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About Ukraine (and a woman’s anger)

My predominant emotion related to the war on Ukraine is anger. Which then begs a few questions:

What am I to do with the anger I feel? Where do I direct it? How do I express it? DO I express it at all?

Ukraine aside (which I only mean grammatically, not literally: that conflict and Ukraine’s people deserve to be front and center in our minds, hearts, and voices), we struggle with these questions all of the time — uniquely and painfully as women.

We are on the fence about our anger. We feel it, but are pretty sure we can’t let it out. At the very least, we just don’t know how.

There is a reason for this. Lots of reasons, actually.

We are not fluent in expressing our anger, we are afraid that we’ll be seen as too emotional, we feel it in our body but rarely let it be expressed through our words or our actions.

How many times does a woman say, “I’m so tired,” because she cannot say, “I am so angry!” How many times is women’s anger deliberately miscast as exhaustion? ~ Soraya Chemaly, Rage Becomes Her

It is rarely a question of whether or not we’re angry; rather, whether or not we express it; whether or not we feel like we can. Because, of course, the pressure to NOT do so is visceral and fierce.

It’s possible that in learning to express our anger as women — about Ukraine, about injustices, about the fact that we apparently aren’t allowed to express our anger in the first place — that we will be the ones who usher in the desperately needed change…in our own lives, our own worlds, and the world as a whole.

*****

There was a day — well, decades really — in which any “unacceptable” emotion, especially anger, would have taken me straight to certainty. The certainty that I was at fault, I was doing something wrong, I needed to get myself fixed/right/in line if I was feeling anything that was disallowed or would not be handled well by those in my world. Sheesh. It exhausts (and angers) me to even acknowledge this.

Thankfully, this is no longer my default — at least most of the time. I can see, with perspective (and the aforementioned decades), that I have moved from certainty to curiosity — and with it, into far more grace.

Now, I start with curiosity — about my experience(s), my thoughts, my spontaneous responses and emotions. No self-contempt. No “right or wrong” language. Complete permission to look closely, to wonder, to consider more, more, and more still. I ask myself questions and, without judgment, let myself answer — whatever comes, allowing all of it — allowing all of me!

Letting ourselves be curious about ourselves is one of the kindest, most compelling, and ultimately transformative things we can possibly do. It is what walks us ever-closer to healing and wholeness, to authenticity and integrity, and yes, to honestly and boldly expressing our anger.

    How might we apply this in light of Ukraine?

    • What do I feel about what I’m reading and seeing? What words describe my response and mood?
    • When have I felt these things before? How did I respond? What did I do or say? What did I NOT do or say?
    • Where do I see a lack of righteous and justified anger in my world? How does that make me feel?
    • Where IS righteous and justified anger being displayed? How does that make me feel?
    • If I were to express my anger at this situation, what would that sound like and consist of? Where might I do that? And if I can’t/won’t, what new data does that give me to be curious about?

    The value in curiosity around what we feel, what we don’t feel, what we express, what we don’t express allows us to stay in conversation with ourselves instead of dissociating or shutting down out of frustration, fear, or feelings of helplessness.

    Next, I dig deeper. I research and reach out. I want to hear the voices of other women. I am hungry to sit with more than *just* my own thinking and experience. I dive into anything I can find that helps me understand my anger better — through the lenses of culture, scholarship, history, psychology — all that will remind me that a) I’m not to blame; and b) I’m not alone.

    [A note: because I am talking about anger, specifically, it is important that we NOT take the blame for our inability to express it, our fears, our confusion. As we continue, you will see that this is a socially conditioned response for women. You are NOT to blame!]

    Recently, that digging returned me to the book mentioned above: Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger by Soraya Chamaly.

    Hear her voice:

    Even the incipient suggestion of anger — in themselves or in other women — makes some women profoundly uncomfortable. In an effort to not seem angry, we ruminate. We go out of our way to look “rational” and “calm.” We minimize our anger, calling it frustration, impatience, exasperation, or irritation; words that don’t convey the intrinsic social and public demand that anger does. We learn to contain our selves: our voices, hair, clothes, and most importantly, speech. Anger is usually about saying “no” in a world where women are conditioned to say almost anything but “no.”

