from liquidmatrix.org

Cruise through any bookstore and, time after time, the biggest book section is the rows and shelves of self-help books.  We want to change.  We want it so badly.  But, I’d like to take a timeout  to pay homage to our mistakes, our ugly spots, our snafus.  Just for a bit, let’s love our unloveliness.  Because there’s a deeper truth than the change that all those books try to help us create.  That truth is:  each messy issue started with an honest, upright intention. 

As I pondered my options, I leaned onto the kitchen counter and gazed out my back window at our backyard lit by that golden hue of fall foliage.  I watched as Pancake, our llama, step out from behind a tree trunk.  “Ah-hah!” I thought.  “Pancake will earn her keep this winter!”

So I went to work turning Pancake’s poop into liquid fertilizer.  An hour later, I had six liters of the stuff.  I stored them proudly near my plants and…promptly forgot about them for the rest of winter.

Fast forward to April.  I had just returned from the More to Life Weekend conference in Bozeman.  I walked through our backdoor to — Oooh, what’s that stench?  Leftovers in the garbage?  Some nasty chemical gone rancid?  “Nope,” my husband smirked as he met me at the door.  He could read the scrunch on my face and knew exactly what I was thinking.  We walked around to the front room together.  Like a Circus Master ready to introduce his headline act, Frank raised his arm and bowed towards the plant stand. 

There was poop everywhere.

The spring sun had brewed my liquid fertilizer experiment into a frothy broth until the plastic liter bottles couldn’t hold its putrid syrup anymore.  Boom!  The bottles lay on the carpet, ripped in half from the explosions.

Did I mention that poop was EVERYWHERE?  On the back of the chair, in-between the carpet and floorboards, underneath the plant stand.  And, yes, even on the fan that we store just underneath the stand.  Cliches had nothing on me that day.

I stood there in stunned silence at first.  Then, I just laughed.  I jerked with joy deep from my belly until the laughter popped any politeness and launched into an insolent roar.

Here’s what my head said:  “This is just like what I’ve just been through.”  There, laughing at manure sprayed all over my home, I bathed in a moment so rich with metaphor.  I could feel life loving me and God laughing with me.

My More to Life Weekend in Bozeman, although not as stinky, gave release to pent-up emotions that had been putrifying my subconscious for years.  Just like my original experiment came with good intentions, so did those original emotions.  Just like my liquid fertilizer was meant to strengthen my plants, I planted ideas meant to strengthen me.  But, somewhere along the way, those ideas stopped serving me.  And just like the sun began to boil those concoctions in their own juices, my thoughts began to boil me in my own emotional juices (I’m often unaware that this is going on.)  The juices boil, and boil, and boil, until the pressure gets too great.  I had felt that same pressure in my spirit.  It showed up as obesity, anxiety, and depression.  Until, one day, I needed to release or I was going to pop.  I’m so thankful that my dear friend, M.C. Jenni, and others made a way for me to attend More to Life so I could release my toxic stuff in a safe way, without having to hit the fan.

Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life.  She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com

In this series, “More Than This,” I profile people who bring more to their lives in simple and profound ways.

How many of us ever really feel like we’re enough?  The more I talk with people about their desires, dreams, or even just their daily lives, I get the sense that most of us rarely reach that nirvana moment of absolute o.k.ness.  That holy instant where we are perfect and whole, just as we are, right in this moment – well, I think it qualifies as a miracle.  It’s that rare.

Which is why I enjoy the company of my good friend, Jennifer, who has made a life choice to believe in that miracle as much as she possibly can.  Besides being a Certified Personal Trainer and Ordained Reverand, Jennifer is one of the truth tellers in my life.   Often times, when I utter words of doubt about myself, she will look me straight in the eye and remind me that I’m perfect and whole, just as I am right now.  I am enough.  Sometimes, her reminder hits me like a blunt balloon; stern on the outside with just the right amount of give.  But, I’m always thankful to hear authentic encouragement.  My heart pants at the idea of feeling like enough.

But sometimes it takes a stern talking-to.  I know Jennifer’s firm reminders are directed towards that thing in me that would believe the worst, and not me, the beautiful one she believes in.  It’s almost as if her words are a sword that splice between me and the lies I believe about myself.  Our ultimate enoughness is that sure, that true.

Still, Jennifer is no angel.  Like most of us, she struggles with purpose and the meaning to her life.  Yet, Jennifer has protected a child-like pureness in her hope.  She’s kept hoping without getting desperate or setting herself up for disappointment.  She describes her hope as “positive expectation.”

How does Jennifer maintain such a positive outlook?  She’s made a choice to believe that she’s enough, just as she is.  That’s it:  a choice.

That seems simple; almost too simple.  But, this choice is exactly where the magic happens.  It’s as if all we need to do is become aware that we are o.k., right here, right now.  We don’t have to wrestle the doubts down; we don’t have to wrangle the worries. 

By seeing our enoughness, we automatically separate ourselves from the doubts and worries, and we return to the truth of who we always are.

And that’s the miracle part; that we could believe the best no matter what’s going on.    Because, believe me, when you begin trying to choose the best over what needs fixing, what could be better, and or just what you want instead – then you’ll understand why I call it a miracle.  It’s a challenge to choose enoughness.

To help the rubber hit the road, let’s look at an example.

I say to myself, “I am absolutely perfect as I am right here, right now.”  When I say it, I feel fake.  Something so different from the regular reel of doubt and fear feels fake when I first start doing it.  I hate feeling fake.  But, when I keep on choosing my own perfection over all the talk-back in my head, something miraculous begins to happen.  I begin to see the negative banter for what it really is – just another way to think.  The way I’m NOT choosing.  It’s as if the light has illuminated the darkness that I didn’t know was blinding me.

Then, as I keep on believing in my best, I start to see moments in my day when the best actually arises.  Suddenly, that one thing doesn’t need fixing anymore because I’m already o.k.  Nothing needs to be better because I’m starting to have a little fun with this positive expectation.  And, I’m already getting what I’ve always wanted:  enough!  I’ve found Heaven!  There’s nothing fake about that.

And I’ve learned all this through my friend Jennifer.  Thank you, Jennifer, for your positive expectation and insistence on seeing the perfection inside me.  I see Jennifer standing under a waterfall of hope because she knows that’s where the good stuff comes out.  Wouldn’t you like to stand beside her?  There’s room for more.

Jennifer loves to help people make their dreams come true with both personal training and spiritual counseling.  She also loves to celebrate love by ordinating weddings!  If you’d like to ask Jennifer how she can help you make your dream come true, you can call her at 406.370.9631 or e-mail Jennifer@simplicityinspirit.com.

Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life.  She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com

Have you ever had days when you’ve drug yourself home, fell into the couch after an exhausting day at work, and thought, “Isn’t there more to life than this?”

Well, there is!  And this series will help inspire and uncover all the different ways we can bring more to our lives.  Because when we watch other people tap into their dreams, we become inspired to resurrect ours.

To start us off, I’d like to share a small, fun way I brought more to my life this week.  I built myself a fort!

While rummaging through some old papers, I discovered pictures I had cut out of a magazine.  They were snapshots of outdoor beds.  Summer is finally here in Montana, so I thought, why not build my very own hideaway/sanctuary/coffee-sippin’/shade-lovin’ fort?  Here’s a picture:

It was easy.  I set down 2 fence posts for the frame of the bed.  Then, I snagged an old door that my husband had laying around.  I rested the door flat on the posts, so that air would prevent the mattress from getting moldy from the morning dew.  With the mattress sitting on top of the door, it felt just like a cushy bed.  Then, I added my own touch with a mosquito netting that was stashed in a closet, a wicker side table, cut flowers from our garden, and a fresh copy of O Magazine.  Walla!  My fort.

Sitting inside the mosquito netting gives this space a magical feeling.  I immediately become a kid again when I look up through the netting into the trees.  My adult worries don’t stand a chance against the glee of that little girl that still resides within.  Here’s what it looks like laying down in my fort:

I also had a “more” moment when I realized something different; something those magazine pictures don’t show you:  lots of bugs get caught at the top of the mosquito netting!  Can you see the black specs in the netting above?  Those are about a dozen bugs (flies, moths, even a Lady Bug) that got caught in the net and couldn’t find their way out.

This morning, as I was relaxing in my fort, I watched those bugs.  They were all trying desperately to escape, hopping from one point to the next.  But, they all seemed to be heading up, like they were hoping the top of the netting would open wide to set them free.  Their world was about flying.  To them, going someplace meant going up.  None of them sought the real freedom that was available only twelve inches down at the slit of the net.  They were so used to moving in one direction that they couldn’t find freedom waiting for them anywhere else.

