There was this piece of me—a young, vulnerable, desperate piece of me—who begged for someone to finally just tell me who the hell I was supposed to be, or do, or what my life was supposed to be about. Every time life intensified, waves of hysteria would swell from deep within me, the fear that I’d get it wrong… that I couldn’t trust myself to know what was true for me. I felt terrified that, without external guidance, my life would be wasted.
But then I started to explore what one of my early teachers called “the spirituality of the self”. I studied the way I reacted to the world around me, the way I allowed certain relationships, circumstances, and experiences to affect me. I learned I was powerful, far more powerful than I’d ever imagined, and that I could change reality by changing the way I was showing up in the world. In time, I released what no longer served me and made space for my truth to become my life. The artist, the lover, the priestess, the mother, the healer, the dancer, the writer . . . one discovery at a time, I hosted a reunion of the pieces of my soul.
This transformation was possible because of the supports I cultivated for myself along the way. My blog is an extension of my journals. I use it to share the lessons I’ve learned, powerful resources, and inspiring stories of my clients’ transformations. Dig in and find the information and inspiration you need today and keep coming back when you need another dose! If you can’t find what you’re looking for, email me your question and I’ll see what I can find for you.
When the intensity of life overwhelms you, it’s an invitation to be more loving with yourself.
I can imagine the look on your face as you read those words: When things are at their worst, you want me to be more loving with myself?
Yes, that’s what you have to do. That’s how you heal, how you get through those tender times. And I know that you mean to, you really do, but you just keep not doing it. You keep making choices that serve others and leave you with nothing to spare. You do so much, but you don’t know to be loving with yourself. I get it. It happens to me, too.
The following is an invitation. It’s a mind game that you can use to help guide you back to a more loving relationship with yourself.
Imagine that I’ve called to tell you that I know a woman who needs support. I have a place for her to go to heal from the traumatic life she just fled, but that the place cannot receive her for another week. I ask you if she can stay with you until then. You agree and I bring her over.
Imagine that while talking to her, you find that she’s lived as many years as you, and her childhood looked just like yours. She has loved as you’ve loved, and she’s worked jobs like the ones you’ve had throughout your life. She’s lived like you—not just the good stuff, but the heartaches and traumas and pain, too. She is you. Just yesterday, before coming to be with you, she was living like you. She too received the diagnosis (or left the relationship or experienced whatever it is) that has you realizing that now is the time to be more loving with yourself.
What would you do with her? How would you treat her during this week, the first week since she broke away from the life she was living, the very life that was threatening to overcome her?
You’d be gentle with her. You would listen to her stories with an open heart and undivided attention. You would speak to her with a loving voice. You would prepare foods that would nurture and heal her body. You would make sure she had water to drink and a safe place to sleep many, many hours. You would offer her whatever support you have to offer, and you would connect her with healers who can also support her. You would play music and do art and try to make her laugh.
You would be her friend. You would be loving with her. You would love her.
You would do these things. I know you would. Your heart is full of love—love that you extend endlessly to those around you.
This is the same love you need today. Do it. Give it. Love yourself as you would this guest. You are worthy. Yes, I’m sure.