    That last sentence makes me angrier still: Anger is usually about saying “no” in a world where women are conditioned to say almost anything but “no.”

    She talks powerfully (and painfully) about how these lessons are internalized by young girls — preschool and even earlier. She has endless research on how a girl or woman’s anger shows up in depression, self-harm, eating disorders, sexual exploitation, and endless other manifestations. And the topic itself becomes even more complex when she adds in the necessary distinctions of gender fluidity and race.

    This looking beyond myself, taking in the wisdom and work of others, especially other women, pulls me upward to a new level of understanding. It helps me take a deep breath and recenter myself. I can see my own behavior in light of a larger world. This doesn’t make it easier. It isn’t a fix or a solve — even an excuse. It’s a reminder that the story I live in is profoundly influenced by a much, much larger one. I need to be reading that story and understanding the way in which it’s shaping my own.

    How might we apply this in light of Ukraine?

    We remain informed. We research. We read articles written by people who are articulating fair and just critique. We broaden our perspective and understanding. And we pay close attention to any ways in which we can (and must) let our anger be expressed — through action, through generosity, through money, through time, through our vote…

    Perhaps most significant of all, we “dig deep” within ourselves and choose to feel everything: all the sadness, all the angst, all the frustration, all the rage, all the anger, and all the heartbreak. Curiosity serves me — an endless inquiry into my own beliefs, behaviors, defaults, fears, and hopes. Digging deeper lets me pan out, understand better, even rage more because it places my experience into a context with far bigger and more systemic issues. The dilemma, of course, is what to do with all the information I glean from my self-inquiry process and from studying and soaking up the perspective of others.

    I turn my attention toward “how.” More is required. Which usually leads me to even more questions: How do I express the things that make me nearly insane with rage? How do I do so in ways that I’ll be heard, in ways that matter, in ways that are anything other than a rant? (And is a rant a bad thing? Maybe it’s exactly what’s needed, called for, and appropriate in this moment!)

    The list of “what” we’re angry about is long. And the longer it gets, the more we feel the weight of it all and the equally weighty demand to keep it all in check. Which makes us angrier still!

    We must find “how’s” that moves us from the watered down, edited, censored version of ourselves (the version we’ve become fluent in) to women who are potent, honest, and unrestrained.

    Chamaly finishes up her chapter on “how” with these sentences:

    The more you know, the better equipped you are. The better equipped you are, the more efficacy and uptake your anger will have. Contrary to the idea that anger clouds thinking, properly understood, it is an astoundingly clarifying emotion.

    Any how’s, no matter how “small,” become the catalysts that usher us into how’s that are yet to come. Difficult conversations. A defiant blog post. Taking a stand. Deleting “friends” from Facebook whose content makes us insane. Speaking up. Standing firm. Saying “no.”

    And Ukraine?

    I’m resisting the temptation to delete or downplay my smallest of “how’s,” my smallest of efforts. I know better. Hardly reserved for big moments like what’s happening in the world right now, it’s our micro-work, the day-in-day-out commitment to our own real-and-legitimate emotions and their expression that has the capacity to change our individual world — and the world. I’m sure of it.

    We have been led to believe that others can’t handle our anger, that it’s too disruptive, that we will be misunderstood and misperceived, that we are too much, that the damage we’ll cause will be irreparable and probably isn’t worth it anyway.

    THIS IS JUST. NOT. TRUE.

    Here’s what IS true:

    This is the real danger of our anger; it makes it clear that we take ourselves seriously.

    I love this. Reframed, it could be stated like this: My anger makes it clear that I take myself seriously.

    That’s worth a meme or two, an index card on our bathroom mirror, a tattoo, and an on-repeat mantra that we actually come to believe.

    At the end of the day, our work is to learn to see our anger as gift instead of something we furtively work to control or hide. Because it is. But don’t take my word for it. I must finish things up with one more quote from Soraya Chamaly:

    Ask yourself, why would a society deny girls and women, from cradle to grave, the right to feel, express, and leverage anger and be respected when we do? Anger has a bad rap, but it is actually one of the most hopeful and forward thinking of all our emotions. It begets transformation, manifesting our passion and keeping us invested in the world. It is a rational and emotional response to trespass, violation, and moral disorder. It bridges the divide between what “is” and what “ought” to be, between a difficult past and an improved possibility.

