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Category: Grief

  • My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My yearlong quest is over.

    I spent my birthday in Minneapolis, reflecting, in gratitude, and connecting with beloved family. We talked a lot about grief, and where our journeys have taken each of us.

    We were all grieving the same person, Leah, and we all had profoundly different experiences. Each of our lives were frozen in the moment she left us physically, and each of us chose to look deeply at our lives and decide if we wanted to figure out how to thaw out that moment and see how it had changed us.

    Grief does that; it changes us.

    For me, some of those changes were evident early on. I knew I couldn’t stay stuck in the never ending days of distraction and diversion, even though I wanted to do just that. Something inside me knew, even then, that I was being called to something greater. I knew that staying stuck would not honor Leah, would not be an example for Peter, and would not give me any chance of staying in relationship with Dan.

    In our conversation last week, I said that

    my grief journey has been like a compost pile,

    and everyone laughed, and then we went on to talk about how it has been just that, for all of us. We each took all of our pain, devastation, suffering, and feelings that we didn’t even know existed and mixed them together with prayers, faith, willingness to not know where we were going, and time.

    Along the way we found grace, blessing, and love.

    We found what we needed to dig deep and do the work that grief illuminated in each of us. From that pile of messy feelings newness began to arise. I began to process my grief with Samyama, present moment awareness, I was called to walk with others on their journey, I wrote my book and companion journal, I was able to heal my childhood wounds on a much deeper level. Healing my wounds allows me to show up in my own life in a fuller way, to embrace my own radiance,

    without needing to diminish my true essence.

    Much like table scraps mixed with water, sunlight, mixing, and time turn into fertile soil to grow next year’s garden, my new life today was nourished by the scraps of my old life combined with blessings and grace. This also dispels the myth that time alone can heal; it’s very much the work that is done during that time. My shoulder is a great example of that. If I had ignored my PT exercises, I would have nowhere near the range of motion I now have 4+ months after surgery.

    This is my piece of the compost pile, Dan and Peter have their own, and those are their stories to tell. Our trajectory as a family is changing too.

    We are planning to build a tiny home in Peter’s backyard

    so we can spend more time with him. As we were discussing all of this I felt a deconstruction of old templates falling away as we made plans for a more connected future together. I’m not sure it would have been possible if we all didn’t say yes to our doing the work necessary to claw our way through the brambles of our journeys. I am grateful beyond measure that we did say yes.

    What I know now is that the unfolding of my heart could not have happened in the way it has without the journey I’ve been through, and continue to go through without Leah’s physical presence.

    The exquisite divine arrangement of what that means is so heartbreaking.

    It is the true essence of the cost of losing Leah.

  • Getting Ready for Surgery

    Here is a picture of my new chair.

    There was a time when I would have told you that I would never own a recliner. I don’t like them and I never have. So why do I now have one in my bedroom? Next week I am going to have shoulder replacement surgery. When I first found out about the need for surgery I was in denial, mostly because I had no idea that it was even possible to replace a shoulder joint.

    I left that appointment in a daze.

    At that point, I had been working on regaining full mobility in my shoulder for over two years. In addition to physical therapy I’ve tried massage, acupuncture, chiropractic, an anti-inflammatory diet, supplements, strength training, exercise, yoga, emotional release, and probably a few more. Sometime during the summer I reached a plateau, I was no longer making progress.

    My PT wanted to get an x-ray to determine if I had a bone spur that was inhibiting movement. The x-ray showed that I did have a bone spur, and I made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. In anticipation of this appointment I was preparing for the removal of a bone spur. All of the research I had done told me that it was fairly easy as far as surgery is concerned with a relatively short recovery period. Instead, the surgeon walked into the room and told me I needed a shoulder replacement.

    The day before that appointment my arm was in a lot of pain, and I asked to be shown what would be the right answer for me to restore my range of motion and alleviate the pain. Shoulder replacement was NOT the answer I wanted.

    I’ve learned though that the answer to our prayers is not always the answer we want.