And isn’t that just like us when we get in our daily ruts?  We keep working, keep pushing, all the while waiting for the net to open up so we can feel some freedom; when all that’s needed is to turn on our heads and look in a different direction.  Sometimes, it’s the direction that we least want to look, or where we hold the most doubt that there will be anything there for us.

We’re higher up on the evolutionary chain than those bugs, but when it comes to comfort we’re creatures of habit, just like them.

What would it take for us to find the slit in our mosquito netting?   I think we need more new ideas from new people.  My wish for you (and me) is that life would nudge us continually in new directions.  Because life knows what we want; we just don’t always know that’s what we want.

Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life.  She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com

I believe we all instinctively know there is more than this to life.  We all have dreams that we’ve given up on because we’re too busy just getting by.  We can go through life with our dreams in one hand and reality in the other.  Then, we realize that we’re stuck.  Now it’s a question of what to do with that realization.

Welcome to my new blog series, More Than This.  In this series, I’ll celebrate people who have fallen into the couch and found inspiration and purpose sitting right beside them.  How have they made their dreams come true?  How are they finding meaning and purpose in their lives?  What keeps them inspired?  I want to celebrate the many ways that people bring more to their lives, because when we see other people tapping into their dreams, we become inspired to resurrect ours.

So, stay tuned for More Than This.

from chambermusictoday.blogspot.com

It’s working!  My HCG Diet Discipline has delivered all I had hoped, plus more.  I’m on day 17.  I’ve lost 16 pounds.  My clothes have stopped tugging around my waste.  I walk with a more relaxed, swinging gate.  My lower back has ceased that exhausting pinch that came from carrying too much weight in the front, like being pulled forward by a heavy wheelbarrow.  Friends say my skin glows.  And I just feel lighter.

That lightness comes from more than just losing poundage.  I’m buoyed up by the fact that I’m trying something new for myself and its actually working.  That’s a new experience for me.  The last few years, I’ve usually had to push a ton to get an inch of progress.  I’ve lived defeated and always having to pump more gusto from what felt like a dry well.  Disappointment became the norm for me.

Now, the HCG has brought a new norm, in many ways.  I’m rebalancing my hypothalamus, letting it recover and rest from years of stressful eating.  I have enough energy to inject my days with favorite fun things to do.  I’m reframing my emotions as tools for noticing, rather than ways to get back at life.  I’m rediscovering my womanhood and learning to play in my femininity.

 I am drenched in deep blessing.

Drenched, like standing under a waterfall and letting the rushing spring wash away all of the hard stuff.  Clean.  New.  My friend, Tom, would say that’s what faith is; standing where you know the water will fall and positioning yourself to receive.  He would say that waiting is believing.

If that’s the case, then I’m here to say that believing doesn’t have to be pretty.  Faith doesn’t have to live up to a valiant ideal.  Faith can look messy, like the times I’ve nested in the couch for days, put garbage in my mouth, and didn’t care because “nothing makes a difference anyway.”  Faith can look mean, like the times I cursed God for the silence and cursed myself for not hearing through the silence.  Or, faith can look hopeless, like the time I told God I was done and prayed for death.

Yet, here I sit, typing the words, “I am drenched in deep blessing.”  Not because those are the right words to type.  But because what I wanted has come to pass.  Some how I kept myself in some place where I knew water had fallen at some time.  And I remained.

I hope, if you’re reading this, and you feel like nothing is going to work, that you will remain.  Stay long enough, in whatever form that means, so that we may share in your drenching together.

Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life.  She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com

from dreamstime.com

Day 13 of my HCG Diet Journey, and I’m still following my discipline.  But not without some tears.  I’ve had a few weepy days.   That’s not unusual (happens every month).  But, because I’m choosing to limit my food, these tears have suddenly become my teachers. 

For example, last night at work, I confessed my melancholy mood to a friend, so I was sharply aware of my mood.  After we finished talking, I walked through the staff break room and found a deliciously-homemade blueberry coffee cake sitting there on the table.  Looking at that cake, I heard the kindest, most curious thought in my mind.  “I would eat that now because I’m sad.”  Not a ground-breaking thought, except I knew I wasn’t hungry.  I knew I didn’t want that cake.  I knew I didn’t need that cake.  And, yet, I saw the rote reaction that would have had me reaching for a piece before even thinking about it.

At that moment, I realized that I feel with food.

