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What will you do with your 39,420,000 wild and precious minutes?

What will you do with your 39,420,000 wild and precious minutes?

My daughter was recently tasked with asking me and my husband how many minutes we’ve been alive. For me: 22,645,440. That’s a lot of minutes. And I remember many of them very very well. Births. Deaths. Weddings. Orangina sipped in the Loire Valley when I was a child. Then chardonnay 20 years later in that same spot as an adult. Sprinklers in Portugal. The moment we were allowed to bring her home. The first time hugging on-line friends in real life. The smell of my dog Jesse when he was a puppy. When I got busted for stealing the gum. Tijuana with my bestie when we were 17. My first pay cheque. My last pay cheque. The first marathon phone call with my now husband (the shortest five hours of my life.) Fresh falling snow that Christmas Eve in Innsbruck. Getting the news from the doctor. About that last point. I went for a follow-up appointment with my doctor to see about something that has been on my mind. The news she had for me was so-so. It’s better than I feared and still not fantastic. A word on that: I will get ahead of it. Already am. But this isn’t about that. I mean, it is and it isn’t. It’s about what’s next. As I was sitting in that waiting room, reflecting upon those 22,645,440 minutes, I of course couldn’t help but consider how quickly they’ve gone. And? We don’t get them back. But we can look to what’s ahead. (Doctors’ offices are intense.) We are each treated to, on average, 39,420,000 minutes. Still a lot of digits. But. Do the math. I’m going to have to make the balance count. You too? Here’s what we know: Whatever we are doing consistently, we are getting better at. (Click to tweet) New neural pathways get etched in the brain, like water carving out the Grand Canyon. Bit by bit. Thought by thought. Action by action. We begin to master whatever that is. Which has me sitting up a whole lot taller and straighter. I know what I don’t want want to master (worrying, sitting in fear, judgment, looking back, apologizing for everything…’it’s just easier that way’) which makes way for what I do want (more joy – which for me includes: connection, generosity and gratitude – more expansion, more meaning, more healing, more decisiveness, more love). Over to you....

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I see you

I wrote this on November 20th 2011 as a guest post for (the now-closed) Roots of She by Jenn Gibson. Every last syllable remains as true now as it was then…so I haven’t changed a single one. Oh, how I love the timeless endurance of truth. You too? Yes. I see you I see you. I see your compassion and am in awe of your capacity. I see your light, even as you seek the solace of shadow. I see your calloused hands that are soft and yielding as you massage your aging mother’s feet. I see the scars on your heart from the times it broke and am fiercely proud that you can still love. Fiercely. I see your struggle and adore your ability to find ease. I see the choices you are making and how they honour your vision. I see where you are going. You may want to consider bringing your oxygen mask. I see your desire to be held for who you are. Just as you are. I see what wants to be released from your life. It starts with “No, but thanks for asking”. I see your contradictions. They’re emerging as a rich tapestry. I see your eyes well up when the bagpipes play. I see your reluctance. I see you as a reluctant leader. Oh yes. I see how your presence lights the room. Mega-wattly. I see you heal. And how you do it. I see your belief in your intentions. I see you dance in the space between your vulnerability and your truth. I see your curves and marvel at your lusciousness. I see what is busting to get out of your chest and into the world. It’s been caged for far too long. I see your timid bodaciousness. I see your tap root of respect. I see the doubt. I see the fear. I see the fearful doubt and the doubtful fear. And yet… I see your deep desire to do more. For everyone. I see the joy in your impeccability. And I see the beauty in your hot mess. I see your epic struggle with impatience. (You are gaining ground.) I see you holding doors open for everyone, no matter how closed the doors can feel to you. I see the undulations IN and the unfolding OF your story. And it quenches my thirst. I see...

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This isn’t the post I thought I’d be writing, but it’s what I needed to write. On joy and grief. On awakenings. On wholeness.

It’s been quite the summer. In truth, I’ve re-written that first sentence about ten times.Because, really, what else can you call a summer that’s been rich with ice cream and travel and joyous moments AND rife with pain and suffering and suicides and murders and righteous rebellions evenifitsnothappeningtomeoranyoneinmyimmediatelife? Quite the summer. You know how when someone dies, we first grapple with the “right words” to say, feel like we fall flat, and follow up with an impulse to share a casserole? I feel like that here. Like, I’m not entirely sure what the “right words” are, so I’ll serve you a sandwich. A well-made sandwich is an act of devotion, so here’s my sandwich for you, for me, for us. The bread of joy (or, where I’ve been) I am celebrating a wonderful road trip with my family to the East Coast. Three thousand, nine hundred and ninety-three kilometers later, and we’re still talking. Lobsters, tides, old friends, new friends, wild blueberries, seals, porpoises, whales, walking the ocean floor, clam digging, thunderstorms, oysters, campfire chats, beaches, music, reverie and unforgettable colours. I am also celebrating having had some of the most delightful conversations ever in my years of doing this blessed work: Anna Guest-Jelley is a force of pure love and light, and in my mind, she is leading the body acceptance movement. Hallelujah! I adored my time with her talking about my childhood relationship with my body, and my current relationship with success and where the Impostor Complex loves to show up. Jessica Kupferman and I spoke about learning to love the Impostor Complex for what it teaches us. This was a full-hearted chat with a wise and hilarious woman who’s creating an empire. (I may have ended up coaching her…it happens). She’s one to watch, and this is one to listen. Lovely launch coachsultant Melissa Anzman and I talked about how results are a direct reflection of our approach, all the fears that show up right before any launch…and how to overcome them.  Fabulous questions, big heart. Katie McCarthy of Give Good gave GREAT interview. I loved talking favourite books, regimens, even some of the hardest times. (‘Cause they won’t break you. Promise.) I’m also celebrating that fact that the clinical psychologist who co-coined the term “Impostor Complex” back in 1978, Pauline Clance, has recommended me (ME!) for an interview about the IC that she isn’t able to...

