Tag Archives: flash mob

Wishcasting Wednesday

What do you wish to experience?

Swimming. I can’t. Well, I sort of can–I can keep myself from drowning for about three minutes, but it’s not pretty, and that’s what’s stopped me from learning, from relaxing into what I might already know–fear, of drowning, of dying, of being out of control and uncool. But, I wish to know what it feels like to glide through the water, to feel safe and confident there. And Jamie Ridler told me I have mermaid hair, so I think it’s required of me to know how to swim.

Performing, singing and playing my ukelele. I wish to take lessons for both and someday get on stage to sing and play my little heart out (but not all by myself, maybe as part of a band?).

I wish to experience being in a flash mob.

I wish to experience holding my published book in my hands. I’ve held it (them?) in my heart and my head and my notebooks and computer files for so long, I wish to manifest its full form, to share it. I wish to know what that feels like, being able to claim that I am a writer, an “author” in a way I’m not able to yet.

Spending a whole summer in Amsterdam. I still can’t really explain it, but I love this place, and I think spending the summer in a house boat or apartment in the center of town, walking or taking the train, shopping in the outdoor markets, visiting museums and writing in cafes, would be amazing.

Spending two months traveling around all of Europe.

Spending time in Japan. I’ve never been, but I love everything about it, the aesthetic, the mood. I’d find shrines and meditate, I’d take an Ikebana class from a master, I’d see the cherry blossoms and the maple trees and the cranes, I’d eat the food, see the people (trying not to stare or be rude), and I’d take a million pictures.

I wish to experience speaking another language fluently.

Leading a retreat. The more I think about it, dream and plan, the more of them I visit as an attendee or even do on my own, the more I wish to offer this to others, to give them the gift of being able to sink into practice, to soften and relax and open in a supportive and inspiring environment.

Teaching an ecourse. Another thing I am thinking of, dreaming and planning.

Teaching yoga and meditation. Along with writing, these two practices have benefited me so much that I want to be able to share them, to have the knowledge, skill and training necessary to do so effectively, ethically, and safely.

Finding my “thing,” my unique offering, and being a creative entrepreneur, being able to quit my paid work if I’d like.

Being able to make, sew, build, craft whatever I can imagine, and selling it in my etsy shop.

Making art and taking a workshop with Patti Digh.

Doing yoga and going on a retreat with Jennifer Louden.

Painting and yoga with Flora Bowley.

In person Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner.

Finding and making magic with Andrea Scher.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail (at least some of it) with Eric.

Having an urban farm. I wish to get my hands dirty, to tend the earth, to provide, feeding not just us, but having enough to share, and keeping animals and insects too, chickens and rabbits and bees and ladybugs. I would love to have a cow, but I wouldn’t be able to eat it.

I wish to experience healing, whatever form that might take.

I wish to experience complete self-love, acceptance, worthiness.

I wish to experience wholeness and wellness.

I wish to experience my life, all of the beauty and brutality it has to offer, the whole thing, all of it, and to know at the end that I made a difference, that I showed up with an open heart and was loved, that I mattered and was able to ease suffering in the world.

Something Good

1. I am still completely grooving on Yuna’s album today. I think in the last 48 hours, I’ve listened to it at least 20 times. Favourite Thing is another great track. It reminds me of Eric, my favorite.

It’s the way you drink your coffee
And how you have faith in me
And you love your cameras and you tell me that I’m good enough
Boy you bubble-wrap my heart

And all the things that I used to be afraid of
Suddenly it all disappeared

You remain my most favorite thing
And everywhere I go you’re here with me
You remain my most favorite thing
And all the time I keep you near me

The way you look out of the window
And you stay because you know
It wasn’t your intention but you caught how boats are crashing
Like the wave I’ve been waiting for

And all the things that I used to be afraid of
Suddenly it all disappeared

You remain my most favorite thing
And everywhere I go you’re here with me
You remain my most favorite thing
And all the time I keep you near me
The way you look out of the window

When I feel like the world has turn its back on me
When I feel all alone and I’m loving nobody
Oh, when the people wanted me to be somebody else
But you love me completely

You remain my most favorite thing
And everywhere I go you’re here with me
You remain my most favorite thing
And all the time I keep you near me
The way you look out of the window

2. The Fine Art of Limitation on Be More With Less. I have trouble (real, big trouble) with setting limits, so this piece was a good reminder. Courtney Carver promises “I want you to have everything you deserve, and by setting limits, you’ll discover that everything you deserve is available. A lovely life is yours for the asking.”