Like when I would eat a piece of cake because I’m sad.  It’s as if I would use the cake to tell me I’m sad, or confirm my sadness, or validate my sadness.  All this eating, instead of simply feeling sad.

I have caught a sneaky fox by the tail.  I’m beginning to discover, with pique clarity, how much I use food to communicate my feelings back to me; or to substitute for feelings that, for whatever reason, I cannot fully feel.  I’m onto something here.  So, I thought about other feelings and other habits.

On a weepy afternoon when I’m feeling bloated and tired, I would grab some salty McDonald’s French Fries or a sweet Bernice’s pastry.  These weren’t always cravings for salt or sugar, just habits.  In these moments, this food spoke to me.  The fries would say, “You’re uncomfortable, be comfortable.”  The pastries would say, “You’ve had to keep going even though you’re tired.  Let me pay you back.”  Then, I would eat, with these thoughts playing softly just under my awareness.  I would eat, instead of accepting myself.

Now that I see these habits, I’m excited at how much more awaits me.  While I’m dieting, I have a chance to practice feeling deeply.  I hope that this will translate into living deeply and feeling more alive.

Then, I will look forward to the next time I get to celebrate with family and friends over some delicious food.  I will eat it joyfully.  But, my joy will be more authentic because I know that I do not need that food in order to feel joyful.

Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life.  She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com

from www.familyfunkentertainment.com

The smell of honeyed-hickory bar-b-q melting into my nose.  Golden, whole-wheat buns stacked perfectly plump and smooth.  The squishy creaminess of a softly-aged cheese, teased with herbs and garlic.  Sizzling bacon that sings and snaps with juicy saltiness.  O.K.  Gettin’ hungry; gotta stop. 

I’m not choosing those foods right now.  

Notice how I wrote that?  I’m not choosing those foods.

I’m learning a new skill on my HCG diet journey:  how to use my words.  During this last week, I’ve used all kinds of words.  Walking nearby the bar-b-q, it was “Oh God, I can’t.” (And I meant that like, “Save me from this, Oh God.”  Praying over bar-b-q, now I know I’m serious.)  Cruising by the bread isle at Good Food, I said, “This sucks.  I’m in the Good Food Store, and I can’t even have healthy whole-wheat.”  Then, when I smelt, no, tasted in the air, the salty beckoning of bacon from the deli, I said, “Nope, I can’t.”  The cheese:  “I can’t.”  A dieter’s resentful mantra:  “I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.”

My reaction intrigues me.  Because, behind all of the “I can’t,” I’m starting to uncover a deeper truth.  I’ve heard “I can’t” so much lately that those words have faded into background noise.  New words are rising to my consciousness.  I hear a truth that has always been there, just hidden.  The truth is:  I can. 

Eat bacon?  You can eat bacon on HCG?  Nope, I’m talking about something deeper.  Something that is true whether I choose to eat bacon or not.

I can do anything I want to do.  I can be anything I want to be.  I am a human with free will.  And, herein lives the ultimate truth:  that only I have been responsible for my choices.  No one, and no kind of food, made me do what I did or become who I am.  Food doesn’t force me to do or be anything.  I may blame food for how I look (“I love that cheese, but it makes me so fat.”)  I may make myself into a victim of food (“I never get what I want.”)  But, I am my ultimate decider –even when I don’t want the responsibility of my decisions.

Here’s the glorious flipside:  I am responsible for my decisions!  I really can do anything I want.  I really can be anything I can be.  Swing wide the doors of possibility!  I’m feeling an epiphany coming on.  What if, the only thing that’s been holding me back is me silencing my voice, quieting my soul, and blaming other things for it?  What if I choose to confront the chains, see them only as dirty rags, and loose them in a youthful run towards hope?  How awesome it would be to begin speaking my voice, to begin living in my soul, and discovering where I might take me. 

Yesterday, I took myself for a hike up Patty Canyon.  I got sorta lost, in a safe way (which is easy to do if you’ve hiked Patty Canyon).  I got lost just enough to not know exactly where I was.  It reminded me of being a kid.  That wonder, like a wilderness cistern, drew my soul into my pen.  The following poem spilled out:

I’m lost in the forest
I’ve hiked a most mysterious way
And found right where I want to be
I want to be seen
And the sun says, “I see you.”
I want to be heard
And the breeze says, “I hear you.”
I want to matter
And the trees say, “Welcome.”
This is my home
Inside, where I am most me
Here I am found
And I know I will be O.K.
Even when I am lost

Confession:  I kept my diet journey under wraps the first few days.  I announced it to the world and you, but didn’t let slip to any of my coworkers.  Hmmm…there’s something there, something about that.