    May it be so. May it be so. May it be so.

    *****

    Much of this content comes from one of my Monday Letters — a weekly email I send to my subscribers. Full of truth-telling. Not skimming the surface. From my heart to yours. SUBSCRIBE

    About hearing voices…

    Yes, let’s talk about hearing voices…And (just a bit) about RAISING our voices and being countercultural! 

    Over the past 8 months or so, I’ve been painstakingly recovering and republishing all my blog posts from 2004–2019. It’s a long story — why they left my website in the first place. And though some might argue the relevance of bringing them back at all, for me, they’re like an archive, a written history that documents much of my thought and certainly my growth for nearly 18 years.

    As I been plodding away at this monumental task, I’ve noticed something: what I was talking about at the beginning and along the way is what I’m still talking about today. 

    Yes, my writing has changed and strengthened. My viewpoints have expanded. My belief systems have pretty dramatically changed. And my life over those years? More transitions than I can possibly count! Still, in the midst — underneath it all — there are themes, patterns, questions, and a “voice” that has persisted throughout.

    I’m seeing this literally in front of me, but I’m convinced I’m not unique.

    If you could recall and recover where your mind has gone over the years, you would see the same: themes, patterns, and questions that have persisted, stayed, lingered. You would discover the “voice” that has been speaking to you all along — whether you’ve known, heard, or acknowledged it — or not. 

    So let’s definitely talk about hearing voices!

    WHAT THE VOICE KEEPS SAYING TO ME:

    I’ll certainly not get it completely right and there’s FAR more for me to hear and learn, but were I to take a stab at articulating what this “voice” has been saying to me all this time — yes, through the blog posts; but far, far more, it would sound something like this:

    You are enough. You are not too much. You don’t have to work any harder to be good or worthy or understood. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are wise. You are loved.

    [I’d bet money that the voice within you has been saying something incredibly similar. I’ll get to that in a few paragraphs.]

    It’s what I’ve been writing about on my own behalf and yours — over and over and over again. Not always blatant, often hidden between the lines, but infinitely present, nonetheless — speaking, thrumming, singing, calling me home to myself.

    Here’s the thing:

    I have not been hearing this voice (or writing about it) for so long because it’s distinct, unique, or special to me. Not at all! As I look back, I can see that this deeper voice within has been attempting to express itself, to make itself manifest in my life, because it’s what is TRUE. 

    Which is why I’m pretty sure it’s the same voice that you hear — that you’ve always heard in one way or another — that will never stop speaking within you.

    WHAT THE VOICE INVITES:

    The invitation now — for you and me both — is to let it speak, let it drive, let it lead, let its truth be undisputed, accepted, fiercely claimed, and fully trusted. No longer doubted. No longer whispering. No longer being shouted over. No longer silent. And certainly no longer unknown or unheard.

    The invitation now — for you and me both — is to acknowledge what IS true, what’s always been true, and then live it.

    Would another quick review help?

    You are enough. You are not too much. You don’t have to work any harder to be good or worthy or understood. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are wise. You are loved.

    You definitely don’t need 18 years of my blog posts to find and hear the “voice” for yourself. Weave together the threads of your life that reveal this TRUTH: where it has been whispering, crying, beating within, longing to be heard and trusted, shouting, and most-definitely showing up. YES, PLEASE! MORE, PLEASE!

    As a woman, you live in a world that is adamantly committed to you NOT listening to this voice. not believing it as truth. Because, quite frankly, if you did start listening, believing, trusting, and living this truth truth (that IS already and always yours), everything would fall apart: patriarchy, capitalism, colonialism . . . Yes, please!

    There’s still more that I hear the voice saying when I look back, look within, and pay attention. It’s for me, to be sure — and for you:

    Now, rise up. Trust yourself. Go deeper. Let go. Listen closer still. 

    Once we’ve heard what’s true, then we’re called to live it.

    Rise up. Stand up. Speak up. Don’t hold back.

