What’s The Dream Your Soul Dreamed For You? New PODCAST❤

Posted on 07/15/2018 | 2 comments
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FUN NEWS!

Megan McWilliams Bouchard (my BFF from eons ago – well, 1st grade, in this life anyway,) and I are collaborating on a new podcast, The GD Spirit Pub!

Our pilot pubcast is ready! Come listen to our tales of spiritual seeking (and sucking) and how our crazy choices at the Spirit Pub (while drunk on bliss) are turning out! It’s anyone’s guess – an ongoing mystery-thriller-tragedy-comedy with/for our earthy crunchy soulmates. Join us for a pint of joy and to enlighten up!

For more about the Spirit Pub and why we might choose a life on the rocks, read my new post below ~

I’m not, yet, “living the dream.” My fantasy life would be filled with total ease, unbridled joy, financial security, friends, family and daily organic smoothies at my ocean-front villa. Including a prosperous, spiritual, inspirational business that contributes to a brighter world. And I donate my energy and overflowing abundance to wondrous causes that make a dynamic difference on the planet. 

But that’s not my reality. 

Then it hit me like a forgotten love bomb – maybe I AM living the dream! Not the aforementioned money-filled Margaritaville, but the unstoppable dream my soul dreamed for me. The gritty one I chose from the Spirit Pub where I’d (willingly, joyfully) wake up on earth and promptly fall fast asleep to my true self. Where I’d be deaf, dumb, blind and stretched beyond all boundaries, through fear, loss, grief and dwarfism. Where my greatest self would dare me with the ultimate challenge . . . to forget my light. And yours. To walk in the deepest dark.

Then slowly, painstakingly, arduously . . . we’d get glimpses of the dream. The movie we wanted to create, here, and the bliss we’d temporarily leave behind. 

So scary! So exciting! What incarnation were we thinking? Maybe there’s nothing to lose and plenty to gain. We’ve got an eternity to play with. 

But. As I struggle to make peace with myself, my responsibilities, family, friends, health, purpose, work and unpaid bills, how can I be living the dream? The unbearable shadows? Messy relationships? Judgment? Rejection? Hatred? War? What kind of cray-cray cruel dream could THAT be!?

The edge-of-your-seat kind. The plot-twists-from-heaven kind. The leap out-of-your-skin-suspense kind. The super-hero-action-packed kind. The standing-ovation-at-the-thrilling-finale kind. The happy-ending after-all-the-mind-blowing-drama kind. The buttered-popcorn kind.

How long will it run? Who will stay by our side? Will we be safe? Where are we going, after all is said and done? Not knowing the ending feels nerve-wracking and inhumane. But as the excitement grows, so does the engagement, expansion, resolutions and redemption. They are the gifts – the inspirations. The life-changing journey reveals the light we never lost. 

Our fragile humanness cannot always grasp how the dark can bring strength, appreciation, wonder and grace, but our soul got the memo.  

We’d be creators without a clue. No idea how to drive our dinghy. Out of control. Walking across coals. Trial by freaking fire.  

Until we learned to let go. Surrendered to the bigger dream we dreamed. From our godlet visions. Our home away from Home. Then the creation would be in greater hands.

But amnesia would strike again.

We’d prowl like panthers, black as a nightmare, stalking the dream we once knew. Getting lost in a secret riddle. Obliterating our human hearts. Waiting for the dawn to break us open. 

Not just once. But every day. 

Each sunrise would give us another crack at being luminous. Being present to the fullness of the dream. Not just tropical drinks with an umbrella. But the yin, the yang and the yikes.

The contrast would elevate us, urging us to keep climbing the mountains we chose. We knew the view would be worth the bruises, Ray-Bans, and getting burned. 

We’d forget the sunscreen. 

Believing would be the balm.

When the old victim stories grow tiresome. When the anger becomes pitiful protection. We’re softened by the soul’s dream – forgiveness and joy creep back.

Before technically creating my Kokomo, I’m realizing that this IS the dream ~ the uncharted course my soul eagerly endorsed. Including the ups and downs. The stepping on pop-tops. I came for the whole shebang. 

I’ll look back and swoon over the the thrills and spills. I’ll think it was everything I dreamed. Sans the villa. I’ll be smitten with the love and won’t want to leave the pool party. I’ll be ready to dive in all over again.

I’m living that dream.
And so are you.

With love, and flip-flops,

p.s. for more about my Spirit Pub adventures, check out this past post :)

 

 

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Posted in Belief Systems BS, Green Divas, Inspiration, Letting Go, Mike Dooley, Soul contract, Spirit Pub, Spirituality

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What Tick’s You Off? Death and BS in the Circle of Life  

Posted on 06/11/2018 | 2 comments
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Hiya Radiant Renegades,

I arrive at Green Diva Meg’s magical home, ready for a delightful stint of dog sitting. 10 days in the woods. 10 days of quiet. Daily walks around a beautiful lake with her devoted dog, Gracie. I get to hang with the heron and gab with the geese. A sapphire sky sprawls out before us. It’s heaven on earth. 

Until. 

The cool camouflaged snake

A sign appears on my first walk. A snake! I feel so excited to have noticed her, wonderfully camouflaged along the trail. So much exciting life in these woods! 

Ten minutes later, my mood plummets. I see half of a mutilated snake, jaws gapping open in wide-eyed shock. Did it suffer? It’s just the circle of life, I say, trying to soothe my heart. I’ve always loved animals. But I’m pained by predators and not at home with the ways of the wild. 

The next morning, I notice one of the unique brown squirrels… and an adorable baby bouncing behind her! AW!  I watch them closely, totally enjoying their twitchy athletics. Later that day, I feel a sudden nudge to grab the binoculars and look out the front window (which I’ve never done – it’s partially blocked.) As I’m peering out across the lawn, a fox runs right into view! WHOA! ? I follow the fox with my lens, feeling SO happy that I listened to the nudge. Then I notice a soft bundle in her mouth. Oh. No. As she’s running, she drops it! What the?   

Sunset on Meg’s lake

 The fox zips out of view and I swing my lens back to the motionless furball. What is it? Please not a baby bunny. Please. My heart is dipping into sadness & shock, once again. I wait awhile, but the fox does not return for the meal. I feel horribly compelled to go look. But I can’t look. But it’s right on the path where we walk. Crap. I have to look. No I don’t want to look. 

I’m gonna go look. 

I walk out across the expansive green lawn with Gracie, for comfort and courage. My eyes are glued to the spot where the sweet bundle lies. I’m braced for the bunny. 

But it’s a baby red squirrel. 

What. The. Hell! 

The circle of life… again!?!

I stare bleakly, as Gracie sniffs the adorable baby. Death makes me droop. Is the mama squirrel distraut? Why can’t I accept that death follows life?

The universe is being very loud. What’s the message? 

A few hours later, the lil body is still there. I’m hoping it won’t go to waste. 

Vulture perched above us

As Gracie and I head into the woods, there is a a loud flurry of flapping. A huge vulture lifts off the path and perches above our heads. 

All this LIFE in the woods, and Death will NOT shut up.

I text my hubby the eerie deets of the day. He sends a photo of a ginormous feather he found in our yard and writes, “it’s from a deep doo-doo bird.”

OMG vultures are circling.

Live snake. Dead snake. Live squirrel. Dead squirrel. Vulture. Vulture. Is someone gonna die??

Vulture feather (deep doo-doo bird)

I wake up the next day and find a deer tick embedded in my side ? Nooooo! And there’s a bloody bull’s eye, already! ACKKKKKK! Invaded! After some pulling, pain and panic, I finally remove the beastie, but it’s black grappling hooks are left in my side. 

This is NOT fair! Nature is where I feel at home, in awe, connected, but now the glory of the Great outdoors is circling the drain! Why would the Earth attack me?

As I drive to the health food store, and talk to the naturopath, I resist the answer.

Mother Nature isn’t betraying me. My BS (belief system) is. My fears already had me circling the drain. I’m a wilderness wannabe, but I continually worry that my dwarfed body isn’t safe in this world. Vulnerable. Victim. Ah ha. I’ve become the prey I feared. My BS is confirmed! (BS would rather be right than happy.) 

Bonus BS – I have a deep distrust of the medical world, even though it’s come to my aid in the past. I DO NOT WANT antibiotics! But I know I can’t fool around with Lyme disease. I worship (and cling) to natural remedies. But I’m working to blend the two worlds, of medicine and metaphysics, without judgment.

