Why Clarity is so scary...and how to get past your fear

Shirodhara is an ancient India ayurvedic treatment in which hot, herbal oil is poured on one's forehead to calm one's thoughts and bring one clarity. After our wedding, G. and decided to spend a few days at a holistic ayurvedic resort outside of Hyderabad. When I saw that the spa offered authentic Shirodhara (something one rarely finds in the states), I was ecstatic and booked my appointment immediately.

After my 90 minute treatment with two therapists, I felt, well... different. I was calm and relaxed but instead of feeling a little foggy (like I usually do after my meditations or yoga class) I had this interesting hyperawareness about everything. It was as if a brilliant light of truth was shining onto every aspect of my life. Shirodhara is supposed to silence your mind. Perhaps it was a quieted mind that allowed me to see things more clearly.

For me, usually the effects of a spa treatment last one, maybe two days. Then I'm back to where I was before, stressed out and pining for my next visit. But the effects of Shirodhara lasted much longer than your run-of-the-mill massage. Even today, three weeks later, I feel as if I see my whole life in a very transparent way.

Which would be awesome if everything I saw was great. But it's not. It has become almost painfully clear that some members of my family are shmucks (and that's a generous term). That some people who I've given a lot of my time and energy to were so not worth it and that I really need to recategorize my list of "friends" and "people too mean to trust with your pet goldfish."

When I share these newfound insights with my husband, he just nods. He's probably been telling me some version of this newly discovered truth for months now. It's just that I wasn't listening.

Which brings me to this week's topic-Why Clarity (with a capital "C") is so scary.

When we see things clearly, we are left with only two choices: to change that which we do not like or to admit, consciously, that we have no self-respect and will continue to put up with something which we don't wish to tolerate. Change is mostly scary because it brings an unknown. At least (some part of us reasons) if I stay in this crappy job, relationship, bug-worshipping cult, I know what to expect. If I leave it, or demand a change, or change myself, I don't know what lies ahead. And uncertainty is frightening.




Personally, I am a huge social butterfly. I love weekly coffee dates with friends, parties on the weekends, get-togethers with colleagues. In fact, that's probably one of reasons I wanted to become a life coach . I get paid to talk to people all day, for Pete's sake. That's why I've run away from my own Clarity. It's hard for me to be honest with myself and to acknowledge that it's time to reorganize who I spend my time with. This, inevitably, will lead to some lonliness. This may mean I won't have anything to do on a Friday night or that my husband and I will be spending the holidays sans some of my family members. All of this change seems downright horrible! But the alternative, to leave things as they are, is not acceptable, either.


Someone said that the truth will set you free. And it does eventually. But first it sets you terrifed before it sets you free.


Perhaps, you too, are running away from your Clarity. If so, I would advise you to do the exercise below. Answer the following questions openly and honestly. Write down your answers. Then, (and this is just my strategy, which I understand is a little too refined for some), BRIBE yourself like crazy to make the change. Then find a way to give yourself that which you have been trying to get from others or your job or your bug-worshipping cult. Trust me it works.
But do this at your own risk. Change is ahead.


13 Steps to Clarity
1. You have a sneaking suspicion that something unpleasant is true. You've suspected this for awhile but haven't wanted to admit it. What is it Clarity is trying to tell you? (ie: You have a dead-end job and want to quit, your best friend is lying to you, your uncle is secretly a crossdresser, etc)


2. What is it that you believed you HAD to do in regards to what you wrote above? (ie: I have to stay in my job, I have to pretend Susie isn't lying to me, I have to pretend Uncle Raymond didn't steal my black teddy, etc)


3. What is the price you pay-emotionally, physically, spiritually and/or financially-for believing that #2 is true? Right now it may seem that what you wrote down for question 2 IS true but just play along.


4. Are there other options that could took take in this situation? (instead of what you wrote for question #2?) (ie: I could quit my job and find another one, I could confront Susie about her lies, I could demand Uncle Ray not steal my lingerie, etc). List as many as you can. Get creative. Get silly even.


5. If you took one of the feasible actions you listed in #4, how would you feel?


6. Look at your answers for #3 and for #5. Which feels better? *Note: Until #5 feels better than #3 you will not be ready to make a change*


7. Honestly, what needs to change? (ie: I need to quit my job and find another one)


8. Write down a list of steps you could take to make this change. Break these steps into teeny tiny steps (ie: I could update the first job on my resume, I could write the first paragraph of a cover letter, I could subscribe to yahoo jobs, etc). Then break these steps down even further (I could actually just look at my current resume, I could google the search phrase, "How to write a great cover letter" and save the links, I could add yahoo jobs to my "favorite links" list).


