Kiss, Kiss, Adieu!

Adorning bright pink to celebrate the spirit of joyful goodbyes. An energetic squeeze of tremendous thanks to readers and this dear blog space before I move forward in love to the next writing venture.

***

I believe in goodbyes.

I believe in the healing power of keeping white roses in a lovely gray vase in the living room, and I believe in romancing and flirting with words, and in impromptu dance parties, too.

I believe that this is the right time to bid this blog goodbye, because of the sun-drenched morning with the white roses, the playful winks from wooing words, and the solo dance moves pouring me back into joyful embodiment.

I confess I resist to bon voyage at first. I negotiate with inspiration and make a strong argument on departing when I am emotionally calm and clear in my life’s direction, but this blogging teaches me (again and lovingly again) to accept, embrace, and even rejoice in all my questioning, my seeking, and my stumbling becoming.

This gentle befriending of the woman I am here is the unexpected gift of blogging, and this practice of gentleness now weaves into my routine, into choosing what and how I go and do, into the inner writings of my thoughts, and informs the compassionate response to my sensitive wiring and to my loves and fellow earth travelers, too.

This gentle befriending of self is a wish fulfilled, a circling back to tend and replenish from an internal well. The holding of a former lover reveals the wound, a lack of overflowing nourishment fully seen through a hope spoken out loud that scares me awake in my healing.

“I hope you’re good to yourself.”

He speaks the words into a winter night, and I catch them, and I hear them still, because this is the last time I talk with him, and by talk I mean soul-speak in trembling honesty to a man whom I loved. This is our goodbye, and we don’t know it then.  

There is wind blowing through pine trees, and I stand so very tall and straight on the bare edge of my courage. I’m startled by the accuracy of his reading, of detecting a wound I never acknowledge.

I hint at the hurt and its crying existence through the way I ooze abundant honey to others. I give and exude as a silent plea that I need to be loved this way, too, and his words shake me into a dawning recognition that my ache must be visible, must perfume the energy of my actions.

My hammering heart knows he will not heal this hurt. His own journey absorbs him, and he only sees me when I stand in front of him.

I do not feel abandoned. I feel emboldened.

This is the greatest gift he gives me – an unconditional acceptance I haven’t experienced again in a romantic affair, a loving gaze redirecting me back to myself, catalyzing my own quest to confirm and establish a rich inner realm celebrating and honoring my own inherent worthiness.

After, I dare to blog land.

I challenge myself to write and maintain a practice of collaging experiences into a snapshot of a piece. In the process of writing, in the act of creating, I befriended, slowly and gently, pieces of me. I allow my sensitivity to shimmer to the surface. I find breath-giving relief in stitching together feelings and impressions into a brief story shedding light onto an understanding that flows into my being and proceedings. Writing enlivens and satisfies and completes me.

Writing releases me back to my truth.

Here is my truth: I leave this blog still restless with yearnings, messy with feelings, and contemplating lessons from an unwarranted critique. I could wait to kiss adieu when I feel a tad bit more centered in a sunlit truth, but the white roses, the morning dance moves, and the affectionate flirtation with the cooing words gentleness, reverence, respect move me to act on the creative wink to write now.

I write from the rawness of the now, from a sun-kissed February afternoon, and I hope you’re good to yourselves, too. This is my joyful, gentle goodbye to you, to the readers who held space and opened hearts and created pockets of time to journey with me.

Wow. A hands-to-prayer, a humble and wholehearted proclamation of the deepest thanks.

Thank you, thank you. 

I hope your days are beautified by reminders, like white roses, to reawaken you to your own elegance, wonder, and grace.

I wish you glorious love affairs with words as a way to enrich and enlighten your own deepening, your own becoming.

I hope you stretch out into radiant joy to a playlist that sings straight back into the power of your body, the power of your effervescent being.

In the ritual of goodbye, I give thanks for this little spin of web space, and now utilize the bright energy of 2018 and the love of February to move me forward toward the next writing step. And if you feel inspired and resonate, you’re welcome to travel to my new writing space too!

Sending waves of golden goodness, and streams of gentleness like winter sunshine into your day, into this moment of life to fill you up, lift you up, and ignite your natural shine.

Superstar Excellence

A winter evening in the city.   

***

Tuesday night, I step into a universe unfamiliar and unknown.

On the Eastside of Austin, in a crowded bar, I am rocketed into the scientific inquires of exploding stars, merging black holes, ricocheting photons. I observe awe-struck as gallant galaxy explorers drink beer, laugh at dark matter memes, and ask penetrating questions about the cooling patterns of stars and ponder what it all means in the grand design of…well…everything. 

