You know, one of those days in which you wonder, “What is it I do?” And you bemoan not becoming a nuclear physicist because at least they know how to split atoms.

One of those days in which all your plans, which just a moment ago were so shiny and promising, suddenly resemble false fronts on a movie set.

One of those days when you calculate how little money you can live on.

Otherwise known as a farm-fantasy day. Or move-to-the-ashram day. Or find-a-cozy-cave-in-Greece day.

You are going to give it all up for the simple life.

Give up the struggle, the effort, the bustle, the doing, whatever it is that feels so hard right now.

Yurts are always part of this fantasy. As well as spaciousness and time to do what you want. Shelling peas also shows up for me, not sure why.

There is a desire for wholeness and rest in the farm fantasy – you want to heed that.

There is also a desire to be rescued, to not have to be a grown up anymore – you don’t want to heed that.

Hold the desire for spaciousness, living a hand-crafted life, retreats and renewal in one hand and

in the other,

hold the exhilarating, humbling truth that choosing your life is damn hard work, putting yourself out there takes a huge amount of courage (whether selling your paintings or putting up a profile on Match.com), not to mention brain glucose, and being conscious,in general, is rewarding, sure, but also very, very taxing.

Farm fantasies are fun as long as you don’t confuse them with finally being safe. Finally being enough.

Watch a BBC period drama, read a historical novel, churn some butter and get back to putting one foot in front of the other. You aren’t doing anything wrong – it’s hard, it’s scary, and you are so not alone.

P.S. Non-farm fantasy retreat this weekend at Kripalu with me. You get to give up the struggle while staying awake. That’s good stuff.

P.P.S. Links: Living a hand-crafted life, retreats and renewal, enough.

Because we feel this way, we might decide that unless we do something with our misfitness – preferably something brilliant – all of our suffering and not fitting in has been for naught.

There is something so beautiful about this story – that we must turn our suffering into beauty.  Into light.  Into something that break the frozen sea inside us (to paraphrase misfit Kafka). 

There is also something dangerous in this story – that we must earn our weirdness, that we must redeem it. I love a good redemption story as much as the next gal yet believing I have to redeem my basic nature through doing makes me very queasy.

After I graduated from USC film school, I worked at a very fancy LA talent agency. I rode the elevator with Madonna and flirted with Dustin Hoffman (okay, just once but still!). And on the weekends, I wrote. Every spare minute, I wrote.

Good girl, go, write, learn your craft.

Not so good. I became terribly depressed.

I did so for a number of reasons but a big one was: I had begun to believe my worth as a weirdo = producing good writing that then sold for lots of money and changed lives.

Ouch.

Plus, I was getting no play time, it was work, work, work, strive, strive, strive. Even a 23-year-old can’t do that 24-7.

You are weird. You’re human! So create because you must get that shade of turquoise onto the paper or you must tell the stories of your bizarre family or because you want to have a ticker tape parade in honor of your inventions but don’t create to earn your right to be who you are.

Consider yourself earned.

Oh, and don’t work all the time either. But you already know that. Or you wouldn’t be reading my stuff.

P.S. Need to recharge your creative ju-ju?  Need a space to be and listen to what’s what without needing to make anything happen? Two places to do that in July: my retreat at Kripalu and my retreat in Taos. For wandering, wondering, weirdos. Come join us!

P.P.S. Free totally non-pitch call with Sarah Robinson and me next Tuesday June 22nd! Register here.

Photo by Benimoto

First, a Finding the Good Wish

Wishing you

strength to love the curl of the question mark

around your heart

patience to wait for the stirring of your confusion to reveal

your next leap and

most of all,

the humility to listen to what wants to be heard.

And Now a Thought about Question Marks

We waited two decades for it. Clarrisa Pinkolas Estes, the esteemed author of the ground-breaking “Women Who Run with the Wolves,” is releasing her new work through a series of live classes offered by the amazing Sounds True.