9. Now, write a list of treats-these will be your bribes-that you could give yourself each time to take a tiny step towards making that change. *Note: These treats should be on the smaller scale but must be things that you TRULY enjoy (ie: I could watch my favorite TV show, I could take a nature walk, I could eat a chocolate bar, etc).


10. Now list one HUGE treat you will give yourself once you complete making the change (ie: I will sign up for a one-hour massage, I will rent a cabin in the mountains for the weekend, I will buy myself a new outfit, etc).


11. Fill in the blank with as many positive adjectives as possible: After I make this change, I will probably feel: ___________________________________.


12. What can you do, today, that will help you feel the feelings (even if just on a small level) that you listed in #11? Make a list of things. (For example, if you wrote that quitting your job would give you a feeling of freedom and rollarblading also brings you a feeling of freedom, you could put rollarblading down on your list. The point here is not to help make the change process easier by giving yourself tastes of what the change will bring).

13. Everyday, you need to do at least one of the things you listed in #12. Each time you take an actual tiny step towards the change, you must give yourself a small treat. When you have made the huge change, you MUST give yourself the huge treat, no exceptions!

The Temple of Self and The Temple of Soul

I spent the month of August in south India. I spent five days getting married to the love of my life, and the rest of the time in a kind of awed stupor. Rarely have I gotten a chance to be a pure observer of what was happening around me. But in India I was surrounded by people I did not know, speaking a language I did not understand, and doing things I had never seen done before. Because of this, I was truly able to stand outside of myself and witness all that was happening around me in a detached and compassionate way. I found myself experiencing an amazing clarity about life and the human condition. I found myself losing the feeling as if I had a "self" at all. I have decided to share several interesting lessons I learned from my journey to the east in this blog. I hope they will help you in some way as you continue your own journey through this life.



In India, there are temples everywhere. No, really. I mean everywhere. (Think the American equivalent of Starbucks.) You can't go one block without stumbling on a temple. There are several in each neighborhood, along the sides of the highway, placed randomly in the market streets, in the middle of cities and rural villages alike. They are huge and magnificent or they are small, dirty concrete boxes. Gods are beautifully carved statues decorated with valuable jewels or they are rocks or piles of clay painted with turmeric and kum kum. It doesn't seem to matter there. A temple is a place where God lives. A God is an object one decides is a God. The God is named, a cleansing prayer is done and followers worship appropriately.

Never in my life have I been surrounded by so much devotion.

Every morning at 5am the temples would play their kirtans (these are kind of like hymns). The city of Hyderabad wakes up to the sounds of sacred music before the sun rises. Each business has an altar that you see when you enter. Every Friday pooja (prayer) is done in the stores, incense and candles are lit, pictures and statues of Gods are blessed with vermilion. Customers wait for the owner of the shop to finish and then go to the altar to pay respects to the God before they go shopping. It seems as if all of the social events and holidays in India revolve around the celebration of some religious aspect or another-the defeating of an evil spirit or the celebration of a God's birthday. The whole culture seems to hum with a kind of ritualistic faith no matter where you go.

Om Nama Shivaya, Shivaya, Nama Om.

For me, it is easy to slip in and out of temples, to offer my prayers and participate in sacred rituals, no matter what religion. I have an atypical understanding of God because I believe the concept of God is symbolic. So when I am in a spiritual place, I try to understand what the God before me symbolizes, and then I try to bring these aspects from my higher self into my own personality. For me, Jesus represents unconditional love, Abraham represents faith, Buddha stands for detached observation and truth, and the Hindu Gods represent the qualities they are known for (there are, quite frankly, so many it would be hard for me to list them all here).

Since I was a small child, I have been sensitive to the energy in different places. To some people this sounds strange. To others, they know exactly to what I'm referring. Never before have I felt such strong spiritual energy as I did in India. It was magnetic and all consuming. It dissolved my stories and my sense of self and humbled me to the point where I realized I could do nothing else but spend the rest of my life serving others if I wanted to be happy. I understood unconditional love and compassion and devotion and self-discipline all at once. Never before have I felt so close to the highest aspect of life that I call God.

It occurred to me while I was in India that we are suffering a kind of spiritual crisis in America. It is not so much that we don't know devotion. It is that we have given so much devotion to this concept of "self" that we are creating a great deal of personal suffering. We have unconsciously created such a large void within ourselves by constantly giving offerings to our egos that we aren't able to see our way out of it. Look at all of the temples to the self we have created in this culture! Look at all of the excuses we have made to remain self-centered.