                                      

I sit in the third row, attempting at first to comprehend, but quickly shrug off the strained quest, and decide to enjoy being a witness. 

                                    

The scientific language these star-seekers speak is utterly foreign to me. I am fluent in astrology and poetry, not in astronomy and experimental math. 

The fact that the majority of the speakers’ talks float right over my whimsical inclined mind does not dampen my Tuesday night. I am enthralled and intrigued by the soul-shimmering joy each speaker exudes as they speak. 

The spirited enthusiasm, rushing excitement, bursting-with-joy energy radiating from the presenters and their finds enlivens my curiosity and enriches my night. 

The language of energy communicates truth. And the truth spoken in between slides of telescopes and white dwarfs is that these are people who are vibrantly aligned in their natural talents, innate skillsets, authentic strengths. 

Their exuberant aliveness, devouring interests, comfortable allowing for questions and uncertainty and challenges within their chosen fields broadcasts their excellence. 

Their expertise flows with ease. They do not need to prove, or out-smart, or strive to impress. This is their passion. This is the realm in which they live. They are living within their bliss, and this reconfirms the vital significance of identifying, immersing, and establishing residence in our own gifts.

I am in the presence of brilliance, and when someone chooses to nurture that inner blaze, then it sparks a revolution to expand and evolve into our own greatness. 

On a different stage, in a different bar, in a universe that seems far away, I think of the improv classes that I jump out of bed early for on Saturday morning to attend. 

In improv, I feel alive spinning into existence worlds created by imagination, reactionary emotion, impromptu play.

All my instincts, my leanings toward intuition and feeling, my natural tendency toward grand gestures and heightened expressions leap into giddy collaboration. My drive to relate and connect through conversation and emotion launch into full speed as I step forward to listen, react and co-create a storyline with a fellow scene mate.    

I thrive in this setting. I intuit the governing laws of this make-believe land. I exist straight in the heart of the present moment. I seize the challenges. I feel heartbeats of thrills and electric currents of nervousness all at once. 

In this universe, I am extravagantly myself: expressive, effervescent, energetic. This gorgeous revelation of spirited liberation reveals a universe where I naturally shine, where my skills already exist, and I speak the language fluently.  

This joyful ease signals a beckoning, an examining, an expansion of excellence.

I’m in the right role.

I’ve cast myself into an environment and into a team that knows how to catch me, wants to catch me and include me, and invites me effortlessly and seamlessly to play along. 

I’ve miscast myself in career roles where I was good, where my skills were momentarily spotlighted, but mostly dormant, where my personality was tenderly appreciated, but never understood and even at times, hushed.

I sought and stayed in those professional arenas because I misbelieved that the quiet current of stress and discomfort meant growth, but even if I was learning, I felt edgy and unsatisfied. My confidence felt punched. I dimmed my shine to protect against catty insults.

I’m tired of throwing myself in realms where I know I need to wear armor. 

I no longer sacrifice my shine in the egoistical drive to be considered good, to be balanced, well-rounded, a manageable okay or a slightly all right in the many dancing arenas of life. 

I choose to strengthen where I am naturally strong, to excel where I have raw talent, and then relinquish the quest to be perfect and whole. I’d rather be in a state of wonder, crazed bliss, and vibrantly well-versed in a few topics that make my heart skip with boundless glee. 

Thank the stars, I don’t have to know and be good at everything.

A sigh. A tremendous relief!

I don’t want to have all the answers. I just want to focus more and live more in the realms and arenas where I naturally bloom. And as I know myself better, as I discern the yes and the no, and dig my roots deeper into the yes, I give space for others to shine, to be excellent in their chosen pursuits. 

I love championing on the expanding excellence of others. I yearn and cheer to see you shine and continue to grow in the unique approach, the exquisite artistry in whatever field, whatever mindful task you choose to be all yours. 

The world needs all of us living our potential to the best that we know how to do. Radiant confidence and effervescent empowerment stems from self-truth, and knowing ourselves and what makes us tick and what doesn’t is a real kind of raw power. And when we are truthful to ourselves about ourselves – the imperfections, the shadows, the passions, the messiness and the glory – then we can be humble in our magnificence, and praise others lovingly and accordingly. 

Watching the astronomers astound and astonish from the stage, I fall into a soft swoon. 

Their exuberance breathes life into the mathematical formulas and sweeps trembling meaning into the charts of gravitational waves. I confess I don’t catch all the particular details, but in my bones – the same ones made of stardust and the universal particles zooming above – instinctively sense that when we are in the presence of people who are doing what they love, their excellence energizes aliveness, and this brilliance fuels and spins the sweet expansion of our own little universe.