I love you.

Are there any words more powerful than those? When they’re backed with full intention, they can end wars and ignite flames. When they are not backed with full intention, they are a heart-wrenching lie. The stuff that starts wars.

I know some other pretty powerful three-word combos. YOUR three words for the New Year. You’ve heard Chris Brogan talk about them for a while now. They are like guideposts for your year to come. Touchstones of inspiration. Beams of clarity.

Being clear about what we want is the surest way to gain on it. And I’m with Martha Beck in my belief that knowing what we want has a lot less to do with outcomes than with feelings. So this year, in the year-end completion and new-year welcoming tool I share with clients (email me for it), I asked:

What three adjectives do you want to feel as you lay your head down on your pillow every single night of 2011?

_____________, ________________, and ________________.

Be with that a moment, will you?

How do I want to feel? Every night before I go to bed?

Me? Well, since you asked (thanks), I choose to feel: masterful, vital and nourished.

They may mean nothing to you, yet here’s what these simple yet powerful words conjure for me:

Masterful - authority, immersion, depth, roots, refinement, elegance, enduring

Vital – energized, sensual, resonance, important, joyful, light, jubilation, laughter, wonder, connected

Nourished – satiated, serene, honoured, healthy, full, enough, quality

Hubba hubba whoo whoo!!!

These words have EVERYTHING to do with my personal and professional goals for the year. They will help inform every decision I make because every action moves me towards or away from these three words.

Will working on this new project lead me towards or away from mastery? Will working with this person make me feel more vital, or less so? Does this new book nourish my mind, body and/or spirit or is it the Kraft Dinner equivalent?

Of course, there is not absolute “right” answer. My intuition will be the Ultimate Guide here, as ever. But even the finest of Guides appreciate guideposts from which to orient the path.

And if I don’t feel nourished, masterful or vital as I lay my head on my pillow, I get to try again tomorrow.

Let’s find yours

If you didn’t land immediately on the three words to describe how you want to wish to FEEL every night, then you may choose to sink into some of your values that are begging to be honoured.

I notice that my words represent in part my Future Self. The person I am becoming, the one I know awaits me in 20 years. May be the same for you. They may also be traits of someone you admire.

Whatever you land on, please make sure they are steamy for you. That you LOVE them in that blushing, hot under the collar way that a well-intended “I love you” makes you feel. Please make sure they are resonant and truthful. Otherwise, they are impotent lies. And who needs that?

A final word about love.  Because really and truly, finding your words is a powerful exercise in self-love. Creating the year that YOU want. One decision at a time.

May your days be filled with warmth and love.

May your mind be filled with curious wonder.

May your heart be filled with joy.

May you realize all that your heart desires this coming year.

With love, gratitude and respect,

Signs, messages, prompts, signals – they’re everywhere. Some we choose to ignore and some we allow to wake us up.

Earlier this week, I broke front door lock with my key. Standing on the front porch with our daughter in sub-zero weather, a tsunami of rage engulfed me: I had THINGS to do, DAMMIT! Had to get things DONE before I went out with a girlfriend for cocktails. HAD to get reading done with my daughter. Had emails to return and couldn’t get them done on my iPhone with frozen fingers. I didn’t have time for this crap…and being cold SUCKS!

Then this thought stilled me:

Being cold and having no place to live sucks even more.

As I fumbled around in the relative warmth of my neighbour’s garage searching for the spare key for another door to my house, I became painfully aware that there is an unacceptable amount of people without heat, shelter and hope…everywhere. No neighbours, locksmiths and spouses on the other end of the phone, intending to make it all okay.

This is not new information…this is awakened information. Within me.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my warm house, hot chocolate on the stove, and sniffly noses blown. I didn’t know where to put this all so I logged on to Tweetdeck to share:

Broke door lock. Wait in cold w/ kid for 20 min for locksmith was reminder I needed to do my part for TO’s homeless. Hate that I needed it.

