forever let the sun shine on

Last week, I spent eight days volunteering at one of my favorite places in the world-Camp Sunshine. Although each summer has been great, I would have to say that this year was truly remarkable.

Camp Sunshine is a week-long camp for kids who either have or had cancer. At first read that probably sounds quite depressing. When an acquaintance told me about it several years ago, my first reaction was-That sounds so sad! (Even though I am a kid cancer survivor myself). But Camp Sunshine is not sad.

Camp Sunshine is one of the happiest and most inspiring places I've ever been to. I won't try to capture this camp in words because quite frankly, it's beyond description. You can look at the pictures, you can read the website, you can talk to the volunteers, but nothing can explain the immense love and acceptance that radiates here.

Imagine a teenage girl with a brain tumor, (a huge scar running down the back of her bald head) receiving chemo during the week and still climbing up a ladder high into the air to zip line-exhilarated-down over a trail in a deer-filled forest. That is just a small sense of the amazing power of possibility and love that I get to experience here each summer.

There is something else I get to experience here as well-a break from my busy life. For one week I do not use my cell phone or check my email or really have any contact with anyone outside of camp. Me and another counselor chaperone a cabin full of teenage girls out in a beautiful forest by two lakes. We have meals in the cafeteria together, complete activity-filled days, eat way too much junk food and have some really great bonding time in the evenings. There is always a lot of busy excitement during the week of camp. But there are some quiet times too, times where I got to just be still. Times where I watched the reflection of the sun on the lake sparkle so brilliantly I had to shade my eyes from those lake diamonds. Times where I sat by the pool, listening to the sound of kids laughing and splashing down a water slide. Times when I felt clay smoosh between my fingers as my girls spent an hour making ceramic pots on a wheel.

There were so many times this past week when I just got to feel myself breathing.

When I do a quick scan of my life the past few months, I realize that there have not been many of these. Times to just breathe I mean. I am preparing for two different weddings on two different continents. I am launching a marketing campaign for my business in the fall. I am coaching and networking and emailing and talking on the phone a lot and when I'm not doing any of these things, I'm reading.

Before camp, I can't remember the last time I just sat still to languish in doing nothing. I can't remember the last time I consciously felt how good it was just to inhale--breathe in and exhale--breathe out. Can you?




If you're like many of us crazy busy Americans, you too may have forgotten the importance of taking time each day to just do nothing. When was the last time you just relished in watching the sunset over a cluster of evergreens or gave yourself over, completely unrushed, to a conversation with a child?

These are the moments that feed our soul. These are the moments worth being alive for.

This week, I want you to start practicing the art of doing nothing. I'm not talking anything big here (my schedule won't let me swing hours of doing nothing either); I'm talking 15 or 20 minutes. Just find a peaceful space where you won't be interrupted, set a timer for 15 minutes and do nothing. When your thoughts appear, just notice them as you would a small child running past you to get ice cream.

Don't answer your email and make sure to turn off your phones. Don't twitter, update your facebook status to "meditating" or talk to anyone. Just BE. Sit there and feel yourself breathing. Sit there and remember that you are a spiritual being borrowing a human body on planet earth. Sit there and remember what it feels like to be still.

Many people, when advised to do something like this, feel as if it may be a waste of time. With so many things crammed into our schedules, 15 minutes seems like a huge chunk of time to give to doing "nothing." Some may be tempted to think of this as overindulgent or just plain lazy. None of this is actually true. Learning to just be is a sacred reminder of the importance of our presence in the present. If you begin to cultivate this habit every day, what you will begin to notice is that your "doing" periods are radically enhanced by your "just being" periods. Ironically taking time to do nothing results in more efficient doing.

We sing a lot at Camp Sunshine, after every meal actually. I have a lot of great songs I like to belt out with the campers after eating too much macaroni and cheese. The title of this blog is a line from one of my favorite Camp Sunshine songs and I'd like it to be my own personal reminder of how I'd like to live the next year of my life. I hope that this year, I will remember to take time to be still everyday. I want to remain grateful for this amazing life that I have been given. I want to reflect on the small, beautiful moments happening all around me. I want to continue to rejoice to the melody of simply being here.*

*I cannot take credit for this last beautiful and well-written line. It comes from a camper's poem that was published in the Daily Sunshine (Camp Sunshine's daily newspaper). If I receive her permission, I will share her entire poem with you.

How I know that prayers are heard

I have not shared this story with anyone until last week and even then, only two people. A couple of us were discussing the effectiveness of sending someone positive energy. Then we started talking about prayer and suddenly I remembered something from a few years ago. It was such a pivotal point in my life and things really changed after it occurred. I cannot believe that I forgot it. Perhaps now is the best time to share it, then. This is a story of faith. This is the story of how I know for sure that prayers are heard.

