Previously published 2 years ago.

My dad died two four years ago today.

I miss him every most every day. I achingly, desperately, want to hug him again. What I would give for one moment with him! To lay my head on his chest, hear him call out  (I can’t write the actual sound he made, somewhere between hello and a happy bellow) when I came over to visit, to see him with Lilly again (especially the time he let her paint his toenails).

Oh this happy weird ache. Happy because I love thinking about him and weird because it’s so terribly tangible as if I could, if I just concentrated hard enough, get him back.

But this is not a post about loss, this is a post about courage or how my mom overcame (overcomes) her fear.

My Dad fell in love with the back of my mom’s neck

Which was the first thing he saw at the party where they met. My  mom was a true beauty. Heck, at almost 75 she still is – Molly Gordon calls her the “Barbie for the over 70 set.” Which is not to say  my mom isn’t smart – she is. But smart was not encouraged in her family – her Dad would not let her skip two grades when her teacher recommended it– or in women growing up in southern Indiana in the 40′s.

Beauty, on the other hand, was. Her beauty and aliveness so captured my dad’s heart he pursued her for two years even though she was, gulp, married to her first husband and he had been married three times (twice to the same woman, so is that kinda of 1 1/2 times?).

Fast forward 45 years

Dad died just a month short of my parent’s 45th wedding anniversary. During their life together, my dad treated my mom like a beautiful queen – it’s a cliche, but he did. He made the money. He made the big decisions. He even pumped the gas.

Dad was born in 1919 – a very different generation. He adored my mom and in his mind that meant sheltering her. The biggest fight I ever had with him was when my mom wanted to go to work – she hadn’t worked since they were married – and he said no, “I want you available when I want to be with you, not off working in some store.”

Did I mention Dad was born in 1919?

Our family’s big fear

My mom is 16 years younger than my Dad. He was 43 when I was born, unusual in the 60′s. Somehow, my dad’s age became a background story of fear. He would die and sooner than we wanted him to.  He was the youngest of his large family and one by one, his brothers died of heart disease.

As my parent’s aged, they became connected at the hip, and my sister and I began to fear my mom would never survive his passing.But health scare after health scare, he survived.

And then he didn’t.

And my mom was very, very alone.

A few months later, her best friend died very suddenly, the friend my sister and I always thought she would pal around with when dad was gone.

And a few months after that, I was suddenly going through an unexpected divorce and good for nothing much more than crying and sitting on the couch.

What did my mom do?

My mom who had never pumped gas before,  my mom who had never banked on-line before, my mom who had never sold or bought a house before, nor negotiated with people who you hire to fix things, who hadn’t traveled alone in 40 years, who had few friends because they had moved 4000 miles to live near me and Lilly, and then Dad got sick and she had nursed him, blossomed.

Oh there were plenty of nights of crying and plenty of days in which she could barely get out of bed and she got depressed and medication helped, and still, she took her fear of being alone, of being overly dependent on us kids, of being taken advantage, of not having a reason to live, she took those fears by the hand and used them to make a inspiring, full, new life. Specifically she:

• Connected – she let help in like never before. My dad was a big believer in going it alone. He loved to help others but didn’t like to be beholden. My mom joined a grief support group two weeks after dad died. Then a church. She plugged right into her neighborhood even though most of her friends there were my age.
• Put one foot in front of the other – no big plans. Do the next thing. And then the next.
• Gave herself lots of pats on the back -  she’s proud of herself and she takes compliments when other people tell her how courageous she is. Leave her a pat on the back in the comment section and I’ll pass it on.
• Lots of going to bed early to bed and watching old movies — comfort without guilt, even shadow comforts when need be. Healthy distractions more often, just getting in the car and doing little errands to be in motion.
• Did a fair amount of bootstrap pulling – this needs to be done so go do it. There is comfort in getting things done and not letting the grieving own you.
• Talked to my dad – out loud. Many times a day. When she needs some courage. When she’s proud of herself. Probably when I bug her.
• Threw the occasional pity party – another word for pity is compassion. We can stay stuck in grief and fear so much longer when we refuse to admit that this sucks.
• Created systems to help her feel safe – she figured out how much money she could safely spend per month, she checks with me before big decisions, she stuck with her support group, she got a little therapy, she has good money advice, she relies on my sweetheart and my sister’s sweetheart for guy input.

I’m sure there are many more things my mom has been doing that I don’t know about. She has become fiercely independent in her new life. And while she is often very afraid, she isn’t stopping. She is HUGELY BRAVE and a big inspiration to me.

I’ll be thinking of my dad all day today, remembering all the sweetness, all the love, all the truth-telling (one of my favorite things about my dad – called it like it was), all the growing up in the country stories, all the self-made man stories, and all the love he had for me and my mom.

Go now, love somebody.

But giving in to our dragons – that is truly selfish.

Listening to them, believing them? There is no time left, dear people, no time.

As one of my stupendous Comfort Cafe members – sheros said about my last blog post (we sometimes discuss my blog posts in more private in-depth ways on the CC forums):

Speaking as just one person whose life has been forever changed as a result of your work, I WANT you to live this desire because I believe it will help me make  my OWN difference in the world.

I also know, speaking just for myself, that if I knew that the world needed my work like this – it would motivate me to get my work out there.

I read this and sat up straighter.