That prompted a message from a Reverend letting me know about a need for volunteers in her church’s Out of the Cold program. Which prompted another friend to commit to volunteering there. And the messages, emails and invitations to collaborate on programs haven’t stopped. (More on what I decide to do in a later post.)

Here’s what I’m learning:

Any time you hear yourself saying “this was the kick in the ass that I needed” to:

• start volunteering;
• get my finances in order;
• sort out my trouble relationship with my mom; or,
• lose weight,

what you’re really saying is: I was sleeping, and I’m awake now.

If you’re feeling done with stumbling around, sleepily looking for the keys in your life, and waiting to get your ass kicked into gear, here’s a less painful way to wake up…one that I intend to heed with greater attention. Keep the important things top of mind (like these things and your values).

You’ll awaken what needs attention.

Danielle (around these parts, the “LaPorte” isn’t necessary) recently wrote about visualizing your dream as a done deal rather than mere possibility. Single minded, cosmically-charged manifestations of the highest order.

Hell’s yes!! Scrumptious.

So, you’re clear…you know your thing:

• You want to be the makeup artist to the stars. OR,
• Create new technologies for clean-burning stoves for developing nations. OR,
• Own your own TV network. OR,
• Write award-winning children’s books.

And you know you’ll get there. You see it as a “done deal”, bright as day. Fan-freakin-tastic, Rock Star! Buckle up…it’s gonna be a wild and memorable ride to hotness!!

Now.

What if you DON’T know what your thing is?

Ah.

Hear that? Me too. Sounds like crickets.

Huh.

No one likes to talk about this. But let’s do it anyways. In fact, let’s do some clearing.

Kind of annoying, isn’t it? Everyone all over Facebook and the twittosphere loving what they’re doing, their success assured while there YOU are slaving away at a job you don’t much care for, KNOWING there must be something more for you yet not knowing what it is. Besides…it pays pretty well, so…no reason to rock the boat, right?

And yet, you keep kind of searching. I mean, really. Everyone else really does seem a lot more fulfilled professionally. You deserve that same, right? Self-development-types feeding you trivialities about living your values and tapping into your strengths and focus, but you keep coming up short. Much to the glee of your saboteurs who cackle: “how long are you gonna dabble in this and that before you decide to give up on finding your THING?”, “you’re 44…isn’t it time you figured this out?”. ARRRRRGH!!!!!!!

Done clearing?

Here’s another fundamental belief I hold to be sacred:

You have a “thing”.

In fact, I know you have many, MANY things, but I know you have IT. And IT wants to come out; to be noticed; and, to be loved into greatness.

But the environment is hostile, isn’t it? Kind of like a creepy Steven King circus. From time to time, your thing whispers to you that it wants to peek out. And then the “that’s never gonna happen, fool” saboteur shuts it down with the slam of a whack-a-mole mallet. Or the mocking question “HOW?” dances before you in that surreally distorted way of the fun-house mirrors.

So your thing retreats. Again. ‘Cause it’s not stupid, your thing.

And the “you’re too old to figure this out” saboteurs continue to have their way with you.

Bullshit.

You are not too old. Not by one single day.

Every experience you’ve ever had your entire life has led you here. It’s a time for exploration, for introspection. For digging deep and getting quiet. For powerful questions…like, “what’s possible?”

Send your saboteurs on a vomitous roller coaster ride while you commune with your thing on the tunnel of love. It may take some time. It needs to learn to trust you after all the thing-bashing that’s been going on.  Sit with what COULD be and bask in the luxuriousness of what comes up. Don’t judge what DOESN’T come up. It may need more time still. Forcing it ain’t gonna work for your thing. That’s been proven. You may want to phone-a-friend, have a Board of Your Life session or talk to a coach. Asking for help = power.

Your thing is possibly a late bloomer, and the point is, under nurturing conditions, it WILL bloom when it’s good and ready. And when it’s ready, it will reward you with the most intoxicating fragrance. I promise you that.

Then you can chart your course to “done deal”. And when you choose to get bogged down in “how” remember that your Future Self has some pretty cool perspectives about your path.

To visualize “done”, you’ll need to open up yourself to what’s possible first.

Enjoy the unfolding.

Then you’d better buckle up, too, Rock Star. Your very own cosmic super highway to greatness awaits.

I try. I really, really do try. To get it right. To be present. To be aware. To be grateful. To say thanks and give thanks. I write about how I’d like to binge less with life’s gooooooooood things and find a more moderate way.

Sometimes I get it right, and other times…well, less so.

Although this post may well be precipitated by my American friends’ Thanksgiving (hellooooo!!!!) it’s a regular old Friday here in Toronto. In an otherwise ordinary day what better time to recap what’s going right?

Here’s what brought me joy this week:

Monday morning - Huge heart to heart hug with my Lisa before she headed back home to Montreal after a memorable weekend-long visit.

Monday afternoon – Meeting with new mentee (excited about her vision) and breakthrough with a client (shifts ahoy!)

Monday evening – Deep belly laughs at the launch party of 85 Broads Toronto, led by laughologist Albert Nerenberg (thinking of hosting a laughter party…who wants in?)

Skippy and friends

Tuesday morning – This image of my daughter’s arranged stuffies. Place of honour goes to Skippy, the beloved stuffed dog from my mother’s childhood, revered by my daughter as a sort of connection to a grandmother she never really knew. Doesn’t he look safe and loved?

Tuesday afternoon – Completion session with a client I adore that is ready to embark on something new and glorious. Sad AND joyful at the same time.

Wednesday – Three new people coming to Clarity Hour (every Wednesday at 12 EST, I coach three people for free on any business life issue) I love the expansiveness of it. And never really knowing who’ll show up AND not being attached to outcome.

Wednesday afternoon – Watching my daughter at gymnastics. I know those legs will be long, lean and strong soon, and for the moment, it brings me joy to know that there is still some baby fat there…she’s not done being 6 and a half after all.

Wednesday evening – Wine with husband over pasta he made, and many, MANY laughs (though NOT over after-dinner “Santa Buddies”…that was more like eye-rolling. Seriously, George Wendt…how COULD you?)

The emotive scone

Thursday morning – Volunteering in my daughter’s classroom then meeting Jamie for a cozy coffee, scones and good, goooooooood talks. Time with her makes me feel like this scone looks.

Thursday evening – Speaking at Fabulous Katia’s Fabulous event and helping some amazing women find a way to evoke meaningful conversations leading to meaningful connections. It was a luscious experience.

Today – This and that.

A week of connection, laughter, hugs and food. Yup, that pretty much sums up how I like to roll. Add to the above 5 trips to the gym, 7 other coaching sessions, lots of writing done and 2011 planning well underway and that makes for one pretty incredible ordinary week.

Easy to forget all of this when you’re mired in kids’ fevers, the knowledge that the snow tires need to get changed, billing mistakes, dishwashers to be fixed, and more balls to be juggled. And you know what? It’s easy to remember too.

So here it is: I am privileged beyond words and profoundly grateful for every gift. For everything stated above, and well beyond. For the peace we enjoy, the food, the warmth, the shelter, the education and the opportunities.

And for you. Thank you. For caring. For reading. For being here. And for being you.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ― Howard Thurman

Ask yourself what people thank you for.

Ask yourself what makes you feel strong.

Ask yourself what it feels like to be your most powerful you.

Ask yourself when you are most in flow.

Ask yourself what you want to be done with.

Ask yourself what makes your heart sing.

Ask yourself what would make this very moment off-the-charts fabulous.

Ask yourself what needs forgiveness.

Ask yourself what one change you are willing to make in this moment.

Ask yourself what you want more of.

Ask yourself what you know to be true.

Ask yourself what is burning to be released from your heart.

Ask yourself who you get to be.

Ask yourself what is in your way.

Ask yourself who will benefit from you coming alive.

Ask yourself if you are ready.

Now. Please go and do it. We’ve been waiting for you.

Dear Blog -

I have been remiss in making time for you. I have made other things more important: my clients, facilitating workshops, speaking, developing programs, the gym, volunteering in the kid’s classroom, etc. Oh yes, I have excuses…great ones, in fact, about where my time and energy has gone.

And when all the excuses are laid out in a pleasing array of colour and textures on the carpet in my office, they really are quite convincing. And they continue to be just be that…excuses.

So, for that, I am sorry. I KNOW better.

It’s not you. It’s me. Clearly. And just so you know, I’ve not gone and done something irresponsible like replacing you with some younger, hipper, slimmer, 140-character version of you.

When everything is said and done, I own that I have two ways of viewing you: one is that you are my Pensieve. A privileged way for me to store my thought. To play with them and explore what they mean for me, and how what I am learning might serve others.

This is the way in which I love you. With full heart and abandon.

The other way is the dissonant, “should”-laden perspective. I should have a blog, they say. I should write to it every week, they say*. Twice, in fact, if I’m worth my salt. And NOT writing twice a week means I’m not worth my salt (whatever the hell THAT means).

So I sit down at my MacBook to write a post…because I SHOULD. It says so in my calendar – I’m a day late, in fact. And the head saboteur takes note and starts to hold court for a while as the other saboteurs start to file in…one by one. The first one to speak says: “sure, she SHOULD write a post…but who the hell cares what she has to say?” Well, that gets everyone else going: “she isn’t a WRITER, she’s a COACH…she CAN’T write”;  “well, she CAN write, but should she be?”; “she has nothing to say that hasn’t been said by thousands better and smarter than her”; and so on.

And lo and behold, nothing gets written. The gym starts to look pretty compelling.

I’m done stating my case. Because I’m bored of stating my case to you, dear blog. And I am CERTAINLY done with should-ing all over you.

I know I have choice in how I relate to you.

I am sorry that I have ever treated you as a marketing tool. You are so, SO much more to me than that. Back I go to that resonant place of writing like no one’s watching.

With huge love and renewed commitment,

Tanya

* They also say one should NEVER apologize for not writing. See, that’s simply NOT how I roll.

Maybe you’ve seen Kung Fu Panda (36 times if you have a kid under 10) and maybe you haven’t, but here’s the précis (okay, okay…I’ll say it: “SPOILER ALERT”…yeesh):

Po is the big, fat, clumsy panda who loves kung fu, but has been told all his life that his path is to run his father’s noodle house. Wouldn’t you know his destiny is actually to be the Dragon Warrior and his task is to defeat ferociously bad guy Tai Lung, (much to the chagrin of Master Shifu and the Furious Five who cannot see past the big, fat, clumsy panda-ness of Po at first). The final step to becoming the Dragon Warrior is to read the coveted Dragon Scroll, said to hold limitless power.

Turns out, the scroll is blank….well, actually a blank reflective surface. I know I don’t need to spell this out, but the meaning is that limitless power resides in the holder of the scroll.

Much like his father’s coveted Secret Ingredient Soup, there is no secret ingredient.

The secret is belief in yourself. Believe the soup has a secret ingredient and it will taste like there is a secret ingredient. Believe you are awesome and you will be awesome.

An amazingly affirmative conclusion to any conversation you might have with your child about being anything you want to be. And that you may have with yourself when things seem tough.

Here’s the thing…as much as I am a believer in believing, there really is a hell of a lot of work that goes into the making of Po as kung fu master.

Po doesn’t sit around, dreaming of greatness and merely believing in his destiny.

He sweats his ass off and gets hit in the “tenders” (a lot…which of course, makes me laugh…a lot).

Yes, Po believes in himself, but moreover, Master Shifu finds a way to tap into what is possible and trains Po differently that the Furious Five. What worked for them won’t work for him. His belly is the portal to his greatness and dumplings and almond cookies serve as the carrots to get him to become the Dragon Warrior.

R-E-S-O-N-A-N-C-E

A masterful teacher, coach, mentor will never try to preach or sell you on a cookie-cutter approach to anything: building your business, mending your relationships, or becoming the Dragon Warrior.

They will look inside you, see past your self-limiting beliefs, see your glorious potential, see what is bursting to get out of you, and find the way, collaboratively and resonantly, to release it.

Here’s what I believe to be true about the movie. And about life in general.

I believe that misfortune may be an actual blessing (Tai Lung’s escape is the catalyst for the search for the Dragon Warrior and Po’s ascendance to kung fu mastery).

I believe that there “are no accidents”. Every effect supposes a cause.

I believe that every single person is capable of incredible things. INCREDIBLE.

I believe that believing in yourself is fundamental to success.

AND that it is just one ingredient.

Combine that fundamental belief in yourself with a coach to keep your eye on your vision AND your own indomitable work ethic?

SKADOOSH indeed.

*******************************************

Feel like you could use some clarity? Take me up on my new offering: The Clarity Hour. Every Wednesday at 12 EDT, I’m giving away three 15 minute coaching session. Email me for your spot.

Becoming masterful takes clarity.

I am inspired by the outreach that I have had on my blog, in personal emails and in conversations I have had with people since my last post. People have been sharing with me their experiences with people choosing action over apathy.

I am grateful, my heart is warm and I wish to share a very personal story with you all now, too.

When I was 18 years old, I was invited to an end-of summer lifeguard party at the Opera House in Toronto. Fun right? Cute guys, right? I arrived a bit late with a girlfriend, so after a quick turn of the place to find our friends, we wasted no time in hitting the dance floor.

I made my way out on to the crowded floor and found my spot, then turned to face my friend. Instead of her, stood a teeny little maniac I’d never seen before who hauled off and punched me in the eye. Hard. Her diamond ring cut the skin above my eye (I still have the scar). I just stood there. It happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to cover my face for the second, third, fourth and fifth punches. Let alone the wherewithal to strike back.

I was dimly aware that a circle had formed around us to watch this bloody debacle. The punches all landed on the left hand side of my face, for good reason. I had caught the eye of a guy watching and was having a mute conversation with his eyes: “You’re a LIFEGUARD for God’s sake! Can’t you see I am getting pummeled here? GET THIS CRAZY B*!#^H OFF OF ME”.

“No”, his eyes said, quite simply.

After what seemed like an eternity, a friend pulled her off of me and I ran out. I stumbled, bleeding and blind out of one eye down the street.

I sat down on the curb and held my face, blood streaming down my arm. I sobbed, and felt as cold as I ever had in my life. Shock, I guess.

I heard heavy footsteps approach me. Several. But I was so spent, I couldn’t even be bothered to look up and kept my head in my hands, eyes trained on the blood droplets on the pavement.

Huge boots surrounded me. Six pairs. In front, beside me, and behind me. Men’s boots. A gang, I assumed. I remember thinking: “go ahead, do worse…I can’t feel a thing”.

When no one said a word, I finally looked up. Into the deep dark eyes of a young man staring at mine. I remember nothing about his face. Just his eyes. We said nothing for a minute. Fear completely had a grip on me.

I don’t remember exactly what he said to break the silence, but it was something kind. I sputtered and bawled the whole sordid story of getting the snot kicked out of me, how I had left my purse back at the Opera House, how I didn’t know where my friends were and had no idea how I was going to get home.

Before I knew it, he had his friends mobilized. Within minutes, I was handed a warm wet cloth to clean my face, my friends were on their way to me, a cab had been hailed and I had a 20 dollar bill in my hand.

I have no idea if I had the presence of mind to thank those young men. I pray that I did.

**********************

Mere weeks after that incident, I was to start university. The idea of 50,000 strangers, huge throngs of bodies at every gathering had me completely unhinged. I had never been afraid of crowds…I sure as hell was now.

I went to a friend’s cottage for a couple of days after the incident to heal, be away from prying eyes (my face was a wreck), calm down…and to decide if I could actually, really go to university, or if I should take a year off. And how to really BE with what had happened.

Getting beaten up by a woman smaller than me, at a LIFEGUARD party of all places…none of it made any sense to me, and it all seemed certain to repeat itself at every gathering.

At best: strangers = apathetic. At worst:  strangers = violent.

I realized, of course, that that line of thinking had me trapped in a victim mentality. Sure, I could spend my days choosing to feel sorry for myself, raging against that vile woman, and being despondent about that lifeguard who was held immobile by his interest in watching a one-sided catfight. OR, I could choose to soften and really BE with what those young men had done for me.

I chose the latter.

Yes, there are violent people who want to hurt others for reasons known only to them. And then there are the rest of us. Those who want to help. To heal. To nurture. To protect.

Those six guys certainly didn’t need to help me. They could have walked on and not bothered. They could have done any number of things differently. They sure didn’t need to give me money, help, kindness.

Yet they did. Because they were the rest of us.

And so, off I went to university a month later: I reveled in meeting the strangers (one who became my husband); whooped it up; learned lots; and, wasn’t afraid. Not once.

So those six guys I want to say:

“Thank you for caring for a fellow human being that August night nineteen years ago. It helped solidify my fundamental belief that people are inherently good. Your selfless acts of kindness continue to make me want to be a kinder person too. I will be forever grateful.”

And you? What story lives in your heart as proof of innate goodness in our society? Who do you wish to thank?

Today, I went for a run. (A rare occurrence, but happily becoming less rare).

I was having a frustrating day—the kind of day where everything seemed to compound upon itself. You know: ran out of milk for coffee; a client missed a session; iPhone and laptop calendar stopped syncing; and got told by my optometrist that my eyelid oil glands were overactive (I mean, really?). Absurd stuff to sweat, in hindsight, but frustrating nonetheless.

So I thought a run would do me some good (if nothing else, I could pay forward calories for the dark chocolate that I thought might end up being my solace).

Ten minutes in, I saw a man fall from the walker he was holding.

He was probably 300 lbs, easily 65 years old and half a block away. I sprinted up to help him. He was clearly in shock, had a very pronounced speech impediment and was crying.

Speaking in soothing tones helped him to calm down as I held his hand to assess any injury that he may have sustained. Once I confirmed that he was “mostly” fine, I helped him back into his walker. I do not wish to belabour the point, but this was no easy feat.

Using the walker as a fulcrum, nearby stairs for support (ones that his head narrowly escaped) and every ounce of strength he and I both had, we got him back up.

He awkwardly tried to hug me in gratitude and once I was satisfied that he was okay, I ran off.

Crying.

I cried about the indignity of aging. I cried for the discomfort I felt in receiving the clumsy hug. I cried that I didn’t stay with this human being longer.

But mostly I cried because no one else stopped. To help him. Or to help me help him.

No no no. It’s not that the incident went unnoticed. Drivers slowed to gawk and pedestrians stepped around us. Their eyes met my pleading ones for just a second before they were averted.

I cried because my heart broke as I grappled with further evidence of what seems to be a forgone conclusion: we are an apathetic society.

And then I realized that I have been a party to this apathy all along. I have witnessed it, and yet been apathetic towards the apathy itself in that kind of “*shrug*, what are ya gonna do about it?” kind of way.

My dear grandmother Mildred had many enduring sayings (ask me some time about her “glorious creations”) but the one that was most often repeated was:

“The masses are asses.”

Yes, Grandma, that may well be true. And yet…

I continue to believe that beneath the crust of their competing priorities, deadlines and pressures, people are inherently good. Life has made them ass-like. And they’ve allowed that to happen. By choice.

I believe that what I did to help that man represented the mere BASELINE of common decency. I could have done so much more. Called an ambulance in case of internal injury (this will keep me awake). Stayed to hold his hand until I was sure he was steady. Found out his name and told him mine. But I didn’t.

I ran off. Minimum effort expended.

I know I am just one of masses some of the time: an ass. Self-involved and self-absorbed.

But mostly not.

So I’m wondering this. What if those of us who DON’T identify ourselves as mostly ass-like stepped up our game and went for kindness, compassion and empathy way above the baseline?

Karmically wiping out some below-the-baseline ass-ness around us? Zero-sum kindness.

So, who’s with me?