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Some hard questions about ease (& one easy one): The Ampersand Series

What if you could have it be easy? What if ease was the norm and not the exception? What if hard is the road you’ve chosen because it’s been the path deemed the most valuable? What if it STILL had value without the blood, the sweat and the tears? What if ease could be cultivated? What would happen if you decided that what comes next will come easily? What if you could trust that? In acknowledgment of hard Oh honey, oh honey. I know…there are some times that it’s just plain hard. Change takes time, effort and patience. And your desire’s hungry NOW. I also know that wrapped up in the “if it’s not hard, it’s not valuable” thing are some ancestral, lineal stories of hardship and strife that are baked right into your bones. And truly, believe me when I say that there are some times when the backache of hard work feels gooooooood. It feels good to roll up the sleeves, to dig in the hard-packed dirt. To love the hard into softness. Like you’ve done for generations. & Is your entire life intended to be spent in the dirt? Are your muscles intended to scream from effort all.the.time? What about those times when the road of ease rose up to meet you. Was that a fluke? Or a culmination of conscious choices you made…possibly divinely guided? Isn’t your life ACTUALLY trying to show you that it can be a whole lot sweeter and easier? Oh. That. What if your default setting to every exhilarating new opportunity wasn’t “this is gonna be so hard”, but rather “this is gonna be exquisite…now how can this be easy too?” Notice what opens up, what strands of recollection show up, pointing you to how much you’ve already done and know; faces of friends, colleagues waiting to offer support, help or counsel; or quite simply, an alternate, more gracefully sloping route to there. So, right here, right now. Look at the decision, the project, the program, the opportunity and ask yourself: “How can this be easier?” Then, choose that. Easy. xo TG PS – Gold star challenge: now substitute “easy” in the q’s above with “fun”, “pleasurable” and “delicious”. Now you’re getting there. ++++ Why The Ampersand Series? – As a Libran Life Coach, I’m pre-programmed to see both sides…of everything. This can be an annoying trait to my nearest and dearest...

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I was either just called ugly. Or uninteresting. Or unpopular. Or all of the above.

Let me start here:: I know I’m pretty good-looking. (And if this is your first time visiting my blog, WELCOME! And I want to assure you that I don’t typically start my posts with conceit.) But it’s an important place to start. I’m actually in a pretty ideal place of attractiveness, truth be told. I can generally feel good about myself, and am not SO good-looking that it’s a problem. I have friends, clients and colleagues who experience their overtly good looks as a serious impediment to being taken seriously, to being empathized with and to being celebrated for their brilliance. That makes me pretty mad. And we move through it. I also have friends, clients and colleagues who experience their perceived LACK of overtly good looks as a serious impediment to being taken seriously, to being empathized with and to being celebrated for their brilliance. That ALSO makes me pretty mad. And we move through it. Yesterday, I received an email from someone stating I was not a candidate to be on her show because, well, I don’t meet the criteria of being “strong visually”. So…like I said in the title of this post, I was either just called ugly. Or uninteresting. Or unpopular. Or all of the above. The first three drafts of this post had much to say about the hypocrisy of this woman. Her show. Her mandate. But they didn’t make it past the editing stage. Too many swears. Not enough substance. And ultimately? I get it. TV requires boundaries. Baselines. Limits. And tough, tough, tough skin. (I also get that “not strong visually” is not ACTUALLY the same as “ugly”. But I’m working on that “tough skin” piece and have miles to go.) I’m human. And being called ugly, or uninteresting, or unpopular, or all of the above hurt. But it wasn’t just my vanity that had me sobbing to my husband last night like tears were going out of style. I was over THAT by the time I’d rounded up my sisters (and sister) who took on my hurt with the love, rage and righteous indignation of a thousand wounded Mama Bears (bless them all) freeing me up to feel underneath it. Here’s what I found that had me doubled over the chopping block in tears:: There are women with ideas far wiser, wider and more profound than mine that are keeping them...

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Blessings for 2014

I’ve felt this forecast in my bones for some time now. And may it also be filled with:: kindness love play forgiveness grace joy delight purpose peace meaning hope light expansion freedom and the unwavering knowledge that you can make this year precisely what you desire. And then some. Yes. Oh yes....

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