    After that initial appointment I did a lot more research. I had an MRI. I had a second consult. I got a second opinion. This time I asked more questions.

    How about stem cell or cortisone?

    Can you just take off the bone spur?

    Is there ANYTHING else I can do to avoid surgery?

    The answers were again not what I wanted to hear. I have no more cartilage in my shoulder joint. Any of those fixes might alleviate pain for a time, but my cartilage would still be gone. I know that shoulder replacement surgery is the right thing for me. I know this mostly because of the timing of the answer to my prayer. There was a part of me that knew this even then, in spite of the denial.

    So what does the chair have to do with any of this? In my research I found a lot of advice, lots of it conflicting. The only consistent piece of advice was the need for a recliner to sleep in for the first few months; again; not what I wanted to hear, so I tried to debunk that one too. But that didn’t work, so I have my chair on the advice of many trusted friends and sources. I still don’t like it, just like I don’t like the fact that I’m having surgery. I can know that something is the right thing for me and not like it at the same

    time. Think about that. How does that change the way you show up for what you know is the right choice for you?

     

  • My Yearlong Quest Took A Detour

    I returned home from four days in Vegas last week, or maybe it was last year, or yesterday. It was one of those experiences that was timeless and that cellularly changed me once again. The event was called The Stage, and I took the stage to tell my story. What I came to realize is that there are many parts of my story that I have not yet told; some because they are too painful, some because they are too new. What I discovered, yet again, is the power in speaking my story, all of it. It is time for me to begin to share one of the new parts of my story.

    On June 13, 2018, I began a yearlong quest.

    The day was my 64th birthday. My intention for the quest was to release all that no longer served me in preparation to receive what is mine to carry into the world. Now, as then, as I write those words, I gets shivers in my whole body, the kind that tell me that I am on the right path. In addition, I want to emerge on my 65th birthday in vibrant health, and standing fully in my Queen energy.


    These are some of my insights and messages from the first days of my quest. I acknowledged that when I am fully aware and awake in my life that everything that I encounter is in service to my yearlong intention; every experience, every encounter, every insight, everything. Enough time and space will be required to integrate these experiences. I have committed fully to this quest.


    As I sat alone with the Divine on my birthday, in a vision a door opened for me; when I went through, everything looked the same as my world now, but there was more clarity. It was as if I was looking through a sharper lens. The message I received was that everything is clearer when experienced in the present moment. I also got the feeling, more than ever, that everything is connected; that the lessons I learn on this quest were seeded in the past, in my childhood, and in all of the experiences I’ve had up until now.


    It’s now been almost six months since I began this quest. I am approaching the mid-point. My health is continuing to improve, and I‘ll be embarking on another quest inside this one. One of the health issues I’ve been working on, for longer than this year, is shoulder mobility. What started out as a frozen shoulder, is now full-fledged osteoarthritis. I need shoulder replacement surgery.

    This is not a part of the story that I wanted to claim.

    I didn’t want to have surgery. I wanted to deny that I needed it and I wanted a miracle. One day a couple of months ago I said this prayer, “I’m ready for my shoulder to be healed and to be pain free, what is the next step?” The very next day I found out I needed surgery. Even remembering that I was told that everything I encounter along this path is a part of this yearlong quest, I wanted to deny it; I wanted to find another answer. This is a big one for me. I don’t like doctors. I look to holistic measures for my health care. And I especially don’t like surgery. The last surgery I had was an emergency C–section almost 38 years ago. Even my subsequent pregnancy was not a C-section. I sat with this situation for a long time. I did research, got an MRI, went back for another consult, and even got a second opinion. I found out that doing all that was not going to grow more cartilage back between the bones of my shoulder joint, no, not even stem cell treatment. I had to go back and remember how quickly my answer came when I said my prayer. And that’s when I got my full body yes. Believe me I wanted it to be a no, but it definitely was a yes. I called and began the scheduling process. Immediately I felt like I was moving forward in my quest. I still don’t like the idea, and when I think too long about my humerus being cut, I start to go down a rabbit hole.

