Tag Archives: Ingrid Michaelson

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. The afterglow of “Fearless Creativity.” It was magic, and it was medicine, and it continues to shine, to soothe me.

2. Photo Editing. This black and white from this weekend makes me look at least ten years younger, and editing makes photography doubly fun–first taking the picture, then playing with it.

3. Older Dexter. At almost nine years old, he is so adorable and sweet and gray, and so much calmer and complacent than he was as a younger man. I want to keep him forever.

4. Young Sam. He is equal parts cute and handsome, playful and calm. I want to keep him forever.

5. Confidence. After so many years without it, it feels incredible.

6. Seeing Eric. Between his conference and my retreat last week, over the course of seven days we only saw each other once, for three hours. Seeing him again was so great. I want to keep him forever.

7. English Department Retreat. I don’t think it’s news to anyone that I don’t always love my paid work. And at yesterday’s retreat, there were moments of eye rolling and tension, but for the most part, it was great to reconnect as a whole department, to dream together about how good things can be, to give support to the suffering that can happen along the way, and to be reminded how funny, smart, creative, and interesting we all are.

8. Ingrid Michaelson concert with a dear friend. My friend and I are both busy, don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like, and when we do, we don’t get to talk as much as we like, so this was a good chance to do that. And, the concert was really good. Seeing Ingrid sing “Ghost” live gave me goosebumps. Her voice is so much bigger and she rocks so much harder than I expected. And, there was a super sweet stranger who had his friends scoot over and who sat by himself on a step, on the floor, so we could sit in regular seats. Dude, wherever you are, I hope you know how awesome you are.

9. The surprise smell of lilacs. They are in crazy bloom right now, all over town, and I keep getting surprised by them, smelling before seeing.

10. Being told I have the perfect mix of comedy and insight.

11. People clapping when I talked about how important it was to value having a healthy whole life, not just “work/life” balance.

12. A message from someone I admire, saying it had been a delight to meet me in person.

13. Unravelling class started, and Telling True Stories continues. And, I have some serious catching up to do with them this weekend.

landed on both my broken hearted knees

I had a bit of a meltdown today. I came home sick yesterday afternoon, felt generally cruddy, achy and tired. I woke up this morning feeling the same, inside and out.

I am becoming aware, but still stuck in the same old patterns–I can see where I am, but I can’t seem to move. Reading “The Great Lesson of Loneliness” on Metta Drum this morning, I broke down. This was the comment I left for Daniel:

Crap…crap, crap, crap.


The thought swirling around in my head this past week is “This isn’t working for me anymore. It never really did.” I think this as I continue to keep on keepin’ on, as if I think I simply haven’t figured out the right way to get this to work, like if I can just get the mix right, more of this and a little less of that, move that over here and get rid of that altogether, this can still work, I can make this work–but it won’t.

And this, “There’s just no other way around it. Without self-love, you look to others for validation and approval. You externalize your power. You wait for outside signals to let you know that it’s OK to accept yourself, to love yourself, to be yourself” cuts right through, right to the heart of it, cracks it wide open and won’t let the lie stand.

So, you say “Once you begin this process in earnest, you’ll find that when approval and validation do come to you from others, it feels beautifully complementary rather than vitally necessary.” Do you promise? I need this to be workable, because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep doing it like this, it’s not working…and yet, it’s still so hard, because I am in that place of being able to see it, but also knowing the change comes so slowly with something so deep and old and sticky.


Thank you.

I was shaky and raw, I was dizzy and felt like I had heartburn. Sometimes, something can be so true that it feels like a knife, cutting right through the delusion, right through your skin and bone.

His response was:

I promise… based on one condition: You start with “No one in this world can ever give me more than I can give myself.” And then be the source of what you need, let it come from that central still point. When you feel that restless searching bubbling up, stay with it — let it show you where that healing and restoration is needed. The rest is a journey that unfolds in time, not always easy, but so worth it.

I accepted his deal, and walked around today repeating the mantra: No one in this world can ever give me more than I can give myself. And then, I read the “a little bird told me, your daily truth” for today from the Brave Girls Club, and it said:

If we can close our eyes and slow our breathing and think really really hard for just a moment, we can look back and find moments when we met exactly the right person when it seemed that all hope was lost, or found exactly the right article to tell us what we needed to know, or heard exactly the right song with exactly the right words that we were absolutely sure was written just for us.

If we are honest down to our very souls, we have to see it, we have to realize it, that no matter how dismal things may seem, no matter how alone we might feel in this moment, that all along, from the very time we were born, all along things happened that got us through. It wasn’t always easy and sometimes we were clumsy, sometimes we did it through eyes so filled with tears that we could barely see.

This is workable. I can do this, make my way through. Tonight, I sat at my writing desk and put together this found poem: