Traveling bears, black-metal boyfriends & loose-fitting kimonos — or, why the Internet maybe isn’t so bad, after all.

 

The Internet has been getting a nasty rap, lately.

The Atlantic recently featured a disturbing cover story, elucidating the many ways that Facebook is making us isolated, disconnected, and chronically lonely.

The American Journal of Psychiatry is calling for Internet addiction to be recognized as a legitimate disorder.

And Stanford University researchers say that watching our social media buddies & beloved bloggers dish out all the happy details of their exceptionally rich & fulfilling lives is making us feel lousy. REALLY lousy.

I’ll admit it — my appreciation for online merriment has been waning, too.

I rarely read blogs — unless I’m doing specific research for a project, or a client.
I tweet while I feel like it — and then scuttle away.
I haven’t had a Facebook account in years.
I can physically feel my mental equilibrium plummet, on days when I’ve had too much screen time.
And on the very-rare occasions that I see a mean-spirited tweet or comment directed at me,
I go into a low-grade panic attack for up to 12 hours.

I get it. The Internet can be an icky place — self-esteem-cracking yet bewilderingly addictive, all in the span of one tappity-click.

But then, just when I’m ready to pull a full-on Henry David Thoreau & carve out a pleasant little life for myself in the belly of a hollowed-out tree, things like this happen:

This is a postcard from a stuffed bear named Andy. Or — and this is just my personal suspicion — possibly from Andy’s owner, Kate Sedrowski.

Andy grew up in Michigan, and has lived in Boston, Los Angeles, San Antonio & Chicago. He has traveled to London, and across the US and Canada. Word on the street is, Andy prefers Canada
(smart bear).

Andy is a fan of my blog. Particularly my post titled THIS is what’s possible.

And when I get postcards from traveling bears like Andy — and / or ladies like Kate — it reminds me why I do what I do, why I write what I write, and why the Internet is, in fact, pretty fucking awesome.
 

Because of the Internet …

I found my very first career coach, Michelle Ward — the woman who opened my eyes to the world of digital entrepreneurship, and helped me spark my own business.
 

Because of the Internet …

I’ve met some of my dearest friends & creative partners — like Dyana Valentine, Danielle LaPorte, Hiro Boga, Aurora Armijo, Sarah Von Bargen, and Erika Lyremark.
 

Because of the Internet …

I met my beautiful, black-metal-music-making, foot-massage-giving, socialist-leaning, lactose-intolerant, thoroughly loving boyfriend.
 

Because of the Internet …

I can watch every single episode of Parks & Recreation, legally & immediately. Not that I would.
Except I already did.
 

Because of the Internet …

I can work with uh-mazing clients from Glasgow to Sydney to NYC to Santa Fe, at the touch of a button, whilst donning a loose-fitting kimono.
 

Because of the Internet …

My words can reach thousands of people every month, from 5 continents & 98 countries.
Which is a lot more people than I’d reach if I lived in a tree with spotty Wifi access, I’d wager.
 

Because of the Internet …

I get to be the art director of my life. And my life is abundantly blessed.
 

So yeah, I’d like to take a moment of silence (or cartwheels, or freak-dancing, or ceremonial cocktail-shaking) to say THANK YOU, Internet.

And don’t listen to those mean sociologists. It’s not your fault you’re so addictively awesome.
It’s our problem. We’ve got baggage. We’re working on it.


 

And hey — how has the Internet changed YOUR life, for the better?

Do tell, digital lovebug.

 

Are you GRACED?

 
 
Do you have a supernatural talent?

Something that comes so effortlessly to you, it feels almost . . . freakish?

Something that others applaud, and admire? Or at the very least — recognize?

What if your gift isn’t what you think?

I recently devoured Kristin Cashore’s debut novel, GRACELING, like a great white shark at a chum-fueled feeding frenzy.

471 pages of swashbuckling sword-fighting, rrrromantic tension, and moral dilemmas that would leave The NY Times Ethicist columnist in a royal pickle. In a word? Mesmerizing.

But this isn’t a book review (well, not completely) or a nudge to read the novel (though you should).

GRACELING stirred up a provocative question . . . one that I haven’t been able to shake off, for weeks.

And when art burrows into your heart & refuses to budge, it’s worth exploration.

First, let me set the stage . . .