    There is a part of me that is being fully awakened, the part of me who knows my Truth, and she is not going away.


    During this time my business has been evolving in a big way. It is taking on the texture of my own grief journey. I am learning new ways to tell my story and bring my work into the world. Dan and I are being inspired in new exciting ways to bring our own journey into our work. One of the things I’ve discovered it that the life I am meant to live is not stagnant. I will not reach a certain point and stay there for the rest of my days. The life I am meant to live continues to evolve as I say yes to where life is calling me.

    So stay tuned, I’ll be sharing the story of my shoulder surgery, as well as my yearlong quest as I continue to move through it.

  • Another Milestone

    As I write these words, I am marking the 18th anniversary of Leah’s death.

    The week that starts with her accident and ends with her death is always different each year. There is always a surreal quality to them. I decided to take this day to be with my thoughts, to write, to contemplate, to meditate. My tears have been close to the surface all day. It feels right to be quiet today; to honor her with quiet contemplation.

    I am also reminded today that it is in walking my grief journey that I find purpose in my life and my work.

    I never would have found the courage to share my story with others in the way that I’m being called to do so without the lesson I learned, and continue to learn, from my daughter and from our journey together. My life is integrated for the first time ever. There is no separation from who I am in my personal life and who I am in my business life. There is only the fullness of who I am in each moment.

    My grief journey shows me how to live fully every day.

    Even when my feelings are difficult, even when my tears are close to the surface; through it all I have found a buoyancy of my heart that let’s me know that I am following the right path.

    On my 64th birthday in June of 2017 I was called to begin a yearlong quest. A quest to examine what no longer serves me, and to call in what is needed next. I want to emerge from my quest on my 65th birthday with all I need as I welcome this next phase of my life. There have already been several challenges and discoveries. I still do not have all the answers to the questions I posed at the beginning of the quest, but I do have some. I also have glimpses of other answers. I’m careful not to put too much stock in the glimpses because I know I’m not seeing the whole picture right now. This particular anniversary, in the middle of my yearlong quest, is piercing my heart in a new way. I will begin to share more about my discoveries as well as where I am being called in my life in the next few months.

    I am grateful for my journey, for all of the circumstances that aligned to make me who I am; for the courage to continue to dig to find myself; for the breaking open of my heart to hold all that is here in each moment.

    For a good part of my life I have searched to define myself; to describe who I am and what I stand for. That has eluded me for a long time. Here is the first jewel of my quest. My name is Anju, she who lives in heart. I have been inviting this name into my heart since I received it. I will not be changing my name on legal documents, but I will be taking on Anju and the spirit of my name in my daily life.

    Who we are in one aspect of our lives is who we are in all aspects.

    As I take that on, I enter the world as a fully integrated self, reclaiming all the parts of me and of my soul that were scattered in order for me to survive in an earlier part of my life. As I enter my next stage, I need every part of me to stand in my wholehearted self.

    I invite you to come along with me on my journey and to make your own if you are called.

    I am doing a series of classes in my Grief and Samyama Facebook group called “Living Life Fully Now”. I’ve been sharing what that means to me in various stages of my grief journey and my life. The classes will run every Wednesday night until the end of 2018. We will also reflect on 2018, and see what no longer serves us as we move to 2019. The class is in Zoom, and I share the recording in the group. If you would like to be added to the group so that you can attend the classes, please let me know, or send me a friend request on Facebook. We need to be friends there in order for me to add you. The group is a secret group to ensure that our conversations occur in a safe space. Only those invited into the group can see it, and only members can comment. I hope to see you there.

  • Profound Insights and Feeling What We’re Feeling

    It’s back to school time.

    I live in an area with year round schools but I’ve been seeing back-to-school pictures and posts since July. It’s this time of year, however, when traditional schools return to class that remind me that I will soon be entering the months leading up to Leah’s accident.

    The new school year always brought excitement in our house.

