We looked at one another with kindness and a subtle sense of acceptance, a slight awkward smile, and we said hello.  And… that was it. We went our separate ways.

But for a lot of the day, if you had asked me where I was, I’d tell you I was still there in the check-out line at the store.  And I’d still be wondering what exactly happened to warrant her quick and painful exit from my life. Seeing her brought up an unexpected surge of emotions… both sadness and anger, a little like a puddle of goo– sticky and unsettled. Betrayed. Guilty. Insecure. Rejected.  Unsaid.

These feelings wound up spilling over into other things… in the most simplest, childlike way, I began to wonder if my current friends still liked me.  I felt like a smelly nerd covered with warts. I felt like a victim.  And suddenly, just like that, I was a horrible mother, my work didn’t have value, and I craved brownies.

And then, thank goodness, I came to my senses. I realized I was letting some old story I had tucked away in me take over and define me. So I pulled myself back to center, where I was able to feel the grief that was no longer masked by, “I’m not enough,” and then, and only then, I could let it go.  It was over. I leaned into the legend I am creating now in my life… one of HEART WIDE OPEN and wildness and radical trust.  I am loved. I am valuable. I no longer need to fill up empty spaces with food that doesn’t nourish my body…  or things that are meaningless to me…  or people who don’t get me.  

Yes, you could blame it all on the rest of the world…    the old friends who broke up with you, the well-intentioned parents with the fifty-year plan laid out for you, the teacher who once told you that you had to color the sky blue or else you lacked artistic ability, the weight you carry on your body as a testament of your struggle or as a protective shield, the job that holds you captive, or the deep depression or listlessness that washes over you in the darkness of winter…  

But believe it or not, they are gifts to you, extraordinary messengers,  telling you, reminding you…  Come back, dear one.  Wrap yourself in your dream blanket, woven out of ideas and visions and imaginings that cultivate joy and aliveness within you.  Let go of what’s behind you, as this is the moment your life begins again. And again.  And again.  Step out of your own way.  Forgive.  Choose the truth of who you are over the shame of who you are not.  Allow yourself to be vulnerable and flawed and human, for even in this naked state, you are holy, you are complete, you are enough.  

COME BACK TO CENTER.

It began one drop, one smear, one splatter of paint at a time. No brushes, no speaking…  just three sets of hands dancing together to create something.  First an elegant horse, and then an orange dot changes everything, as words and feelings are conveyed through purples and blues, reds and oranges.  What would happen if you surrender to the process instead of trying to control it?  Freedom.  Spontaneity.  Wildness.   Fingernails jammed with paint don’t seem like such a big deal anymore.  Laughter.  Pink kisses.

Experimenting with left hands and wondering what happens if you splash the paint across the board (it lands on the person on the other side of the table!).  Two sets of hands embracing curiosity and mystery. Without an agenda or plan.  What can you communicate to one another without words?   Let’s step out of our comfort zones and play.  I am open.  Share with me your wisdom, your light, and I will show you mine.  Let’s BE the paint, trusting that it will wash out of our clothes. 

Another two sets of hands, a little more tentative at first.   Boundaries gently respected and protected.  Trust birthed from silence.  Old stories of not good enough bloom into new stories of I like my flower.  Chances taken, being open and flowing to whatever wants to unfold. What happens when you dare to be vulnerable?  You are seen.  You are held.  You stand in your own sovereignty.  You realize that you’ve grown weary from playing it safe all this time and you are ready to let go, one stroke of paint at a time.

Two last sets of hands, trembling at first. Coming back to center, the feeling of wanting to curl up into a ball tangos with the feeling of stepping into one’s power. What happens if you keep going when you feel like stopping?  Ferociousness.  Boldness.  Drumming, banging paint onto the board.  You realize that while you thought you were staying within the lines, you are actually courageously breaking out of the limitations you placed on yourself long ago.  You are making music.  You are cultivating badass self-honor.  