In my last blog, I mentioned that this diet is revealing so much more than a few extra pounds.  Dieting brings up all sorts of reactions, thoughts, and emotions that I usually ignore.  So, I’m embracing my diet as self-discovery; a chance to find radical authenticity in body and mind.  That’s why I find this hesitancy to share my journey with my coworkers so intriguing.  Why hide?

Here’s what I hear my mind saying…”Don’t tell them.  What if I fail?  What if I can’t finish it?  Then I’ll be disappointed.  They’ll think I’m a failure.  I’m a fake.”

Harsh stuff.  Yet, I bet most women who’ve hoped in a diet have heard this nagging in the background of their brain.  Or, if not heard it, then felt some ominous shadow creeping in like crude oil, ready to smother their dreams.

I’m committed to making my dream a reality.  So, I’m diving head-first into the crude to find out what’s going on under the surface.  Here’s what I think so far:  the fear of discipline.  “You mean I can’t eat this, I can’t have that, and I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…No way!”

Discipline.  That’s a loaded and scary word for some of us.  When I think of discipline, my forehead scrunches up in a pained pose.  My jaw gets stiff.  My body crouches back and my shoulders cave in just a bit, like I’m protecting my heart.  I think I need a better understanding of discipline if I’m going to make my dream into reality.

First, let’s look at that word’s origin.  Discipline comes from a root word meaning “to teach.”  That’s why Jesus’ posse in the Bible was called a band of disciples – people who were taught – they were learning from Jesus.  When I take that same example and make it personal, I understand how “discipline” can become my teacher.

You mean, to see my dreams come true, I actually want discipline?  If I want to learn about myself:  yes.  If I want to learn what’s getting in my way:  yes.   If I want to learn what exactly it is that I really do want:  yes.  Discipline is the way.

Here’s how I know.  The moment I committed to going on a diet (which I had never done before), I got hungry.  This hunger made me mad.  I found thoughts like, “life is unfair” and “other people are luckier than me because they don’t have to be hungry to get what they want.”  No wonder I didn’t want to share with my coworkers.  I was already judging them for being skinny.  I knew these thoughts weren’t true, but they felt true because I felt so hungry!

Another thought surfaced.  “I have to stop, or else I’ll be disappointed.”  When I look at that veiled threat in the light of truth, I know it’s bunk.  I don’t know, however, that I’ll be disappointed.  But I do know, for sure, that I have had plenty of disappointment already.  I’m disappointed over how these extra pounds keep me from doing the things I love.  So, whether I quit or go on, I could face disappointment:  for sure if I quit; or maybe if I continue.  One thing is absolute:  my way out of disappointment is to follow my discipline, lose the weight, and lose the disappointment for good.

These thoughts aren’t just about a diet.  They’re self-sabotaging, separating, discouraging ideas.  I’m so thankful that I see them!  I can do something about them now.  I can at least say, “Hey, I see you” instead of subconsciously believing them.  I’ve only been following my discipline for five days, and already this diet has become my teacher. 

Here are the stats:

# Days: 5
# Pounds Lost:  8.6
Strength Gained Through Discipline:  infinite

And all that it took to launch me from sleep to shaken in six seconds is…

Two days earlier, I embraced a new journey, one I have often pondered but never stepped into; one that has haunted me, but I have not yet haunted it, one which matters to almost every American woman, but which I’ve always shunned as a woman.  The journey is:  dieting.

“Say what?  How does another diet blog fit into being Radically Authentic?” the voice in my head says to me.

The voice has a point.  I’ve always considered dieting to be one of our most shallow, short-term, inauthentic America pastimes.  In fact, diets are often known best for what they don’t do.  Personally, I’ve had “diet” all wrapped up in a package of failure, shame, and suspicion.  Hence, I’ve lived my life in diet denial, even though I currently carry 75 more pounds than I want.

Putting all those pounds aside, I’ve started to look beyond the modern diet mythology and into how a diet can serve me, not just to lose weight, but to become a more authentic me.  I’ll be honest here, part of me is fuming mad.  I’m angry when I look in the mirror.  I’m angry for one very, specific reason:  what I see on the outside is not who I am on the inside.  Right now, this body does not represent all of the frivolity, passion, and guts I have brewing on the inside.