    Seeing friends again, new clothes, schools supplies, and the expectation of what the next school year would bring. Nothing marked the progression of time for me like school starting. I could see how much Peter and Leah had grown over the summer, not just physically, but in every other way. Very often a loss happens around the same time of some kind of milestone and the meaning of that milestone is forever changed. That’s what happened for me when Leah died. This time of the year always holds unexpected feelings, and I’m still discovering places that happens; almost 18 years later.

    A few nights ago we were at a concert.

    In the row in front of us there was a young woman who was pregnant. She was there with her family. A family friend came over, sat down in front of her, gently placed her hands on the woman’s pregnant belly, looking lovingly into her eyes, and said, “Look at you!” In that instant, I realized yet another experience I would not have, another secondary loss, I would never look into my pregnant daughter’s eyes placing my hands on her belly, the one holding my grandchild.

    Tears came and I let them.

    Long gone are the days when I suppress my feelings because they are too painful or because they come at an inconvenient time. I allowed the feelings to be there as I listened to the band playing, and in a few minutes the tears passed, leaving in their wake, a tender place in my heart. My heart was opened a little more in that moment and it allowed me to feel the music and the energy of the band in a deeper way.

    It astounds me that my grief journey continues to bring me profound insights each time I fully engage with my feelings. Last night it would have been easy to suppress that particular moment, to look away and only listen to the music. If I had I would have missed an opportunity to understand a little more about my feelings and how they allow me to say yes to the full spectrum of who I am.

  • Many Facets of Grief

    Grief travels a diverse and twisted road.

    It’s often a road that we could never have imagined. I remember thinking that I was grieving for my daughter, Leah, differently than I ever thought I would. You will encounter many facets or aspects of grief as you travel this road. The facets may also be seen as stages of grief; however, I’ve come to see them as facets because for me stages of grief suggest something that will be completed, where as a facet is a smaller part of a whole. My experience has been that a facet can be revisited again and again. As we gain clarity on our journey, a facet can illuminate a deeper truth each time it is revisited.
    Here are just a few of the facets I have experienced.

    Early Grief

    Early grief is not defined by a specific time frame. Early grief usually has many facets of its own. Being overwhelmed, shocked, and needing distractions and diversions can serve a purpose as we discern our new normal. We learn how to take care of ourselves in a new way during the early days of our grief journey. In the early days of my own grief, I was unable to do much of anything. This served as a time of deep listening, of finding what I needed, of rest, and of being with my feelings. When all of that was too overwhelming, I used diversion or distraction to avoid my feelings. Eventually, I learned how much diversion or distraction was helpful and when I needed to begin engaging with my feelings. Everyone has his or her own timetable for moving through this first part of grief. Learning what yours is can help you gain clarity while in this facet.


    Searching for Meaning

    At some point you may wonder if there is more to your grief journey than what appears on the surface. I would often wonder why I was still here and why Leah wasn’t. It became important for me to know what that reason was, and how I could live up to where my grief journey was calling me to be. As I began to learn how to be present to all of my feelings, I began to realize that it was during these times—when I truly was able to experience presence—that I would receive what I needed to continue to say yes to my journey, to my life, and to where I was being called to go. In the present moment I found everything I needed.

    Settling for a Good Life

    This is a facet I only recently recognized. After I left my job and began seeing clients, I felt like I had found the meaning I was searching for. I was helping others navigate their grief journeys. I felt like my life had purpose again; and that I was honoring Leah’s memory. I could have stayed at that place without any fear that I was not living the life I was meant to live. Except that I would not have written my book. I would not be sharing my story the way I am now. I would have stayed in that somewhat comfortable place to avoid doing deeper work, inner work that was not at all easy, and I would have not continued to evolve. I’ve come to realize that living the life I am meant to live means that I continue to say yes to the fullness of who I am in each moment. My growth will never stop.

    The facets that make up each of our journeys are unique to each of us. I’ve experienced many other facets of my grief journey along the way, and I revisit them from time to time. I’ve also seen how the lessons I’ve learned in my grief journey have given insight to healing wounds from my childhood. That’s something I didn’t expect. I continue to be surprised by all of the threads of my journey; how they are weaving a life unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe it’s not the life I would have asked for, but the life I say yes to in each moment.