I’m still terrified. And totally ticked. This tiny pain in my side brings old issues to the surface… and it feels like everything’s all WRONG… but maybe it’s to help me see that in the bigger picture, I’m always alright. 

Magical pond at Meg’s, early morning

At the doctor’s office, the nurse tells me she’s had Lyme’s for 28 years. As she’s leaving the room, she turns back, as if nudged from beyond, and says tenderly, “you know, ticks are a part of the circle of life.” 

My jaw drops open like the wide-eyed snake. 

“I canNOT believe you just said that,” I tell her. “That’s been going through my mind for two days!” 

“I couldn’t understand why God created ticks,” she said, “so I read up and found that ticks help clean up the environment. Like vultures.” 

“No. Way.” I stared at her, gobsmacked. I feel a profound awe and relief. 

The lake where I stayed

We live in a dynamic, interactive ecosystem. It breathes through us and speaks to us, as us. Animals, water, sky, nurses and even ticks. Life and death are divine dance partners. We came here to take the crazy, complicated, courageous steps. To walk in each other’s moccasins. To dive into the dark and remember our own reflection of light. And to lovingly @#$% embrace our belligerent BS.

When we’re in deep doo-doo… it isn’t the circumstances that cause the lasting pain, it’s our beliefs about them. Fear tells us we’re alone, wounded, and the vultures are circling. The truth says we’re One with it all. We draw to our side (or embedded IN our side) whatever will bring up our BS so we can return to wholeness… and let go of the grappling hooks.

FYI I learned that ticks are a major food source for birds, reptiles etc. If we erased them (or mosquitoes, fleas, poison ivy etc…) we’d further mess with the balance of nature.☯

We already live off the Earth quiet mindlessly, and yet she’s a forgiving host. We complain about insects and inconvenience… and yet our collective footprint melts glaciers. Kills bees and trees. We’re the predators. In my tiny tick-attack, the tables were turned. Circle of dark and light.

What ticks you off?
What’s sucking the life out of you?
What fear needs to die, so something better can be reborn in you?

Meg’s dog, Gracie & the setting sun

Fighting our troubles is a form of violence against ourselves. We add to our suffering by insisting that life be other than “what it is.” When we reject what the foxy universe presents, we miss the hidden bundles that heal our inner wild. 

When the old BS is circling, our prayers are bringing unexpected answers. Take that leap of faith. Accept life with an open heart. Trust your soul’s nudges. And smile across the mysterious wilderness.
With a deep bow.

✨ Sending lotsa love and light,
☀ in the circle that moves us all,
~ Julie

P.S. The oldest known fossilized tick was discovered in a piece of amber in NJ (where I am, lol.) It’s 90 million years old! They must be doing something right. So let’s keep on ticking… just like they do.

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☀ Just put summer20 in the shopping cart’s coupon box & your entire order will get a 20% off discount. Valid 6/16 – 6/27/18 ☀

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Photo from my favorite park and pond

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Posted in Belief Systems BS, Circle of life, death, Gratitude, grief, Inspiration, Letting Go, Mother Nature Heals, Spirituality, vulnerability, wilderness

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Exercising Spiritual Muscles and Enjoying Mindful Days

Posted on 04/19/2018 | 4 comments
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I used to reeeeally hate exercise. I was born with a type of dwarfism that led to osteoarthritis by the time I was 8, so physical activity was pretty painful. It also triggered every insecurity about my lovability and my future. I regularly buried those fears in the backyard of my brain, where an entire Belief System (BS) began taking root. 

(A gentle reminder before I continue ~ the early bird price for my new group coaching class ends tomorrow ~  “Building Soul Blissipline: Releasing the Belief Systems (BS) and Practicing Awe, Self-Care and Mindfulness.”)

Now back to my blog…

In 1993, when I was 30, I had both knees and hips replaced. It was a grueling recovery and rehab. When physical therapy was over, I knew I needed more work. I had to find . . . a gym!? So SCARY. Way out of my comfort zone. I thought I’d be the laughing stock of any locker room. They’ll KNOW I don’t belong! 

In the past, when friends had complained about workout pain, I didn’t understand how they were able to push through it, when I could not. 

It must be my fault. I’m just lazy. Too soft. Spoiled. Undisciplined. Can’t take the pressure. Loser.

But. Now that I had these new joints, they were giving me hope. So I gathered every speck of sweaty courage, and registered at the most unassuming gym I could find. Gulp.

After a week at the gym, I got the shock of my life. 

This new “pain” I was experiencing, after exercise, was totally… acceptable!? No sharp jabs, long nights and clenched teeth. 

Holy hamstring!

I never realized that the pain I’d known most of my life was nerve pain, not muscle pain. I wasn’t a loafer after all! I was actually LOVING exercise?! WHOA!

After about a year at the gym, however, no matter how hard I’d pushed and stretched, I could not get my knees and hips to flex farther than 90 degrees. That’s when the buried BS began to bite me right in the gluteus maximus.

Since I was a girl, I’d been dreaming of deep knee bends and dance moves. Fantasizing about holding my knees to my chest. Drooling over sitting Indian style, kneeling, or being able to pick up keys, coins or pens off the floor. 

I felt devastated. Imprisoned. Punished. 

Enter stage left. My husband! Life got very rosy! And busy. Kids came. Work kicked in.

I didn’t go back to the gym.  

Since 1994, there have been many, many attempts to resume a daily routine. The stationary bike. Then the treadmill. Then yoga. The stair climber. Chiropractic. Massage. Then the treadmill again. Exercise videos. Acupuncture. Then chair yoga (!) The coveted flexibility stayed way out of my reach. It confirmed the old BS that I was still, indeed, a flawed sack of fertilizer. 

Then five years ago, I was facilitating a mastermind. Each week, we would hold each other accountable to a small step toward a bigger goal. Someone shared that he needed to get back on his bike to ease his back pain. Hmm. His sensible self-care sprouted some of my own. 

I’d been doing plenty of spiritual working-out, but still avoiding the physical. But this time I wasn’t going to push myself. No demands or disgust. No harsh instruction or judgment. Fresh ground to walk on. I planned to be understanding and kind when the steaming hot BS hit the pavement. I just wouldn’t step in it. I’d honor and accept what I’d done in the past. I’d focus on health and enjoyment, today.

Just because I’d been hurt and unsuccessful before, didn’t mean I always would be! Maybe I would never be able to put my socks on the way others can. But I could still be happy. Maybe I would never move like a dancer. But I could still dance like me! 

My beat-up body deserved this love offering. An honoring of what my vehicle and I had been through. A gift of self-care to a super-soul container. 

At the next mastermind meeting, I was thrilled to report back to my group that I’d walked, three times! And much to my surprise, four other members had been happily exercising that week, too! We felt the powerful energy of accountability pull us forward and help us meet our separate needs, together. The blissipline was contagious! 

I continued walking, gently. Mindfully. With tenderness for the girl who thought she was pile of poo. 

Five years later, I’m still walking, daily. I’m floored! Given my history, it’s really quite epic. Exercise has actually become one of my auto-magic blissiplines. And when I miss a day or two, I don’t sh** all over myself. I step back on track without shame. 

Over the years I’ve found a bunch of simple yet soul satisfying practices – EFT tapping, affirmative prayers, calling in angel assistance, green smoothies, mealtime grace, mindful chores and quick visualization. Each one has unearthed its own resistance! Each needed to be ‘worked out.’ It takes practice, patience and pruning of the BS.  

If you’re ready to weave some every day mindfulness into your Spring and beyond, please join my group class! We’re going to grow our own unique spiritual blissiplines, for the the joy of it, the energy, the connection, the fabulous feeling when we follow through.

Feel free to email me here with any questions or comments!

With much love, light
and soul satisfation,

 

 

 

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Posted in Belief Systems BS, Letting Go, Present moment, Self Acceptance, Spirituality

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Wake Up, Brave & Broken Dreamers

Posted on 02/22/2018 | 1 comment
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Hey Wild Ones,

I recently read Martha Beck’s novel, Diana, Herself: An Allegory of Awakening, and after reading the last line, I burst into tears. My mind was undone. The magic is out of my puny reach. I am too unblissiplined. Too scared. My heart, on the other hand, was dripping with joy ? YES the impossible IS possible. If we believe. Somehow. Somewhen. But what will it take? More meditation? Less civilization?

If you’re a nature-loving, animal hugging, fairy following, madness making, fearfully flawed spiritual seeker who wants to save the world (or one or two wolves,) this story might be your cup of sunshine.?