    Trust yourself. Your intuition, your wisdom, that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within.

    Go deeper. Into your own stories, into your questions and doubts, into the conversations that will invite the kind of transformation and life that you desire and deserve.

    Let go. Surrender. Open your clenched fists. Loosen your grip on others, on expectations, on demands, on control, on your endless self-critique. Breathe deep.

    Listen closer still. Drop below the surface of the raging river that is your mind and listen to your heart — the still waters underneath, the voice that’s always been there, the truth — period, the end.

    And did I mention?
    You are enough. You are not too much. You don’t have to work any harder to be good or worthy or understood. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are wise. You are loved.

    Now, rise up. Trust yourself. Go deeper. Let go. Listen closer still.

    About NOT living a conventional life

    “Most of us live conventional lives. We want to avoid the discomforts that arise from complications. But the full, creative life must be open to unpredictability. Jewish wisdom urges us to open our eyes to the possibility of change, even to the need to break a rule. Sometimes the only way to grow is to take a bite of the apple.” ~ Rabbi Irwin Kula

    Fantastic. Powerful. And true.

    Here’s where we’re headed:

    1. a conventional life = avoiding discomfort
    2. a full, creative life = unpredictability
    3. change = breaking a rule (or two)
    4. growth = taking a bite of the apple

    Yum!

    When I look back at my own life, my adamant demand of avoiding discomfort (for myself and for others) has caused me to choose what is generally done or believed — at the expense of my intuition, my wisdom, my very heart. The opposite has also been true: when I have listened to my intuition, trusted my wisdom, and followed my heart it has always been outside of convention, incredibly uncomfortable, and most-definitely (ultimately) worth it.

    How about for you?

    • What stories come to mind? Where, when, and with whom have you diligently worked to sustain comfort (your own and/or others’), maintain the status quo, avoid discomfort and choose convention?
    • Think about your own experiences of being uncomfortable. Are they also the places in which you’ve gone against the grain, done what’s unexpected, and (hopefully) chosen what’s best for you instead of what everyone else wanted from/for you? What does that invite you to consider?

    Instead of resisting discomfort, how might we welcome it? Could we learn to see “complications” as a form of discernment; a trail of breadcrumbs that lead us to what is unconventional — and far closer to what we truly value and desire?

    Because I do not want to live a conventional life, discomfort cannot be avoided.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about the “state” of my life, now 61 years old, relatively-suddenly living on the other side of the country with my sister and her family, changing pretty much everything. It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this: seemingly random and unconventional. There is a part of me that wants to believe I’ve been the one to make this happen, but I know better. In truth, it has been the unexpected, the surprises, the random and seemingly-crazy choices that have ultimately shaped the life that is mine.

    And just so you know, this pattern applies to far more than just “good” things! Some of the hardest seasons in my life were unexpected and completely out of my control — others’ decisions impacted me in excruciating ways, there were circumstances I could have no more predicted than flown, ramifications and realities were everywhere that I didn’t see coming. All unpredictable — and much to my chagrin. In the moment, the opposite of “full and creative,” but usually the means through which my life has found deeper meaning, more fullness, and yes, creativity, as well.

    When we look back, we see all the twists and turns our story has taken; a plot that has been far less conventional and far more full-and-creative than we might have ever imagined or predictably planned on our own.

    How about for you?

    • What thoughts come to mind when you think of allowing your life to be unpredictable?
    • Consider when you were most firmly grasping for control, what was predictable, and what felt safe. What words describe your life during those times?
    • What stories come to mind that you’d define as “creative and full”? How was unpredictability manifest in the midst?

    When we find ourselves in places that feel the opposite of “full and creative,” it is probably because the need to control is dialed way up; we (falsely) believe that life is 100% ours to determine and shape.

    [I certainly do not believe it’s all in the hands of fate. Agency and choice, will and determination — these things matter. Take heart: if you’re anything like me, there’s no risk whatsoever of these things disappearing! The challenge and invitation is allowing in the opposite, the unpredictable.]

    When/if life feels empty and dry, unfulfilling and exhausting, it’s the unpredictable that’s called for — which means letting go, surrendering, releasing our grip.