  • Holidays and Milestones

    As I look at my calendar, July 4th is just around the corner. One of the things I talk about often is how holidays and milestone days can bring up associative memories that remind us of our loved ones who have died.

    The 4th of July may not be a holiday that holds those kinds of memories for you, or it may. One thing to remember is that everyone has his or her own unique memories. Your family may have had a reunion each July 4th, and this year everyone is reluctant to bring up the fact that a family member has died since last year. Maybe some family members are even reluctant to attend this year because of their discomfort. This is how family traditions change when family structures change.

    What if the family member who died is your mother, or grandmother? How do you feel about attending the yearly family gathering, whether it is around a holiday or not? Are you looking forward to remembering your loved one with other family members who share your memories? Or do the memories cause too much pain?

    Whatever your answers to these questions, remember that there are as many different responses to them as there are people in your family. What would it be like to have a conversation about everyone’s feelings and allow each person to feel like the way they are processing their grief is okay? If this isn’t a practice that is common in your family, you can take comfort in the fact that most of us have no idea of how to have these kind of difficult conversations.



    Here are some thoughts to help you. These are applicable to any holiday or milestone.

    What is difficult about this holiday?

    • Take some time to write your thoughts and feelings about this holiday. Get in touch with your thoughts. Sometimes, as a holiday or milestone day approaches, we are caught up in the anticipation and we can lose sight of our feelings.

    What do you need this year to navigate this holiday with a little more ease?

    • It may be a change of scenery for a few years, or not participating in certain activities. It’s important to ask this question every year, as your feelings may change from year to year.

    How can you honor your loved one during the holiday celebration?

    • Do you want to include their favorite food or drink in the celebration? Or will that be too hard?
    • Is there an activity you would like to include to remember them? Do you want to take time for everyone to share a memory?

    What do you want to tell your loved one this year on this occasion?

    • You can write a letter to your loved one, and invite anyone else attending to write one as well.
    • Decide what you want to do with the letter.
    • Do you want to read them aloud, or burn them in a fire?
    • Everyone may have a different answer to that question.
    • You can also share your thoughts in smaller groups. Find something that works for you and your family.

    How can you share your thoughts with other family members?

    • You may want to communicate some of these ideas with family members before the gathering.
    • Let everyone know that you acknowledge everyone’s wishes.

    Having difficult conversations may allow your holiday traditions to change in a way that keeps everyone connected. How many times have you heard a story like this? “After mom died, there was no reason for us to stay connected, she was the glue that held us together.” That doesn’t have to happen in your family. Yes, your traditions may change, but you can create a change that meets the needs of your family, and pave the way for deeper family connection. If there’s a family member who is not ready to be a part of this kind of conversation, you can keep the door open for them to join you when they are ready. You may discover new bonds forming as your family navigates difficult changes.

    You are opening the door for blessings and grace to arrive and assist you on your way.

     

  • Another Turn Around the Sun

    As I write this, we’ve entered into my birthday month;

    by the time you read this, my birthday will have passed. There was a time when I didn’t look forward to my birthday; a time when my birthday didn’t live up to my expectation. The problem was, I didn’t really know what I wanted my birthday to be, I just knew that I always felt a sense of dread as it approached and disappointed when it was over. Somewhere along the line I decided to take the responsibility for enjoying my birthday into my own hands. It took a few years before I got it right, until I could ask for what I wanted and truly plan and enjoy my birthday. I did it though, and found joy in simple pleasures, finally looking forward to that day instead of dreading it.

    And then Leah died.

    How could I celebrate my birthday without my daughter’s physical presence? There were many years that I didn’t celebrate. My birthday became the third event in a black hole that began with Mother’s Day and included Leah’s birthday in April.

    My 50th birthday celebration was a bittersweet day that included dedicating a mediation spot in our yard to Leah, as well as being surrounded by family and friends with good food and live music, exactly the kind of celebration that I treasure. I began to see that it was possible to be with the full spectrum of feelings on my birthday.

