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.

As a child, I remember many a summer evening, lounging on the floor of my uncle Walter’s house in Bedford, Indiana, listening to my dad and Walter and Uncle Pryce talk business.

No. Not talk, pontificate. Extol. Preach.

The theme was always the same: be in business for yourself. Business was god. With a small g.

But still, god. (Yes, we went to church, too.)

When I got my first job out of film school, as an assistant to a literary agent in LA, my dad said, “Why did you get a job? I thought you wanted to be a writer?“

Oh no, Dad was not a patron of the arts. He believed that I would make more money working for myself than working for the Man.

My Dad did not have in his possession the statistics that most writers earn poop.

This week I feel like I returned to my family roots by writing about being self-employed.

It may be a new direction for me, working with self-employed women (and maybe men, I like men, I live with two of them and they are very lovely) around the inner work of being self-employed.

I’m feeling such a nice tickling about this idea.

In the meantime, in case you missed them, here are some great things to know about – not just for the self-employed.

Swooning

I’ve only been reading Danielle LaPorte for a few months. Oh the grief over all the juicy good I have missed. She’s sexy, truthful and loving. Good stuff.

Swigging Tequila

I sometimes paint myself into a corner with my writing, feeling I have to be serious or comforting or… Why do I tell myself that? That’s a topic for another post.

I love reading the very naughty Naomi Dunford’s very very very popular blog.

(I wrote a guest post this week. I don’t really swig tequila. It’s a metaphor. Or a joke. Or both. )

Admitting Mistakes

I’m putting on the Big Virtual Retreat next week. I made some marketing mistakes promoting it. I feel bad about them. Here is where I talk with the uber smart and very grounded Dave Navarro about what I learned doing this project.

Do I really make these faces?

You know Molly Gordon’s brilliance, right? If not, you are missing out big time.  I made a video blog post for her and you have to got to see the very odd expression the video froze on.  I laughed out loud when I clicked over.

Everybody loves Christine!

Christine Kane and I met when we did an event together a few years back. I fell in love with her immediately, everybody does. But what has made me sit up and take notice is how she has gone from struggling artist to paying off her mortgage!  Read my post about depletion, and learn more about the amazing Ms. Kane!

Hungry Ghosts, Part 2

Where the sexy sharp ass Jennifer Howard tells you how everything is really going to be alright. This woman has a brain and half. Plus she’s intuitive! Plus she’s really really cool.

I hope all these goodies help you remember that life is a wondrous game for playing and failure is just another label.

These wise folks said things like “You help women be effective in the world” and “Comfort is a quality of the Divine, it’s the foundation” and “If it’s killing me, then it’s killing the world.”

Wow. Okay. YES!

And then this one:

Women get into a cycle of depletion and they’re afraid to step out of it, because then they would be freed up to actually take action on what they really want. They are positive they won’t be able to create their heart’s desire. So they stay busy or scattered or overcommitted so they never have to try.”

This one landed like a slap across my face.

I do this!

I hate to admit it but I do.

See I have an ancient, crusty legacy of shame around my creative work.

I have an old stinky story of being a failure.

A public failure.

The stinky shame dates from when I did an Edith Ann impression (a Lily Tomlin character for those of you too young to remember) on stage in front of my whole school and you could see my breasts through my white shirt and I got heckled.

I think high beams were mentioned.

I was in 5th grade.

Did I mention it was in front of the whole school?

I’ve got a lot of stories like that – stories of wildly creative out-going kind-of-loud Jen launching herself at the world and things not. Always. Going. So. Well.

What creative person doesn’t have these stories, right?

I’m 47 now and I’ve done a ton of healing around this and even let my desire to murder my 7th grade English teacher go (that’s another story).

Only I didn’t see until now that

when my creative shame  gets triggered, I kick off a depletion cycle to end all depletion cycles.

It’s like I want to prove I’m a untalented goof and so I exhaust myself by launching too many projects, hiring the wrong folk, miring myself in endless details that do need to get done (thank you very much) but I suck at details so that makes me feel more ashamed plus there is no time for real creative work which would restore my sanity.

But I’m afraid to stop the cycle because then I’ll have the time to replenish and do creative work but what if it sucks again?  Better to stay busy!

Stunningly diabolical!

Michele said, “Women are ashamed to need comfort and support and love to be able to thrive.”

I would add, “We have to build the trust and heal the shame that tells us that if we get comfort and rest and ease, we’d better by damn prove we were worth it.”

So this week I’ll be loving watching my story that depletion is the punishment for being a failure, and must be maintained to keep future failure at bay.

What about you? Is depletion the story of your life these days? If so, maybe it’s just because life is crazy busy and soon you will get some time to rest, maybe a retreat?

Or are you caught in a washing machine of depletion and you feel like you can never get out?

If so, tell me more! Me thinks this could be juicy conversation.

