded-up window, the tools in the toolbox.

Which brings us to Step 2 in our 3-step blueprint for Breaking Free From the No Way Out Syndrome.

Step #2: Envision. You visualize all of your options – and what the outcome might be for each option.

Once I examined my surroundings and my situation, what did I do next? I started to see that I did in fact have options, and I pictured the possible outcomes for each one.

And why do we picture the outcomes? Because you need to figure out which option is in your best and highest interest, which in my case, meant the one that would cause me the fewest broken bones!

Remember how I saw five options, each with a different outcome?

Option 1: I could do nothing – and wind up dead, or at the very least, deaf as a result of my dogs screeching in my ears.

Option 2: I could scream – and wind up hoarse (no pun intended) and probably still trapped in the barn.

Option 3: I could try to break down the door – and probably break one or more bones.

Option 4: I could try to break out through the roof – and probably break both of my legs in the fall.

Option 5: I could pry the board off the window and climb out – and maybe hurt myself in the fall.

All of these options were possible. Not all of them were in my best interest. But all of them were possible.

Which reminds of something that Coco Chanel once said, “Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” Sounds like she might have locked herself in a barn once or twice herself, and she’s letting us know that, while we might have many options, not all of them are in our best interest.

Which brings us to the last step in our three-step blueprint for Breaking Free From the No Way Out Syndrome.

Step #3: Emerge. You take action towards whatever you decide is in your best and highest interest.

Herbert Hoover said, “Wisdom often consists of knowing what to do next.”

In order to Emerge from any hole you’ve fallen into, you have to figure out what to do using your own inner guidance system that knows what’s best for you.

So how did I apply this step to getting out of that blasted barn?

After I considered all of my options, I decided that my best course of action was to escape through the window. And what did I do to literally Emerge from that barn? I took action!

· I found the tools I needed to pry off the board.

· I hoisted myself up onto the window ledge.

· I dropped gracefully down to the ground on the other side.

Free at last!

Dr. Michael Smith said this: “You are the one who finds your way out and you will.”

Looking at your life today, do you feel as if you’re locked in a barn with no way out? Are you at a place in your life where you know where you want to be but you can’t figure out how to get there from here? Maybe you’re overwhelmed by options, but you need help to determine which option is in your best interest?

Well take heart—and take action!

If I can get myself out of a locked barn without breaking a single bone, you can Break Free of anything that is currently holding you back and keeping you from getting from where you are to where you want to be. And you don’t even need to lock yourself in the barn to know what that is.

You just need to follow these three simple steps to leave behind all of the thoughts, beliefs, assumptions, emotions, and expectations that no longer serve you.

Examine your situation without judgment. Envision your options. And then select your best option to take action and Emerge into the Light!

The author Barbara Sher said, “You need never be hopelessly stuck again, you can get moving now.” So if you find that you need a little help getting back in touch with your inner guidance system, so you can get moving now, I’m here for you! You can check out any of my books, take one of my workshops, or just chat with me about where you are so that, together, we can get you to where you want to be!

The "Awful Leisure" of Loss

2016-09-11T07:39:00.002-06:00

There is a very good first-person article today in the “Perspective” section of the Denver Post. Headlined, “What it means to have been born on Sept. 11, 2001,” it is the perspective of a young woman who was born on this day 15 year ago, and how people react when she tells them that, yes, she was born on 9/11.

I have another perspective of this day, one that I would title, ““What it means to have your beloved sister pass away on Sept. 11, 2015.”

One year ago today, I was in the middle of interviewing for a new job, one that would allow me to work remotely full time. This was a goal for me, ever since my sister, who had been in declining health for several years, finally was going to need to move in with me so I could look after her. And, because she couldn’t live with me in Colorado (the altitude), we had decided to move to California, where she could enjoy the benefits of living at sea level (and I could finally realize another goal I had of moving back to the Central Coast).

The interviews (there were three in total) had been going very well, and I was confident that I was going to be offered a position. I was looking forward to telling Colleen the news that very morning one year ago today. I was also hoping that she’d be awake and alert enough to take my call; she had gone into the hospital unexpectedly just four days previously and was having a rough go of it.

Unfortunately, she passed away before I could tell her the good news.

Jonathan H. Ellerby, in his book, “Return to the Sacred,” said this: “After the body is removed, the room is cleaned, and the funeral ends, life will eventually snap back into place. No one at the grocery store will know what’s in your heart, and no one at work will see your sadness. No one will ask you to give voice to the words you haven’t found yet.”

When a loved one passes, time begins to pass differently as well. For the person left behind and left to grieve, it’s as if we’ve entered another dimension, where time is measured not in days, hours, or minutes, but in another, more surreal, less measured way. Those who shared our sadness or grief, those who offered condolences, went back to their unchanged lives. But the person left behind will never have the same life to go back to.

Not long after a friend of mine passed away in 2001, an article titled, “Maybe We Do Not Speak Of It,” serendipitously appeared in the Rocky Mountain News. I cut it out of the paper and framed it next to a photo of my friend because it captured, far better than I could, that surreal feeling of time.

And, so many years later, on the anniversary of my sister’s passing, it still says in a few words what I feel today. I offer it to all of you, in memory of my sister, Colleen Lorraine Graham.

“Maybe we do not speak of it because death will mark all of us, sooner or later. Or maybe it is unspoken because grief is only the first part of it. After a time it becomes something less sharp but larger, too, a more enduring thing called loss.

Perhaps that is why this is the least explored passage: because it has no end. The world loves closure, loves a thing that can, as they say, be gotten through. This is why it comes as a great surprise to find that loss is forever, that two decades after the event, there are those occasions when something in you cries out at the continual presence of an absence.

“An awful leisure,” Emily Dickinson once called what the living have after death.

The landscapes of all our lives become as full of craters as the surface of the moon. And I write my obituaries carefully and think about how little the facts suffice, not only to describe the dead but to tell what they mean to the living all the rest of our lives. We are defined by who we have lost.”

The Two Most Offensive Words in the English (Or Any Other) Language

2016-04-03T08:36:00.000-06:00

Question: What are the two most offensive words in the English (or any other) language?

I’ll give you two hints:

Neither word is on George Carlin’s famous, “Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television.”
Unlike George Carlin’s Seven Words, both words are never censored, either on television or anywhere else (and, taken together, they should be).

Answer: Age Appropriate

Age appropriateness is generally defined as “suitable for people of a particular age.”

I once subscribed to a magazine that marketed itself as the magazine “for women of style and substance.” Since I like to believe that I have ample amounts of both style and substance, I loved that magazine. I tore out stories to keep for later reference, and quoted it often in my blogs.

Until I read an article about age appropriateness in all things, which caused me to promptly cancel my subscription.

Of course, there were the usual tips about clothing—and to my female readers, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The length of our skirts and dresses should become increasingly longer as we grow longer in the tooth, while the plunge of our crepe necklines should creep up in direct proportion to the amount of the crepe skin on our necks as it creeps down.

Now, I have to admit that there is some truth in some of this. I once went to a baseball game with a friend. As we were walking up to the ticket counter, we happened to get in line behind a woman who was encased in very tight lycra pants and a tank top. And, let us say that the woman was weight challenged. My friend looked at the woman, then looked at me, and said, “If you ever see me leaving the house dressed like that, please shoot me.”

Perhaps a bit extreme, but you all have my permission to do the same to me.

And, I firmly believe no woman over the age of 25 should ever be allowed to leave the house wearing Dockers pants.

So I wasn’t offended by the article on the articles of clothing that we should or should not wear.

No, it wasn’t until I got to the section on “Age Appropriate Hair” when I started feeling the heat creep up my admittedly crepey neck.

In discussing appropriate hair styles, the question of length cropped up again.

The recommendation: The older you get, the shorter, more cropped your hair should be.

The reasoning: Because long hair—from the back—suggests youth, which apparently serves as a kind of attitudinal bait and switch to people standing in line behind us waiting to get into, say, a baseball game.

The actual words that the article used were along these lines: Our long hair from the back can be unsettling to men when they see how long in the tooth we actually are from the front, which results in a sharp drop in their desire.

Okay, maybe I’m paraphrasing. But, hand to god, the article actually used the word UNSETTLING, as in “it can be unsettling to men when you turn around and they realize “just how old you really are.”

Now, being a woman of style and substance, and one who happens to have very long hair, I’d also like to believe that I am many things, from the back and the front, none of which I would describe as unsettling, to men or to anyone, for that matter. Arlene Dahl said it best when she acerbically snorted back to James Mason in the 1955 movie, Journey to the Center of the Earth, “I may have been a disturbance to men, never a burden.”