We have a ridiculous amount of prosperity in this country. Even as we tell this story about being in a "recession" it is almost embarrassing the amount of material wealth that is present here. Yet here we all are, grasping for more. Here we are, physically overweight and spiritually starving. I am not being self righteous here; I have been grasping right along beside you for many years. I have been listening to my personality and ignoring the needs of my highest self.

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, Hare, Hare.

Several years ago, I was a bit shaken up when Thich Nhat Hahn, one of my favorite spiritual teachers, referred to America as "the land of the hungry ghosts." After visiting India, I feel more like shell shocked. As long as we continue to be devoted to this temple of self, we will remain unhappy and unfulfilled. As long as we continue to offer prayers to our self-image, we will remain imprisoned. Liberation comes when we devote our lives to something higher than the needs of our personalities, when we become devoted to the needs of our souls. It seems to me that if one wants to live a happy life, a peaceful life, one needs to stop visiting the Temple of Self and begin worshipping in the Temple of Soul.

The way to do this is to ask your soul what it needs. Then find a way to devote your life to it. Watch the abundance that flows when you live this kind of beautiful life. Watch the joy that seeps into your whole being when you serve your greatest self. Watch the amazing process of losing the concept of an "I" or a "me".

I cannot tell you what it is your soul needs. It is your soul. Nor can I tell you the path that you should take to get there. But I have a feeling that if you start searching, if you start asking your soul what it needs in the quiet dawn hours of the morning, the answers will start coming. And when you do start hearing the answers, may you have the courage to live your truth.

Taking the first step (even when it's teeny)

Lao Tzu said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.


He did not say the journey begins by running the first mile. He did not say one needs to consult all of the thousand-mile journey experts before starting. He did not scoff at the smallness of one step on a journey of what will be many, many steps or tell others to ruminate on the magnitude of the journey ahead. He said simply take one step.

For those of us who were brought up to be overachievers (ahem) the concept of starting small can seem like, well, underachieving. It can seem too easy and naive. It can seem like nothing will get accomplished if we set such a little goal.

I get that, I really do. Each time I set a goal I feel the need to get started in a big way. I decided I wanted to have a daily yoga practice so I've convinced myself I need to find 90 minutes in my day for asanas. I decided I wanted to start waking up earlier and I reset my morning alarm from 8am to 5 am. I decided I wanted to run again so I looked up marathon training programs.

At least now I know how to recognize my ego when it rears its big head. I also know, from years of experience, what will happen if I listen to it and take this approach. I will either be too intimidated by the goal to even get started or I will try to do too much at once and fall flat on my face. Lao Tzu knew what he was talking about. One step is a good place to start.

One step is also the place of humility. The ego hates taking just one step. It's not big enough, it's not good enough. It certainly is not impressive enough. It will never get the accolades that taking a bigger step would receive. To take one step, to start small, really means to learn how to silence the ego.

I like personifying thoughts or beliefs that do not serve me. When I do this, they lose their power and become funny. I've shared with you in past posts my lizard, Blanche (the self-critical monologue inside my head). I would now like to introduce you to my ego.

Interestingly enough, my ego looks just like a kind of guy I've seen at every gym I've ever belonged to. You know the guy I'm talking about. The guy who is not really that muscular but feels the need to hold his arms really far away from his body to give the impression his biceps are too huge to allow him to place them normally at his sides. That guy. That guy always cracks me up. He is just trying extremely hard to be impressive and it's so obvious. Sounds just like my ego.

For the record, since I decided I wanted to really start deepening my yoga practice several months ago, I haven't done a damn pose at home. I sleep through my 5am alarm every morning and have yet to buy a new pair of running shoes.

One step, one step, one step.

This morning, I decided to take one step. I did one pigeon pose. It felt great. My lizard, Blanche, started in with "How do you ever expect to get anything accomplished in your life if you just do these insignificant tiny things?" For a moment, I started to feel like a naive child. How was I going to develop a full yoga practice by just doing less than five minutes of yoga?

Then I remembered that today was the first day I had actually done yoga in quite awhile. When I listened to Blanche and my ego, nothing got accomplished. Or things seemingly got accomplished and then fell apart because I didn't build them with a solid foundation that a gradual approach would have sustained.

I know that Blanche and my ego aren't going away (at least not any time soon) no matter how much I may want them to leave. But I do have Lao Tzu. He seems a lot more wise and honest and realistic.