Yes, it took almost twenty years for her next great work. And here is what she said about the gestation period:

What you’ve heard over the years about my having disappeared and gone underground to work and write is true,” says Dr. Estés. “When people ask where the heck I’ve been and why I so seldom come out when called by the “clattering world,” I often respond by saying that one can’t fulfill one’s calling by being called away. Rather one fulfills one’s calling by filling up… by studying, thinking, listening, looking at, living in the layers of life beyond the collective ones. Then . . . one can pour outwardly again.”

When I read Dr. Estes’ words, I started to wonder:

How do you discern between what Seth Godin calls “shipping” – getting the work out the door – and priceless diving-underground-time, away from the clattering world?

The need to fill up is built into the creative life, yet filling up time can so easily slip into not creating because you aren’t “ready.”

On the other hand, not taking time to fill up can leave you creatively bankrupt.

But how can you take time off? People around you are “shipping” everyday. They are creating so many cool partnerships and products and making millions.

And anyway, you need to post on your blog, on Twitter, and on Facebook.

So where would the time and space to fill up come from? You’ll be left behind!

So, is it time to ship or time to fill up? And how do you know?

What I do: If there is question mark curled around  my heart, I ask it if it wants to ship or go underground.

I turn to a community of honest peeps to help me see if I am hiding rather than filling up underground.

What about you? How do you know whether it’s time to retreat and rest, or if it’s time to ship? Please comment as this is dear to my question marked heart and I would really like your input, questions, and ideas.

If I read another blog post that tells me to just “be myself,” I might have to yank myself bald.

“Being yourself,” “being authentic” is now the Holy Grail, the solution to all our challenges, whether you want to sell a book, get customers, or find your perfect partner.

As if it’s that easy to know who your “self” is, or to be authentic – let alone how to express that authenticity to the big ole’ world.

What makes you “you” can feel like a radio signal that comes and goes.

Sometimes it’s sharp and vibrant, and other times it’s lost in the static of comparisons, other people’s voices, exhaustion, and more.

You see a shade of palest yellow and your heart sings, then in the next moment you have no idea what you want to do with the rest of your life, let alone what you want for dinner.

If it were so easy to “be yourself,” you would have figured it out a long time ago. After all, you’ve probably been getting – and giving – this advice since grade school.

But Mom, what if they don’t like me?”

Oh honey, just be yourself.”

Even then we knew it wasn’t that easy – and even if we were “ourselves,” it didn’t mean the world would reward us.

So what’s a creative, aware soul to do?

How do you tune down the static of your mind and turn up the song of your soul, the boogie of your heart, the mojo of your mystery?

I have a few humble suggestions to share in this series of blog posts and, God willing and the creek don’t rise, a little e-book giveaway I’m working away on.

Let’s start with…

Humble suggestion number one: Turn off Everyone Else’s Broadcast

When it feels too hard to hear you among all the other yous out there, you aren’t suffering from multiple personality disorder, but you may need an Internet fish bowl break.

I say “fish bowl” because everyone’s voices and big plans and ideas can create a sort of invisible fish bowl that hems you in – without you necessarily noticing it.

The Internet’s intimacy and fecundity can make it hard to hear what is truly yours to say and express.

Consider this common scenario: You’re trying to express something – what’s bugging you about your marriage, what you need for a self-nurturing break, the images for a poem formulating in your mind – and having a hard time putting your thoughts and feelings into words.

The Self-Doubts start a-chattering:

You don’t know what you’re talking about.

You want too much.

You don’t deserve that.

You don’t have time.

You shouldn’t be wasting time on this.

You’ll never get it anyway

and suddenly, you feel an irresistible urge to check email or visit Twitter or surf the net “just for a minute.”

You can’t stand the discomfort of going within to find your own answers, or the fear of not knowing, so you distract yourself.