    I’m a huge advocate for breaking things: rules, traditions, assumptions, patterns, habits, beliefs.

    I haven’t always been this way. In fact, far more of my life could be defined by following the rules — no matter what! It ensured that I’d be loved, accepted, and allowed, even honored and esteemed. And every bit of that worked for me — until it didn’t.

    How about for you?

    • Do you agree that change cannot occur without rules being broken?
    • When have you broken the rules? What change occurred?
    • Can you name the rules that you’re afraid to break right now in service of your own change?

    It’s important to note that rules — especially those that we follow as women — are a) what is demanded of us; and b) the very things that perpetuate patriarchy’s harm. It is defiant to intentionally break them — and it is critical.

    If we want change, because we want change (for ourselves and for our world), we must be fiercely committed to being rule-breakers.

    No surprise: I love this part of the quote the most!

    Eve’s choice to eat the apple is what moved humanity forward, invited life in a more expansive world, even brought forth vastly increased intimacy and connection with the divine (vs. the opposite, as we’ve been told) and yes, compelled growth.

    She serves as a woman’s best template, mentor, and muse. She provides a model of what it means to choose the unconventional, to be unpredictable, to break the rules, and yes, to take a bite of the apple.

    And yet, what we have inculcated and internalized (even if unintentionally and unwittingly) through her story is just the opposite! Which makes me completely crazy AND explains, at least in part, why it’s hard for us to follow her lead. We feel the tension when we are perceived as:

    swimming upstream
    going against the grain
    thinking for ourselves
    acting on our own volition
    choosing what we want
    listening to and trusting our own wisdom

    Every bit of this has been reinforced as “bad,” wrong, even sinful for thousands upon thousands of years!

    How about for you?

    • What is your very first thought when you hear Eve’s name? What data does that give you about internalized beliefs related to risk, trusting yourself, or being defiant?
    • What IS the apple you most want to bite? Can you name what prevents you from doing so?
    • Once again, look back over your own life. What are the experiences that have enabled the most growth? How many of those held an element of choosing yourself over others’ expectations or demands?

    Instead of seeing ourselves as defiant when we take a bite of the apple, we must recognize it as our truest nature; pursuing and cherishing growth is our truest nature!

    If you ever want to hear exactly what I think about Eve’s story (and the way it’s been told), listen to my TEDx Talk.

    *****

    One more time:

    “Most of us live conventional lives. We want to avoid the discomforts that arise from complications. But the full, creative life must be open to unpredictability. Jewish wisdom urges us to open our eyes to the possibility of change, even to the need to break a rule. Sometimes the only way to grow is to take a bite of the apple.” ~ Rabbi Irwin Kula

    May it be so.

    Telling Your Truth (and being a volcano)

    Why telling your truth often feels like a destructive volcano.

    • “be seen and not heard,”
    • keep our opinions to ourselves,
    • not upset the apple cart ever,
    • distrust our own voice,
    • make sure that everyone else’s comfort supersedes our own; and if all this weren’t enough,
    • believe we’re probably making a big deal out of nothing.

    When you tell and live your truth you are disrupting the status quo. That IS the world splitting open, the maps changing, the new mountains being made, the volcanoes erupting. Yes, please!!!

