From The Alchemist

Why should I listen to my heart?

Because you will never again be able to keep it quiet. Even if you pretend not to have heard what it tells you, it will always be there inside of you, repeating to you what you’re thinking about life and about the world.

You mean I should listen, even if it’s treasonous?

Treason is a blow that comes unexpectedly. If you know your heart well, it will never be able to do that to you. Because you’ll know its dreams and wishes, and will know how to deal with them.

You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it’s better to listen to what it has to say. That way, you’ll never have to fear an unanticipated blow.

The boy continued to listen to his heart as they crossed the desert. He came to understand its dodges and tricks, and to accept it as it was. He lost his fear, and forgot about his need to go back to the oasis, because, one afternoon his heart told him it was happy.

In a sea of despair over here, this post totally made my day. Go leave a comment declaring who your baby girl heart loved over here.

I love it when posts about breathing and being are followed by episodes of shrieking and freaking out. What to write then? Especially when your blog is all calm and zen. That is, when it’s not all ponderous and exhausting. Jeesh.

I think it’s time for knock-knock jokes. Anyone? Anything you’ve got in the third grade humor department would be great right about now.

Also, in case you forgot…

It’s Ramadan which means if you are feeling spiritually bankrupt and would like to ride on the coattails of your Muslim friends who are well-practiced at fasting and giving to the poor, now is the time to climb on board. Every year I say I’m going to fast in solidarity with Fatou and every year I chicken out. But this year might be my year. Promise.

Or you could just go back to that breathing, being thing. Take two.

The start of the new year is an incredibly creative time for me. I love new beginnings and saying out loud everything I hope for the new year to come. The chill of the tower and the coziness of my studio overlooking the yard always inspire me to tell whatever truth is hibernating in my wide open heart.

This year January was incredibly chaotic and contentious for me. I barely made it to the studio and all month long all I watched the most creative time of the year get sucked into a sea of family crisis and upset. I muddled through the best I could–not really succeeding in any of my most important relationships or arenas–and came into February worn out and more than a little defeated.

Only one task managed to make it off my to-do list: the choosing of a theme for the year. I couldn’t narrow it down to one word, opting instead for a fuzzy combination of two. My words were “claiming” and “leadership”. I had no idea what they meant exactly, I just had this deep down feeling that this was my year to take what was mine and to move forward in ways that brought change and direction for the people around me.

Now, nine months later, I feel like those words were the perfect parents for the word that encapsulates them both. That word is “being” and it’s been the true theme of 2008, even as I continue to wrap my mind around it. I thought going into this year that “claiming” and “leadership” involved some kind of doing that was necessary in my life (and indeed that has been part of it). But the greatest lesson by far has been how much power comes when I have had the courage to be.

Being takes a certain kind of stillness. A certain kind of listening. A certain kind of confidence to let things unfold. A certain kind of trust. It’s hard to explain and it can sound crazy if you’re too careful trying to get it right. But it is powerful and perhaps the only way to see the truth of your life shine through. It is for certain the most powerful contribution you make to the people around you, if you have the courage to stop hiding and let yourself be seen for who you truly are.

I’m still working on that last one, and I’ll know I’m getting somewhere when I decide to put an end to all my effort. In the end, it’s breathing that is my only work on this earth and I’m learning that when I can be brave enough for just that, everything works out just fine.

Thoughts, anyone? Feel free to air your objections or whatever little gremlin voices come up when you consider “just” being in the comments below.

this post is in honor of myriam joseph whose willingness to “be” with me today changed everything

Carter follows me out the door. “Wait, I’ll come with you!” he says, slightly giddy, ducking into the backseat before I can object. “I kind of feel like we’re on a date or something. Don’t you?”

The thought had not occurred to me I confess. “But maybe we should start a new tradition,” I offer. “Going out to the grocery store at ten o’clock at night to buy Phish Food and Rocky Road whenever we run out.” He laughs at how funny that sounds and then says he wonders what it would feel like for all the windows to be rolled down at night like this. I succumb to the power of suggestion and am obliged by instant delight. “See?” he sparkles from the backseat. “My dreams are coming true!”

It’s all I can do to not pull the car over and kiss him until he protests.

I go with the only other reasonable option which is to ask him one of Life’s Big Questions like any mother tortured by metaphysical matters. I have him held captive all of two minutes in the drive between our house and the Safeway. Why not?