I’m a wilderness wannabe. I watch Survivor for the thrill of imagining myself stranded with “nothing” only to discover, that actually, I have everything. I am safe. I’m supported by Life. Gaia. God. Angels. Animals. Trees. Bees. A million dollar prize.

If only I weren’t a scaredy-cat.

My body and I have battled our share of shame and surgeries. Limitations and loss. Dwarfism. Arthritis. Saggy boobs. I adore being outdoors. But I retreat to tamed parks and woods. I’d like to sleep under the stars â›ş but I’m afraid of getting eaten alive by bugs and bobcat. How can I sweetly commune with the magical Mother Nature, the Elementals, the moon and stars, while worrying about ticks in my nether regions? Bumping into bear? Stray stalkers? 

My body (my meat-self, as Martha calls it) can barely bend over, put on socks, crawl into a tent, kneel down to sip from a clear mountain stream, squat when Nature calls, or run for a tree… When I believe in my lone “I” who “can’t,” I know that my BS is in the row boat and she’s got the oars. If you trust your spirit’s call, your body might get mauled…

When I’m able to see beyond my earth suit, my backyard BS and the world’s weariness, I imagine that we’re just temporary flesh-sicles, fractured from the Oneness. Apparently “you” and “I” wanted to go nighty-night into the most convincing (and wincing) wilderness dream – alone and separated from each other. Friends from fam. God from Earth. Scooby from Shaggy. We split into the dark so we could re-member our Campfire Light. Our Unity. Our S’mores. According to the mystics, separation is just a starry illusion. A Cosmic Selfie. A Big Family Photo Bomb. It’s for Fun. It’s for Love.

What. The. Flock.

Of. Seagulls. 

It feels so freakin’ real. Heartbreakingly hard.

I was shaken the other day by my inadequacies – the weight of ancient fears and powerlessness. I AM ALL ALONE IN HERE!

Help!

And it felt like no one heard me crying. Except the chocolate chip cookies?

It started with tax paperwork – my boggy brain began inadvertently fishing in fear: It’s your fault we don’t have savings. You don’t work hard enough. Next thing I know, I’ve jumped in with the Great Whites: ? There’s something VERY wrong with you. You’re letting your family down. You’ll never be good enough. You smell like a sea slug. Etc.

When caught in a riptide – turn over on your back and breathe. As waves slosh over you, keep calm, relax and let the tide take you. Beach your BS like a whale ? Bask like a seal.☀

Wait, trust the tide?? To take me where? I should have stayed safe on the shore!

I tend to paddle myself very hard.

The path to awakening calls us to many jagged cliffs and cold quarries. Most of us distrust the necessary swan dives. Imperfect landings. Getting caught in our own net. We tend to fight the current of trials and teachers (ingrates, partners, presidents, kids and squids?) which can actually deliver us from our illusions, judgment and gefilte fish.

We swim with the challenging ego, again and again, even though it keeps smearing our vision board. It’s the way we learn about our creative power, though. We’ve been given the glorious ability to choose. Focus on the fins you fear, and things start to stink. ?  

Martha calls the inner party-poopers and groupers, “The Furies” and that’s just how it feels when our meat-self grabs hold of the Fishing Rod. And Motor Boat. Our Meta-self watches with amusement, not at all worried about our pathetic belly flops over the side. Or those jelly fish. Of course, when we feel that lonely sting, it’s hell in water. Abandonment. Overwhelm. Up a creek without a green smoothie. Disconnection from the soul.

But that’s an illusion, too. Our humanness can’t escape our spirit. It’s part of the package. Bogo.

So what’s an earthbound sack of seawater to do? ? 

After reading Martha’s book, I wanna move to the country, befriend wolves, gather food with woodland friends ? hibernate with mama bear ? and live by the lake of freedom and joy. And never pay taxes. 

Oftentimes, we creative trail blazers find ourselves feeling like salmon – a mysterious pull toward some distant, dreamy Home. It inspires us to leap out of the conventional thinking and trappings. Woohoo!  

But BS Belief Systems like to backstroke by. They swim me right past the tropical island ? and then make camp in my head’s polluted harbor. The Furies shout to NEVER push off from that goddamn shore again, you idiot.

Roe is me.

After these attacks, I tend to wade in my small selfie pond awhile. Then, when I’m not even “trying,” my soul starts to float me downstream again. Phew. Soon… I just gotta see what’s comin’ round the bend. I gotta try to direct and duct tape the tides. Suddenly. I’ve lost sight of shore! I’m doomed! My hair dryer is at home! And while I’m wailing about the Great Whites, I miss the life savers. ?

There are a lot of us out there “trying hard” to change the tides. We tend to cling to the last clammy rocks right before we’re spit out into the abundant ocean.

Carp-e diem, my lil sea horses.?

Happiness is ours, when we can enjoy the river we’re riding, today. Our mind yells, hell no, it’s not enough! Our heart says, oh heavens yes, LOVE IS RIGHT HERE. We don’t have to fight the current. Unless that’s your jam, then go for it.

Otherwise rest.

Stop paddling for awhile. Turn on your back and breathe, sweet otter. Call for kelp. Trust your soul’s flow. Ride it like a mofo. And release. It’s the crack in the crab shell where Spirit (or butter) gets in. The open air allows our soul to love bomb the Furies (BS, sea-monkey mind, ego, mental diarrhea etc.)

You are a rare and precious pioneer. A game changer. A lone ranger. A fish shtick. There will be times of doubt and despair. It’s ok. It’s part of the wild earth we came to surf and turf. Together. After our respite, let’s get back on our dolphins and manatees. We ride at dawn!?

From my lil aquarium to yours,☀
With love and warm sandy toes ??

Julie

P.S. If you’re searching for some inspiration and super-soul-support on how to surf through your stress, email me and we’ll set up a free coaching call. Tell me what’s got you crabby ? and we’ll crack through that old shell so you can shine like the sun. Let’s hold hands, like otters do, while we ride out these wavy times. I’ll be a devoted accountability partner so you can get your sh**t done. Talk to you soon, blue lagoon!

Joint Venture Opportunity: 

If you’re a self-help/spiritual entrepreneur (healer, writer, coach, earthy-crunchy creative,) my wonderful colleagues Sherry Bowers and Anne Presuel are hosting a joint venture giveaway offering lots of gifts, all geared to the spiritual entrepreneur ?. If you want to build your email list (and you have a free downloadable gift)  get your private JV deets HERE.  ? Sherry and Anne will help you through the process!

Joint venture giveaways bring lotsa new subscribers? So if your work is in alignment with a giveaway like this, please join us!

Until then, hang ten ?

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Posted in Belief Systems BS, dreams, Inspiration, Mother Nature Heals, Present moment, wilderness

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Untruths We Tell Ourselves in the Mirror of Relationships

Posted on 11/22/2017 | 4 comments
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In my dream last night, I received the “Best Goddess” award. Go ahead. Laugh. That title is reserved for celebrities, rock stars and beautiful women in flowing white gowns (meditating next to crystal blue waters with dolphins and diamonds.) I don’t fit.

But in the dream, I was rather excited (and embarrassed) that I’d been in the running with more traditionally goddessy women. Somehow I also knew that, whoa, men had voted, too!

I quickly surmised that it must be an all-around-kinda-goddess. A good cherub. Making a contribution. Trying her best. Clearly the world had changed its definition of a diety! And some part of me AGREED. I’d won. I was goddess material.

Then I woke up.

“Best Goddess?” I think, as I run my fingers through my matted, dirty hair. It reminds me of those little plastic trophies, “Best Sister” or “#1 Mom.”

But who cares, I won! In the dream, I’d felt humbled and happy. And now, sitting there in my very ugly t-shirt, grey sweatpants, bad breath and boobs hanging low, it makes me smile! I’ve arrived. I’ve awarded myself this goofy victory!

There was no voluptuous body or kick-ass looks, lips or limbs. It was just me. The award meant I was fully seen and appreciated. As is. Success.

Then I tell my husband.

He was just crawling out of bed, in all his sleepy glory. Tighty whities. A Breathe-Right strip lifting off his nose. Both of us pale and pasty.

“I won the Best Goddess award in my dream,” I say with a smile and an eye-roll.

Long.

Silence.

After yawning and wiping his crusty eyes, he finally says, “Well, that’s different.”

Cue. Screeching. Brakes.

My previous thrill quickly begins to slip. After more silence, I get up and go to the bathroom so I don’t spurt out any BS. My mind has armored up so fast, it’s frightening. I’m already at war.