    I could feel sad and feel joy at the same time, one feeling not diminishing or superseding the other.

    Every feeling could have its place in my heart. After that I began to plan my birthdays again. Each year finding something that honored where I was at the time and making space to feel the feelings that missing Leah on my birthday created.

    This year I am 64. I’m still not quite used to the fact that my age starts with a 6, and sometimes that means I think I am too old, or that it’s too late for me to live my life fully as me. Most of the time though, it means that I stay true to what I’ve come to call Leah’s Legacy, that losing her is too high a price to pay to not be who I am. I’ve done a lot of work to excavate my true self as a part of my grief journey and the writing of my book.

    This year, on my 64th birthday, I am embarking on a yearlong quest.

    My intention is to arrive at age 65 with intention, releasing and surrendering anything that I am still clinging to, or is clinging to me, that no longer serves me. I will be asking to be shown whatever I need to step fully into my Truth in each moment. I will be fully claiming my Queen, Wild Woman, and Priestess. I will reclaim my health and know my vibrant and radiant self. I’m very excited to begin this quest, yet I know that there will be trials along the way. That’s the way it is with every quest. There will be initiatory moments, as well as triumphs. I am entering this next year willing to be in the unknown. I will be recording my journey and will share it with you as I am called.

    In the mean time, here are some strategies for navigating a difficult birthday.

    • Take some time to write down what you want this particular year. It’s important to do this each year because you may feel differently from year to year.
    • Plan your celebration exactly as you want it to be.
    • Be true to your own heart. Don’t feel pressured to meet someone else’s expectations, even if it’s something you’ve always done. Let them know that this year you need something else.
    • If you are missing a loved one during your birthday take some time to honor your feelings.
    • If, during your birthday, you are in a new situation, a new location, etc., find something in your new circumstances that speaks to your heart.

    Remember to be gentle with yourself. Grief changes us and you may still be discovering how it has changed you. Allow yourself time to find what you need now in your new reality.

  • Claiming My Voice

    2017 was the year I claimed my voice.

    It was the year I began to tell my story at my book events. Each time I spoke my story I felt more and more like myself. It felt like I was breathing life into a part of myself that I was never quite sure would ever see the light of day.

    As the year went on, I began to work with a voice coach, I began to get comfortable seeing myself on video, I began to look more deeply at my signature presentation.

    I realized I had a signature presentation.

    What do I mean when I say that I felt more like myself? Well, for most of my life I felt like I was a fraud, that I was pretending, and that I wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. In early 2017 I began using my voice like never before. I voiced the story of my grief journey, but also learned to tell my story, to speak my truth whenever I had an opportunity. Not in a boastful or self-important way but in a way that was life saving, in a way that connected me to my soul, in a way that kept me in the present moment like never before, and in a way that helped connect to the person I’ve always been, but had been trying to “get rid of” for so many years. It was subtle and unrestrained at the same time. It felt so freeing!

    It was another level of inner work that was happening just by being scrupulously devoted to the present moment and all that it held for me.

    I also began to separate the me before my experience of grief and the me who grieved. The me before my grief was a part of the everything that helped my along the dark spiral of my grief journey. The one emerging from that darkness was the one who benefited from the way I met my grief journey. Everything began to make sense. My whole life came into focus in a way it hadn’t before. The inner work I did after I wrote my book allowed me to develop the capacity in my body to be able to hold the story and feelings so that I could bring it into the world. This first year of speaking about my book provided another level of inner work that brought me to the realization that claiming and using my voice is the key to truly loving myself — all parts of myself — unconditionally.

    Wow! I feel like I can relax in a way that I never could before.

    If my journey has taught me anything it’s that as long as I’m willing to do the work I’ll continue to evolve. I have no doubt that I will continue to become the best version of myself and, that in this moment, I have no idea what that will look like. I thought when I was helping my clients thrive after loss that I was done, then when I wrote my book I thought I was done. Now I realize I’ll never be done.