Keep in mind that the concept of age appropriateness isn’t restricted to just us old, crepey-necked, unsettling women. Implicit ageism is the term used to refer to the implicit or subconscious thoughts, feelings, and behaviors one has about older or younger people. These may be a mixture of positive and negative thoughts and feelings, but gerontologist Becca Levy reports that they “tend to be mostly negative.”

Ya think?

Age-based prejudice and stereotyping usually involves older or younger people being pitied, marginalized, or patronized. This is described as “benevolent prejudice” because the tendency to pity is linked to seeing older or younger people as “friendly, but incompetent,” or, in my case, unsettling.

Katrina Kaif said, “I feel it is important not to get overly obsessed and overly carried away with just the physical aspect. There is more to beauty than just the physical appearance. You are also a complete person, and a woman should have an identity beyond just the way she looks.”

Amen, sister.

And so if you happen to be in line behind me someday, please know that I will go on being unsettling—as well as disturbing, unexpected, crepey, long in the tooth and sometimes short in the skirt (but never in lycra or Dockers!).

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!

Deja Vu All Over Again

2016-03-13T13:15:00.002-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: We can change the quality of our lives by changing the context in which we view our circumstances. Ernie Zelinkski

I can’t prove it, but I think there's a pool they started up at work when I returned last month after my 14-month "sabbatical": Pick the day when McDowell will stop looking refreshed and start looking like she did when she left here at the end of 2014.

I’m not sure what kind of odds I’m getting, but in the immortal words of Bruce Willis, “Put me down for twenty, I'm good for it.”

In my first week, several people commented on how refreshed I looked. Now, admittedly, it helped that I had just gotten back from Hawaii, so I definitely looked suntanned and rested. But it made me wonder: just how bad DID I look when I left?

Anyone who read my last book, “I’ve Been Down Here Before, But This Time I Know The Way Out,” knows that, in 2014, I left the very job I now hold because things had become completely out of control for me. Not because I disliked the work—on the contrary, the various things I got to work on were very suited to my interests and my skills. Instead, I left because my behavior had made me ashamed of myself, and I couldn’t figure out a way to dig myself out short of running when I got the chance.

And that chance came when I had the opportunity to accept a layoff and 26 weeks of unemployment.

Several people have asked, with no small amount of incredulity in their voices, why in heavens name I actually came back. And not a few of them have assumed that I must have been forced back somehow—maybe because I’ve run out of money, or I couldn’t get a job anywhere else.

I’ve started the rumor that I was offered $14 million to return. It seemed like a nice round figure.

It would be incredibly naive, and just plain stupid, to think that the workplace has changed in the 14 months that I’ve been gone. Of course it hasn’t changed. And since it hasn’t changed, most people believe that it’s just a matter of time before I start looking like I did before.

Except that I know I won’t. And how, you may ask, can I possibly be so sure about this?

Because, while the workplace hasn’t changed, my circumstances have. And so have I.

John Ramos said, “For things to change, you must change. For things to get better, you must get better.”

A lot can happen in 14 months (for that matter, a lot can happen in 14 minutes). And I had a choice: I could either continue to view my circumstances in the same way or I could change the context.

And, not only could I change how I viewed my circumstances, I could change my view of MYSELF within those circumstances.

I’ve changed. I’ve gotten better. And now everything around me has changed and gotten better as well.

So as you view your own circumstances, is there anything that you can change so that you, too, can get better?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Get Back To Where You Once Belonged

2016-03-06T10:39:00.000-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for This Week: “You must learn to respect the wisdom of your natural instincts, because they are probably superb when it comes to weaving everything you need into your life.” Barbara Sher

Last month, I wrote about how I found, and then, surprisingly, left the perfect job.

Now I want to share how this came about. I still believe that the Universe did, in fact, manifest the perfect job for me. I simply needed to come to understand why it was perfect for me—and why I needed to leave it.

In my book, Will Work to Feed Dogs: Seven Steps to Identifying Meaningful Life-Work Now!, I wrote this: a critical element in finding meaningful life work is determining which components of your Authentic Self are most important to you. This is because the components of your Authentic Self that are most important to you will help you make appropriate decisions and choices so that you don’t compromise when it comes to identifying your ideal life-work.

To help people determine what those components are, I included an exercise called, “My Authentic Self,” which consists of exploring five aspects: values, passions/interests, natural talents, favorite skills, and personality preferences. (Self-promoting plug: you can find the worksheet that goes with this exercise on my personal transformation site www.cracksinconsciousness.com ).

Of course, in the spirit of “walk the talk,” I dutifully filled out the worksheet—but, as it turns out, not so much with a focus on what it really meant to me so much as a usability test drive to ensure that the worksheet made sense from a coaching perspective.

Bad idea. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. Maybe “too focused on only one thing” would be a better, less critical way to characterize it.

It’s not that I couldn’t identify all of the aspects of my Authentic Self; I live a very self-examined life, and, over the years, I’ve become quite an expert in what makes me tick and what’s most important to me.

However, when it came down to it, I was ashamed of what was most important to me. Why? Because of very old tapes running all the way back to my childhood.

And what was most important to me? Financial and personal security. Human, face-to-face interaction (I can talk to my dogs only so much). None of which were considered okay for me to need or want while I was growing up. And, none of which could ever be satisfied by my 100% remote, work for 18 months without benefits and then you’re on your own for 6 months Project Manager job.

Now, I won’t waste your time (or mine) chronicling the woes, real or perceived, of my childhood. Because the real lesson here is that, regardless of how I was raised, how I got here, where I go from here, the essential piece of the puzzle of how to live a happy life is owning what is true and necessary for me. Owning it without shame or apology or justification. Owning it, and then acting on it.

And so I ran from my perfect job—back to where I was at the end of 2014. I’m working at the same place (literally, in the same building), with the same people, for a great new company, for a great salary and benefits, a flexible work schedule (meaning onsite and telework), and where several of my closest friends also work. Perfect!

Barbara Sher also said: “You don’t have to give up a life of security to lead the life of adventure.”

Which I am finding to be very true for me. With my need for financial and personal security met, I can freely continue to pursue everything else that gives me personal satisfaction: writing, teaching, public speaking.

And so, let me leave you with this thought: looking at your own Authentic Self, is there any aspect of it that you are not honoring? And if there is, what is it costing you?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Finnegan Begin Again

2016-02-21T10:38:00.001-07:00

When I decided to return to the workforce last June, I, wisely, turned to my very own book, Getting What You Wish For: A Short and Sweet Guide to Manifesting the Sweet Life!, for guidance in securing the “perfect” job: “Your desires must be focused, specific, and stated in such a way as to be given the answer you are looking for in order to bring about positive changes in your life.”

(I have to say, it’s terribly fun to be able to quote yourself!)

At the time, my #1 priority was finding employment that would enable me to become my sister’s primary caregiver; Colleen’s health had deteriorated to the point that she was going to need to move in with me, an eventuality that we knew was going to occur sooner or later. And now, it was time.

Keeping in mind that I needed to be specific in my request, here was my wish list for the “perfect job”:

100% remote, so that I could relocate Colleen to the sea-level altitude she required without having to also worry about finding a job once we got to our new home
Sufficient income to provide for Colleen’s needs, take care of my dogs, and live the lifestyle I desired
Time to pursue my other interests: writing, teaching, and helping others in my Cracks in Consciousness personal transformation coaching practice

That the job had to be completely remote was paramount. I was going to have to relocate for my sister’s health; she needed to live at sea-level, but I live at an altitude of 6,500 feet, which meant she couldn’t move here. So, I needed to figure out the best places to move where she could get the best medical help she required; sell my house and buy or rent a new house, get myself relocated from Colorado, and get Colleen relocated from Nevada. Having a 100% remote job would give me the time and the means to do this.

And within two months, the Universe manifested the perfect job: a Project Management contract position that was 100% remote; paid the same salary that I was making when I left the workforce at the end of 2014; required employees to work 18 months, step away for 6 months (and collect unemployment, if desired, and pursue other personal or professional pursuits), and then hire back on for another 18 months; and, once mastered, required very little time each day to manage assigned projects, which allowed me to pursue other interests. The only downside was that contractors received no benefits. But, since Colleen would be living with me, and her income would help supplement mine, this wasn’t a concern.

I interviewed for the job over the course of three days (hiring company, employer-panel situational interview, finishing up with the VP of the business unit I would be joining). I was confident that I would receive a job offer, which I did—two days after Colleen died.

I accepted the job and began work in September 2015. After all, I still needed a job, and the fact that I had to handle all of the final arrangements for Colleen made having a remote job much easier to take care of business in the coming weeks and months. Plus, many of my current circumstances and needs were still the same: sufficient income and lots of time to pursue my other interests. Perfect!

