Category Archives: Letting Go

Something Good

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1. 40 Things To Say Before You Die, which I first read about on Judy Clement Wall’s blog Zebra Sounds. Everything I share on my something good list is here because it’s, well, something good, but this is one of the best. I seriously am going to write these out on index cards and start carrying them around with me, and when I don’t know what to say, I’m going to flip through them until I find the right one, or pick a random one and trust the magic.

2. Saying Goodbye to Bingo: A Life Lesson in Letting Go of Life.

3. A Woman of Wholeness from Jennifer Louden. I especially love the opening lines:

Somewhere there is a room
made of bee’s wax and heart honey
and the sound that is left after the meditation gong has gone still

In it sits the woman you actually are

4. This quote from Herman Hesse, so comforting and wise:

You know quite well, deep within you, that there is only a single magic, a single power, a single salvation, and a single happiness and that is called loving. Well, then, love your suffering. Do not resist it, do not flee from it … It is your aversion that hurts, nothing else.

5. This quote from Parker J. Palmer: “I will always have fear, but I need not be my fears, for I have other places in my inner landscape from which to speak and act.”

6. Transformation Talk with Erica Staab + book giveaway. If you’ve been reading these lists for long, you know how much I love blogger Erica Staab. This video was the first time I got to see her “in person,” to hear her wisdom, her story in her own voice. Loved it.

7. Vulnerability, Daring Greatly and Stretching by Erica Staab. Another reason to love her.

8. I’m in Here, Can Anybody See Me? by Amy Ippoliti on Elephant Journal. Simple, short, and so true.

9. I preordered a copy of Marisa Anne’s new book, Creative Thursday – Everyday Inspiration to Grow Your Creative Practice.

10. This poem, shared on Carry It Forward, and from the beginning of Pema Chödrön’s new book, Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change, (which arrived in my mailbox this week–yay!).

Living is a form of not being sure,
not knowing what next or how.
The moment you know how
you begin to die a little.
The artist never entirely knows.
We guess.
We may be wrong,
but we take leap after leap
in the dark.
~ Agnes de Mille ~

11. You’re going to hurt someone by Danielle LaPorte.

12. 10 Sheds/Cabins- Would You Live In These? on Relax Shacks. I might not live in them, but I sure want to play in them.

13. This, from my Inner Pilot Light (by way of the Daily Flame), made me cry.

You can’t see it now, but just around the corner of what’s hurting you now is what will arise to meet you and help you make room for what is next. In order to enjoy the blessing of this precious gift, you must endure the hurt you feel right now. Please, my dear, trust the journey. Wait ’til you see what I see in your future…

14. This quote, from John Irving: If you are lucky enough to find a way of life you love, you have to find the courage to live it.

15. You Have Permission (Right NOW!) from Leonie, complete with a free podcast reading.

16. From The Jump, a poem by Maya Stein on bentlily.

The language for courage is so stripped of words, a lump
of a secret only the heart knows the translation to. And yet, unsure
as we are, we recognize the call from down below, and find the edge and leap
even when we don’t. Once we wake up, we can never fall asleep.

17. Who Gave You Permission? a poem by Marianne Elliott, also on bentlily.

Book Writing Saturday

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When I first read this message from the Universe, via Andrea Scher (given to me at her Mondo Beyondo session at the World Domination Summit this past summer), I knew it was true. I had absolutely no doubt about it.

I brought the note home with me, carrying it from Portland to Waldport, and then to Fort Collins as if it were a precious gift, a sacred text, a magic object. I placed it on my writing desk with a collection of other important, inspiring items, right where I would see it first thing every morning when I sat down to write.

Before I start a new project, and every Saturday when I sit down to start my four hours of work on my book, I read a prayer, an incantation that includes “I am here to lovingly and gently manifest the basic goodness that is at the heart of all, to embody wisdom and kindness, to be a warrior with a brave and tender heart.” Whether I remember to read it or not, this is always my intention, with my work, my art, my life.

It was clear to me when I first read my message from the Universe, written in Andrea’s handwriting, that “the dream” was to write and publish a book, the book I’ve been living, carrying in my heart. This was obvious to me, no doubt and no confusion. I though the “space” I was to make was obvious too–clear out the space in your schedule, make time. More specifically, I committed to these four hours, Book Writing Saturday.

I still think making time, committing to that is right, but it’s not everything. There is more to “making space” than just making time. Space is freedom. Space is unlimited and boundless, but also the measurable distance between, unoccupied, open, available. Space is the gap, the blank, the breath, the quiet between words. Space is what occupies this moment. Space is where my voice echoes and sounds, takes shape and is heard. Space is open and vast, can accommodate and contain anything and everything, or nothing.

I need to open up space, allow for things to arise (and dissolve) naturally while I remain open and available. I need to clear out the confusion and clutter, quiet the chatter, to simplify, to surrender, to let go. The other part of the book that needs space is the part I’m living, losing the 2nd dog in three years to cancer. Losing Obi started this book, this life rehab, and here I am again. This loss, this letting go needs my attention, my time, my awareness.

I am here to lovingly and gently manifest the basic goodness that is at the heart of all, to embody wisdom and kindness, to be a warrior with a brave and tender heart.