Imagine a world where certain people are ‘Graced’ with miraculous abilities — talents that defy conventional logic. No one can tell you what your Grace is. Could be cake baking or tree climbing. Could be memorization or medicine. It simply emerges, without warning — and it’s usually unmistakable.

For Katsa, the heroine of GRACELING, being Graced feels like more of a curse. You see, Katsa’s Grace is killing. She can slaughter legions of soldiers with her bare hands, and is widely renowned (and feared) as the king’s right-hand assassin. She hates her Grace, hates her blood-soaked career, and hates the fact that her vicious talent defines her identity.

But after leaving the king’s court (SPOILER ALERT!) she discovers that her Grace isn’t killing, after all — it’s survival. And with that subtle shift in self-awareness, she is liberated. She is free. Possibilities abound. And she begins a new life — with a foxy mind-reading prince (but that’s another story).

Back to reality. I believe everyone is Graced with something —
and the whole point of life is to discover & use your Grace to the fullest.

I used to think my Grace was writing. It seems obvious. After all, I’ve always had an unusual way with words. I pun. I rhyme. I lilt. I chime. I’ve written plays & poems, miniature operettas & manifestos, webcopy & sales copy & radio soundbites. I wax rhapsodic, for a living.

Writing is a wonderful Grace, but in some ways, it feels finite.
Limited to the page — or the screen.

But maybe, like Katsa, my Grace isn’t what it immediately appears to be — but something several fathoms deeper. Maybe it’s not writing, but self-expression. Lyricism. Persuasion. Or . . . pure inspiration.

Your Grace might seem obvious — coaching! singing! cooking! —
but maybe it’s not what you think.

Maybe if you dig a little deeper, you’ll find the essence & origin of your talents. The true Grace, beneath your public persona.

I promised a provocative question.
But let’s go with two:

What’s your Grace?

And — are you sure?

And now, a brief word from our sponSOAR . . .

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that Gemma Stone is Graced with compassion.

As a Psychologist & Life Coach, she blends the science of psychology with the power of spirituality to help you heal the past, love the present, and light up the future.

She’s the creator of BIRTHING FROM LOVE: a multi-media extravaganza for mommas-to-be.

She also has one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen.
(See what I mean?)

BIRTHING FROM LOVE is designed to help women get psychologically prepared for birth, and have a peaceful, positive & powerful experience — wherever & however you choose to bring your baby into the world.

Want all the details? Swing over here.

Want to eeeeeease into the program? Jump on the BIRTHING FROM LOVE List, and get to know Gemma better. Word on the street is you’ll get a ‘thank you’ treat, just for joining.

Ready to buy? Bless your lucky stars, because BIRTHING FROM LOVE is a pay-what-you-can offering. Gemma explains why, right here.

And — sorry, can’t help myself — have a profoundly Graceful birth.

Read More creativity // inspiration devotion // liberty

Devotion, stardust & the rewards of showing up —
3 lessons from 12 years of YOGA

 

Little known fact: I’ve been practicing yoga — with varying degrees of devotion — for over 12 years. Or in other words, since I was 15 years old.

 
I wish I could tell you that I ‘discovered’ yoga in a dizzy haze of bliss, at a mountain-top reggae festival, with a gaggle of sun-kissed friends & the guidance of a guru named Snuggle Moonshine Bear.

But no, I came to yoga as so many of us do — because my body was in crisis, my life was at stake, and there was nothing left to try.

At 15, I was blinking back into reality — after starving myself to 94 pounds, in the visegrip of anorexia. My doctors told me that ballet, running & weight-lifting (my self-medications of choice) were out of the question. My emaciated body — and weakened heart — wouldn’t be able to handle the stress.

They suggested yoga. Gentle yoga. An hour a day, tops.

And so, I found myself on the mat. Studying the delicate art of not hating myself. Coming back to life.

Feels like many, many lifetimes ago.

Still makes me cry.

And here I am — countless sun salutations later. With a little more wisdom. And a lot more hope.

In honor of being alive, I give you:
 

3 lessons from 12 years of yoga…

 
: There’s no substitute for showing up.

It doesn’t matter what you’re creating — a book, a business, a yoga practice, an entirely new way of being in your body . . .

You can read every guide, take every course, watch every tutorial, hire every expert, research & vision-board & dream & scheme.
But there’s no replacement for showing up & doing the work. The real work, not the pre-work. (You know the difference.)