What would happen if you knew the world needed your work?

What would you do today?

What would I do?

How can we convince each other we already do know?

And if we can’t convince each other, how can we take action anyway?’

P.S.

Being called to listen to and live a big desire always sounds so very lofty and noble.

Actually doing it?

Doesn’t feel very lofty. Nor noble. It feels more sweaty. This is like building a rock wall, or framing a house or getting into shape. It’s hard. It’s slow. It’s manual.

It’s messy.

How much can I love the mess, keep turning away from the siren song of perfectionism, and into the mess of the unknown?

All the while believing the world needs this work and yet not getting attached to some big lofty oh my aren’t I hot shit!

So glad I can leave my rock wall building right now and go to my accountant now. That gives you an idea of how hard this is – I’m excited to visit my accountant.

Sheesh.

Links: When the Heart Waits, James Hollis;

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.

Sometimes our business is doing well – or well enough – but WE aren’t doing so well. 

The light has dimmed.  You’re not fed, fired up, vivified by your business any more.  I call it losing your mojo.

Maybe you’re not working in the way you work best or growing your business in a way that’s not a fit for you.  Or maybe your mojo got lost in some other way: a loss or life change.  A new phase of your own evolution. Who knows?

You can get your mojo back, but first you have to know you’ve lost it!  Here are the red flags that pop up:

You’re not your lively, energetic self.

This one’s sneaky.  Maybe you’ve just been busy, right?  Or it’s the change of season?  Too much fun? [Jen's note: neglecting your minimum requirements for self-care?]  That’s not it.

The lost-my-mojo weariness shows up at the end of the day: your work drained you, it didn’t energize you.  It’s also there on Monday morning:  you’re not stoked to get back to it.  And there’s just a certain spark that you may or may not remember, but that IS you, and is just not around.

It doesn’t feel easy.

Whether it’s a proposal, a meeting with a prospective client, or delivering the work you promised, the work lacks a certain sense of ease and rightness.  Things come together in funky ways, not serendipitous ways.  Or they don’t come together.

Struggle is the hallmark of mojo-less work. [Jen's question to Michele: what about when you are stretching to do something new that is scary and hard? That's not the same thing, right?]

You’re not drawn to reach out or grow the business.

The second warning sign shows up when someone asks you what you’re doing to market or grow your business.  Maybe you’re still taking a lot of action, but it’s not effortless or inspired.  It’s not coming naturally.  And if you’re like many people, because you’re not inspired, you’re not actually DOING enough marketing.

My marketing has always been easy and fun for me [Jen: oh god Michele, really? That's make me like you a little less]:  I write articles like 10 Spiritual Mistakes I’ve Made in Business or interview my favorite authors.

The new opportunities that come to you are ho-hum at best.

The lack of inspiration for marketing – warning sign #3 – leads to this one:  because your outreach isn’t inspired, you’re not driving your own new opportunities.  You’re not reaching out – either literally or energetically – and connecting with new projects and people who light you up. You may be taking what you get, and that’s a bad sign.  Further, notice whether the things that are coming to you are more and more exciting or less and less so.

In my corporate work, I noticed that new opportunities came, but I liked each one less than the last.  Still, it was work, right?  They wanted it, so I should do it?  That’s a lousy feeling, and one it took me a while to recognize. 

You’re not excited to talk about your work.

I don’t want you to be a yakking narcissist who can’t shut up about your work.  Instead, I want you watching for this warning sign:  when someone asks you what you do, you mutter. It’s the “mutter”, coming from someone who was, in the past, confident and successful in their work, that warns of a precipitous drop in mojo in that person’s work.  

Before I shifted my focus to corporate training and executive coaching, I was always excited to say that I helped business owners reduce stress and increase profit by integrating their spiritual path into their business. But when I got off track, not so much. Bad sign.

Now What To Do about this Loss of Mojo?

I can hear you now:

Great, Michele.  Thanks a ton.  You just let me know I’ve lost my mojo.  I had a feeling, but now I’m sure.  But NOW WHAT?  I’ve got a business to run, here.”

Me too, me too.  Losing your mojo is, at best… well, INCONVENIENT.  But getting it back is really, really worthwhile.  I mean, it’s your vitality we’re talking about.  Your verve.  Your connection to life, and quite possibly to the Divine.

Sure was, in my case.  God started to feel like a nag, really, because every time I tapped into my spiritual connection, it gave me warnings I was off track.  Rather than adjusting course – because I thought I needed the money for my mortgage, my nanny, my next travel adventure – I adjusted my relationship to spirit. I shut it down.  Hhhhhuuuuggghhh.  It’s SO embarrassing to admit that. [Jen's note: Right there with you friend! Another post perhaps?]

But I’d rather tell you about it than keep it a secret, if it will save you from the same fate.  

The good news is, you can get your mojo back easier than you think, now that you know it’s gotten lost.  And since your mojo is your authenticity, the best of who you are, and your source of energy and courage for your business, it will only do your business good to revive it.

Stay tuned for answers on how to get your mojo back… tomorrow!

Michele Lisenbury Christensen helps women embody joy, ease, profit and love. She is co-creator of the 12 Elements of Power, a template for integrating masculine and feminine power for sustainable, soulful success.  She blogs here. She’s also one of the most smart, loving, and spiritually attuned people I  know.

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.