    • List out all the messages you’ve internalized; the ones that reinforce the belief you’re better off keeping your thoughts (and your truth) to yourself — from childhood, adulthood, education, religion, social media, TV, movies, magazines, novels, bosses, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, significant others, etc. Sayings. Cliches. Repeated phrases. Lessons-learned. Even the voices in your head.
    • Take a red pen, fat black Sharpie, or Shift+Command+X (on a Mac) and cross out every one that is NOT actually true, relevant, helpful, supportive, or remotely applicable now that you are older, wiser, and the amazing-and-empowered woman that you are!
    • Journal: What shows up for you when you walk through this exercise — elation, resistance, frustration, doubt? What do you feel when you realize just how much of not telling the truth has come from the assertions and demands of others and your culture? What if your experiences of keeping your truth to yourself aren’t your fault? How then might you respond?
    • What is the truth that’s sitting closest to the surface for you right now? You know the one. You know it needs to be acted on, spoken, lived. Yep, that one.
    • Write it out. Type it out. Give yourself space, time, and permission to say EXACTLY what you already know. You don’t have to act on it (yet). Just write and write and write. Let yourself feel what it’s like to express this truth in unedited and uncensored ways. No keeping it in, holding it back, or playing it safe.
    • Telling the truth (*only* to yourself) is not insignificant or inconsequential. It’s everything.
    • Often what keeps us from acting on our truth is the very long and legitimate list of risks, costs, and consequences we’re certain will ensue. You might be right. And if you are, as I stated above, that’s reliable data and discernment. But for now, all I’m advocating is one small, almost invisible act that aligns your internal and external truths; that closes the gap.
    • Give an opinion. State a definitive “yes” or “no.” Answer a question without side-stepping the voice in your head. Just one truth. Spoken out loud. Acted on. Every day. That’s it. (And then watch what happens over time. It’s like compounding interest, I promise!)

    About unexpected change and then some

    I didn’t expect to move from Washington to North Carolina 2 months ago. The prospect didn’t even enter my conscious consideration until early December, when I flew to my sister’s as birthday present to myself. Yes, months earlier she’d mentioned that I should inhabit her 3rd floor, but I didn’t take her seriously. Who means that? Who offers that? Who really wants someone else living in their home? But once I got there, sitting in her living room, drinking coffee, and actually entertaining the possibility, it became shockingly clear to me that she wanted this. I could actually choose to say “yes” to a change that was bursting into my life — unexpected, surprising, shocking even.

    How often we do we miss opportunity for change and transition? We either a) assume it’s not really ours to pursue or embrace; not really available; or b) immediately disregard it, given what it would require, cost (on multiple levels), and ultimately mean.

    Though I have made this leap, believe me, there have been plenty of times in which I’ve not. Options were presented to me, but I disregarded them. I dreamed of something I really wanted, but didn’t believe it could actually happen. I knew that I could make a bold choice, but it felt too hard, too “out there,” too disruptive.

    In denying myself the possibility inherent in change, I wonder: What did I miss out on because it felt like too much to accept, to walk toward / through, to be too good to be true?

    Even more importantly: What change might yet be on the horizon were I to open myself to change, look for it, even assume that it’s right around the corner?

    For me, at least this time, to not accept what’s been so graciously offered, feels like turning my back on something mysterious, even miraculous, that is clearly functioning on my behalf. I don’t want to ignore what doesn’t make senseNot anymore. I’ve done plenty of that over 5+ decades of my life. Instead, I’m leaping into the unknown with Change and Transition in the front seat and me along for the ride . . .

    So, at least a cursory exploration of unexpected changeNow, what does it mean to intentionally choose such?

    When my sister made her generous and heartfelt offer to move into her home and incorporate myself into her family, I had a decision to make. Well, lots of them, actually.

    • I had to intentionally choose to give up my independence, “solo” living, and autonomous lifestyle.
    • I had to intentionally choose to accept others’ care, connection, and love.
    • I had to intentionally choose to let go of “home” as I’ve created it for myself and instead, let that idea be more loose and fluid.
    • I had to intentionally choose to leave behind a city I’ve lived in for 30 years, in which I’ve raised both my daughters, that is still their home — even if not in chosen location.
    • I had to intentionally choose to say (incredibly hard) goodbyes to friends and family with whom I’ve been proximity-connected for most of my life.
    • I had to intentionally choose to trust that even if this doesn’t work out, that there is something yet ahead that I can and will step into and embrace.
    • And not insignificant, I had to intentionally choose to live without a kitchen of my own and a bathroom on the 2nd floor. 🙂

    Some of these, admittedly, are small and inconsequential; others are huge and still in-the-works in my own mind and heart. Still, to spend the past few weeks sitting with the option and availability of choice — and then making such — has been empowering and humbling.

    Here’s what I’ve come to: We almost always have choice; it’s the making and taking of such that trips us up. Whether it’s the unknowns or the tradeoffs or the sacrifices or even the benefits, we are far more comfortable with the status quo (even while we complain about it).