    As I use my voice in ways I never have before, I realize I’ll continue evolving into the person I am meant to be in this world. That excites me like nothing has for a long time!

    I’ve always wanted to live my life as the wild and outrageously messy person that I am.

    My instinct right now is to explain to you exactly what I mean by messy, because it’s not what you might think it is, but another thing I’m over is the need to constantly explain myself in order to fit into a perception of reality that never existed.

    I always thought that to be loved and accepted I would have to tame my wild heart and let her out in small measurable quantities, always on the lookout for the tsk-tsking of other people’s judgments thus reigning myself in to be loved and accepted. No more.

    Today I claim my right to take up all the space I need to take up and to unapologetically stand in my Truth, however that shows up from moment to moment.

    How about you? Are you willing to stake a claim for yourself?
    Are you willing to let your own wild heart fully participate in your wondrous life?
    I hope so, because together, we will have so much fun!

  • Lessons from 2017

    As this year winds to a close, I’d like to share with you what I’ve been reflecting on for the last few weeks. At this time last year I was preparing for my book to be published and starting to think about how I was going to market it. When I revisited my musings from the end of last year, I made the intention to be more present in 2017. I knew presence would be especially important as I moved from writing my book to sharing it with the world. I was in the middle of a year of embodiment work that was clearing out remnants of old wounds and making space for me to hold my story in my body so I could speak it. I knew that I would be taken outside of my comfort zone, as my vulnerability was visible for all to see; those who read my book and those who heard my story. At the beginning of the year I still identified myself as a stutterer and I didn’t identify myself as an author.

    Through the year I listened to my own voice like never before and I found my voice; the voice I use to communicate my work. I get chills and tears as I write those words. These are just some of the things that happened this year.

    I did over 10 book events and practiced many hours for each one.
    I joined Video Mojo Toastmasters thus becoming more comfortable speaking in front of a camera.
    I took part in a workshop to develop my signature presentation.
    I began working with a voice coach and focused on bringing even more vulnerability to my signature presentation.
    I held several Samyama Circles and a Holiday Grief Workshop.

    I now identify myself as an author and when I speak from my heart, I speak fluently.

    All of these things came from presence and intentional deep listening,

    from my inner knowing based upon sacred questions I asked myself. Each of the things I listed above are all things I previously resisted or refused to do earlier in my life. As the capacity in my body expanded, as I released old stuff, my own yearnings were allowed to be there. For some reason, maybe because I had released the wounds that made me resistant in the first place, as each one of these things arrived in my life I welcomed them with an open heart. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t still some apprehension, there was, and because they all arose from my intentional inquiry, I trusted that each one was the right step at the right time. My accomplishments this year far exceeded what I wrote down in my journal that I hoped to accomplish.

    It feels like another experience of alchemy; entering this year with an open heart,

    willing to do whatever I was moved to do from my inner guidance, and receiving so much more because I trusted the process. I never expected to ever get comfortable talking, let alone talking about the most vulnerable experiences of my life. As I entered the darkness of the solstice, I continued reflecting on where I have been and asked for guidance for where I am going next year, and what my focus will be.

    What I know for sure right now is that I will complete my new signature presentation. After I returned from my books tour in Chicago, I was moved to bring more of my own story into my presentations. A part of my story that is even more vulnerable because it brings up some unpleasant memories from my childhood. It’s important because without those experiences, I would not be able to bring my work into the world in the way I’m being called to do so.

    I’ll also be planning and offering some exciting new programs and workshops in 2018. These came from a compilation of all of the lessons and experiences that I learned this year.

    I continue to be grateful and astounded that I can participate fully in my life, holding so much joy in one hand, and an equal amount of sadness in my other hand. That may be the most profound lesson of 2017. I can be joyful and sad at the same time and neither one takes away from the other. They are both valid feelings and can coexist.

    I invite you to reflect on the lessons that are yours this year.

    Is what are you pushing away exactly what you need to invite into your life to grow? What needs to be released to make room for something else?
    Welcome everything and see what happens.