So, perfect, in fact, that I resigned two weeks ago, and Friday was my last day.

But I still believe that the Universe did, in fact, manifest the perfect job for me. I simply needed to come to understand why it was perfect for me—and why I needed to leave it.

“It will all become clear as we walk along. It is in walking a path that we come to understanding.” Margaret George

As early as October, I realized that something was wrong.

At first, I thought that I didn’t like the work because I had, quite simply, forgotten how much I disliked being the new kid on the block. It had been many years since I started a new job, and, when I left my last job, I was considered the go-to-guy with 11 years of knowledge and experience to back it up. Hubris, I admit, but there it is.

Then, I remembered something that I had written about this job in my journal when I first applied: “The job has two elements that I detest: it’s a glorified secretary’s job; you have to follow up with everyone about everything. And, you have to spend your entire day ‘herding cats.’ But I’m sure I can get used to this. After all, I need a job, and I’ve always wanted a remote job.”

Teleworking isn’t for everyone. You need to be disciplined enough to structure your time. You need excellent communication skills, self-reliance, resourcefulness, flexibility, and confidence in your abilities. If I may say so myself, I have all of these qualities in spades. And I’m certainly self-reliant and resourceful; I’ve taken care of myself and my dogs by myself for the last 12 years.

And so, I’ve teleworked often over the last 20 years, and it suits me.

But I came to understand that “telework” is not the same as “100% remote.” And while I love being able to telework, I’ve come to learn that I hate being 100% remote—especially when you live in a remote place in the first place, like I do. Where getting to a town is a 20-minute drive in the best of circumstances, and seeing your friends can be an odyssey. Plus, while it’s true that you can work from anywhere so long as you are “available” during your working hours (which, in my case, was 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.), the ironical flip side is that you have to be 100% available during those hours—watching emails, responding to IMs, participating in online training—which can be challenging trying to find free Wifi and hotspots if I want to work someplace other than my own house.

But while none of this was insurmountable, one surprising (at least to me, at the time) observation became a frequent entry in my journal: I was lonely.

This was never an issue when I teleworked; I was in the office as often as I was out of the office, and so I never felt real loneliness. Admittedly, I frequently needed “by myself” time; being a practicing empath, it was important to recharge my psychic batteries regularly.

But now, I was 100% remote, and the one person I could always count on being 100% available to me wasn’t available at all anymore: my sister, Colleen.

“The components of your Authentic Self that are most important to you will help you make appropriate decisions and choices so that you don’t compromise when it comes to identifying your ideal life-work. You’ll also have a better chance at finding an emotional connection to whatever life-work you choose to do, which will allow you to thrive.” From my book, Will Work to Feed Dogs: Seven Steps to Identifying Meaningful Life-Work Now!

The Universe manifested exactly what I wished for: the perfect job. But it finally dawned on me why it was perfect: not because it was remote or because it paid me a good salary or was pretty easy to manage during the day. Rather, it was perfect for me because of what it taught me about myself. And the most important lesson was that I needed to accept my Authentic Self and what I needed and wanted in order to find that emotional connection.

This is how the Universe works: the answer we receive might not be the answer we think we’re looking for. So, it’s our job to glean from it what the answer truly means for us and why the answer is, in fact, perfect after all.

And once we discover the true meaning of the answer, it’s time to take the next step along that path to understanding.

Which, in my case, means that tomorrow I begin my new job. And what might that be?

Tune it next week to find out the surprising (at least to me) result!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Trick Questions

2016-01-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Life is simple. You just have to stop trying to figure it out.” Marty Rubin

Question: What do you do with a blue monster?

Answer: Cheer him up!

This is one of my favorite jokes, told to me by a former co-worker over 30 years ago. Obviously, I’ve never forgotten it.

Why? Because it cheers me up, every time, even when I’m not blue. And because it reminds me how easy it is to make things far more complicated than they really are or need to be. After all, the answer is pretty obvious, isn’t it? It’s not a trick question, but I’ve never found a single person who was able to answer it (including me).

(I also want to point out that this same co-worker told me another joke: Question: What’s orange and smells like carrots? Answer: Bunny farts. While rabbits are one of my most sacred animal guides, somehow bunny farts don’t lend themselves to thoughts about personal transformation. Although, I have to admit, I still think this joke is funny, too.)

Muhammad Yunus said, “Things are never as complicated as they seem. It is only our arrogance that prompts us to find unnecessarily complicated answers to simple problems.”

I’ve shared many times that I have a tendency to overcomplicate things. I like to think it’s a result of my natural abilities as a project manager and business process engineer, rather than arrogance. However, I’m pretty sure that there’s a healthy dose of that character flaw mixed into this as well.

I recently took one of those Facebook quizzes to determine what type of “seeker” I am. My results showed that I am a seeker of knowledge, that I need to know all answers to everything. NOW.

Clearly, I already knew this.

One other thing I already know is that, when we pass over to the Other Side, we will have access to the Akashic Records, which holds all knowledge of all things. The Akashic Records or "The Book of Life" can be equated to the universe's super computer system. It is this system that acts as the central storehouse of all information for every individual who has ever lived upon the earth. More than just a reservoir of events, the Akashic Records contain every deed, word, feeling, thought, and intent that has ever occurred at any time in the history of the world.

As a seeker of knowledge, I’m really looking forward to browsing this cosmic supercomputer because I have more than a few questions.

However, I must admit that there are times when I’d like to know the answer to some great mystery that I’m witnessing right now. Not only am I arrogant, I’m also impatient. So given that I plan on living many more years, and given that I am a seeker of all knowledge and wisdom, I’m afraid there are times when I can’t wait that long for the answer.

Take, for example, someone who drives well below the speed limit on a road with no passing lanes, but plenty of places to pull over—and a string of cars piled up behind, whose drivers are praying that the person will suddenly become enlightened, look in the rearview mirror, see all of us behind, and courteously PULL OVER.

These are times when I want to follow the person until they finally do pull over somewhere, park, and get out of their cars. I want to go up to that person and say, “I believe that, in the end, the Akashic records will be open to us and I will know the mysteries of all things. But given that I plan on living many more years, and given that I am a seeker of all knowledge and wisdom, I’m afraid I can’t wait that long. So let me ask you this: Why didn’t you simply pull over?”

This doesn’t seem like a trick question, does it? Perhaps some darker force is at work here? Somehow I doubt it.

Alice Roosevelt Longworth said, “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches.” I might add, pull over when you’re holding everyone up.

And, don’t forget: the next blue monster you run into, just remember to cheer him up!

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

Dance Moves

2016-01-03T08:38:00.001-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” George Eliot

Here’s your two-minute history lesson for the day: George Eliot was the male pen name of Mary Ann Evans (22 November 1819 – 22 December 1880). She was an English novelist, journalist, translator, and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era. She is the author of seven novels, including Adam Bede (1859), The Mill on the Floss (1860), Silas Marner (1861), Middlemarch (1872), and Daniel Deronda (1876), most of them set in provincial England and known for their realism and psychological insight. Middlemarch is considered one of the greatest novels in the English language. George Elliot used a male pen name to ensure her works would be taken seriously. Female authors were published under their own names during Eliot's life, but she wanted to escape the stereotype of women only writing lighthearted romances.

I first came across George Eliot while in college. I was an English major, and my plan was to become a college professor specializing in Victorian literature.

Fast-forward to now, and, clearly, I ended up on a different path (another story for another day).

But, I never forgot this quote. In fact, this sentiment has, over time, become my personal motto as well as my business’s tagline.

Next month, I turn 61. Cora Harvey Armstrong said, “Inside every older lady is a younger lady wondering what the hell happened.” Truer words were never spoken.

I remember my former mother-in-law once saying to me, “One day, you get up and leap out of bed, ready to begin the day’s events. Then, you suddenly notice that the only thing that has sprung out of bed is your boundless spirit. You look back and realize that your body is still lying there, trying to roll out of bed without groaning, and hoping not to fall over in the process.”

She and Cora must have been BFFs.

Bette Davis acidly observed, “Old age ain't no place for sissies.” I’d be lying if I told you that I disagreed with her. And, please, don’t try assuring me that 61 isn’t “old.” Try convincing my knees of that.

Of course, by now you’re probably wondering when the #ThoughtHealing part of this blog begins.

Hillel the Elder said, “I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing.”

On the cusp of 61, I totally get the “get up, walk, fall down” part. But, like Hillel, I try to focus on the dancing. Because it really IS never too late to learn a new step, acquire a new skill, pick up a new taste in literature, set a new goal. Cross off something on your bucket list—and then add three new things to it.

