Behind all this, some great happiness is hiding. ~Yehuda Amichai
I woke up excited about the day ahead. It was a year after I’d left my job and a promising new way of life was taking shape.
I wrote for an hour at my big wooden desk in the morning light. With rich Castro coffee and a cat curled near my feet, I felt expansive and loved.
The promise of breakfast wafted through the house as I headed for the shower. In the shower, an idea for a fun blog post series came to me, and I found myself singing an ABBA tune.
But then it hit me.
This is not normal. This can’t be right. Mama mia! I’ve been happy for too long this morning.
Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it everyday.~Henri Nouwen
“If I’m not fully happy right now in this moment, nothing will ever make me happy.”
The thought struck me as I stood at the kitchen sink scrubbing the dishes. It appeared organically, but it felt like something I already knew, a conclusion I was returning to, not recognizing for the first time.
One of those moments where you say, “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”
It wasn’t a moment that I should have been happy — one of those milestones in which happiness is actually a requirement, i.e. graduations, weddings, etc.
It was ordinary. I was tackling a mundane task and thinking about what I needed to get done in the next 24 hours.
Yet, in a moment of clarity — one I didn’t muscle into fruition — I recognized that everything I had longed, begged and dreamt about a year ago was there, in my current experience.
Sometimes a leap of faith is the only available transportation.~Margaret Shepherd
The wind kicked up the desert sands behind me as I leaned forward, cautiously looking over the edge. The fissure had no visible bottom. On the other side, just a few feet away, the trees beckoned invitingly, promising water, promising shade.
There was nothing for me to go back to; if I wanted to go forward at all, I was going to have to jump. My heart ached to advance, but my knotted stomach held me back.
What if I can’t jump that far? What if I fall? What if it’s even worse over there on the other side?
OK, perhaps I’m being a little dramatic; I wasn’t literally standing in a desert. Or technically even jumping over anything. But the fear was completely real.
When you protect yourself from pain, be sure you do not protect yourself from love.~Alah Cohen
Many times in life we are faced with an experience where we pour our heart and soul into a situation and/or relationship only to have our heart broken.
We feel like all of our efforts were in vain, and although we gave our all, we are standing in the midst of the rubble that remains.
Often what happens after such an experience is that we decide that we will never allow ourselves to get hurt like that again, and so we do the smart thing and shut down.
We close off our hearts and are extremely cautious when it comes to love or any situation which requires us to open our heart and soul. We want proof that any venture of the heart is secure and safe.
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.~Brene Brown
I emigrated halfway across the world to escape my story. That’s how desperate I was.
It was a story of loneliness, rejection and depression. I blamed my country of origin, my family and a run of bad luck.
And instead of facing my story, I ran from it.
But our pasts always catch up to us. And so it wasn’t long before my life in a new country with a great new job resembled much of my life before the emigration.
Not on the outside, but on the inside. I had escaped my physical circumstances only to find that what I really wanted was to do was escape myself.
Because this business of becoming conscious is ultimately about asking yourself, 'How alive am I willing to be?'~Anne Lamott
Last year I wrote about a goal-less New Year: Beginning from a place within that allows you to open more in 2013 — to use less fervent goal-seeking willpower and more awareness when placing intentions.
This is a practical piece on how to intentionally move from this place of willingness, once you’re attuned to that inner self.
Eighteen months ago, I couldn’t sit still in meditation for more than a few minutes. I became either anxious and antsy or really sleepy after several minutes of stillness.
Three years ago, I couldn’t imagine life without chicken and fish. My diet was largely comprised of protein, protein, protein — in the form of animals.
Four years ago, I couldn’t run more than 6 miles. Beyond 6 miles felt like thefurthest distance.
Five years ago, I was petrified to start my own real estate business. I was comfortable with being an employee, and starting my own business seemed risky.