For many years, I’ve asked (yelled, begged) my hubby for more compliments. I’m embarrassed to admit it. I get praise from friends, family, clients, even strangers at workshops. But since Bill sees me at my absolute worst, and knows me at my best, compliments from him mean MORE.

In the time it takes me to put the toilet seat down and sit, my BS is ready to FIRE AT BILL. My mind is pissed, blaming him and silently ranting, “This would have been a lovely opportunity to compliment me. FOR ONCE. I know I don’t look like a goddess, but couldn’t you do me the favor of saying something nice!? Something affirming? Anything??” Note: defensive sarcasm is always a sign of hidden BS.

So let’s Byron Katie the crap out of this stinky scenario.

Katie’s “Judge Your Neighbor” worksheet has four questions to ask ourselves, and the all intriguing “turn-around.” (Check out “The Work” here and download the worksheet here.)

  1. Is it true? (Yes or no. If no, move to 3.)
  2. Can you absolutely know that it’s true? (Yes or no.)
  3. How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought
  4. Who would you be without the thought? 


So I take the first painful belief, “Bill never compliments me” and ask, Is it true?

Well, um, (scramble, scramble, argh, sassafrassa…) No. It isn’t totally true. He doesn’t compliment me in the ways I would like. But his actions are very complimentary – deep demonstrations of his love and care.

But-but-but. I don’t want to let go of this! He should change! I NEED COMPLIMENTS! How hard is THAT!?

The ego mind likes to fight, to be right and to PROVE that our thoughts, painful as they might be, are CORRECT, and it’s the other person who should change their behavior! Then the pressure is off of us to change our thoughts. Poor, innocent us.


As I sit on my porcelain thrown, another old belief hits the fan: “He doesn’t see and appreciate my worth. He doesn’t think  I’m valuable! He should prove to me that I’ve got a little bit of goddess in me!?”

So my old story, of feeling humiliated and not-enough, because of my dwarfism, has hit the leader-board. “Bill should know my history! He should treat me with tenderness so I don’t have to hurt over this!”

Wow, tall order. I’m shoulding all over him, when in fact, I’m not honoring my old story OR treating myself with tenderness so I don’t have to hurt. When I insist that HE do it, we both end up in the loo.

Hopeless.

Still, my mind continues it’s rioting… “Of all people, Bill should know my old insecurities!” Wait. I should know. 
Another turnaround is, “I should know his old insecurities.” He’s told me many times that he feels completely cornered when I come at him, diarrhea of the mouth, INSISTING that he do things MY WAY.

The third question is: How do I react when I believe the thought, “Bill should compliment me,” and he doesn’t do it? I get insulted, hurt and angry. I either corner him with a sh*t ton of words or I shut. him. out.

Oh My Goddess. Not very complimentary.

The forth question is: Who would I be without the thought, “He should compliment me”? (When you’re examining your own BS, close your eyes on this question and imagine the other person’s face.) Well, without my BS I’d just be real and I’d express my vulnerability, without judging him or me. I’d appreciate my devoted Einstein-haired-hubby. I’d love him for all that he is. I’d realize he has complimented me with twenty years of support, marriage, family, love.

Here’s another turnaround. “I’m hurt and angry at myself because I don’t compliment me.” True. I didn’t even believe in my dream award. “I don’t see and appreciate my worth. I should prove to myself that I’ve got a little bit of goddess in me.” I can’t expect Bill to do what I cannot do.

On my good days, when I feel worthy, I don’t demand it from others. I can give it freely. Easily. To myself and them.

“Uncomfortable feelings are clear reminders that we’ve attached to something that may not be true for us. They are gifts that let us know it’s time to identify the stressful thoughts.” ~Byron Katie

If you find yourself throwing an inner or outer tantrum over what someone else didn’t do, or should do, try the four questions and the turnaround. There’s always something untrue in our own thinking and there’s more we can do for ourselves to find freedom and peace.

If you give a goddess an award, that she doesn’t feel she deserves, look at the cascade of negative thoughts that errupt! I projected the crap onto Bill, and then realized it was in me. It turned into an opportunity to bless the BS. What we need to flush, is up to us.

Another’s opinion can only hurt or help when we believe it’s true. We have the choice to walk down the runway of our soul, in all its spangly splendor, still loving our humble humanness.

Our glory be to goddess, in the highest and hottest. No need to be modest. (Short doesn’t mean squat-ess.)

With consistent self-support, we can turn dung into divine. Doesn’t cost a dime. (Goddesses like to rhyme.)

So go grab your own godling award. I’ll joyfully join you in a heart felt standing-O.

With lotsa love, lights, and applause,

xoxo Julie

P.S. Yes the holidaze is suddenly upon us. Each year, I intend to plunge into the festive season with more joy, less stress. And each year I do make small improvements ~ like the year we decided NOT to exchange gifts with extended family. That was actually a biggie. There was SO much less bustling and worrying. But at some point, during December, or by January, I end up wildly disappointed in myself.
So as we go spiraling forward, I hope you’ll join me for the
“Season of Rebirth Summit”.  Catherine Jimenez-Spencer will interview 21 guest speakers (including yours truly) to help navigate this season without becoming exhausted, disconnected, broke, unhealthy, frustrated & feeling like we “did it again” despite “knowing better.”
How can a time that is meant to be so nourishing leave us feeling tired and hollow inside? The Season of Rebirth Summit is to bring more peace and presence. It’s to inspire deep connection with the true essence of winter, the spirit of the Holiday we choose to celebrate & to stay rooted in our soulful self (even as we shop… or eat.)
Sounds good to me!
Register here and give yourself this soothing gift – take on the holidaze with more mindfulness, less madness.

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From Self-loathing to Self-loving. Thank you Dad

Posted on 10/10/2017 | 2 comments
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Last week, I fell into a nasty abyss. My reliable defenses searched for a reason, outside myself. It must be the change in seasons. It must be the tragic world events. Then, in the recesses of my mind, I quietly (unknowingly) decided the darkness was somehow my hubby’s fault. I’m admitting this to you because the sooner I share the shame, the longer it stays lifted. (Old BS does not understand the word goodbye!)

Apparently, I’d been in need of a pitstop for rest and recharging. But instead of taking a break, I proceeded to royally beat myself up for it. Why can’t I be a 24/7 vehicle of eternal joy and inspiration?

For the love of Chrysler, Julie.

Let’s back up, shall we?

I drove through August with awesome self-care. Every day I was taking a long walk in the evening, while listening to powerful podcasts and webinars. Every day, I was eating well and making my super-nutritious-green-smoothie-liscious drinks. Every day, I was practicing fabulous techniques to say sayonara to ol’ BS (belief systems). Every day I was using EFT tapping, declaring fierce affirmations and plentiful prayers. Every day, I was supporting myself, my family and my clients with zest and love. By September, I was so impressed with my progress that I became extra intent (read: obsessed) on staying in alignment with my soul, if it was the last thing I do!

Well okie-dang-dokie. Do you feel the car-wreck comin’?

I didn’t.

I thought it was the best kind of Blissipline. Consistent. Enthusiastic. Dedicated driving. But I guess that’s what snapped my inner pit-crew awake. Progress threatens the well-being of BS, after all. They got very confused and afraid. Do you think that healthy sh*t means you’re good enough? Ha! The winner’s circle isn’t for sloths and slackers. You can’t compete on this road-trip! You’ll just lose, over and over. It’s not worth the pain! It is NOT SAFE out there. You’ll drive merrily straight over a cliff. Not on our watch!

You’d think I’d recognize their scare-tactics by now. But nope. Joy down-shifted to doubt. I whipped out my control-freak’s manual for old wounds – apply more pressure. You can do better. More GAS! Go, girlfriend, Go! My inner taskmistress grabbed the wheel. She’s a dogmatic driver, quite convinced that she can bend the road of life to her will.

Sometimes there’s a thin line between positive personal-growth …and FORCING the matter.

I added a faster second walk in the morning. A second round of tapping. I got serious.

Still, I didn’t see it.

Then my unsuspecting hubster said something slightly snide to me.

Oh snap.

Perfect deflection material for the blamer-babe. Ah HA! It’s HIS fault that I’m not happy! An argument ensued. Blame, defense, avoidance, punishment. We know the drill.

I spent two days driving in angry circles (in silent retreat from my family, to protect them from unfair treatment…)

It’s his fault!

Oh crap, it’s my fault!

No it’s his fault!

Oh Lord… It’s all my default.