Maybe even become a college professor specializing in Victorian literature.

I keep a journal, plus I have a daily diary that I like to enter the little things in, like when the meadowlarks return each spring or when the first geese begin their annual migration in the fall. My current daily diary actually ends on January 1, 2017. On the first day of this new year, I turned to that page and wrote this, “My new life looks nothing like it did one year ago today (written on January 1, 2016).”

And while I don’t know quite yet what that will mean or how I might want to manifest it, I do know this: truer words were never spoken.

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s NEVER too late to be what you might have been!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

2015-12-21T08:46:00.001-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend… when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present — love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure — the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.” Sarah Ban Breathnach

Many years ago, I set out to plan a small but thoughtfully laid out garden in the front of my house. As you know, I’m a project manager by profession, so I approached this project in the same way as I tackled a multi-million dollar, multi-year technology infusion project: I evaluated my “current state” (the patch of brown waiting to be brought to life), I envisioned my “future state” (the beautifully crafted blooms that would flower year after year), and, most importantly, I developed my game plan for achieving my final solution that would no doubt one day be featured in Better Homes and Gardens (Western States edition).

I began by researching the best plants to include in my garden. I learned how to amend the soil; how to lay out everything in such a way as to take advantage of sunlight, runoff, and wind; and how to ensure that there would be adequate space between the plants to allow each one to spread out and up (all the while being sure not to plant anything on the dragon’s back, at least from a flowering feng shui perspective).

And so I excitedly bought all of my exhaustively researched plants, and I lovingly and thoughtfully placed each one according to the landscape blueprint I had equally lovingly and thoughtfully drawn up, every detail considered, every place on the dragon’s back plotted out. Now, all I had to do was sit back and marvel as my plans—and my plants—bore fruit and blossomed.

Even the most novice of gardeners knows that these things take time. There is an ebb and flow to the seasons; things grow and mature in their own time. Which means that, at least for the first couple of seasons, the garden might look a bit sparse. But, in time, everything will fill in exactly as planned.

As I said, I’m a planner, and a good one. I was confident that I had taken everything into account when I planned my project. And so I was willing to be patient and let things unfold as they were meant to.

Only, as it turned out, I had overlooked one factor that would ultimately spell disaster.

And that one factor was my husband.

Patience was not in his vocabulary. He thought the garden looked “too sparse,” and he was not willing to wait for it to fill in. He wanted what he wanted now (which, as it turned out, was his approach to pretty much everything, but that’s another story). So one day, unbeknownst to me (and while I was at work), he stopped by the local nursery and, explained this dire predicament to one of the salespeople. He then came home with what he was told would be the perfect addition to the garden, one that would fill in those artfully planned empty spaces quickly.

Which turned out to be Kentucky Bluegrass seed.

He happily spread that pernicious offender EVERYWHERE in my artfully planned garden. A former minor league baseball player with a wicked throwing arm, he applied himself with the precision of an outfielder gunning down the runner racing to steal home from third base. Nothing was left to chance—and no empty space was left untilled and unseeded.

How proud he was to show me the fruits of his labor when I got home. Not the brightest bulb, he didn’t realize for some time that I wasn’t exactly pleased with his effort. And so, for once, he decided to be patient and assured me that I would be happy with the results if I would just give it “a little time.”

(In truth, he was patiently waiting to tell me, “I told you so.”)

Sure enough, we did not have long to wait. The very next spring, my garden began to take shape. At least, I think it did. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t see my little buds pushing up to sunlight because they were swallowed up by the JUNGLE of Kentucky Bluegrass that seemed to spring forth overnight.

And year after year, while some of my plants failed, and others seemed to thrive, I could always count on one thing that would never fail and would always thrive in my garden: That (insert various expletives here) Kentucky Bluegrass.

In time, I decided to once and for all eradicate my garden of all pernicious weeds, failures, and seasonal flops. I also eradicated my husband. (Told you so.)

But the one thing I’ve never been able to rid my garden of is that lousy bluegrass. Which in the spirit of the holidays, I came to think of as The Gift That Keeps On Giving.

Every spring, when I see that bluegrass come to life (actually, it’s really more like the zombie plant in my garden because nothing can kill it and it’s the only thing that seems to stay green year-round), I’m reminded of my life BKB and AGKH: Before Kentucky Bluegrass and After Garden-Killing Husband. My life—like my thoughtfully and carefully planned garden—looks nothing like the landscape blueprint I thought my life would be those many years ago.

Marcel Proust said, “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

And while I curse that bluegrass every spring, I also make a conscious choice to think of it as the best possible Gift That Keeps On Giving that I’ve ever received. It reminds me of many things: of how things can change when we least expect it; how our best laid plans can go awry; how what might at first seem to be the worst thing that could happen might, in time, turn out to be one of the best things.

So, as this year comes to an end, and you open your gifts this week, what gifts have you received that will keep on giving—and what gifts can YOU give to others so that you, too, will be a charming gardener?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Inside (Looking) Out

2015-12-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” Harper Lee, “To Kill A Mockingbird”

I got a copy of my sister’s death certificate yesterday. Near the bottom, in box 25, “Immediate Cause,” there was space for up to four causes of death, preceded by this explanation: “Conditions if any which gave rise to immediate cause stating the underlying cause last.” Unfortunately, although not surprisingly, all four lines had an entry.

The first three were Cardiopulmonary Arrest, Acute Respiratory Failure, Severe Pulmonary Hypertension. No surprises here; Colleen had been diagnosed with Emphysema many years ago, and Severe Pulmonary Hypertension is often a result of this condition.

Then I noticed the last one, the one that the death certificate described as the underlying cause: Obesity-hypoventilation Syndrome. And I thought, “So, there it is, Colleen, you were right. Once again, it all comes down to your weight.”

Anne Lamott said, “Everyone is walking around as an advertisement for who he or she is.”

This bothers me. I want to argue with it, but I can’t. My own experience, and more importantly, that of my family, won’t allow me to.

Colleen used to joke about how people perceived her. You see, not only was she obese, she also had just two teeth. She’d say, “I know what people are thinking when they look at me: backwoods hillbilly who married her first cousin.” She also joked about her former cocaine use. She used to say, “It figures—everyone else who used cocaine looked like swizzle sticks, but what happened to me? I was probably the only overweight cocaine user on the planet.” (I would try to comfort her by pointing out that I was probably the only person who owned overweight GSDs in Colorado. Somehow, I don’t think this took much of the sting—or the stigma—away.)

When my oldest sister (now also passed) was in the middle of job hunting, she asked me to help her write her resume, which was very impressive, and cover letter. Job hunting is an experience that I know from recent personal experience is difficult in the best of circumstances.

As we were finishing up, she asked me this question: “Should I mention something about how I look in my cover letter?” This puzzled me. We all know the unwritten rules of writing resumes when you are “of a certain age”: never mention your age, when you graduated from college, your martial status, how many children you have—all of these can be off-putting to a hiring manager. But I hadn’t even thought about this before, and so I asked her why.

“Because whenever I get an actual face-to-face interview,” she replied matter of factly, “They take one look at me and I know I won’t get the job, no matter how qualified I am. So maybe I could mention that, despite my physical appearance, I’m capable, loyal, and dependable. And I’m healthy, no matter what they might think about how I look.”

You see, my sister was all of these things and more: capable, loyal, dependable, brilliant, beautiful—and she weighed over 300 pounds.

As it turned out, she didn’t include this in her cover letter, but she also didn’t get a face-to-face interview, so perhaps it would have been a moot point.

But I don’t think so. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have gotten the job.

Everyone has heard this well-worn statement by George Orwell (and its countless renderings for every condition under the sun), “I'm fat, but I'm thin inside... there's a thin man inside every fat man.”

I never asked either of my sisters whether they had thin alter egos. Whether it bothered them that what they were on the inside—kind, compassionate, gentle, forgiving—didn’t match what people chose to see on the outside. That, in fact, most people dismissed them entirely, or, even more reprehensible but still noticeable, that people were repelled by them.

I mean, think about it: you’re on a plane getting ready to depart. There’s an empty seat next to you—and a very large person coming down the aisle. Quick—what’s your first thought? “Please, oh please, don’t sit here.” It’s a common reaction. I’d be lying if I said I never had that thought myself.

But I’d also be lying if I didn’t point out how obvious our “don’t sit here” aversion is to the very large person coming down the aisle.

I know—because, like my sisters, I used to be one of those very large people, too.

“There are things visible and invisible,” Rumer Godden said.