I've devoted this entire blog to discussing the change process-what to expect as you are going through different stages of change, what you can do to smooth the transition and follow your heart. I've also included some practical tools you can use as you progress. What I have not talked about yet is the ephemeral part of any journey. What I have forgot to tell you about is faith.

People define faith in different ways. For some, it has very strong religious connotations. For others, it implies a sense of naivete (as in "blind faith"). But for me faith is this: trusting what your soul tells you-even if it does not make sense on a logical level, even if everybody around you doesn't understand.

So here it is. Several years ago, I spent a week in Oregon during my spring break. I had wanted to go on a hiking/outdoors vacation and a friend told me I'd probably enjoy the wilderness of Oregon. I was in one of those horrible emotional places in a human life. My heart was newly broken. I was tired of my job. I flew to Oregon in April and fell in love with the big redwoods in the mountains and the Pacific Ocean and the funky cool vibe of Portland. When the week was over, I came back to Atlanta thinking that one day, far into the future, I would make Oregon my home. The days slugged by, still heavy with my sadness and one day, several weeks later, as I was walking near a creek I suddenly realized that I needed to go. As soon as possible.

I gave away all of my stuff and I packed up my car with books and some clothes and I drove to Oregon. I had no friends or family there. No job. I didn't know where I was going to live. I did not know my way around. My soul said-This is what you need to do. So I did it. Not because I was full of faith, not at all. But because my life had fallen apart and I felt I had nothing else to lose. There is nothing like being completely devastated to bring one humbly to one's knees and to convince someone to finally surrender.

Almost everyone told me that I was crazy. Two very special healers of mine did not, but the rest did. They said-The job market there sucks, you will not find a job. You will use up all of your savings. You don't know anyone. You will be lonely. You are a woman driving across the country alone and something bad will happen to you.

But like I said, my soul said go. So I went.

The days leading up to my departure were nothing short of magical. Nothing could stop me from doing what I realized I needed to do. My mom was freaking out. My friends were stunned. My roommates were helping me put things in bags to take to the Goodwill and simultaneously asking me if I was sure I was making the right decision. It was amazing how many people thought I was a making a huge mistake. I had no doubt this is what I was supposed to do. It was as if a solid rope of light was pulling me from my heart to the Pacific Northwest. At the time, I did not know what this feeling was; it was the first time I had experienced such a profound sensation. Now, a little bit older and wiser, I've recognized its source. It is the way my soul tells me what I should do next. It is, what I now call, the God-pull.

I got to Oregon. I spent several weeks hiking and crying and sleeping. I went to the ocean, I went to the mountains. I wrote in my journal. Then one day I realized I needed a job and so I began searching. I wasn't looking for much, just something different from what I had done before, something that would allow me to pay the rent and eat. And yes, it was hard. No one would hire me. Then my ex-boyfriend sent me birthday presents and told me how much he loved and missed me. Friends were saying-come home, come home. My mom would call me each week, asking me if I finished writing my book so I could return to normal life. The truth was, I had not written anything worth publishing and months had gone by. I watched my savings dwindle until I realized that soon I would have nothing left. I began to doubt what I had done. For the first time, I thought that perhaps I had made a horrible mistake.

I flew back to Atlanta to visit the two healers who had encouraged me to follow my soul to Oregon. One of them, the one I refer to as my surrogate older brother, reminded me of my worth. He seemed so sure of me, of something special inside me, as he always has. My other healer had been going through a hard time himself. I wasn't sure I should see him, with my unbelievable sadness, when he, himself, was going through such a difficult time. But I was desperate for some answers, for some relief from the almost unbearable self-doubt that had begun to devour me.

Before I went to him, I said a silent prayer that went something like this: Dear God-when I get to the place in my healing where things get really rough, don't let J. feel it. He is already going through enough. Just have him hold my hand while I cry out all of my sadness and self-doubt.

I went for my my healing. In the middle of it, as I began to purge the deepest sadness from inside my heart, J. stopped, hesitated, seemed a little confused, and then sat down and held my hand. I cried until my heart felt clean.

I'm not sure where our prayers go once they are said. Are they an energy we send out to the universe? Are they a way we connect with our soul? Is there a God who listens to them? Of course I can't answer these questions. However, I can say for certain that they are heard because of what happened on the day I came back to visit J. for a healing.

I returned to Oregon the next day knowing I was heard by the universe. I found a job one month later and spent a wonderful year in the Pacific Northwest. A year of healing, hiking, writing and growing.

In any journey, no matter how strong your convictions or your God-pull, at some point you will probably doubt yourself. You will wonder if you have made a mistake, if you've made the right decision, if you're good enough. You will begin to lose some faith. When this happens, remember it is okay to jump. A net will appear. Remember that you are not alone. And no matter what your spiritual views, you may want to say a little prayer. Trust me, someone is listening.