When I’m busy tearing myself down, it’s hard to love anyone else. Intellectually, I know I’m responsible for what I see in the mirror of my family. Self-help 101. But first. I tend to take a detour into self-punishment.

I’m such an idiot! I deserve to feel miserable – that MIGHT just keep me from mistreating anyone in the future! I’m not allowed to just self-love-myself out of my repetitive mistakes, again and again!

In the midst of my poop-party, I dreamed of Dad, who passed two years ago. The first time I saw him in a dream, I found myself yelling, “It’s Dad! It’s Dad! I love you, Dad! I love you!” I was over the moon. It was Dad! Then I realized his back was to me. Why didn’t I hug him or talk to him?!

In the next dream, Dad was helping my sister. I squealed with glee, “There’s Dad! It’s Dad! Wow Dad! Hey Dad!” I woke up happy. But again, I stood apart.

I saw this beautiful wing and fire rainbow on a walk!

Carl Jung’s dream theory says that everyone (and everything) in the dream is an aspect of ourselves. Our emotional response IS the message. Why wasn’t Dad looking at me? Why wasn’t I making it happen? Was Dad a projection of some ignored side of myself?

The next few dreams were similar. But. Each time I was getting closer to him.

A few weeks ago, I almost hugged him! I was elated! I wrapped my hands around his forearms; I could feel the crunch of his old coat. I hooted and hollered, “Dad! Dad! It’s YOU! Dad!” He looked at me very seriously and said, “let’s just get down to business.”

Huh?

When I woke up, I realized that my abyss of anger had been my “serious business”… about being better. Me. Bill. Doing better. Me. Bill. How can I feel the joy in my life, when I drive myself harder? When I insist that a fender bender deserves a life sentence?

Two nights ago, there was Dad! He was smiling into my eyes for the first time! He hugged me! And he whispered one tender word in my ear. He called me, “Kitten.”

In life, Dad would not have called anyone Kitten. He loved us deeply, but he was not overly sentimental.

Kitten? It wasn’t like him. Or me. Dad could be demanding. Black and white. Hard on himself and others.

Hello. That’s what I’ve been doing.

I repeated “Kitten” to myself, the way he had, with empathy. Understanding.

Then the tears hit. I’d been feeling downright hatred… for that kitten inside. The vulnerability. The need for validation. Reassurance. Rest.

When my inner perfectionist insists that it’s all or nothing, it’s easy to “fail” my high expectations. When I feel I’ve missed the mark, I punish myself by becoming stingy with love, as if THAT will correct my bad behavior. I assumed Bill’s snide remarks meant I didn’t deserve nurturing, because that’s what I believed!

Would I punish a kitten for not trying hard enough? For falling down? For being too soft? Can I scare her into doing better? Would I drive her to grow faster and just be a damn cat already?

I thought back on my BS band, which had come out to play. What they wanted was to be hugged, healed, and then relieved of their instruments. Especially those mental drums at midnight. Instead, I’d felt ashamed that they were assembled, at all.

I am tough to please.

The harder I chase my own light, the longer I stay disgusted by my darkness. Judging and denying my imperfections, leaves them feeling orphaned. When my friends, family and clients are willing to look into the face of their fears and BS, and embrace them, I’m thrilled! It means progress! Accepting our humanity! But sometimes, I forget to invite myself to my own love-fest. So my cowardly-lion-crew roars out from the scary jungle, hoping I will honor their human-mess. This time.

Welcoming the “worst” of ourselves to the party, is a humble road to freedom. A brave path to our Divinity. To love our embarrassingly disconnected parts means to give them what they continue to need – to come back Home.

Today, I’ve returned to celebrating. Accepting and singing my own slower-paced song. Smiling at my sacred silliness. Sending love to a world in need. Bill and I are laughing again. This spirit-led road is actually a real healing riot.

Next dream with Dad, sky’s the limit! I’m ready to rock the casbah! Climb trees, watch birds, and relax in the light. Cat’s meow.

So. When the next BS ball of yarn rolls my way, maybe I’ll remember that accepting and loving “what is” transforms a loathing lion into an innocent kitten. Paws crossed.

with lotsa love and deep thanks for being there :)

xoxo Julie

FYI – I’ll be interviewed for a powerful upcoming Summit starting Monday October 23, 2017, called,

THRIVING AFTER DIVORCE: Powerfully Reclaim Your Life and Turn Your Breakup into Your Breakthrough!

I was thrilled when my friend and colleague, Tanya Marie DubĂŠ, told me she was hosting an interview series all around the topic of mindset, confidence and motivation. THRIVING AFTER DIVORCE was born out of Tanya’s difficult divorce and her extensive research on how women can TRANSFORM their lives after a massive life change. Wait til you hear Tanya’s personal story (I got to interview HER!) She had incredible childhood challenges making her personal transformation all the more inspiring! Register here to watch the free series!

This summit is for you if you are going through a divorce, have just gone through a divorce or are contemplating getting out of a bad relationship and don’t know how to get your mindset around what is going to happen (or happening to you now). During this summit, 21 awesome entrepreneurs (including me!) have joined forces to share our stories of personal, sometimes extreme adversity, how we used our pain to create a whole new life for ourselves and help others.

A handful of experts will be talking specifically to what comes after divorce including dating, becoming an entrepreneur, co-parenting and helping your children succeed, starting an online business, coaching, psychological personality disorders, self love and healing, and building up your mind and your memory so that you can let go of the feelings of being too tired to start over or to start something new.

Register here for the summit!

If you’re going through major adversity, this summit will offer coping skills, techniques and strategies for getting yourself up and over feelings of loneliness, abandonment and fear. Although I’ve never been through a divorce, my clients, friends and family sure have! I deeply relate to how  these devastating events can trigger past pain, hold us back from our highest potential, and leave us questioning our worth.

Together, we want to support you in feeling empowered and inspired to THRIVE AFTER DIVORCE so you can have the life of your wildest dreams.

I hope you’ll join us for the Thriving After Divorce Summit! 

 

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What if your fears and dreams exist in the same place, would you still go there?

Posted on 08/20/2017 | Comments Off on What if your fears and dreams exist in the same place, would you still go there?
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  Super Solar Warriors!

~~❤~~

Riding shotgun alongside our dreams, we’re often entertaining some heart-stopping nightmares. Once upon a time, we noticed that dreaming had it’s cost. Disappointment. Humiliation. Rejection. Failure. Been there, done that, no thanks!

Growing up, Fear told me that I needed protection – I was weak, not good enough, a target at the mercy of senseless events and unfair circumstances. So armor up, sister. Put away those cray-cray dreams. Stay hidden. For your own good.

Fear has plenty of reasons why things wouldn’t/didn’t/can’t work out for us. Excuses are as addictive as potato chips. The longer we’ve stayed away from our salty passions – ignored their calls, deleted their sweet texts and shrugged off their pillow talk – the less energized we feel. After all, we’ve unplugged from our power Source. Empty tank. Running on fumes.

Great Scott.

Then, in that unprotected state of discontent, we watch the news. Fear whispers, “It’s worse than anyone thought! I told you, IT IS NOT SAFE.”

Step away from the remote.

Don’t drink that cool-aide. Fear needs followers. Love creates leaders. These turbulent times are the learning ground for Grace – where our united souls slowly remember the Great Love we were born to forget.

Neale Donald Walsch says that when we were in Spirit, we were like “candles in the sun.” We couldn’t truly know and appreciate our own light because we were indivisible from it. So if we wanted to know “Who We Are,” we’d have to blindfold ourselves to it. Total eclipse of the fun. But where/how could we hide our truth? Hmm.

Then brilliance hit!

How about a convincing Shakespearean comedy! We would all agree to forget our divinity for the duration of the play. Everyone would have their characters, lines, props and stages. We’d be tightly bound in heavy earth costumes. Born to people already steeped in the dark drama. Grow up in a culture which covets applause, golden awards, image, status and salary. We’d be surrounded by “Who We Are Not” so that we could, step by step, remember Who We Are.

Plot twist!

The priceless gold would actually be found in the last place we’d look on our treasure hunt.

Within.

But we can’t knoweth that teensy fact ahead of time – methinks it would totally spoil the end of the tale.

It’s mad genius!

Opportunity of a lifetime. Worth every bitter tear.

No matter how convincing and chaotic the performance gets, we’ll still be on point. It’ll be part of the cosmic script – a love story of opposites.

Bring it on.

Of course, our soul will keep placing signposts to joggle our memory. We’ll know them by the Peace they bring. The Possibilities. They’ll wake us from the darkness and disillusionment (natural casualties of amnesia) and call us up for the Oscar.