It’s so easy to size someone up just by looking at what is visible—their size, their age, their gender, their height, the color of their hair. And maybe, for some, the outside matches the inside, their thin person has escaped and is now visible to the world.

But I suspect that, for most of us, there is something invisible inside each of us that has not yet been allowed to be seen. And what might it take for us to look past the visible in order to catch even a glimpse of what might be just below the surface, but so much more real.

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Anticipation Is A Double-Edged Sword

2015-12-02T06:18:00.003-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Expecting is the greatest impediment to living. In anticipation of tomorrow, it loses today.” Seneca

At this time of year, people spend a lot of time focusing on the future. What resolutions should I make for the coming year? What changes do I need to make in my health care enrollment for next year? How much money will I owe, or might I get back, when I file my taxes next year? What might the new year bring me? What might Santa bring me?

I certainly understand this “what’s next?” perspective.

Right now, I, too, am looking at several possibilities that might or will come to pass in the next several months.

It started when one of my psychic advisers told me that I would be facing a number of “significant crossroads” in the first three months of 2016.

Next, my health insurance expired yesterday, so I’m researching health exchanges to find affordable (I use this term skeptically) options for 2016.

I’m on a deposit list for a new GSD puppy that, with luck and a successful breeding, will be born sometime in February. And I’ve been on this list for over a year, so talk about anticipation!

I have my annual trip to Hawaii coming up at the end of January, so it’s time to finish making my remaining travel arrangements. (I don’t know about you, but I so miss the days when I could just call my father, who lived in Hawaii, tell him what time to pick me up at the airport, and board the next flight leaving for Oahu! Twenty-one day advance purchase? I remember when all you needed was about 21 minutes.)

Since I lived on a combination of unemployment benefits and taxable withdrawals from my IRA for most of this year, I’ve already run my taxes for 2016 to see how much I’m going to owe the IRS come April.

And, last but not least, I have been watching my email like a hawk since yesterday in anticipation of an announcement (no details can be shared right now) that will make a significant difference in how I live my life in the coming year.

So to say that, for today, I’m living in the future much more than in the present moment would be an understatement. So to what degree am I squandering the treasures of this moment in exchange for what may or may not occur in the future?

Now, I’m the first to admit that anticipation is a double-edged sword.

Samuel Smiles said, “An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing.”

This makes sense to me. After all, many of the things on the horizon for me are all about what I believe I am capable of, and I’m looking forward to the possibility of a new reality.

And let’s not forget one of the books I published this year, “Getting What You Wish For: A Short and Sweet Guide to Manifesting the Sweet Life”; this book focuses on how to activate the Law of Attraction and place into vibrational escrow the things you want to have, do, or be in your life. Caroline Kepnes described this best when she said, “And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation into the future.”

And so I precariously balance on that double-edge sword of anticipation and expectation: trying to be conscious of the blessings of the moment so that I don’t squander today while, at the same time, inviting a future that will manifest my desires.

(Not to mention, anticipating the joy of puppy kisses!)

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

3x5 Full of Gratitude

2015-11-24T12:16:00.001-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” William Arthur Ward

I don’t know about you, but among the many things I’m grateful for are tools. Duct tape and an electric screwdriver are a homeowner’s best friend. A set of diamond drill bits are among this girl’s best friends. And, don’t even get me started on how much I love my Sawzall—no overgrown tree on my property is safe!

So whenever I start something new—a new job, a new book, a new DIY project—I look for the appropriate tools that will help me succeed.

We all know the saying, “Use the right tool for the right job.” Thomas Carlyle even went so far as to declare, “Man is a tool-using animal. Without tools, he is nothing. With tools, he is all.”

Look out Home Depot, here I come!

When I embarked on my sobriety journey, I approached this “project” in the same way: I looked for the tools I could use that would help me get sober and, more importantly, stay sober. Because, after all, what’s the point of building a barn only to have it fall down (or get locked in—see my previous blog about that debacle) because I used the wrong tools?

One of the most effective tools in the sobriety toolkit that I was handed was the Gratitude List.

“The greatest enemies of us alcoholics are resentment, jealousy, envy, frustration, and fear. When [these feelings] come, stop and count your blessings.” The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

A few weeks ago, I shared with you that, when I first got sober, these “greatest enemies” were the only feelings I recognized. So I knew right away that I would need a really powerful tool in my spiritual toolkit if I was going to have any hope at getting and staying sober. And that tool was the Gratitude List.

But exactly why is a Gratitude List so important?

Because when you are in the midst of emotionally paralyzing, negative feelings, you literally can’t think clearly. On the other hand, when you are in the midst of gratitude, you literally can’t conceive of negative emotions, let alone feel them. Or, as M.J. Ryan succinctly put it, “Whenever we are appreciative, we are filled with a sense of well-being and swept up by the feeling of joy.”

Now, because negative feelings can cloud clear thinking, recovering alcoholics are encouraged (actually, my AA sponsor DEMANDED) that we take the time to actually write down what we were most grateful for on a 3x5 card and keep the card with us at all times. That way, whenever the negative thoughts and emotions threatened our serenity or our sobriety, we could pull out that little card, read over everything we had written down, and remind ourselves of the many blessings we did have as a result of just not taking that one drink again.

And so I dutifully wrote down the things I was grateful for, and I kept my 3x5 index card always at the ready—and believe me, I pulled that little lifesaving tool out of my spiritual toolkit dozens of times in the first year of my sobriety, and lots of time since then.

Gratitude shifts your focus from what your life lacks to the abundance that is already present. In addition, behavioral and psychological research has shown that giving thanks makes people happier and more resilient, strengthens relationships, improves health, and reduces stress.

Wow—all that from one little 3x5 card? What’s not to be grateful for?

William A. Ward said, “God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say ‘thank you?’”

On this Thanksgiving, do you think about what you are thankful for only on this one day? Or, does your practice of gratitude extend beyond a single day? And how might practicing gratitude and giving thanks for everything transform your “common days into thanksgivings” each and every day?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Paris (Really) Is Burning

2015-11-15T10:30:00.000-07:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “All we are saying is give peace a chance.” John Lennon

Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve talked about living an examined life—looking at our motivations, our feelings, our thoughts, and our beliefs in order to see what is at the heart of our true selves.

Given the tragedy in Paris, and throughout the world, over the last few days, this exercise takes on a very personal poignancy for me—and, perhaps, for some of you as well.

I’ve shared with you that I live a life of self-examination on a daily basis. That examination takes many forms, but it does not include examining what’s going on in the world. I don’t read the news. I don’t watch the news. I don’t listen to the news.

So if something is going on in the world, I usually hear about it on Facebook.

I don’t follow a lot of people on Facebook, and even fewer follow me. I have a handful of family and friends who have access to my personal page, and I have a public business page for my Cracks in Consciousness life coaching practice.

That said, given how few people and pages I actually do follow, I was dismayed (shocked? saddened?) by the number of people who posted these sentiments in response to the Paris catastrophe: “It’s time we blow up those F%%%%g A#####s!” “When are we’re going to stop putting up with this and just go after those B******s with guns blazing?”

Because I do not believe in self-delusion (or in deluding you, my readers), I have to admit that my initial, nearly unconscious reaction to these passionate exhortations was, “Amen, sisters and brothers!” I understand this reaction and why some people hold to this truth.

However, I then had a more conscious reaction to what I was reading. I thought, “But who exactly are we going to go after and blow up? A few zealots? A terrorist cell? A town? A country?”

I have no answers to these question nor can I offer solutions to the violence in this world. Solutions can only come from understanding, and I don’t understand what would compel someone to take the life of another human being in cold blood.

But here is something I do understand.

Yesterday was my sister’s 58th birthday. Or, rather, I should say, it would have been her 58th birthday. She passed away in September—on 9/11, to be exact. It is both heartbreaking and ironic to think that the anniversary of her passing—one of the gentlest, kindest souls ever to be on Earth—is now shared with the anniversary of one of the most horrible, violent events in America’s brief history.

Colleen absolutely loved, adored, and was passionate about all things Disney. To her, it was, without question, the happiest place on Earth.

In another irony, today is the 50th anniversary of the announcement of Walt Disney’s plans to build Walt Disney World in central Florida.

Colleen and I went to Walt Disney World several years ago while she was still fairly mobile and able to travel with only minor assistance. Despite the 95-degree weather and crushing humidity, we had a great time while we were there.

We planned a return trip for next month. However, over the last several months, it had become painfully obvious that Colleen’s health would no longer allow her to travel.

Unfortunately, Walt Disney died in 1966 before construction began on his Florida project. But his dream of creating happiness on Earth has never died, nor will my happy memories of the time I spent with my sister.