Each piece seems to fit together like a puzzle, so that in its entirety, it’s not only a masterpiece, but a reflection of our connection and our willingness to lay it all out on the line, to be raw and holy.  To some, it may look like a journey from chaos to clarity, and to others, from confinement to freedom…   Without a doubt,  risks were taken, paradigms were shifted, dusty old doors were opened.

 “The greatest antidote to fear is not courage…  it’s curiosity.”  ~Theodore Zeldin

My blog has been very still lately, as I’ve been putting most of my attention toward caring for fevery kids with ear infections and fighting off the crud with homemade soups and immune supplements.  I’ve been in pure survival mode.

So it wasn’t entirely foreign to me when I began getting notes from a couple of the Wild Women about how they were feeling overwhelmed…  by life, work, and even the circle.  Oh yes indeedy, I can relate to that feeling.

And it’s really no surprise to hear this right now either.  After an exciting jumpstart, many of the Wild Women have already begun to shake things up in their lives, whether it’s bravely claiming a spot in their homes all to themselves for creative dreaming, or carving out 20 minutes a week to journal, scribble, or simply stare into space.

Inviting that sort of consciousness and intention into our lives inevitably has a beautiful way of opening us up and shedding some light onto the dusty, cobwebby corners of our spirits…  which, incidentally, also exposes all the cracks in our foundation.  It’s not always pretty.  We begin to notice the desires, actions, patterns and people that rob our energy, our passion, our zest.

On top of that, life walks in with a hefty helping of challenge– the flu or a broken down furnace or stress at work—and it would be so darn easy to throw our hands up in the air and wonder why we chose to open up to begin with.

When it comes to me, when that sense of overwhelm hits, it’s because I’m trying to do everything in some perfect, balanced way.  I think that I can be the perfect mother who dotes on her sick children with hot tea and cough-drops and endless games of Farkle and Parcheesi, AND the ultra-productive artist/writer/circle facilitator with the tidy desk and full calendar, AND the friend who shows up fully for playdates and skype tea parties, AND the healthy, athlete woman who is somewhat obsessively doing everything she can to keep the germs at bay and maintain her exercise routine.

I bet you’re overwhelmed just reading that paragraph!

Here’s what I propose…

I say we all stop trying to be so perfect, so balanced, so unequivocally on top of things.

Let’s choose to lay down the burden (not necessarily the stuff itself, but the power and weight we allow it to have over ourselves).

Be intentionally imperfect, non-superhero-ish human, and dare to be unconventional.

Let’s make a mess…   and then let it sit for a day before we clean it up.  

Rather than walking in a straight line, may we allow our paths to have twists and turns and hairpin curves and roundabouts and rest stops on top of mountains where the view invigorates us.

Let’s create (imperfect) harmony between all of the facets of our lives so that they are like loving sisters rather than enemies or separate entities all hollering me! me! me!  

May we let go of the notion that we must struggle in order to prove to ourselves or anyone else that we’re working hard.

Let’s dare to open up and invite the light in, despite the cracks…  we’ll spackle the spaces with TRUST, knowing our foundation is strong enough to support us and our visions.  

This morning I got my bike out... dusted off the cobwebs.. and took a ride around the neighborhood....

“Every particle of creation sings its own song of what is and what is not. Hearing what is can make you wise; hearing what is not can drive you mad.”

~Mirza Ghalib

A couple of days ago, I signed up for a triathalon. A TRIATHALON, people.

As you can see, I’m still wrapping my head around this…

Yesterday I asked someone who had done it before what it was like. “The swimming part was the closest to death I’ve ever felt,” she replied. Of course she said this before she knew I had signed up the day before, and with no further complaining, she spent the next hour or so telling me I had this thing beat. My first twenty or so thoughts were “yeah right.”

And yet, I still want to do it.