“Carter.” I venture, trying to hold the space between breezy and deep all at the same time. “Do you believe in God? Tell me the truth.” It’s a legitimate question since we aren’t exactly swimming in a sea of faith over here in the urban family. Atheism is the perspective of choice with a small contingency sporting a nice garden variety of Buddhism meets the New Age. I’m thinking monotheism doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.

Carter, however, says, “Yep,” cheerfully and without apology. “I believe in God AND I believe in science.” He is so happy with this answer he can hardly stand it.

“Me, too! Me, too!” I tell him, figuring that it paid off to sit through Nacho Libre last night, Jack Black be praised after all.

“AND,” he adds, serious now. “I believe in Jesus AND the cross and all that stuff. AND,” he adds taking a slightly comic turn. “I believe in technology!” This cracks him up all the more. It’s the perfect synthesis of the spiritual mother and the atheist father. The perfect answer in a true and tried land mine. Jimmy Carter himself couldn’t be more diplomatic or more sincere.

I ask him if he thinks we can tell anyone about the God part, since I’m always wondering how to navigate that part myself. “Yeah,” he says, after thinking about it a bit. “But we might want to wait til later. When we’re not in the car.”

We run through the store, pick up our ice cream, refrain from spraying the whipped cream directly from the can into our mouths on the ride home, choosing instead to sing.

“How about one million bottles of beer on the wall?” Carter offers, cheerful and happy–faith and science in the same basket, east and west, mother and father, in one perfect whole.

I suggest a hundred instead, for the sake of fewer syllables, and we sing to ninety-seven on our two minute ride all the way home.

Yes, you!

Stories here about sidewalk chalk adventures and other covert actions of kindness inspired by guerrilla goodness.

Jen Gray sent me this Rumi poem in song form recently and I can’t stop listening to it. So, so beautiful.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

–Rumi

May you find the field your soul remembers from before you were born, and may you know deep down that deep peace always waits beyond the confines of mercy or judgment. Happy, happy Friday.

Two years ago I landed in an art and creativity birds-of-a-feather session with Tracey Clark at a Blogher Conference in San Jose. It was nothing short of a miracle since Lisa Stone dismissed 900 women almost simultaneously to follow the leaders of each tiny group out of a huge ballroom across a courtyard to a dozen tables around the pool. There was so much happy chaos that she called out to us, “And if you can’t find your group, don’t worry! The Universe will take you exactly where you need to be!” I had never heard the Universe invoked at a conference before, but she was so right.

I had no idea that day that Tracey would come to be one of the dearest friends I have ever had. There’s a quality to our bond that continuously sustains me and I’m so deeply thankful our paths crossed that sunny California afternoon. Tracey is one of the most hard-working, loving, humble, creative, generous, powerful, down-to-earth and caring people I have ever met, and today I am so honored to call her my soulsister and friend.

Happy Birthday, girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Friends, fans or kind well-wishers, please send your birthday wishes here.

This poem I cannot resist:

If you want what visible reality
can give, you’re an employee.
If you want the unseen world,
you’re not living your truth.
Both wishes are foolish,
but you’ll be forgiven for forgetting
that what you really want is
love’s confusing joy.

–Rumi

Don’t you love the phrase love’s confusing joy?

Tonight I have the sense of walking like a baby, arms up, divine hands steadying my steps. There’s deep nurture here and also kindness–both leave me incredibly grateful.

What’s giving you joy today? What foolish wish would you lay down for love’s confusing joy?

I’m declaring this Rumi week, in case you are just tuning in. I just can’t help myself. How about this one?

Not Here

–Rumi

Who are your icons of courage? The people you look to when you need to leave behind well-enough getting by? I’d love to know.

I’m making up for the long summer where I posted once a week. Apologies to your overworked reader inbox. Here’s the first of many Rumi quotes this week…

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

–Rumi

Here’s praying you have the courage to stay awake today, the faith to walk on water and the presence of mind to know every last bit of it is an invitation to joy.

While I’ve been crying in my beer over here, all kinds of amazing things have been happening in other areas of my life. The most exciting is that a year and half long conversation with the amazing people at PBS is giving way to a brand new blog written by myself and my sisters Kristen (aka Mommy Needs a Cocktail) and Patience (aka Kindness Girl). Our fourth sister Kate is keeping me going by sending fabulous fashion to one of my favorite writing subjects, the incredible Madeleine.