    I say none of this to somehow affirm my own maturity or wisdom. Just the opposite! I have shunned choices left and right over my lifetime. I’ve not seen myself (or others) as able to handle them. I’ve found them inconvenient and hard. I’ve chosen the devil I know for the one I don’t.

    What I’m inviting (for me and you both) is the possibility of just the opposite — of opening ourselves to the ample invitation of change and then intentionally choosing it. In my experience, both right now and in my past, it’s then that grace rushes in.

    Finally, how “accepted” disruption serves. This, of my three points today, is the one that’s been on my mind a lot the past few weeks. Not because my own life-circumstances (or personal versions of disruption); more because I can’t not see just how frantically our culture works (often successfully) to keep us from accepting and allowing the harder parts of life . . . to our detriment.

    We cannot avoid disruption — despite our endless attempts to do so. “Highlights” of recent and unavoidable disruption include:

    • The 2016 election
    • The necessary and long-silenced truth brought to light in the Me Too and Black Lives Matter movements; the miles-and-miles-and-miles we have yet to go related to sexism, racism, ableism, ageism, and so much more
    • Global warming
    • An international pandemic
    • The drama of the 2020 election
    • New strains of the virus
    • The list goes on . . .

    Then there are the more personal forms of disruption:

    • Job loss
    • Career changes
    • Financial strain
    • Relationship loss
    • Avoided conversations and the ramifications of such
    • Heartbreak
    • Death
    • Aging
    • Illness
    • Empty nests
    • Existential questions and crises

    (Almost every one of these is on my personal list in the past few two years!)

    In the midst of all these realities, we live in a world that demands we maintain a positive outlook, that we “choose happy.” And if that’s not possible, it seduces us to dissociate through consumerism — buying things, programs, and possibilities — that promise us relief from the pain of life.

    It is pain that makes beauty evident and felt! It is disruption that invites an acceptance of our own complexity, and just how complicated and glorious our life truly is.

    Anything less than this, from where I sit, is not only disingenuous, but tragic.

    I want you to welcome the disruption, the pain, the crises, the ache. They are, after all, unavoidable; even more, they’re part-and-parcel with life, with your wild and precious lifeTo allow in what you attempt to resist, even embrace such, is the best option (if not the only one) that allows for a life that is full, rich, real, and true.

    And at the end of all things, that is all I want for you, for me, for all of us: a life that is full, rich, real, and true — inclusive of welcomed change and transition, intentional choices, and accepted disruption. May it be so!

    ****

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    5 Ways to Have the Life you Desire

    Here’s the quick version of this post:

    1. Hold fast to what you most desire.

    And here’s the longer one:

    1. Hold fast to what you most desire.

    Without a clear sense of your truest, deepest desires you feel uncertain, unclear, and often unmotivated to plant a stake in the ground — fearful that you won’t get what you want anyway, even if you know what that is.

    Desire is not about its fulfillment. At least not completely. It is about risk and faith and trust and belief. And without these? Well, you wander, or worse, you feel like your feet — and life — are encased in cement. But when you DO know what you desire, everything is possible! Desire is what creates and enables possibility in and of itself. (And it is the stuff of the very best stories ever!)

    A Practical To-Do: Let yourself dream! What do you most want? What would you envision for yourself if you could? No editing. No censoring. No doubts. No fears. Everything and anything allowed. Do NOT get waylaid by the endlessly long list of reasons why you can’t have any of this. Let yourself be hungry for all of it. Let yourself want! Desire. Desire. Desire!

    2. Name what you want.

    There is no end to the thoughts and emotions that swirl within me. But unchecked, unarticulated, and unnamed they can, at times, become so overwhelming that I can’t see my way through to anything practical, to next steps, to any form of clarity. I feel overwhelmed and stuck.

    Thankfully, these moments, even seasons, are increasingly rare. I have learned to move the words out of me. I intentionally make them tangible, seen, and heard. I write everything down and read it back to myself. I talk to others (in discerning, appropriate, and safe contexts). I literally see and hear my desire, my longed-for story, instead of *just* being aware of it within. And it’s the same that I’m encouraging for you.