So what does any of this have to do with Paris?

In this excerpt from “Desiderata,” Max Erhmann said it best:

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

For me, it is this: Surely we can take this lesson to ourselves, and make peace and compassion the happiest place on earth.

(Seeing Everything With) Eyes Wide Shut

2015-11-09T12:51:00.000-07:00

#ThoughtHealing #MotivationMonday Quote for the Week: “The truth of a thing is the feel of it, not the think of it.” Stanley Kubrick

Last week, we talked about the value of self-examination, and how knowledge of oneself can be the first step towards wisdom and a more satisfying life in which you are true to yourself.

So now, let’s assume that you’ve taken that first step towards “true-ness”: you’ve examined yourself and you now have a wealth of information at your fingertips.

Which begs the question, “Now what?”

I have a tendency to overthink things. Okay, my family and friends would object to the “tendency” part—they’d cut right to it and state emphatically that I overthink EVERYTHING.

Maybe it’s genetic. After all, my late sister, when I would tell her about how I was struggling with making a decision, would reply, “Well, don’t look at me for advice. You know how this family is. It can take me a day just to decide to go the bathroom.” (Granted, I’ve cleaned up this potty humor a bit; after all, I wouldn’t like to speak ill of the dead—although she’d be the first to laugh about this!)

On the other hand, maybe it’s part of the whole “nature versus nurture” debate. I am, by nature (and as a result, by profession), a planner and process engineer. I make a living by thinking about how things are done now and how they can be improved, streamlined, or eliminated (no potty pun intended here, either).

On the other hand, there wasn’t an abundance of nurturing going on in my family when I was growing up, so I can’t really speak to what I have no frame of reference for. But I do know that a lack of nurturing can result in the need to analyze everything in order to avoid making mistakes and to feel safe in one’s environment.

Or, at least, that’s how it works for me.

So, when I read something like, “the truth of a thing is the feel of it, not the think of it,” I have to think about this. Because knowing how I feel about things isn’t in my nature, either.

When I was in the outpatient facility to treat my alcoholism, one of the things we had to do was share how we were feeling. Don’t get me started about how much I hated, loathed, and abominated that little exercise—how’s that for sharing my feelings? One of the counselors warned me that sharing how angry and resentful I was would not suffice. Apparently, everyone had figured out pretty quickly that I only had these two feelings most of the time.

But I didn’t know any other touchy, feely words. And apparently, neither did most of the others in my recovery group. After all, many of us drank to numb our constant feelings of anger and resentment.

But the counselor was prepared for this, and handed around a list of feelings that we could choose from. Imagine my surprise to see just how many feelings I could have.

And I’ve used this exercise ever since, particularly when I’m feeling overwhelmed by my overthinking.

So, how might you apply the “feeling truth of a thing” to everything you’ve learned about yourself in the course of your daily self-examination?

First and foremost, it can act as a neutralizer of sorts, a way to silence the inner critic. I don’t know about you, but, for me, not only can I overthink, but I can be equally overcritical of what I discover about myself along the way. Which also means that I can either make the wrong decision or be too afraid to make any decision.

Take overthinking as an example. This is one of my “think of a thing” truths. I know this to be true of me.

But how do I feel about this truth?

Well, to tell the truth, I’m feel okay about it (okay, let me get out my list of feelings words to see if I can be more specific). I feel A-OK, comfortable, satisfied, swell, hunky-dory, all right, pleased, and snug as a bug in a rug with it (thank you, thesaurus.com!). And, yes, sometimes I can suffer from analysis paralysis. However, this natural talent of mine has also made me very good at my job.

Judy Carter said, “That day, I learned overthinking gets in the way of our natural talents. We have to turn off the critical, plotting, safety mind and tap into our innate abilities. We can do more than we think we can.

Don’t you love the irony of this statement? Overthinking can in fact get in the way of recognizing that we can do more than we think we can.

Thinking about what you are discovering about yourself as you journey through life, can you tell the difference between the think of a thing and the feel of a thing? Is your self-knowledge providing you with limitless opportunities? Or is the think of a thing limiting what you believe you can do?

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Self Interest

2015-11-01T13:52:00.002-07:00

#ThoughtHealing #MotivationMonday Quote for the Week: “This above all: to thine own self be true. Hamlet Act 1, scene 3, 78–82

“To thine own self be true” is Polonius's last piece of advice to his son Laertes, who is about to head off to Paris for his gentleman's education (and who, by the way, can’t wait to get away from the old man, if for no other reason than to avoid being preached to with such pithy platitudes).

By “true” Polonius means “loyal to your own best interests.” Take care of yourself first, he counsels, and that way you'll be in a position to take care of others.

I think Polonius is onto something here.

I have learned that owning what is important to me, acknowledging my needs and wants DESPITE WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS is essential. Which is why helping others learn how to know themselves and what is most important to them is a central theme in all of my books.

In my book, Will Work to Feed Dogs, the focus is on taking stock—identifying your needs and wants, your values, your natural abilities, your passions and interests, and your skills—in order to align your present circumstances with what matters most to you. When you gain clarity about what is in your best and highest interest, you will be able to make more meaningful choices and take consistent action.

In Getting What You Wish For, I show you how important it is to learn to articulate exactly what you want to have, be, or do in your life in order to activate the Law of Attraction and ensure that what you manifest is, indeed, what you wish for.

The focus of I’ve Been Down Here Before, But This Time I Know The Way Out is on leaving behind all of the thoughts, beliefs, assumptions, emotions, and expectations that no longer serve you.

And in Doing the Thing You Think You Cannot Do, I show you how easy it is to change how you might react to the life-changing events that make up your life simply by being willing to face them, embrace them, and go confidently through them. And, once you’ve had the experience of “doing the thing you think you cannot do,” you can face anything—and survive it.

We’ve all heard of Socrates’ bold dictum, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” I’m not sure I would go so far as to say that. But, for me, I can’t imagine living an unexamined life. As a recovering alcoholic, the key components of my 27 years of sobriety have always been being honest with myself; acknowledging my feelings (especially resentment, which can drive me to drink if I’m not ever vigilant); recognizing the motivations behind my actions; and taking responsibility for those actions. None of which would have been possible if I hadn’t taken the time examine my life.

Steven Pressfield in his iconic The War of Art, said, “It’s one thing to lie to ourselves. It’s another to believe it.” I have, on more than one occasion, told myself—and others—some little white lies and not a few whoppers. But I can’t afford the luxury of believing those lies because I believe that doing so will jeopardize my continued sobriety and peace of mind.

Are you true to yourself? Do you even know what that looks like? Do you take the time to examine your life?

Think about it!

Ghost Stories

2015-10-26T06:39:00.000-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote For The Week: “If you don’t want to be scared, stop telling yourself ghost stories.” Sheri Holman, “Witches on the Road Tonight”

When you head out on the road of life each day, how do you plan your route? Do you look for monsters lurking under the bed and things that go bump in the night? Or do you prefer the happy ending, cup-not-just-half-full-but-overflowing approach to life?

Our limiting thoughts and beliefs are like the ghost stories we tell ourselves. Limiting beliefs serve as filters of our reality; when we get a limiting belief, our life loses its richness because we are not able to perceive it correctly. When our ghost stories become our reality, fear often leaves us feeling emotionally paralyzed. We are unable to act quickly or decisively or, in some cases, even think clearly.

However, once we can identify anything that might be holding us back, we can always transform the limiting beliefs of our ghost stories into more empowering beliefs that can help us keep moving toward our goals, even if roadblocks arise on our path.

The most important thing to remember is that you can choose what you want to tell yourself: the scary ghost stories or the happy ending stories. You can either focus on what you don’t have, the obstacles you face, the risks you have to take. Or, you can focus on your desires. Focus on negative thoughts, and this will manifest negatively in your life: your health might suffer, your peace of mind will be compromised, or you will exist in a constant state of stress. Focus on pleasant thoughts, and your existence will be pleasant.

Dr. Michael Smith said, “Every utterance from our mouth is a prayer.”

Are your words fraught with things that go bump in the night? Or are your utterances light and airy, like prayers?

Think about it!

The Three Most Important Words in Personal Transformation

2015-10-21T06:51:00.001-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “It’s not only moving that creates new starting points. Sometimes all it takes is a subtle shift in perspective, an opening of the mind, an intentional pause and reset, or a new route to start to see new options and new possibilities.” Kristin Armstrong

We all know that the three most important words in real estate are location, location, location. In my experience as a personal transformation coach, I have learned that when we decide to embark on radically redesigning ourselves and our place in the world, the three most important words are perception, perception, perception. And why? Because you can change the quality of your life by changing the context in which you see your circumstances.