So let’s follow the simple, small stirrings in our own backyard – those love-notes-to-self that say: take that dance class, start that memoir, make that green smoothie, do that volunteer work, pick up that guitar, take that vacay, do that yoga, follow that ‘selfish’ longing. Those puppies are our personal fountain of youth. Drink ‘em in.

When we are fit and fierce, making powerful choices in our lives, we are warriors for the One. While Fear is busy chewing on her own dark derriere, Love turns up the Lights. Camera. Action!

But wait. I’ve failed before. They laughed and threw tomatoes. I got horrible reviews. I absolutely sucked. Why try again? I can’t even stick to a New Year’s resolution.

Fear loves drama. Like Sherlock Holmes, she’s always looking for evidence to prove her scary-ass case.

Entertaining our dreams can trigger past trauma and trash-talk. You’re in good company if you’ve relied on these smoke screens: I don’t have the money (I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of that one.) I’m too undisciplined. It didn’t work before. I’m too old. Too technically challenged. Too slow. Too uncredential-ed. Too tired. It’s just tooooo late.

It’s hogwash.

Louise Hay started Hay House, the biggest self-help publishing house, at age 56. Julia Child wrote her first cookbook at 49. Laura Ingalls Wilder began her Little House on the Prairie series at 65. Grandma Moses began painting after 80. Ernestine Shepherd, world’s oldest female bodybuilder at 78, started working out at 56.

They started doing what they loved.

In the wake of hate, we gotta carry our heart’s happily-ever-after out in the open air. We don’t need to wait for the path to be smooth, the winning lotto ticket or the red carpet to roll out, before we do what our soul has been jonesing to do.

What could knock the rust off your dreams? Here’s the kicker. It will probably involve embracing the ‘small’ stuff.

Did you once adore horses? Henna? Hiking? Can you make room for that fun this week? Life is much less intimidating when we take care of our powerful corner of today. It starts with appreciating the love we already have.

Right now, I’m enjoying the cool air from the fan. My fur-friends stretching and smiling. Picking garden greens for my smoothie. Smelling the honeysuckle. Listening to the birds. Saying good-morning to my  boys. Holding my husband’s hand. Free stuff.

Simple things bring me into the Present. They’re elixirs for the soul.

In a room full of tuning forks, when one is struck and begins to vibrate, the rest of the tuning forks start to sing out, too. Our energy echoes across the eons. It’s contagious. It cures amnesia. It raises our resonance together and rocks the Shakespearean stage.

Joy is wifi for the Soul.

As the moon eclipses the sun today, remember the romantic comedy we collectively forgot. We are divine dreamers, players and directors.

We are the light!!! 

 

Keep dreaming ~ with lotsa love, laughter

and a big bowl of popcorn,

XO Julie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wanted to let you know I’ll be interviewed for a special free event​~​
The Spiritually Fulfilled Woman: Tap into your Inner Peace so that Happiness, Freedom and Peace of Mind become your Reality. ​
My colleague, Patricia Daly, personal transformation coach, has brought together 21 experts to create a unique event that is designed to help you tap into Inner Peace and Happiness, and unlock an unstoppable
burst of joyful-spiritual energy
‘knowing’ you have the ability to create what you desire.

Some topics, tips and tools will cover how to:
Release painful memories from the past
that still have their energetic hooks in you.
Breakthrough your feelings of unworthiness & undeservingness
so that you can call in happiness and peace of mind.
Shift your thoughts from fear,
and learn the power of forgiveness and connection,
so that you recognize the unique values and gifts you bring to the world.
Take practical steps towards overcoming challenges
when it comes to believing in your hopes, dreams and life desires.
Quickly shift your negative stagnant energy,
attract spiritual alignment so that new opportunities present themselves to you.
 Click here to learn how you can get started :)

If any of this resonates with you, would you kindly share it with your friends and anyone you know that could benefit from this event?
The Spiritually Fulfilled Woman Free Summit:​ Tap into Your Inner Peace So That Happiness, Freedom and Peace of Mind become your Reality. ​
I hope you’ll join us!  xo

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The Doggy Lama: Do Animals Reincarnate?

Posted on 03/29/2017 | 10 comments
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 When my hubby Bill and I met, he had a very special dog named Fred. I fell in love with both of them.

Fred had so many endearing qualities – his yellow lab enthusiasm, his bloodhound flop-on-top-of-you adoration, his snugglyness (think eighty pound lap dog) and his adorable nibbles on Bill’s beard.

One of Freddy’s unfortunate habits was when he buried his bone (from the butcher) in the bed. If we forgot to close the bedroom door, he would take that messy bone and shove it down into the corner of the mattress frame.

Then, trying to thoroughly ‘hide’ it, he’d push his snout so hard that the tip of his nose would start to bleed. As he dragged his bloody nose from every angle, he left a dramatic red sunburst pattern across the white sheet, at the corner of the bed. A bloody artist.

And then there was the time he stole the plastic bag of stinky sour-bread starter and dragged it (leaking) around the entire apartment. That stuff dries like cement.

Through it all, Freddy helped us lighten up, laugh, and feel loved, as only our fur-family can do. Such deep and mysterious attachments are soulmate kinda material.

It makes their loss incredibly profound.

It was a week before Christmas, when Fred was hit by a car, and killed instantly. Bill and I were devastated. Heartbroken. Unhinged.

My one source of hope was believing and praying that someday, somehow, Freddy’s jubilant spirit would come back to us. My hubby wasn’t so sure.

That would change.

A year later, we were ready to adopt again. We searched around for weeks until we finally found a yellow Lab/Shepherd mix at a local shelter. By the time we got there, another woman had the puppy on her lap. Bill started pacing. I chewed my nails.

The woman asked the shelter volunteer, “Does this puppy play at all? He’s awfully lazy.” The volunteer answered, “He was very frisky with his sister not long ago.” (The sister had been adopted just before we arrived.) “Well, he has zero personality now. Is he going to be big? I live in a small apartment,” the woman whined. Bill jumped in: “Take a look at those paws. He’s gonna be BIG.”

Fifteen agonizing minutes tick-tocked by. The puppy was oddly placid.

“Well if you aren’t sure,” the volunteer told the woman, “let these folks hold him – they came specifically to see that puppy.” HIGH FIVE!

As the volunteer handed the puppy to Bill, the pup sprang to life, wriggling, waggling and then nibbling on Bill’s beard. Aw! When Bill put him on the floor, he scampered away and then circled back and sat right between Bill’s legs. The volunteer was very impressed. “Sometimes the animals pick the owners. He sure picked you.”

We named him Norman. He turned into a 95 lb. blond shepherd, with cute speckled tan polka dots on his white paws.

About six months later, Bill brought home a butcher bone and gave it to Norm. As we were cooking dinner, I put his dog food down. When he didn’t appear, I went looking. I peeked into our bedroom.

“Bill! Come quick!”

There, in the corner of our bed, was Freddy’s bloody sunburst pattern. We stared in astonishment.

Bill laughed out loud, “I guess dogs do get recycled!” 

Time flew by. When our sons joined the family, Norm was their devoted gentle giant, a daily cornerstone of unconditional love.

When he passed away of old age, our hearts were demolished, once again. Bill believed he would never get over the loss.

That would change.

A few months after Norm left our world, we began the search. I showed Bill all kinds of online puppy pictures at local shelters – Bill wasn’t moved by any. Until.

      This one photo (below) creamed our hearts. 

The shelter was two hours away, but there was something about this puppy, in a litter of nine, that felt like Norm. But how will we know?

The adoption day was so big that we had to stand in line. We watched as, one by one, that litter of nine yellow Lab/Rottweiler pups dwindled down to one. By the time it was our turn to look, there was one puppy left and he was the dude in the photo. Yahoo!

As Bill held him, I saw it – one white paw with speckled tan polka dots. Norm!? As my older son and I stood in line with the new pup, waiting to buy some toys, I was still unsure.

I silently asked my guardian angels for another sign that this puppy was the one.

An older woman, ahead of us in line, was talking to the cashier when all of the sudden she yells out into the store, “Norman?! Did you find the birdseed?”

My son and I did a double take at the woman and then stared wide-eyed at each other.

Welcome Home Norm!

Merlin, aka Fred/Norm, is now 7 years old. I like to believe that, in one form or another, he is family forever. He’ll go on giving his daily dose of love. Happy to be alive. Reminding us of the purity and power of living in the present. When we can enjoy the ‘simple’ NOW, then the next moment starts looking pretty awesome, too. And we end up taking a brief, but vital, vacay from our worries.