Before you know it, you’re reading a blog post that tells you what you must do to make your writing better or you’re watching a video about a business owner’s incredible success or you are being pitched THE system that will solve your relationship woes and without even knowing it, that becomes more real to you, more credible, than your nascent, tender soul yearnings.

You might think, “I’ll take that advice, and then I will be okay.”

Or “She’s said everything I wanted to say on the subject of tango knitting, what’s the point?”

Or “I could never make as much money as she did so I’m going to go eat a pan of brownies.”

It’s not the advice or the success stories or even the marketing messages that are the issue. It’s when and how they come into your awareness that can cause serious static.

Creating and expressing your “I” – your mysterious mojo that only you have – has always been a difficult, life-long birthing process.  That’s what it means to be human!

But before the Internet, when you were struggling, you might have called one friend to talk about it.  You didn’t have so many comparisons and other voices beaming straight into your head at all hours of the day or night.

It’s like a Greek chorus of disapproving, Martha Stewart perfectionists, all just waiting to tell you that you can never be good enough, smart enough, unique enough – so why try?

Here is some very good news:  Lots and lots of people are too afraid to listen, to go inside and find out who that “I” is.  You may be just as afraid, but you keep listening.  And that makes all the difference.

You keep listening to the itch in your heart. That’s the most important thing that has to keep happening.

It’s not about scratching the itch, it’s about itching. Because it’s the itching that will lead you right to yourself – your true, authentic, never-to-be-duplicated lovely self.

Okay, here is the practical suggestion part of the post:

Notice when you go to the Internet – is it when you are struggling to know what you think, want, or wish to express?   Do you go looking for information to tell you the “right way” or what so-and-so thinks?  If so, it doesn’t mean you’re an empty vessel without an original thought! Our brains always choose the easiest path.

The Internet gives you a very easy way to avoid doing the aching, soul-chafing work, so that’s where your brain goes first. It’s completely natural and understandable. Your brain says, Why hack your way through the thicket of hedges using a dull machete when you can take the path forged by someone else? It’s your job to notice when this is happening and take note.

Next, when you’re on the information hunt, especially from the Internet, ask yourself, “Why? What am I looking for? What am I hoping to learn?”

Do you just “know” that there’s a particular blog or e-zine or forum where, if you don’t read it or comment, you will be “left out,” consider taking a break for one week.  Notice if you can hear yourself more clearly in the space you’ve created.

Notice how the blogs and e-zines and Yahoo lists and people you follow on Facebook or Twitter make you feel.  Drop the ones that make you feel static-filled or “less than.”

Here’s an idea for the very radical among us: Go offline for a weekend or, even better, a week. If you couple this unplugged time with a retreat focused on listening to your voice and honoring it, I guarantee you’ll experience a huge breakthrough in identifying your authentic voice.

How do you find  your authenticity? I’d love to hear your thoughts and what you try!

Next post: Tuning into your Essence

Over the course of Choose Your Life Mondays, I’ve blogged about being aware of various patterns, I’ve shared Life Organizer questions, and today, I’m in the mood to do something a bit different.

It’s my birthday.

47.  Forty-seven. That’s four decades and then you throw in seven odd years, add a little sale, and bake until tender.

What’s that in dog years?

That’s okay. Really. Don’t do the math. Step away from the calculator.

On my birthday, I always imagine I will reflect on the past year – all the goodness and love, and what I’d like to let go of and forgive myself and others for- and then I’ll make a bright and shiny plan of what I want to create in my new year.

But you know what?

I never actually do that.

Because the part of me that is still about eight years old rule my birthdays.

And that eight year old? She likes to do what she wants to do.

Which will include writing, talking on the phone, kissing Bob, eating lobster and drinking champagne, hugging my daughter, walking in the woods with the doodle dogs, certainly some truly yummy dessert… you know what?

My birthday doesn’t feel very different than most of my days.

Except the lobster and champagne part.

And that, my dear friend, is  a very good thing.

What about your day today is as sparkly and precious as a one of kind birth day?

I bet a lot.