At the center of your being you have the answer. You know who you are and you know what you want.
-Lao Tzu

*Next time you decide to make a goal, watch how the ego will enter and tell you that you need to do things in a big way. Resist this temptation and take one small step in the direction of what you'd like to create. Be prepared for your lizard to come in and berate the insignificance of your small actions. Proceed anyway and see what happens.

a life, borrowed

A long, long time ago I was a girl scout. I actually don't remember much about being a girl scout except for two things. The first was the little round badges I wanted to accumulate because those things were like status symbols.


The second was something I learned about borrowing. Our troop leader told us that when you borrowed something, you should not just return it to its lender in its original condition, but in even better condition. This, she said, would be a great way to show your appreciation to the person who lent you something. Say, for example, a classmate lent you her half-dull pencil because you forgot yours. You wouldn't just return the pencil to her sans bite marks, but would return it completely sharpened.

This really stuck with me for years. I borrowed stuff from people all the time and always tried to return things in better condition than which they were lent to me. Then once day, not too long ago, I realized that nothing I thought I owned was really mine. I realized that I was, in fact, borrowing everything.

This shift in perception started when I wrote an article on Vipassana meditation for a local periodical. In the article, I explained to readers that it is against the practice of Vipassana for a meditator to contribute anything to a dhamma center (even though they provide 10 days of lodging, food and instruction) until the meditator completes a course. After a meditator completes a 10-day course, they can give a donation if they feel the meditation was beneficial. That donation will be used to provide food and lodging and instruction for a future meditator. I find this to be a beautiful way to run a dhamma center. It's really like living a monk's or a nun's life when you take a Vipassana course. Everything given to you during a course is because of the charity of someone else.

It also makes sense to run things like this when you are teaching people to dissolve their egos. When we get attached to the idea of something being "ours" or belonging to the self, a whole bunch of ego subconsciously gets wrapped up in our actions. Suddenly, we have to defend what is "ours." We have to fight for it or demand something on its behalf. Or we start to believe that we can do what we'd like with it, because it belongs to us.

I became absolutely intrigued by this idea of life as charity so I spent one entire day pretending as if nothing was mine and I was borrowing everything. The bed I slept in? Not mine, so I was grateful I had it when I woke up. The food in the fridge? Not mine, so I really enjoyed eating it and made sure to clean up the kitchen I was "borrowing" better than I normally would have.

The man I live with and usually call "my husband?" On that day I pretended he was not mine. It was like the first day we met-fresh and new and I fell in love with him all over again. I didn't expect him to do anything for me. When he did, I was surprised and delighted. The clients I coached? Not mine and I no longer concerned myself with their progress or lack thereof. In fact, a sacred reverence came into each session. Even this body was not mine. I noticed with this paradigm shift an absence of a self-critical monologue. There was just no need to say anything bad about a vehicle I was borrowing to have the experience of a human existence.

The day when I realized nothing was mine was the beginning of a new life.

Not only was there an increased sense of gratitude and reverence, there was also the responsibility to leave things I was borrowing better than I found them. Every person I interacted with became someone I was borrowing for that moment in time. If they seemed sad, I tried to cheer them up. If they seemed stressed, I tried to make them laugh. If they needed to talk, I listened. I tried to leave them better than I found them. Everything in my life was something I was borrowing while I was alive.

The public bathroom? I made sure to clean off the borrowed sink. The trash in the parking lot? I picked it up. The mother with four kids and a cart full of groceries? I helped her get to her car. All of this happened naturally when I realized everything was borrowed. It didn't have the weight of something "I should do" to be a good Samaritan. It just flowed naturally.

Perhaps at some time in the future, I will get to a place where I can let go of the concept of anything being "mine" for longer than one day. The ego seems like nothing more than a prison. The more I grow as a person, the more obvious it becomes that to live in a world where so much is "mine" feels like carrying a heavy, iron burden. I will try to consistently remind myself that everything I have is actually borrowed. It really does feel a lot more free.

The Power of No

Just when I thought I was over my people-pleasing habits forever, I am humbled by the constant vigilance it requires for me to learn the power of the word no.

The other day a client asked me if she could schedule a 5:30 appointment. Granted, my hours are 9-5 and I generally reserve the latter part of my work day for behind-the-scenes coaching work (such as writing my blog and writing workbooks) because I do my best one-on-one work in the morning. By the time 3 rolls around I'm ready for the kind of silent solitary time that writing requires. Yet when this client asked for 5:30 I said Sure! as if I couldn't imagine anything else I'd rather be doing.