And while we have responsibilities to tend to, there’s no reason we can’t pause for a moment, and live by their example. Unfettered by the future. Unattached to the past. Following our next breathe to a deeper peace and appreciation of everyday life. That sunny spot on the carpet. Those tasty tootsie rolls in the cat litter.

Montana photo by Joslin Fields

These fur-balls forgive us our sins (as we forgive theirs.) They pay no mind to our superficial distractions, fears and flaws. They don’t long to be leaner, stronger or prettier. They don’t need the coolest device, car, cash or perfect mate. They don’t judge gender, religion, race, appearance or smelly pits (that may even be a bonus.)

They accept what is, without regret, and they feel ecstatic just to be alive. Sniff the breeze. Go for a walk. Or rest in your holy presence.

Compared to us, they need very little, and they appreciate a whole lot. They save us from ourselves with their depth of love, loyalty, life, and uninhibited being-ness. If we mess-up, they don’t love us any less. They never question if we’re good enough.

And when they stare into our eyes – the love hormone, oxytocin – is released into our blood stream. And theirs. Fur free.

So go totally insane with joy. Over anything. Be your own oxytocin dispenser. We may not have everything we think we need, but we can be happy anyway, just like they are.

This earth is filled with creatures who increase our capacity for connection. Wonder. Joy. Just have a laugh at an animal video. Cuddle your cat. “Wag more Bark less.” Be pawsitive. Smile at an ordinary day. It all lets the love stream in. And out. Right where you are. Just as you are.  

It’s easy peasy doggy sneezy.

with lotsa love & thanks (to fur friends, far and wide,)

and to us, their hilarious, hapless humans,

XO Julie

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Posted in Circle of life, death, dog reincarnation, finding inner light in the dark, inspirational blog, Mother Nature Heals, spiritual blog

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When Things Fall Apart: Learning to Lighten Up

Posted on 03/04/2017 | 12 comments
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It was 9pm and my oldest son and I were raring for our rockin’ road-trip to MA, in the morning. Then I got the call from one of my dearest friends, Lisa, whose house we’d be staying at for 4 days. She says there’s been a miscommunication – she isn’t expecting us until the following weekend.

WHAT THE!?!?!

I’m STUNNED. My brain is DUMBSTRUCK. I’m trying to fathom this news. Recalibrate. I GOT IT WRONG!? HOW DID I MESS UP SO BADLY?!

My hubby has taken off work. My older son has been so excited to see his friend! We’re ALL PACKED!!! ACK! This is cataclysmic to me! Perfectionist me. Inflexible me. Unforgiving me. I manage my calendar like a hawk. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???

I feel heartbroken and I’m starting to cry. But… Lisa doesn’t sound as demolished as I feel. That’s when my protective inner Mob Boss picks up her armor, knowing just what to do with my mortifying emotions. Shut. Them. Down. Lock & Load.

Rut row.

I’d better hang up with Lisa before the heavy-duty blamer BS (Belief System) starts misfiring. It speaks fluent Aim & Blame in dramatic CAPITALS and exclamation points!!!! Have you noticed?!?!

Crap. I thought I was past this. I’m all about taking responsibility for myself, my reactions, feelings and beliefs. But here I am acting like a full-fledged card-carrying defensive victim. Ugh. *Hangs head in shame.*

Growing up, I became slightly militant about the ways I should/could/would be RIGHT. About details, plans, times, people. I feared that my body and I were just wrong all over the place. Making mistakes made me even more WRONG and unlovable. My Mobster BS insisted I’d better be perfect, if I wanted to be kept safe from a heartbreaking world.

BS #2 (they run in packs) was also hibernating in the dark recesses of my mind. “I should be able to perfectly heal and release these beliefs, once and for all.” Hahaha. Apparently, there is no such thing as “done” while living in a sticky earth-bound-suit.

#3 on the BS hit parade is C-O-N-T-R-O-L. Or my illusions of having it. Nuf said.

Blame, criticism, intolerance etc are powerhouse viruses. They’re going around. When fear runs amuck inside us, but we don’t want to feel or own those feelings, it’s very tempting to deny, dodge and judge. Hot potato. Toss the blame at someone else!

But since we perceive what is OUTSIDE us in response to what we experience INSIDE us, we’re still glued to the gloom. No matter how we serve up that French-fried blame, we’ll be wrecked by the wrongness we feel around us, because it is also simmering within us.

I think we revisit these painful old wounds, circumstances and BS because there is always another silver lining to light upon. 

There is always more humanness to forgive.

If we can notice the fears, and just embrace the little darlings, question the BS, and love our silly selves anyway (imagine!) we won’t be as reactive when other people (children, spouses, presidents) do what they do or be who they are. We’ll feel more inspired to settle the war inside ourselves and radiate the peaceful warrior self, instead of the bossy blamer babe.

The following morning, still very mad at myself, my hubster Bill calls out, “Hon! Come see this butterfly on the stairs – INside!”

Aw!  The little girl in me is thrilled when I spot it. I carefully lower my finger down in front of the butterfly and she climbs on.

Be.

Still.

My.

Heart.

I bring her to my bedroom, where the dog and cat are less likely to interfere. It’s freezing outside, so releasing her isn’t an option. As I get close to the window, she takes flight and lands on the sunny lace curtain. The light pours through her gauzy body and I’m infused with joy.

But. What about food?

The flowers from Bill! Come to think of it, maybe that is how she hitched a ride inside? A Valentine Visitor?

I put the vase of cut flowers, every flowering plant we have, sliced oranges, bananas and a tray of sugar water, in the window. “We are now The Butterfly Cafe,” Bill says with a smile.

The internet reports she’s a female “Cloudless Sulfur” butterfly – an inch high, fragile as pale yellow tissue paper, with tiny black dots on her wings. In Native American medicine, butterflies are a symbol of personal transformation. “The ability to go through changes with grace and lightness.”

Their transformation from caterpillar, to liquid DNA goo, to winged confetti, is miraculous! Vulnerable and strong, weightless and free. They seem directionless, and yet they have quite the internal GPS.

“Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness and still become something beautiful.”

My attention to the butterfly, brings me into the present moment, and breathes me back into grace. (Bug bus to the rescue!) How can my heaviness stand up against her lightness of being?

The following day, I take some honey water on my finger and slowly put it in front of her. She hops aboard. And then I watch in awe – her teensy curled tongue (proboscis) which is a hair-thin straw, unfurls and begins probing the sweetness. And then . . . DRINKING. WHOA. I’m feeding a butterfly!

See the sugar water on my finger?

HEART.

BLOWN.

OPEN.

Did you know they can taste through the bottoms of their wee feet?

After a spellbinding minute, my feathery friend re-curls her tongue and stands like a quiet statue. Both of us are satiated.

The week flies by, and it’s time for my son and I to take the trip we’d planned! Bill is on butterfly duty while I’m away.

Soon after we arrive in MA, my son and his friend have a major miscommunication about a pick-up time and place. We land at his friend’s mom’s house (an hour from Lisa’s) while his friend is at the dad’s house (another hour drive.) WHAT?!?! My inner GPS is still MIA.

Rinse and repeat.

Guess who grabbed the wheel first? I wanted to blame his friend, then the dad, then my son, who wasn’t sure if his friend HAD given him the right address. I said I wanted to smack him.

Ouch.

After some wild texting with the dad, we were back on the road and I was breathing easy again. Quick turnaround! Phew.

But my son.

I noticed he was quiet and asked if he was ok. He said that NOW he understood why I cried over the previous mix-up with Lisa. He added, “I think of myself as a smart person, but this mistake makes me wonder.”

Oh boy can I relate!

Even our positive qualities can become limiting if we’re overly attached to that identity and too hard on ourselves when we ‘fall short’. I apologized to my son about my “smack you” attitude. Several times. We had a great talk, connecting over our shared BS. It felt freeing to be imperfect together. We don’t have to go it alone.

Humanness unites hearts. 

There is always more to love.

If Lisa and I hadn’t miscommunicated the week before, I might have missed the heart to heart with my son. I might have missed the laughter and openness with her.

I might have missed the butterfly.

I might have missed the walk in the woods when faeries seemed to send up <– rainbow flares from my camera.

I might have missed the opportunity to see more of who I am. Pimples and all. And to blossom anyway.