I want my outside to match my inside.  That’s why the most Radically Authentic act I can take right now is to follow my diet and help my body become an authentic picture of the woman inside.

Here’s a few down and dirty facts:

The Diet:  HCG Protocol, also known as Dr. Simeon’s Diet Protocol
The Weight:  75 pounds total, hope to lose 30 in first phase of protocol
The Duration:  30 days, then 3 weeks of no carbs/sugars
The Inspiration:  friends from The Women’s Club:  Rikki, Helen, Patty, and Barb
The Support:  excellent emotional processing tools from More to Life, and YOU, dear blog reader

I’m only on day four, and already this diet has served me far beyond the facts above.  The moment I committed to going on a diet (which I had never done before), I started seeing bold reactions from emotions, thoughts, and feelings I’ve kept buried.  These reactions, which have felt more like resurrections, have uncovered moments for authentic healing.  They’ve already taught me more than the calories or pounds I’ve tracked.   Stay tuned to learn how my diet journey is practically saving my soul.

“August lifted the lid off a hive.  ‘This one is missing its queen,’ she said. 

While I sat reading that passage on some random sunny afternoon last summer, my heart burst.  I could feel a pressure, starting in my chest, and rising with searing emotion up through my neck.  Hot tears running down my cheeks felt like ripe tomatoes splitting open in an August heat.  It was like the truth was swarming and could no longer be contained. 

My heart was a hive without its Queen.

I kept reading…

“The bees were sitting out here on the landing board looking melancholy.  If you see bees loafing and lamenting, you can bet their queen is dead.”

Yes, my spirit droned, too; somehow lost inside its own home.  I could almost hear the buzzing, like mental static stealing my clarity.  It was the depression – no, MY depression.  I had fought for so many years that it was now my own.  Painfully, I wiped the tears away and pulled more words into focus…

 “All they (the lost worker bees) can do, really, is lay unfertilized drone eggs.  They’ll fill up the combs with them, and as the workers naturally die off, there are none to replace them.”

Was my chronic tiredness like those bees?  Were all of my hopes for joy as empty as those unfertilized eggs?  How could so much effort to overcome depression lead to so much tiredness?   Would my future hold only more and more work as I watched more and more of me disappear?

I have been doing the work of managing my depression for almost 15 years now.  Many times, it feels like a giant puzzle, and I just can’t get all the pieces to fit together at the same time.   One strategy might fit for a while – say, maybe exercising consistently.  But other pieces always pop out – maybe my meds wouldn’t work or my thoughts became a tornado of confusion.

I’d hoped something would have worked by now, including this blog about “Radical Authenticity.”  But, honestly, I’m in a place today where I feel like I’ve just been bottling ideas and putting them on a shelf.  (See my pretty collection of ideas?  Don’t they just sparkle?  Please don’t look behind us – that shadow is always there.  Just ignore it.  I do.)

These ideas have kept me company for a while.  But, I’ll let you in on a secret…I wanted them to do more than that.  I wanted them to change me, like some Love Potion #9 you might pull out for a hot date.  I guess I just wanted to slip myself a mental Mickey and make it stick.

But the only thing that feels stuck is me.  I’m not trying to be too harsh, either.  I’m just trying to write about what it feels like to come to an end of myself; to see how all of my efforts at finishing this puzzle have only kept me busy; to understand – and be still in that understanding – that I’m missing my Queen.  I am missing me.

For that, there is only one other thing to do:  go find me.  I caught a hint of this truth when I finished reading that chapter last summer’ when August explains to Lily the power behind her symbol of hope, a statue of a black Mary she calls “Our Lady”…

“Our lady is not some magical being out there somewhere like a fairy Godmother. She’s something inside you.  You don’t have to put your hand on Mary’s heart to get strength and consolation and rescue…you can place it right here on your own heart.  Your own heart…And whatever it is that keeps widening your heart, that’s Mary, too, not only the power inside you but the love.  And when you get down to it, Lily, that’s the only purpose grand enough for a human life.  Not just to love – but to persist in love.”

Amen sister.

For anyone out there reading this…now that I’ve looked over my shoulder and beheld my shadow, I invite you to share in my awakening.  I’m going to feel what it’s like to embrace all parts of me.  I’m not all together sure of what I’ll find.  Maybe I’ll discover a new Queen bee.   I’ll let you know.  Please keep checking back.