Ever feel like you are pushing and shoving and basically grinding the gears of your soul to get through the day?

Like you’re trying so hard all the time - to get clients, to be a better parent, to lose weight, to be a kinder person…

And you know something is not quite working because your jaw is clenched and you’re tired all the time and you certainly are not enjoying the process.

I’m not going to tell you to make a vision map or visualize your perfect life or think good thoughts.

Because when you are already in danger of burning out your heart’s clutch, more effort will not help.

Here’s what will:

Go into your sensations.

Do this with me right now:

Exhale and listen to what clutch-popping, hard-trying, soul-grinding “Why-is-it-easier-for-her?” thoughts you’re having.  Listen for just a moment.

Now drop below those thoughts and notice what you are feeling in your body right now.

Drop into your body and notice the sensations under the thoughts.

After a moment, you’ll notice one area of your body has more sensation or more energy or tension. Even pain.  Focus your attention there.

Lately, for me, it’s been my throat. I’ll notice I’m comparing myself to someone else or feeling like I’m not getting enough done, and then I drop below that thought, and there is this restricted, tight, choking feeling in my throat.

Go into the sensation you found  – not to change it or label it or even think about – forget thinking.

Simply be fully curious about the sensation.

Experience it.

Watch it, feel it with your whole being.

When thoughts come like “This is stupid” or “I’m not doing it right” or “I need to check Twitter,” stay with the sensation. Keep watching it and feeling it, like it was the best massage or most fascinating movie ever.

The most amazing thing will happen.

The sensation will move.

It will uncoil, relax, expand… In some way, it will shift.

You’ll probably let out a big sigh and you’ll feel different.

Maybe freer. More spacious. More trusting.

More able to be who you are, to accept this moment as your life.

Afterward, you can ask yourself, “What would I love to do next?“  (A question I learned from Michael Neill).

Or just go about your day and then, the next time nasty, grinding self-meanness assaults you, pause, tell your critic to take a hike, dive below the thought into the sensation, and watch it, be with it, follow it, and see what happens.

This practice has changed my life.

I do it many times a day.

It works because it brings you into life.

Out of your smart but very Squirrel-like mind and into this moment, where life is actually lived.

It somehow unwinds the stories and opens your heart.

It’s not always easy or pleasant but it’s very, very worth it.

Try it and tell me how it goes. And feel free to ask questions in the comments.

This is the sort of stuff I’ll teach at my one day retreats around the country. If you think, “Wow, that stirs something in me, join me.  This is profound self-care.

You know retreats rule.

(At least, I hope you do. If not, trust me on this one.)

They put the sparkle back in the diamonds on the souls of your shoes (sorry, been listening to a lot of Paul Simon lately).

They give you a path back to the spring that burbles at the heart of your soul (wow, lots of purple prose today).

They free you from Squirrel Mind and grinding marching to-do blahs.

They wake you up “Oh yes, this is who I am and this is what matters to me! How could I forget?”

Retreats heal.

Only hitch is, it sometimes often feels just about impossible to make the time.

And when you do, it can (at least this is true for me and I wrote the damn book!) be scary to go within, to calm the Squirrel chatter in your mind and choose what will renew you.

So that’s why I created the 2nd annual Big Virtual Retreat with a bunch of very wise teachers.

And

This contest so you can win a chance to retreat.

Because some of us, we need to be smote by chance before we actually take the time to get what we need.

Here’s your chance to be smote by ole Lady Retreating Luck (a little known Jungian archetype).

To enter simply leave a comment (or if you want extra brownie points – leave a link to a video you  made) telling me why a retreat would be just the thing for you right now.

Or tell me why you can’t retreat.

Or how retreats have been healing for you.

I’m open to anything!

I’ll read your comments, and watch your videos and announce the winners on February 1, 2009

But Wait, there are Prizes (but of course):

First Prize:

An I-pod Nano filled with all the recordings from last year’s virtual retreat and this year’s retreat. This is a one-of-a-kind prize (that will mean I have to order a nano, find all the sessions, download them, write you a note, and put it the mail – so this is a BIG DAMN PRIZE DAMMIT).

You will be able to mix and match the 14 recordings from the 2009 retreat and the 12 recordings from this year’s retreat to create mini-retreats any time that you choose.

How cool is that?

Second Prize:

A seat at this year’s virtual retreat – including transcripts and audio recordings and e-book and live support during the weekend and all the good global vibes of hundreds of people getting the retreat vibe going at the same time.

Also known as the No-More-Excuses-to-Get-What-I-Need-Prize.

Entries will be judged on creativity and need and I’ll want to chose every last one of you and I’ll lose sleep but you know what?

If it convinces a few more of you to take a retreat — this one or anyone – it will be worth .

So, tell me your story and let’s all get smote.

The deadline for entries is January 22, 2009