: DEVOTION is an action, not an emotion.

Want to know what you’re devoted to? Look at your calendar. Examine how you actually spend your time, on the planet.

If you ‘can’t find the time’ for an hour of yoga, three times a week — or whatever else you say you want to do — that’s fine.
Do something else. Check your email. Fly a kite. Learn to crochet. Host a tea party. But don’t kid yourself — it’s tiresome. Be honest about what you’re devoted to.

: You are stardust.

Joni Mitchell wasn’t kidding. The foundational elements of your body — carbon, nitrogen & oxygen — were literally synthesized in the deep interior of ancient stars, billions of years ago. Stars that shattered, and gave birth to planet Earth — to paraphrase NASA astrophysicist Michael Loewenstein.

Think about that, whenever you question whether you’re good enough, beautiful enough, talented enough. Worthy of what you want.

You are extraterrestrial, super-celestial, the walking descendent & living heir of a luminous sphere.

You are light, time, the cosmos itself.

You hold God Power. The power of absolute creation.

 
I’ll namaste to that.

And now, a brief word from our sponSOAR . . .

I don’t have ‘favorite’ clients. That would be like choosing ‘favorite’ children. Totally uncool. But if I DID have a collection of all-time favorite clients . . . Anna Guest-Jelley would be on the shortlist.

Anna is a Body Empowerment Educator & the creator of Curvy Yoga — a new style of yoga designed especially for bigger, curvier bodies.

Anna’s new digital book — PERMISSION TO CURVE — is a collection of 60+ poses & sun salutations for yogis of every size, age & ability. It’s a gigantic permission slip to do yoga, your way . . . and (sweet savasana!) it’s officially HERE!

There’s two curvalicious versions: the basic e-book with a handful of video lessons ($25) and the mega-deluxe-fantastico e-book with all 60 videos ($97). Want to save 25%, on either version? Enter the uber-special code — UNICORNS — upon checkout.

Whether you’re a total yoga newbie, a lifelong yogi, or a professional instructor, PERMISSION TO CURVE will open your heart . . . and show you a lotta new moves.

Flow over here, and om shanti OWN it already.

Read More devotion // liberty

25 Thoroughly Un-Boring Things To Do, Be, Taste & Try.

 
Earlier this week, I asked a deceptively simple question:

“What are you BORED of?”

Your answers came a-crashin’ in. And they’re anything but boring.

Since we’re on the subject of soul-crushing boredom (and its polar opposite: euphoric enthusiasm!) I’d like to offer an inspiring treat:
 

25 Thoroughly Un-Boring Things To Do, Be, Taste & Try.

 
❤ Take a digital sabbatical. It’s time. And here’s how to do it. But before you do . . .

❤ Buy a digital copy of EAT AWESOME: A regular person’s guide to plant-based whole foods (it’s 5 bucks) . . .

❤ And then be even awesomer, like EAT AWESOME’s creator-dude, Paul Jarvis, and adopt a llama from a Buddhist animal sanctuary.

❤ Watch this ZUMBA fitness dance class video. Kindly observe the elderly gentleman in the back row, going for broke. He is my hero. (Blessings to Laura Wagner for sharing this gem, with me.)

❤ Find a puppy. Put it next to a small soda can. Take a picture.

❤ Be over-the-top luxurious — even if it’s just once in your bloody lifetime. (Yes, I turn slightly British when I’m feeling emphatic.)

❤ Have your dessert after breakfast, instead of at the very end of the day. Oprah said so!

❤ Tell the absolute truth for a whole day.

❤ Kill your Facebook account. No, really. Just get rid of it. You rebel!

❤ Instead of calling your mom next Sunday, show up at her house with a potted bonsai tree & a brand-new bottle of her signature scent. Bonus points if your mom lives in another time zone.

❤ Model your exercise regime after a beloved (and badass) film & TV heroine! Because, c’mon: would you rather do ordinary pushups — or G.I. JANE pushups?

❤ Go to a completely bonkers, stadium-style POP CONCERT. The more hormone-addled teeny-boppers in the audience, the better.

❤ Make your own vegan toothpaste. Just ’cause you can.

❤ Kill your vision board — if it’s not working for you. Inspiration is not one size fits all. Notable quotes don’t rev everyone’s engines. Glossy photos of mountains & temples & twirling yogis do not guarantee motivation.