It could be because I am surrounded by a community of women who believe in me, who double dare me, who hold me up when I’m having one of those days when I want to hide beneath a pile of blankets and eat oreos, who remind me all the time that possibility has no fancy finish line where we can call it a day and claim that we’re done.

It might be because for the first time in many many years, I went to get my yearly check-up at the doctor, and instead of being told that I must lose weight, eat more of this and less of that, or possibly have my gall bladder yanked out, I was told that I was GLOWING.

Or I might just be completely insane. Of course, I prefer to call it wild, uncontained, courageous, INSPIRED, passionate, tenacious, colorful, ferocious, and perhaps a little over the top.

Regardless, a week after my 42nd birthday this May, I’ll be doing it. Swimming 1/3 of a mile, then biking 19 miles, then running (or walking) another 3 miles, at the wee hours of a Sunday morning in Georgia.

For me, this will require a lot of training… not just physically, but mentally, and even spiritually.

You see, like so many others, I’ve used up a lot of energy over the course of my life arguing for my self-imposed limitations, defending those voices that say, “I can’t,” rationalizing the need to stay small and safe, allowing others to define success for me and then feeling like I could never ever live up to their expectations (perhaps in retrospect, I just never WANTED to).

I’ve come a long way, but I’m still a work in progress. I still have momentarily lapses of what-the-hell-am-I-thinking, and digging for excuses to turn back.

Don’t we all?

But sometimes it takes a giant leap of imagination to get you to where you want to be. Sometimes it takes letting go of all of those past stories of snags and hurdles and a willingness to create new legends that open you up to what you once deemed far-fetched and absurd. And sometimes it takes trusting in a bit of mystery and magic and COMMUNITY to hoist you up and carry you through.

Sometimes it’s very simply about choosing to listen to what is… and not to what is not. 

So today, I invite you stretch your mind. Boggle your heart. Be impulsive, unpredictable, and break your own rules. Imagine BIG. And then… begin.

“Mommy, where did you learn to hold your clementine sections up to the light to see if there were seeds in them?”  Noah asked yesterday evening as we sucked the juice out of each drippy morsel.

“I don’t know… I suppose it was instinct,” I replied.

“What?” Noah look perplexed.

“You know when your gut tells you what to do and when to do it? Like you just know without even knowing how you know?” (a slow nod of the head and somewhat mischievous smile) “That’s instinct.”

It’s the wisdom we’re born with, reaching far beyond things like holding a clementine up to the light or stepping aside when a car is coming. It’s what inspires a just hatched sea turtle to venture out into the dead of night in search of the ocean, a baby kangaroo to climb into its mother’s pouch just after being born, or a whole gaggle of Canada geese to fly South in the wintertime.

And when it comes to our creative nature, it’s what inspires us to quiet our minds and let our hands take over when we’re drawing a picture…  what pulls us toward certain herbs and spices when we’re making soup… what nudges us to dig a little deeper when we’re planting seeds…   what gives us permission to dream outloud when most of the time we’re told to hush up and get back to work.

It’s always there, that wisdom.  Atleast that’s what I believe.  There’s no explaining it or analyzing it…  it just is.  Instilled in us from PURE MYSTERY.

The learning comes from trusting it…  from letting go of the voices that tell you to follow the rules, to stop painting because you suck at it, to equate impulse with irresponsible behavior, to lean on what you’re good at rather than what you love to do.

Of course teachers in every sense are important….  but what if we gave our instincts as much power as we give our college professors?  Our parents?  Our politicians?  Our diplomas?  Our resumes?  Our list of to-dos?

I hardly doubt the world would fall apart.

I think there would surely be more color.  More beautiful graffiti that wouldn’t need to be scrubbed clean or covered up with black spraypaint.   More experiments being hung on refrigerators instead of being tossed into trashcans.  More saying YES to things that stretch our minds and hearts.  More understanding and celebration of our differences.  More lending a hand when a hand is needed.  More self-honor.  More wildness.

So go ahead.  Hold yourself up to the light.  What wisdom do you see?