SuperSisters is a PBS parenting blog with a focus on child development which basically means all the stories about my kids that you’d normally find here, you’ll find there. I just wrote a piece about Carter having a crisis about a less than inspiring new teacher and the peanut gallery’s (Madeleine + her cousins) take on how to solve the emotional firestorm. If you go over and leave fifty comments, I swear I will be so deeply happy and grateful.

There’s a lot of things I could say about PBS after spending countless hours in their hallways, sometimes with my kids and their five younger cousins making happy chaos, but the truest thing is this: you will not find nicer, more playful or genuinely caring people on the planet. I knew doing this blog would be good for my writing resume, but I had no idea how good it would be for my heart.

Having allies in Jean Crawford and Jeannine Harvey has been a high point in my life this last year–these women are not only smart and incredibly dedicated, they are also so much fun. I once retrieved one of Jean’s shoes from underneath a rolling taxi AND ate the most decadent chocolate on earth with Jeannine, all on the same day. That’s saying something.

Jean and Jeannine have also given us carte blanche to write whatever the hell we want about parenting–a huge act of faith on PBS’s part, especially in light of the fact that not one of us is capable of coloring inside the lines if we don’t want to. I respect them for that and am really loving telling stories about my kids and their cousins in such a supportive space–I don’t think they’ll be disappointed.

Here are some gems from our first week of the launch:

Back-to-School Blues or How Lucy Saved the Day
Ten Ways to Love Your Ten Year Old Girl
Welcome to the SuperSisters Neighborhood

And here are two posts from Kris and Patience’s blogs that totally kill me every time:
But How Did… (sex ed for the masses)
The Chocolate Gestapo Interrogates (really, every video my sister shoots is hysterical)

Please stop by and say hi! It would be so great to have some warm company to get us started right.

About twenty people have sent me this video over the last few months and for whatever reason I haven’t looked at it until now. Why I picked the night that Odette and I went to hear the boys from War/Dance play and Samite Mulondo sing, I don’t know, since you would think two hours of the two of us listening with tears streaming down our faces would be enough for one night, but no. Some people just can’t get enough.

I really don’t know what to do with you, Africa. You are the lining of my heart, the resting place of my soul, my mother, my baby, my long lost friend. I feel completely undone by you and more than a little ashamed that it’s been this long and I can’t even remotely begin to get it together. I have lots of categories for you and rationalizations and God knows endless psycho-babble to explain you to myself, but at the end of the day there are no words, just deep love. For you, for me and so many things about us both that continue to defy explanation.

I want you to know, Africa, that my heart is in your hands. I am trusting your wise women and your young sages, your ancient dreams and your undying faith in the future. I am believing that something greater is holding even you and that I don’t have to be afraid of It or you or all the unknowable things that string like a lifeline between us. I am holding on to Love and giving myself over to the mystery that brought you into my life. I am standing in the place of peace, trusting that there is nothing for me to do but tell us both the truth and tend to my life, one tiny moment at a time.

My heart broke in a million pieces tonight to listen to your songs and to watch your dances, the dances that have been born out of deep pain and even deeper hope. I want you to know I see all the ways you are rich, when I am so very poor. Because of your beauty and your courage, I am learning what it means to be patient. Because of you, I am learning what it means to stand strong with my open hands, not knowing how the story ends. Because of you, I know how to cry again. Because of you, my heart is being made whole. All I can say is thank you.

All my love,
Mukanyemina (the name Odette’s mother gave me which means she is one of our branches–from the beginning)

How dear it is to have your own personal healer and sage. If you live in Portland and are hungry for a deep soulful alternative to traditional therapy, send me an email and I’ll fix you up with my sweet Maya.

How essential it is to have Love as one of the values you hold close. Thank you Kelly Rae for gently shepherding my heart home on this one.

How good it is to find your strength, the place where holding space feels like magic. (Photo of me and Kelly Rae by soulseer Karen Walrond)

How healing it is to watch a kindred spirit take her place as a keeper of the heart’s truest tales. Thank you Jen for being my tribe.


How kind the companionship is of this dear earth and the knowledge of all the ways the Universe upholds, enfolds and surrounds every step of your journey.

How happy it is to see yourself through the eyes of another, through the eyes of companionship and deep love. (Photo by my sweet Andrea)

I don’t have many words these days, only the sound of the world shifting under my feet. Maybe this wordle says it all. Share the links to yours in the comments below–I’d love to see them.

Pay attention to what you’re drawn to. What you’re drawn to is the map.
Jen Gray

I’m in deep grief today, the kind that comes not of depression or despair, but of letting go of pretending that certain things do not give me deep heartache or pain. It is a magical place, let me tell you, where time collapses and you can feel the heart of God, if you only have the courage to reach out your hand.