    Choose to let your words, thoughts, and emotions be named, heard, and seen by both self and others.

    A Practical To-Do: Using #1, above, as prompt, ask yourself: what do I really-and-truly desire? Then close your eyes (yes, really) and type. No spellcheck. No worries. Just go! Some aspect of the inner critic gets silenced; when you open your eyes back up and read what you’ve written, you will see and hear with more acuity than before. Truth is spoken. Themes are revealed. And clarity emerges. Not all at once. Not forever and ever, amen. But in ways that are new, revelatory, and important. You’ll discover insights that can’t help but compel your needed next steps and the story you long to live!

    Another Practical To-Do: Talk! To a therapist, coach, spiritual director, and/or trusted friend. It’s invaluable to hear yourself out loud. (An interim option is to record yourself on a voice memo. I’ve done this many times over the years and am always astounded by the words and unnamed truths I hear myself speak.)

    3. Acknowledge what’s bound to get in the way.

    When I start thinking about what I desire, I VERY quickly move to inventorying all the reasons why this isn’t going to work, why it’s going to be too hard, how I’m going to hurt others, how I’ll be misunderstood, and/or all the tension I’ll create . . . It is ONLY when I take the time and effort to articulate and name (yes, again) every bit of this that I can ever hope to move forward.

    The story and life you desire and deserve automatically comes with risks, costs, and consequences. That’s the evidence that it’s real, that it’s powerful, that it’s worth pursuing!

    A Practical To-Do: List out all the risks, costs, and consequences of your hoped-for future. What are you most afraid will happen? If those things do take place, then what might happen? And what are the risks, costs, and consequences if you DON’T pursue what matters most to you? This is not about doom and gloom; it is an honest acknowledgement of just how hard it is to move forward, how exhausting it is to lean into the wind, how challenging (and critical) it is to live what you desire and deserve. Now, of what you’ve named, what are you fully capable of handling when you already know it’s coming? What difference does it make when you’re not surprised by others’ reactions? How might paying even more attention to the costs of not living into what you most want, be the motivation you need to rise up and persevere?

    4. Take actual steps over and through the obstacles.

    I went through a long season in which there was a HUGE gap between what I felt on the inside and expressed on the outside. I made a deal with myself: “Just once today, you must tell the truth.” Sometimes, shockingly, nothing I’d feared actually happened. Other times I could see the hairline cracks extend under the facade I’d painstakingly sustained. Over time I got stronger, bolder, clearer. And eventually, bit by bit, the gap closed. I then made new decisions, took more steps, and watched myself begin to live in ways that felt aligned and sovereign. It was hardly dramatic and at times, almost imperceptible. But it was no less real.

    Too much of the time we look at the chasm between where we are and where we want to be, then instantly feel certain that we do not have the capacity to make those kinds of leaps and dramatic changes. Understandably! Which is why you’re far better served by making tiny changes, experimenting, slightly tweaking your way of handling particular situations. That’s enough. It’s significant! And over time, those single, simple, small steps WILL add up to forward movement and even more momentum. I promise!

    A Practical To-Do: Determine the very smallest step you could possibly take and take it! A “no” instead of a resentful “yes.” A beginning boundary enforced. Speaking (just once/day) instead of staying silent. Then take the next step and the next one after that. You’ve totally got this! I can hardly wait to see where those one-foot-in-front-of-the-other actions carry you in the the year ahead!

    5. Don’t do any of this alone.

    These steps, this effort, this life’s work? It’s a lot.

    Perhaps easier said than done, but my strongest encouragement (and hope) on your behalf is that you choose to NOT be alone in any of it! I know how hard it is to navigate day-in, day-out life, let alone your stories — past, present, and future — without the consistency, kindness, safety, and wisdom, and presence of another. You don’t have to do it alone. Truly.

    When we are not separated from self or each other, when we gather, when we vulnerably-and-bravely tell our truths, when we demand-and-live the story we desire and deserve, the earth shifts on its axis and everything changes.

    If I were to create yet another list of next steps, it would look like this:

    • Find, ask for, and accept the support you need.

    There’s absolutely nothing I want more for you, for me, for all of us — together.

    May it be so.

    *****

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