Change your perception, change your life. It’s that simple.

So, how might subtle shifts in perspective allow you to transform your life?

In my Personal Transformation coaching practice, one of the things I help people with is learning how to successfully cope with the events that make up their lives. Everything from the unforeseen, like divorce, loss of a job, or terminal illness, to the inevitable, like death and, for most of us, taxes.

And, the most important component of successfully coping with any life event is learning how to change your perception of the event. No matter what happens, you can choose how to perceive the events that make up your life. And it is the power of choice that makes life endurable, worthwhile, joyful, just plain manageable – or spectacular.

And here’s why I know this to be true.

From 2002 to 2012, I shared my life with the four-legged love of my life, a Czechoslovakian Shepherd named Kona. He meant everything to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

However, in 2006, Kona was diagnosed with a life-threatening medical condition. Life expectancy rates for dogs with Kona’s condition were bleak at best; one vet told me that the longest any of his patients lived after the diagnosis was three weeks. He warned me that the only chance Kona had of surviving at all was to keep him quiet, avoiding exercise and excitement. He even walked me through what to do if Kona had a sudden heart attack while we’re out walking or just playing outside, which was apparently how most of the dogs with this condition died.

To say I was devastated doesn’t come close to describing how I felt. Needless to say, I barely heard a word that the vet was telling me, and I cried for two days.

And then I decided to change how I would perceive this awful, unthinkable news.

I realized I had a choice. I could either choose to let it negatively impact every remaining moment I had with Kona – I could lock him in the house, never take him for a walk again, never let him chase birds or rabbits, never leave him alone for a single moment “just in case.”

Or, I could choose to see this as a blessing and be grateful for every moment I was going to have with him. We could go on as we did before, chasing lots of rabbits (knowing he could never catch them, thank heavens!), taking long walks – aware of the possible consequences but living our lives to the fullest. And we did, not just for three short weeks but, miraculously, for four more spectacular years!

Which is not to say that I didn’t have to face my fears and deal with Kona’s condition realistically for however much time we had left together.

But once I changed my perception of this event, I found that I was able to think about the unthinkable: going on with my life without Kona in my life.

Deanne Repich said, “Genuine control is not about predicting the future—my grade, my income, my relationships, or a thousand other things. It’s knowing that whatever happens, I can choose how to perceive and react to life’s events.”

If there is one thought that I want you to leave here with today, it’s this: The most important thing to keep in mind is that perception is a matter of choice. You have a choice. You can either approach your the events that make up your life with dread, fear, negativism, or apprehension. Or, you can see those events as an opportunity to learn from the experience without being emotionally crushed by the knowledge.

Deanne Repich also said this, “Genuine control does not mean controlling all of life’s events. It means interpreting life’s events in a way that promotes my growth, happiness, and well-being.”

You have a choice every day regarding the perceptions you will embrace for that day. You cannot change the inevitable, the unexpected, or the unthinkable. But you CAN change how you approach and deal with anything that might throw you off course. And I promise you that you will survive and thrive!

Think about it!

Kick-The-Bucket List

2015-10-11T14:37:00.000-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “At my age of 63, there are a lot of things that are no longer likely or possible. I’ll probably never go up Mt. Kilimanjaro or run another marathon. I won’t spend a winter crewing on boats in the Caribbean. Won’t learn to play the piano. Might learn another language, although that’s a long shot. But I’ll tell you one thing that is possible. You can walk across Scotland and put your feet in the sea.” David Brown, excerpted from “Sea to sea: a hillwalking ‘challenge’ across Scotland,” Washington Post Sunday, October 11, 2015

My first experience with recognizing that something was no longer likely or possible “at my age” was during a hike on the Aiea Loop Trail in the Keaiwa Heiau State Park on the island of Oahu.

This was my first time trying this hike, and since I was alone, I did my homework first about safety for solitary hikers. I was encouraged, plus the idea of this being a loop meant that I would probably not get lost since, sooner or later, I’d end up back where I started from.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was not, strictly speaking, a “loop.” You begin in one area and end in another. Of course, I didn’t realize this until I was finished—and, by that time, the hike had nearly finished me off.

The first portion was nice (read, “How easy-peasy, so glad I decided to do this”), but the middle had lots of mud and/or water puddles that had to be negotiated (read, “jumped over or waded through”), and the last portion was more enclosed (read, “more isolated and scary than I expected”) by a narrower trail and lower trees. Plus, there were little to no benches or just a place to pull over to take a break; the trail was not well-marked other than the well-worn main trail; and there were a lot of side trails that you could easily (the only easy thing about this) wander off on, never to be heard from again. Oh, and by the way, it’s not a bad idea to be aware of the sheer drops here and there.

Did I mention that I believed I had done my homework beforehand?

About 90 minutes into the hike, I came across a downed tree that was completely blocking the trail. I had no choice but to climb over it. Which is what brings me to the moment when I realized that something that used to be easy for me had, unexpectedly, become near to impossible: I barely had the strength to hoist myself up and over, and, once over, I became seriously concerned that I wouldn’t have the strength to finish the hike.

Of course, since I’m writing this now, you know that this story had a happy ending. I did manage to finish, especially lifted in spirit when a young mother and her very young son lapped me sooner after the tree (I might not have had much strength left, but for heavens sake, I did have my pride!).

At the time, I remember being very discouraged by the knowledge that hiking—at least, this kind of hiking—might no longer be possible for me. And, for a time, I was discouraged about my life in general. After all, baring a miracle, I realized that, in all likelihood, I now had less time in front of me than behind me.

But then I decided I had a choice. I could either close the book on my bucket list OR I could simply change the entries. And I have a lot (although winter crewing on boats in the Caribbean has never been, nor will it ever be, on my bucket list).

So, what’s on your bucket list? Are you constrained by the things that are no longer possible? Or are you energized and motivated by all this IS still possible for you?

Think about it!

Out of Control, Out of Mind

2015-10-05T09:31:00.000-06:00

This week's #ThoughtHealing inspiration comes from a post by Dr. Amy Johnson who described far better than I ever could how important it is to learn to let go. Please check out this insightful #MondayMotivation post: http://tinybuddha.com/blog/let-go-of-control-how-to-learn-the-art-of-surrender/

I’m a black-or-white, everything-tied-up-in-a-neat-bow-that-I-tied kinda gal. The outside-of-my-control gray area is the quintessential definition of a bad neighborhood for me: don’t go in alone and never go in after dark.

Margaret Roach, in "And I Shall Have Some Peace There," described this state of mind best when she said, “Out of control sent me out of my mind.” I am without a doubt out of my mind right now, wandering alone in the dark, bad neighborhood of the gray area.

In the last three weeks, my sister unexpectedly passed away, I started a new job and have yet been able to log into my new company’s website (somedays I hate, loathe, and abominate technology), and the mother of the puppies that I have had a deposit on for months finally got pregnant only to miscarry the entire litter 30 days into the pregnancy.

And while I know that none of these events are within my control, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

One thing that Dr. Johnson said that I disagree slightly with is this: "Sometimes it’s as easy as noticing that you’re in control mode and choosing to let go—consciously and deliberately shifting into surrender energy."

Control freaks like me are typically ALWAYS in control mode, so recognizing something that is simply the way we operate on a daily basis isn’t what I would blithely describe as “easy.”

And it’s not really that I’m afraid of surrendering. Twenty-eight years ago, when I finally realized that I had a drinking problem, I surrendered my need to control everything around me out of fear and turned my losing battle against alcohol over to a Higher Power. Still sober after all these years.

But I have other fears: fear of looking stupid, fear of not being perfect at my new job, fear of not being able to replenish my meager savings account no matter how hard I try to economize. Fear of learning to live without my sister in my life. Fear of letting go and, this time, of not finding my way out of the dark neighborhood by myself.

But Dr. Johnson also said this, which I vehemently agree with: “Find out whose business you’re in. Your business is the realm of things that you can directly influence. Are you there? Or are you in someone else’s business? When we’re trying to control things outside of our own business, it’s not going to go well.”

Now you’re in my wheelhouse.

My professional background is in Business Process Re-engineering and Organizational Change Management. I have over 20 years’ experience in helping companies fundamentally rethink how they do their work in order to identify and eliminate non-value-add activities. An approach that I use most often is the concept of “sphere of control versus sphere of influence.” This concept posits that the things we're worried about or that we complain about fall into three domains: things we have control over, things we can influence, and things that are outside of our control and influence. Companies that exhibit the most process inefficiencies typically are the ones that spend far too much time mucking around in the dark neighborhoods over which they have little or no control.