3. Mad with joy… from Carry it Forward. This is a great post from Christa, and starts with one of my new favorite quotes from Iris Murdoch: “People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things with us.”

4. The Courage to Be Uncool from Owning Pink. Not sure if you’ve noticed this, kind and gentle reader, but I am not cool. I used to care, but now I am totally okay with it. Still, a post like this from Lissa Rankin, reminding me that it’s okay, more than okay, is really nice.

5. Neil Gaiman Speaks to The University of the Arts in Philadelphia Graduating Class. Oh my, how I love this man: his mind, his voice, his work. He is brilliant and funny and so utterly himself, and wants the rest of us to be the same.

6. This is Your Guarantee of Failure. Proceed anyway. It’s not a surprise that Danielle LaPorte is on fire with white hot truth, but holy wow and holy crap, I love this! I printed it out and have been reading it to myself from time to time. This is so important. Please read it. Every time I get to this part, I cry, and then I forgive myself.

There will be many, many things that you’ll wish you had said — fiercely loving and bravely tender things, righteously justice-rendering things that could change everything — but instead, you’ll fail to rise in the way you wanted to.

7. The DIY: Fastest Friendship Bracelet Ever. I’m not sure I’ll ever grow out of my love for these, and I feel the need to make some and give them out, tie them around the wrists of the women I love. Blame it on summer vacation, I suppose.

8. 60 Selfless Ways to Pay it Forward from Marc and Angel Hack Life. I like this much better than my to-do list.

9. So You Think You Can Dance clip. This makes me cry every time I watch it, and I have a huge crush on this girl. The way she moves, the way she is: beautiful.


10. An amazing lip dub marriage proposal. You may have already seen this, but if you haven’t, it’s pretty sweet. I love a good flash mob, and combining that with a marriage proposal?! The goodness just about kills me.

11. Creative Writing Prompts. Lots and lots of them.

12. What I Eat: Around the World in 80 Diets.

13. Beating the Anxiety of Online Reading on ZenHabits by Leo Babauta. I needed the reminder, so thought you might too. But Leo, there’s just so much good stuff out there…

15. This quote from Cheri Huber, in honor of the two awesome yoga classes I’ve attended in the past 48 hours:

Practice offers us a lens through which we can examine suffering—what
causes it, why it happens, how it happens. It gives us the tools to tap into our authentic nature and to experience being lived by Life – present, whole, and joyful.

Gratitude Friday

This post is a mashup of The Little Bliss List and Joy Jam, and as such is meant to celebrate: the little things that brought me hope and happiness this week, the sweet stuff of life, those small gifts that brought me joy this week. By sharing them, I not only make public my gratitude, but maybe also help you notice your own good stuff and send some positive energy out into the world.

1. Tulips from a dear friend. This one is my favorite color.

2. A/C in the Eddy Building. They finally turned it on! My office is on the third floor of an old cinderblock building with huge windows that reach wall to wall and from the ceiling to the height of my desk, so it gets HOT in here. My plants love it, but my brain and the chocolate have been reaching melting point with the 80+ degree temperatures we’ve had this week, so I’m grateful for freon.

3. Dance Walking. Eric and I were watching “Glee” the other night (or rather, as I have explained before, I was watching and he just happened to be in the room) and during a musical number, he said “I would hate living in a world where people just broke into big dance, musical numbers or had to sing everything. It’s like my worst nightmare.” I just smiled and stayed quiet. He looked at me and said, “You’d love it wouldn’t you?” Yes, yes I would…

I have always loved musicals (The Wizard of Oz, The Wiz, Funny Girl, Lady Sings the Blues, Fame, Flashdance, Grease, Oliver, etc., and the TV show Glee). I was in theater and choir in high school. I long to be in a flash mob. I have been known to break into spontaneous dance parties of one. And this video makes me so happy.

 

4. Guess what I’ll be doing this weekend?

5. Susan Piver. I am still basking in the glow of the Fearless Creativity retreat I did with her and ten other lovely people two weeks ago, and for the Open Heart Project this week, she made a video about my favorite topic, basic goodness. I adore her.

 

6. I realized this week that in only two more weeks, I will be on summer vacation, my first one in about ten years.

Bonus joy, bliss, and gratitude: I had moments this week (you read that right, more than one) in which I felt like I was enough and that I had enough, and maybe more importantly, telling you this so publicly doesn’t even make me feel afraid that by mentioning it, I’ll somehow jinx it. I am cultivating confidence in enough.