Posts Tagged ‘Courage’
A Midwife to My Heart
Tuesday, December 3rd, 2013
Longing to experience the sacred as I navigate through life, I have read hundreds of spiritual books, traveled to many holy places, met with dozens of beloved teachers, and sat in meditation until my legs (or entire body) fell asleep. Many of the methods have worked and at times they haven’t. But in my quest for the sacred within, I have discovered one way that allows me to experience the divine and go beyond the veil of my own limited beliefs and illusions. That way is the role of midwife to my heart.
My most profound experiences as a midwife to my heart emerge when I am able to step out of the way and be overwhelmed by something far greater than my own opinions, fears, doubts, and worries. Being a midwife of my heart has humbled me, awakened me, challenged me, and healed me. I am being called to show more vulnerability, expand my definition of extended family, and share my deep awareness and emotions with other midwives of the heart. It is our profound connections, our deep desires, and our wild cosmic hearts that connects us in the vastness of inner abyss.
My life and my work has been about being a midwife to the wild and wonderful ─ to the unknown and the uncertainty. Being a midwife to my heart requires a delicate blend of curiosity, courage, trust, wisdom, and the willingness to sit in the pain and discomfort. It’s a willingness to bear witness to what’s happening on the inside and take a deep dive within. As my heart expands, a new way of being is born ─ breath by breath. Every moment becomes sacred and tender.
Being a midwife to my heart can mean risk getting hurt and being mocked. But not doing it means losing some of the most meaningful connections possible. It means charting new waters, leaning into joy, daring greatly, loving deeply, living courageously, and sharing my heart with those who have earned my trust.
The birth of more love, more joy, more peace, and more connection is worth the effort. By being a midwife to my heart, I’ve birthed many meaningful relationships. I have lost some too. Yet, being a midwife to my heart has taught me to appreciate each person and the role they played in birthing new life in the world.
Perhaps you feel called to be a midwife of your heart ─ to the wild, the wonderful, and the unknown. Being a midwife of my heart is a journey and I don’t know where it is going to take me next. I’m ready for new birth and more connection. You are invited to join me in exploring what is too deep for words and too powerful for meaning, yet a miraculous experience of the heart.
Have you experienced being a midwife to your heart? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.
Seen, Heard, and Valued ─ Wild Cosmic Heart Wisdom
Wednesday, November 20th, 2013
Women from all over the US and BC gathered at Kalani to be a part of the Wild Cosmic Heart Retreat. I opened the circle with gratitude, thanking each one of them for showing up, for having the courage to express their heart, and for trusting me to create a space where they could be themselves. I encouraged participants to share what brought them to Hawaii and the retreat. I invited folks to take a breath, move beyond their thoughts, and speak from their heart.
What happened next was beyond words. Each woman spoke from their heart, many through tears, and shared their intention for the week. Sacred space and safety had been created. And that allowed each woman to show up as is ─ real, curious, scared, hopeful, open, and vulnerable.
From our opening circle, we allowed ourselves to be seen, heard, and valued. We showed up vulnerable. We did it afraid. We opened our hearts. We tried new things (and foods). And we even slowly walked around a large tree 11 times as part of a mindfulness practice. (Note: I had no idea the mindfulness walk would take an hour and fifteen minutes as I created the practice in the moment. It was one of the most profound practices all week.)
The journey now continues as we explore what this wild cosmic heart feels like and needs as we re-enter into our daily life. The edges of our heart have been softened and I sensed that we all learned there is no life with a closed heart.
I learned that real connection happens when we show up wholeheartedly and that means allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. As Brené Brown says, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”
I learned that I connect best with people when I am seen, heard, and valued. I create sacred space for others to do the same. I honor laughter and tears. I love deeply and live passionately. I am inspired easily. I live vulnerability. I show up wholeheartedly.
This is dedicated to the amazing women who opened their Wild Cosmic Hearts with me at Kalanai Oceanside Retreat Center.
Harrowing Haircuts
Wednesday, January 16th, 2013
Get out of the chair. Get out of the chair. That was what the voice in my head was saying as I was sitting getting a haircut. I had already asked the hairdresser more than once to be gentle with my head. She had jerked my head from side to side as she was cutting it. Finally, as she started blow-drying my hair, I saw she had not listened to me about the style of cut I had stated I wanted. After taking a deep breath, I said, “Stop.” I stood up with the towel around my neck draped in the robe and said I wanted the assistant manager to fix my haircut. The hairdresser looked at me and said, “What’s your problem?” I walked away and sat in the waiting area and asked for the assistant manager and explained that I was unhappy and needed her to fix the haircut.
My voice was shaking, my hands were shaking, and I just wanted to run out of the salon. I knew I needed to speak up. I knew I needed to get out of the chair. I knew I needed to have someone more gentle and aware of what they were doing and how they were treating a client.
In general, I hate getting my haircut. I usually dread getting it. I feel so vulnerable in the chair while someone with scissors ultimately decides how long or short or how straight or wavy they make my hair. There is something unnerving about getting haircuts.
As I have declared 2013 my year of Daring Deeply, it took all my courage to get out of the chair and advocate for myself. I am learning to trust that inner voice more and more and take action. Life is about opening our hearts and listening to the calling of wisdom that beckons us forward.
Here is what that experience taught me: Get out of the chair. Speak up. Take peaceful actions.
Tears of the Heart
Wednesday, January 9th, 2013
When the phone rang last week at my office, I looked down to see that the call was from a colleague and friend. While a part of me wanted to pick up the phone and connect, there was another part of me that was feeling very vulnerable and the sound of her kind voice would probably make me cry. In a conversation we had recently I said to my friend, “I knew all you had to do was ask me how I was feeling and I would start crying.” My friend responded, “Crying is the sweat of the heart.” She completely understood the choice to let the call go to voicemail and wait to speak. We had a wonderful conversation about self-care and how sometimes that means reaching out and connecting, while other times it means going inside ourselves and being quiet.
My friend shared that what helps her when she is feeling quiet is reading Louise L. Hay affirmations. When I hung up, I picked up my box of Louise L. Hay affirmations and chose a card to read and meditate on. The card I picked up read:
You are an artist of the spirit.
Find yourself and express yourself in your own particular way. Express your love openly.
Life is nothing but a dream, and if you create your life with love, your dream becomes a masterpiece of art.
My heart sweated and tears came. Thank you Jude.
Be in the Arena and Dare Greatly
Tuesday, October 23rd, 2012
I came across the phrase Daring Greatly after listening to an interview about vulnerability with Brené Brown. The phrase comes from Theodore Roosevelt’s speech, Citizenship in a Republic. This is the passage that made the speech famous:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly . . .”
When I read about daring greatly, I was blown away and began to ponder what vulnerability means to me. Vulnerability means getting into the arena, doing it afraid, doing it anyway – despite the critics. Unless you are in the arena in the world – in your work, your classroom, your stage, your art, your life – putting yourself out there, then your voice as a critic is meaningless. Being vulnerable means flopping and failing and rising up again and daring greatly.
I am discovering that the greatest act of courage is being seen – really being seen.
Dare to show up to life. Dare to be seen. Dare to be in the arena. Dare greatly.