Photo by: Volkan Olmez Provided via Giving Up v. Giving it up

Why Giving It Up and Giving Up Aren’t the Same Thing

Surrender is sacred. It’s magic.

And there comes a time to lay everything down on the line and just give it all up. You’re restless as fuck. You’re burnt out on a life of settling and hoofing it down a conventional path. You want something more than comfortable; you’re out on the limb ready to pluck happiness from the tree. It’s there right in front of you, but you’re holding on too tightly to comfort so you can’t quite reach. If only you would let go, surrender to faith, and stomach the seconds of discomfort – you would no doubt reach it.

A Course in Miracles teaches that if you experience overwhelm, you are trying to take on everything yourself. Give it all up. Put it in the hands of the Universe or God or Buddha – whomever or whatever form of divinity that you are drawn to. Surrender. Before the broken hearts and debt and psychotic breaks. And once you think you’ve surrendered everything – surrender some more.

Don’t eschew faith as a crutch or the easy way out. Comfort is easy even if it’s miserable. But faith, surrender, can be so damn uncomfortable and hard. Faith under bliss is the easy part; the heart and soul of it doesn’t appear until your ass is in the fire. Let go of comfort. Let go of your way. Let go of the need for control. This is all fight, no flight. Surrender is not the same as quitting; there is no room for shame here.

It’s a hard road to joy, but every force in the universe is vying for you to get what you want. It’s up to you to choose that that is. If you fully choose joy, if you move your feet and pray, if you step fully into your truth (your power), well you just bet your sweet ass that you will have what you want – though it may not be what you expect.

In deep breaths, in prayers, in rituals, in tears, in whatever way you need. Let go and let God.

Love Always,

Walking into 2016 Empty, New Years, Transformation - Photo Courtesy of Mariona Campany via Unsplash

New Year Part Deux: I’m Walking in Empty

And now one about walking into 2016.

I’m walking in empty. There are no resolutions to be found here. Sure there are things that I would like to see come to pass, but it has nothing to do with that half-hearted and short-lived annual goal planning.

I’m not short on faith. Or love. Or light.

But I do plan on walking into this year empty.
I’m walking in empty of my attachments to that certain outcome.
I’m walking in empty of complacency.
Empty of heart aching. Empty of the weight of the past year.
Empty of half-hearted yeses and settling. Empty of give-a-damns about societal norms.
Empty of the will to chase.
And just plain ol’ empty of the flotsam jetsam from the trials of living.

No reason to hold on.

I’m emptying all of that out to make space.
Instead of holding on to my way, I’m making space for divine miracles.
Instead of complacency, I’m making space for full presence and passion.
Instead of heart ache, I’m making space for compliment.
Instead of the weight of the past year, I’m making space for the many, many, many blessings to come… forever.
Instead of settling, I’m making space for all of the spine-tingling, lusty, awe-inspiring HELL YESES.
Instead of wasting my fucks on societal norms, I’m making space for, well… me.
Instead of chasing, I’m making space for receiving.
And instead of detritus, I’m making space what I treasure most – those I love.

My walking into 2016 empty is intentional and joyous.

I’m empty because I’m burnt out on conventional knowledge being my means to an end.
I’m empty because my way should be in alignment with divine way.
I’m empty because all of that crap that I couldn’t throw away and all of the stories I cleaved to took up the space in my heart and head and life that magic should have held.

I have this kind of feeling that the last two years have been setting us all up for something pure magic in the near future.

Walk into 2016 empty with me! Tell, me what are you leaving behind and what are you making space for?

Love Always,

Unconditionally: Open When You Find Yourself Dwelling

Sometimes I wonder who I would have been… if I had taken a different road along the way, veered off course, made a different decision, made the “right decision”. Introspection can be a powerful and heartbreaking thing; it can be … Continue reading

Baptism By Rain and Salt-Washed Eyes

“Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies;

for she hath blessed and attractive eyes. 

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears-

if so, my eyes are oft’ner washed than hers.”

(Shakespeare, 2.2.96-100)

A Midsummer Night’s Dream is utter bliss for me and I adore the above words of Shakespeare, but methinks it wrong.

“The soul would have no rainbows if the eyes had no tears.”
(North American Proverb)

That’s it. Feel whatever you need to feel, and if you’re swept up in some cathartic weeping then by all means salt wash those beautiful peepers. Let your soul open up like the skies, but make room for the rainbow my love.
I think about these things as I’m walking through the rain; my thoughts are lit up, but silent. The self-conscious whips itself up into a frenzy with laser focus. My neighbors think I’ve lost my ever-loving mind I’m sure, but I don’t dance and sing in the rain for the audience.
Few things call to me quite like a rainstorm; I love singing out lout and splashing about in the infinitesimal flooding at the bottom of the cul-de-sac. This is ecstatic joy and physical message to my inner-child, “Don’t ever stop coming out to play.”
But it’s something else – this is healing and catharsis. This is simultaneous permission to an open full-body weeping without any tears of my own and an unbridled celebration of everything. Let the things I believed I lost and held onto too hard run right off of me and let gratitude permeate my skin until I’m full and my fingertips are well-wrinkled. In the rain I can feel a pouring out of all those heart breaking things onto the pavement and they’re just swept away and neutralized.
Rainy days are best enjoyed on a sunny day, I lust after these afternoon thunderstorms – the presence of all elements is electrifying. It touches me in a way no person ever could – so intimate, silent, and all-knowing that just being part of the process shifts me. If a shift in perspective should offer rebirth then I’m often baptized by rain. I ask nothing of the rain and it asks nothing of me, this means everything in a world that always seems to be demanding more.
Go ahead and shake it in that rainstorm.
Love Always,

Don’t Let Your Beautiful Heart Go To Waste

 GLYHG2W Pic 2
Don’t let your beautiful heart go to waste.
All too often we believe
the strength found in hardships
are the bricks we pick up along the way,
the scarring that’s left.
We use those bricks to build walls
and our scars harden our hearts against
the pain this world will inevitably bring
until we convince ourselves
we will never again feel the utter hopelessness
of being broken by those that love us the most.
Don’t let your love go to waste.
All too often we believe that
the lessons learned of tragedy
are to keep desperate hold of our hearts.
As if our love is but a small flame
that might be snuffed out at anytime.
Desperate that no one should ever hurt us again
we set out traps
and design rigged tests
that would decide
once and for all
the worthiness a person.
Your heart will break,
let it.
“They” are right,
pain is inevitable,
because we have made it the only learning tool worth a damn.
Pain is inevitable
because we carry our bricks and scars
from one relationship to the next
and are hands are so full
and are hearts are so hard
that we leave no room to carry the lessons
with us.
And so we continue on in spirals
with self-victimizing cries of “What went wrong?”
Running from pain only beckons more pain
and the only way out is through.
So push.
Remember, you’ve been here before
and know that the light of the end of the tunnel
IS indeed you.
Your love and light are always replenishing.
Don’t waste your beautiful heart,
your love,
your light,
on the bittersweet of regret,
and sleepless nights analyzing,
and silent, desperate wishes without work.