I might have missed the chance to draw closer to the divine. To flutter more like the butterfly, in and out of these changes and challenges. Isn’t this the everyday nectar of life on earth? Learning to grow with the flow – with butterflies, blamers, and mob bosses. They prepare us for the bigger dance – when life doesn’t do what we want it to do. When things fall apart. If we’re ready to release the heavy baggage – to step out of our comfortable cocoon, to let go and to trust our untested wings – then the soul offers abundant opportunities to lighten up and fly.

A female “orange Julia” landed on my forehead! At the Butterfly Conservatory, ONT Canada 2015

with love, lightness & more fun,

 Keep Calm and Shine on,

Julie

“When was the last time you sat and talked with a butterfly?” Pat Rodegast

My oldest with two butterflies (one is a “blue morpho”) at the Butterfly Conservatory 2016

My youngest with a “banded peacock” at the Butterfly Conservatory 2011

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Posted in Inspiration, Mother Nature Heals, parenting, perfectionism, Present moment, Psychological projection, Self Acceptance, Spirituality

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Has the Election Galvanized the Good? Plus Holiday Watercolor Cards :)

Posted on 12/11/2016 | 6 comments
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Warm Holiday Greetings!

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My new blog post, Has the Election Galvanized the Good? is below.  Also, my one-of-a-kind watercolor holiday cards are for sale over here! To see my 3 new bookmarks – scroll to the bottom :)

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“Heaven and Nature sing” holiday bookmark :)

Has the Election Galvanized the Good? 

%22i-have-come-into-this-world-to-see-this-there-is-just-one-flesh-we-can-wound

After the shock and bewilderment of the political circus, my fears and flaws (which prefer to disguise themselves as ‘righteous’ anger) quickly convinced me that the menace was now truly OUT THERE. It’s an age old coping mechanism – the need to blame an enemy when life seems out-of-my-control. Unfortunately, this habit ignores the inner lions, tigers and elephants that need to be tamed, before the outer work can get done.

“Wikipedia: Psychological projection is a theory in psychology in which humans defend themselves against their own unconscious impulses or qualities by denying their existence in themselves while attributing them to others.”

Like blaming the boss. The corporations. The media. The government. The man.

At first, I was finger pointing and condemning Trump, just like he was doing to others. Judging, defiling and making him wrongity-wrong, just like he was. Hmmmm. Two wrongs still won’t make the world right. Or me.

for-no-one-walks-the-world-in-armature-but-must-have-terror-striking-at-his-heart“For no one walks the world in armature but must have terror striking at his heart.” A Course in Miracles

My fear had suddenly grabbed the wheel and peeled out, while madly chanting, if I let down my guard, anger and indignation, I’ll be lulled into complacency, powerlessness, blind to injustice, and “they” will walk-all-over-me-and-you. Then we are TOAST.

We lose. The haters win.

The old “Us against Them” belief quickly enlists the most reckless driver of all – Anger (with defense riding shotgun.) Battles ensue. Guilt, Shame, Regret and Separation all pile into the scary clown car.

Outrage feels like a well-defended tank. A safe place to hide my vulnerability. My victimhood. Powerlessness. A place where my heart is closed. Where nothing upsetting can touch me. If I’m busy hating them it will numb my own hurt and sadness.

as-i-walked-out-the-door-to-the-gate-that-would-lead-to-my-freedom-i-knew-if-i-didnt-leave-my-bitterness-and-hatred-behind-id-still-be-in-prisonBeing walled off, though, means I’m separated from the empowering feelings, too. From hope. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Tolerance. Love. My past reaction to injustice was to shut down and fight, which just furthered the divide, mistrust, and isolation. The banishment became self inflicted.

If I thrash and spit at them, I’m disowning my own sovereignty, inner peace and freedom. If I blame the bully, for the unhealed wounds inside me, then I’m believing that the power is in their hands. I’m leaking my divinity by believing the BS. 

If I refuse to bear witness to the war within me, I can’t stop the outer struggle either. If I’m unloving toward myself, it’s difficult to feel love outside myself. I’m stuck on a crazy carousel.

So I have to pause. Breathe. Write (this post has already had three discouraging and discarded incarnations.) Meditate. Talk. Befriend the fears. Walk. Sob. Share. Chill.

When old fearful beliefs, lurking inside me, are sparked by a loud carnival OUTSIDE me, the circumstances don’t cause my fear, they reveal it. Oh it’s so embarrassing. I’ll still try to insist – it’s really THEM this time, THEIR monkeys! This can’t be me? Again? Why should I change? THEY need to change!

Step away from the scary clown car.

If I deny the fear, it just gets projected outside myself where I’ll see it high-flying all over everyone else! A clever universal mirror of The Greatest Show on Earth. We just can’t get away from our own acrobatic reflection. 

Resistance is futile.

Our feelings, like rejected kids who ran away to the circus, just want to be welcomed back home. They’re ashamed. Vulnerable. Oppressed. Exiled. Invite them in. Share a bowl of buttery popcorn. Turn off the circus music. Let them speak of their terror. Despair. Armageddon. It’s a shock to recognize our abandoned selves. We’ve been protesting our own humanness. Marching against our inner madness.

{{{{{{ Breathe. }}}}}}

As we tame the lions inside ourselves, we won’t need to shame the beasts on the outside. In fact, we might discover it’s our own gnashing teeth. It’s our own fearful ring master. If we focus, instead, on creating an inner playground, then we can stop feeding the fears. Eventually, the outer war will have no battlefield.

I keep working at (and this part is hardest for the ego) sincerely appreciating the traveling scoundrels and situations that have triggered my vulnerability. They’re the shocking (and fabulously under appreciated) answer to years of hopes and prayers. I’ve been asking for joy, equality, abundance, love, safety, healing, growth, contribution, unity, world peace. Only to find, via said scoundrels, that I’m standing in my own way by rejecting the alarming wake-up calls.

 I’ve forgotten that this earthly extravaganza is the healing path – the power of seeing myself in you and coming together to recognize our Oneness. “There is just one flesh we can wound.”

Yeah, somedays, I SO want someone else to fix it, do the right things, use their magic wand and make life grand. For us all.

But if it were all up to someone OUT THERE, how would I discover my own power, passion and purpose? How would I celebrate this life I’ve been given, if someone else held the keys to my daily Queendom? 

There is no external jailor for our inner joie de vivre.

And then Trump speaks… And I’m back to square one. I’m a work in progress with this whole Love thy enemy thing.

The vulnerability, hiding under the venom, is a pathway to our shared humanness.

the-holiest-spot-on-earth-is-where-an-ancient-hatred-has-become-a-present-love“The holiest spot on earth is where an ancient hatred has become a present love.” ~A Course in Miracles

So how do I stay mindful, powerful and take inspired action? Blissipline… A daily practice (lifelong practice…) of inner calm. Of learning to love the unlovable, in me. Then you. Patience with the impatient. In me. Then you. Tolerance for the intolerant. Me. You. Compassion. Courage. Creativity. Kindness. Especially for the toughest circus – ‘they’ show us our own underbelly. 

%22never-doubt-that-a-small-group-of-thoughtful-committed-citizens-margaret-meadeGood-will is a powerful picket line against reactivity, blame and any walls we’ve built within ourselves and against each other. The dark side is illuminating all the crud that’s blocking Love’s way into our hearts and out into our lives. As we heal our personal issues, we help heal the global ones.

Everywhere, there are awesome people doing awesome things. Let’s keep the spotlight turned on that goodness. With our conscious intent and focus, we embolden that universal light. Send love-bombs to the political arena, but don’t buy a ticket and park there. 

Let the chaos move us into a bigger heart space, transforming fear, growing our courage, calling forth our decency, evolving our sustainable spirit and creating a more humane world. Inside and out. 

The election was a zoo. But it has galvanized the good.

As peace deepens it’s roots within us, waves of love and cooperation move out into the world. We’re gathering momentum as we work, transform and play under our beautiful blue big-top.

See it.%22i-honor-your-gods-i-drink-at-your-well-ralph-blum

Believe it.

Make it so!

I love you. Thank you. 

Julie

p.s. For a powerful exercise to recognize and heal our projection, check out Byron Katie’s “Judge Your Neighbor Worksheet.” 

These new bookmarks below, are now available (1 1/2″ x 8 1/4″ laminated)

“Taking a step backward after taking a step forward isn’t a disaster it’s a cha-cha.” 

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“They tried to bury us but they didn’t know that we were seeds.”

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“Heaven and Nature sing”

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Posted in bookmarks, Byron Katie, hand painted, Psychological projection, Spirituality, watercolor holiday cards