Why do I do this? Why, in fact, do WE women constantly agree to things we don't want to do? I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with social conditioning (just watching the amazingly different way my partner G. responds to requests baffles me) but let's put the psychoanalytical theories to the side for now and focus on a solution. How can we say no, especially when the request is from a dear friend or family member whom we hate to disappoint?

I don't think it was just a coincidence that led me to find an interesting book yesterday entitled The Book of No: 250 Ways to Say It and Mean It. Susan Newman, a social psychologist, gives the reader many different examples (250 to be exact) of how one can say no in different social situations. I love how she gives a script of saying "no" in such a matter-of-fact way for so many different scenarios. Even if you're tempted to say yes because the request is from a close family member or your best friend or your boss, this book shows you how to approach the person with diplomacy and tact and yet still uphold your personal boundaries.

This book could not have come into my life at a better time. G and I are planning a small wedding for our friends and family this October. Many people cannot travel to India for our August wedding and we wanted to share our marriage with the people who mean the most to us. We're footing the bill and we're having the wedding in the same city where we live. And yet my dear mother cannot help but remind me that I've left some important people off of the guest list. (Cousins and aunts whom I've met once, or not at all, or whom I really don't like, and who certainly don't fit into the category of "our closest friends and family.")

When I stood my ground and said "no" she again tried to manipulate me into saying "yes" by saying that a lot of people whom we've invited probably won't come because of the travel involved. "At least these people live closer and might show up" was her argument.

First, I found myself beginning to panic. What if no one shows up to this wedding that we've worked so hard to plan? What if I have to walk down the aisle and say my vows to an empty-chaired audience?

But then my trusty body compass came back into the picture. I realized that the fearful voice flashing images of me alone with my husband on my wedding day was just my lizard, Blanche. I also realized when I checked in with my body compass, inviting the people my mother suggested just felt icky. And I wanted to feel good about every single person we sent invitations to. "You know, if very few people show up, that will be okay," I heard a calm me saying into the phone. "What's most important is that we only include the people we feel really know us well and will truly support our marriage."

Suddenly it seemed as if the word "no" wasn't so hard after all. In fact, it felt as if it was my own personal guard of my boundaries. Being able to say it, even when I was challenged, felt like I was really respecting myself. Here are some gems from this book I wanted to share with you:

-If you don't immediately feel like saying "yes" then this request probably deserves a "no."

-Train yourself to immediately think "no" before you respond to any type of request. Even if you initally say "no" to something you don't mind doing for someone else, you can always change your answer.

-Pause before you ever answer a request. Even just having a few seconds of time will give your brain and body time to process whether or not you want to do what is being asked of you.

Some scenarios I love: (I've modified them from the book; the book actually provides a lot of details for each scenario possible)

1.

Request: "You have such a great eye, mathematical finesse, writing ability, etc. Can you help me with this project?"

Response: "Wish I could, but I can't."

2.

Request: "I have two tickets for the opening of the new play at the Graham-Bell Theatre." (and you happen to hate plays)

Response: "Thank you. It was so thoughtful of you to invite me. I really prefer movies. Maybe

Ali or Seth would like to go."

3.

Request: "I know it's short notice but will you babysit for us over the weekend?"

Response: "I can't this weekend. I'm always delighted to take the children but I need to have a bit of advanced notice."

4.

Request (from a child): "It's not fair. I want to go to bed when Katie does. It doesn't matter if she's older than me!"

Response: "No. You need the extra sleep to help you grow. When you are Katie's age, you can stay up later."

5.

Request: "Mom and Dad, will you give me money for the down payment on a house?"

Response: "No, we aren't paying your down payment."

6.

Request (from your boss): "This mailing is huge and has to go out by the end of the day. Will you stuff envelopes during lunch?"

Response: "No, I can't do that today."

7.

Request: "I'm thinking about starting a sign-in and sign-out system for middle managers and support staff. You'll have to tell your group."

Response: "The people who work for me don't need to be monitored. They're professionals; they don't need a mother."

Learning to say "no" is an important step on the path to maturity and self-respect. However, it takes some practice, especially if you're like most women and have been trained to please others and put them before yourself. When you learn to say "no" you learn how to take your time (and essentially your life) back. Be prepared to be challenged and to be guilt-tripped when you learn to used the sacred word "no". Be prepared (especially if you're the people-pleasing type) for others to be shocked and initially upset when you turn down requests. Remember, however, that they'll get over it. And at the end of the day, you'll be liberated.

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.