❤ Watch every David Attenborough documentary ever made.

❤ Make a list of 100 people you want to have lunch with before you die, like Nicole Antoinette. Then actually ask those people to lunch. They’ll be fabulously flattered. And probably say YES.

❤ Stop waiting for the perfect opportunity to teach, speak or lead your first workshop, and just throw your own damn party.
Like Tania & Deanna from The Spark Retreat.

❤ Two words: neon shoelaces.

❤ Three words: sophisticated side ponytail.

❤ Instead of buying a trashy magazine from your own country, get one from a faraway land! I recently picked up a copy of the UK’s TATLER, and it was a defining moment.

❤ Ask the three Most Boring People You Know to tell you a secret. Prepare to be uh-mazed.

❤ Ask the most elderly person you know to recommend a few bands for your summer playlist. Prepare for a trans-generational groovefest.

❤ Concoct your own lavender-infused soda, like the lovely Lauryl Lane.

❤ Read everything on my Official Summer Reading List. Especially the smutty stuff.

❤ Get vibrantly clear on what makes you (beyond) valuable. Craft a magnificent personal introduction. Stop pretending that your story is dull, dry or forgettable (please — we all know better). Be the antithesis of boring.

And now, a brief word from our sponSOAR . . .

I’m absolutely fascinated by the intricacies of human relationships — and I have unyielding respect for people who’ve devoted their lives to helping people make love & partnership work. And so, when Jackie VanCampen asked to become one of my sponSOARs, I had to say YES.

Jackie is a relationship facilitator who helps women overcome abandonment issues & other emotional headgunk, and create lasting and beautiful relationships. She’s navigated her own share of heartbreak, and has worked hard to carve out a life with the partner she adores. Happy endings? Never boring.

Meet Jackie & learn more about her approach to relationship facilitation, at WiseHeartWithin.com.

Read More creativity // inspiration non // sequitur

One simple question that cuts through all the noise: “What are you BORED of?”

 

Like most human beings, I forget my own priorities, on a regular basis.

I fuzzify who I am. I mislabel my magic.

I get distracted by the latest vampire-penguin-narwhal-post-apocalyptic-teen-archery trilogy.

I stop asking myself the questions that matter.

Like this one:
 

“What are you BORED of?”

 
It’s deceptively simple.
But don’t brush it off.
What I mean is:
 

“What are you tired of explaining?”

“What are you ‘done’ being / doing / writing / teaching / selling?”

“What are you not-so-stoked to be known for?”

 
Here’s what I know: when you admit what’s booooooring you, you tend to unveil the opposite, too.
The stuff you’re NOT bored of. The stuff that’s compelling & urgent, exciting & new.

Of course, it takes some guts & grit to admit what you’re bored of, and WHY — especially if it’s (gasp!) central to your identity, your livelihood, your mission, the quest you’ve slaved over, et al.

I’ll be brave. I’ll start:
 

I’m bored of . . .

 
: Talking about copywriting, marketing, branding, business, blah-ba-dee-bloo . . . UNLESS it’s woven into a bigger conversation about self-discovery, self-expression, and remembering who you are (see below).
: Elucidating how I created a $1,500 offering and got it booked up till the end of the year. (It’s a good story, but . . . I’m done tellin’ it. For now.)
: My compulsion to capture-wittify-tweet! every ding-dong-dang thing that happens to me.
: Pretending that I want to write a memoir. I just remembered. I don’t. (Right now.)
: Recreational Internet usage.
 

I’m NOT bored of . . .

 
: Helping people remember who they are.
: And then, helping people articulate (in words!) what makes them UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE (valuable, necessary, marvelous & more.)
: That lightning bolt feeling that arrives just before an effortlessly uh-mazing piece of writing.
: Sex.
: Vampire-penguin-narwhal-post-apocalyptic-teen-archery trilogies.
: Doing yoga like it’s my JOB.
: Getting surprise parcels in the mail.
: Geeking out over the healing properties of crystals.
: Being entrusted with secrets.
: Being me, in general.
 

So that’s me.

And you?

 
What’s making you feel apathetic, incurious, jaded, tiresome, world-weary, flaccid & pococurante?

I’d really like to know.
Go ahead — BORE me.

xo.

Read More creativity // inspiration devotion // liberty