So how might I apply what I’ve learned in my professional life to my seemingly adrift out-of-control personal life right now?

Well, it wasn’t easy, but I finally realized that I have no control over the fact that my sister passed away, that my new company still hasn’t sent me the token I need to log on, and the puppy that I had already named won’t be coming home at Christmas after all.

Instead, I can choose be grateful for the time I did have with my sister. I can choose to continue to email the company about the missing token (all the while letting them know that I am ready to log in the moment they resolve these issues at THEIR end). And I can choose to either get my deposit back or transfer my deposit to another upcoming litter from the same breeder (which I did).

The bottom line is this: we have a finite amount of energy. The key is to use our energy where it counts. The more we focus on what's in our control, the more effective we'll feel. The happier we'll be.

Ernie Zelinksi said, “Practically everything in your life is a matter of choice.”

My sister and I used to laugh about the fact that, given the choice, we tended to choose the hard way over the easy way, to overthink everything.

My choice now is to try to live within my sphere of control and to learn to let go of the rest.

You, too, have a choice every day regarding how you approach your day. You cannot change the inevitable, the unexpected, or the unthinkable. But you CAN change how you approach and deal with anything that might throw you off course.

Think about it!

Words To Live By

2015-09-28T14:21:00.000-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote For The Week: “‘Someday’ is a disease that takes your dreams to the grave with you. If it’s important to you and you want to do it ‘eventually,’ just do it and correct your course along the way. Tom Ferriss, The Four-Hour Workweek

I admire people who live their lives by the “Just Do It” Nike credo. And, apparently, Mr. Ferriss counts himself among that elite few, happily exhorting the rest of us to embrace this motto. We all know people like this: the ones who successfully, and seemingly with little effort, make a major change in their lives, like quitting smoking, losing weight, or even walking away from their “Sure Thing” job in order to seek their passion in life. These people are the high-wire acts in the circus of life, the ones who courageously go out on a limb and then willingly saw themselves off.

I have a different philosophy, which I think of as the anti-Nike approach to life: “Just Don’t Do It.” Born out of fear, a mean lazy streak, and the immortal words of Louisa May Alcott who said, “Let us be elegant or die,” I have no problem with not doing something—especially if there is a chance that I do it wrong or, heaven forbid, risk looking stupid.

Or, maybe it’s just that I’m more of a Canon “Image Is Everything” kinda gal.

One of Canon’s most successful ad campaigns, the “Image Is Everything” commercial featuring Andre Agassi, was all about style over substance. “Overnight,” Agassi wrote in his autobiography, Open, “the slogan became synonymous with me. Sportswriters likened this slogan to my inner nature, my essential being. They said it’s my philosophy, my religion, and they predicted it would be my epitaph.”

And could you blame them?

In the early years of his male-pattern baldness, a rabidly narcissistic Agassi took to wearing a flamboyantly high-maintenance weave. As if it wasn't enough that the hair that made him famous was fake, Agassi admits that it was a crappy fake, too: At the 1990 French Open, Agassi's conditioner caused his weave to fall apart, forcing his brother to bobby pin it to his head and the horrified tennis diva to go all sweaty-palmed over whether his scalp pelt would go flying mid-match.

Yeah, I get that.

Let us not forget that I’m the one who, once I escaped from the barn I had accidentally locked myself in by climbing out of a window and falling precipitously to the ground, proceeded to casually brush myself off and stroll nonchalantly back to the house on the sheer chance that one of my neighbors just happened to be looking out towards my barn in the wee hours of New Years Day.

For most of my life, I was one of those people who didn’t start something until I felt I was totally and completely knowledgeable about the thing I wanted to try. And while it made my resume look good, it didn’t do much for my self-esteem. Because I did this out of fear. Fear of the consequences of not doing something “right” or “perfectly.” Fear of financial insecurity or insolvency. Fear of having to ask for help or even having to admit that I needed help. Fear of being vulnerable.

But now I’m trying to learn how to put my toe in the water just a bit, how to at least climb the tree even if I don’t go out on the limb. I’m trying to learn how to turn off the critical “image is everything” mindset and allow myself to have a few bad hair days. To be willing to correct my course if I find that I’m off the path.

John Kenneth Galbraith said, “If all else fails, immortality can always be assured by spectacular error.”

I don’t know about you, but knowing that I can assure my immortal image just by making one spectacular error takes the sting out of giving new something a try.

Maybe the next time I say to myself, “Someday I’d like to do that,” I might be a bit more willing to Just Do It.

Have you been saying, “Someday” to your dreams?

Think about it!

Want to know more about how I managed to lock myself in the barn in the first place? Check out that my blog about that spectacularly stupid wake-up call.

Hard Knocks

2015-09-22T09:19:00.000-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote For The Week: “Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” Coco Chanel

Are there times when you feel a little overwhelmed, but you can’t figure out how to separate the important stuff from the ordinary noise of your everyday life? Are you at a place in your life today where you can’t figure out how to get from where you are to where you want to be? Have you ever found yourself at a place where you honestly believed you had no way out of?

Well, let me tell you—I know exactly how you feel. I have to admit that I’ve found myself in a place with no obvious way out more than a few times in my life.

Like, for example, take the time I accidentally locked myself in a dark, empty barn 3 acres away from my nearest neighbor in the wee hours of the morning on New Years Day in 2005. No electricity, no water – and no cell phone because I wasn’t planning on staying down at the barn so it didn’t occur to me to bring it along.

Obviously, the fact that I’m writing this blog today means that I did find a way out. But I spent some time beating on the walls of that barn before I figured out that no amount of beating was going to transform the walls into my escape route.

Sounds like Coco Chanel might have locked herself in a barn once or twice herself, and she’s letting us know that, while we might have many options, not all of them are in our best interest.

Milton Berle said, “If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door."

From my 20 years as a business process engineer in the private and public sectors as well as what I learned from just this one spectacularly stupid, personal wake-up call on New Years Day, I now know that there is ALWAYS a way out if you are prepared to create it.

Are you wasting your time beating on walls? Or are you building the door to the life that is in your best and highest interest?

Think about it!

Be Willing To Be Willing

2015-09-22T08:57:00.000-06:00

#ThoughtHealing Quote For The Week: “No matter how qualified or deserving we are, we will never reach a better life until we can imagine it for ourselves and allow ourselves to have it.” Richard Bach

For most of us, giving ourselves permission is challenging. For many reasons, we can’t or won’t allow ourselves to put ourselves first. Instead, we simply put one foot in front of the other and gut it out.

Part generational, part genetic, part upbringing, there are many reasons why we never consider what we might really want or what might be in our best and highest interest. We simply do what we think, or believe, we have to do. We jump into the hole, we see the steep walls, and then we don’t even acknowledge that there might be a way out, let alone cry out for help.

But giving ourselves permission to willingly consider alternatives is the key to reinvention.

Willingness is a necessary precursor to taking action: you have to be willing to do something – or, at the very least, willing to try to do something – in order to keep moving forward.

I believe that when we give ourselves permission to rethink, to consider other possibilities, we crack open a door to our Higher Self – and our Higher Self, recognizing that the door has been cracked open, wedges a crowbar in to make sure that we consider a different way ahead.

In order to crack open that door to your Higher Self, you need to spend some time figuring out what it means to give yourself permission in terms of your own personal transformation and reinvention.

Once you can delve deeply into the concept of permission, you will be able to recognize the impact it can have, not only on your reinvention journey but on your entire life.

Think About It!

Which Way Did He Go?

2015-09-22T08:55:00.002-06:00

Thought Healing Quote For The Week: “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Yogi Berra

The definition of a crossroads is “the place where roads intersect or a place at which a vital decision must be made.”

Clearly, Yogi Berra knew a thing or two about being at a crossroads. There are two significant elements of this definition that Yogi has managed to capture (and in a much funnier way than I ever could).

First, a crossroads involves options: this road or that road, this way or that, this direction or that.

Second, a crossroads implies that we are intended to select one of the options available to us: we turn left instead of right, we take the shady path rather than the sunny one, the uphill climb rather than the downhill stroll.

When we come to the fork in the road, we are supposed to take it.

Otherwise, we come to a standstill.

Have you ever found yourself standing at some imaginary starting line but you just couldn’t cross over it? Are you waiting for everything to fall into place? Are you afraid of change? What do you fear? Have you already decided that the worst will happen so you’re living your life accordingly?

Have you come to the fork in the road and don’t know which way to go?

It doesn’t matter which way you go. Just take the fork. What matters is that you’re starting down a new path. You can always correct your course along the way. Not only is taking that first step less difficult than you may imagine, but it may change your life in wonderful ways.

Think about it!