I have been praying these days which is saying something, since most of the time I do so suspecting my words never make it past my tear stained couch. Still. There is something to being on one’s knees, face down in your arms, asking for radical change, leaning on grace.

Sometimes my answers come in the form of angels sent to me unaware, and for this I often feel like God’s favorite. I am so often upheld by giants of Love, the kind of people who you pass on the street and feel sorry for because they are poor or uneducated or unable to speak much English. One of my superpowers is to understand and know deeply that true treasures wait here, that a certain kind of strength and confidence resides in the exact places and in the very people you’d least expect.

This morning I am thankful for L. She showed up yesterday afternoon, arriving as she always does, right when I need her most. She lent me her calm and her strength and stayed until dawn because that’s how long I needed her near to know I will be okay.

I am feeling stronger now and a little bit of hope, that this is not the end of my story, that change will bring me to peaceful shores. I hope this Love Thursday, you are feeling the same.

I believe things are unfolding exactly as they should.
I believe that your life–the one you were always meant for since the beginning of time–rises up to meet you when you least expect it
I believe that you are not alone in your grief and that I’m not lost in mine either
I believe in the endurance of love and the kindness of friendship
I believe in love that will not let you go
I believe in taking chances so something beautiful can be born
I believe in the power of tears to heal your heart
I believe you can be made brand new
I believe the best is yet to come
I believe in surprises, miracles and the power of prayer
I believe that nothing will be wasted
I believe in asking for help and then being quiet so the answers can come from inside
I believe in change, revolution and the kind of chaos that brings peace
I believe it’s okay not to know what happens next
I believe in dreams
I believe in God, Jesus, the virgin Mary and all that other crazy stuff it’s too silly to say you believe in out loud
I believe in happiness, hard work and letting the power of the Universe flow right through you
I believe in Love

What do you believe?

Wading through deep, deep waters over here. Holding on to simple things like the kindness of friends and the deep dawning recognition that I know so little about how my life is unfolding. What’s holding you these days?

It feels fitting right now to let some things that have been sitting in my studio go out into the world, like this painting above. If you would be interested in purchasing this (original watercolor on bristol board 14″x17″, unmatted, unframed), email me with an offer + a poem or a bit of advice or a song or any other little thing you’d like to throw into the exchange. The only requirement is that you can pay on Paypal, that you put kindness in the subject line and that it would do your soul good to have it. I’ll randomly pick a home for this lovely in the next few days and ship on Monday.

Here’s trusting kindness is following you no matter how hard you’re tempted to doubt it.

I first met Jen Lee last fall in a tiny restaurant on the Lower East Side. She was the first person to show up for a little blog meetup with readers from New York City, and she arrived just in time to relieve my anxiety that I would be the only person to show. We had just enough time together before the others arrived to realize our paths had been crossing for some time–in shared friendships, similar upbringings, a familiar love for the writing life and so much more.

Since that meeting, Jen has been my mothership whenever I need to be home away from home in her Brooklyn apartment. When I need to feel calm, all that’s ever required is the sweet memory of listening to Jen in her kitchen, helping Amelia “cook” while baby Lucy makes Charlie Brown school teacher noises in the background. I have such a deep respect and awe for all the ways Jen’s wisdom and beauty pours into the world.

Of Jen’s many superpowers one of my favorites is her gift for a phrase, a line or a story that heals you right where it hurts. I have been on the receiving end of this wisdom and this love more times than I can count now, so I am all the more delighted that Jen’s taking the plunge and publishing Don’t Write: A Reluctant Journal in real live book form so that her goodness can reach beyond the lucky circle of friends who find peace and happiness dozing on her little red sofa in Brooklyn.

Anyone who has ever tried to commit words on paper knows how quickly the voices rise, bargaining, begging you to please for the love of God, your father, your sister, your mother, do NOT write that–anything but that. It’s crazy making to hold in your stories, even when doing so can be in many ways the most tender and brave way to get back on the road to love and home and the truth of where everything good began. Jen’s journal is the perfect companion for this kind of journey and I hope this limited edition short run is completely sold out by the good readers of this blog who have a heart for courage and who understand before the pen ever hits the page, that getting it all out–even for your own eyes only–is more often than not, the most radical and healing act of all.

Please spread the word and pre-order tonight if you can. If nothing else, you’ll be so glad to have this title on your bookshelf, giving you all the gentle support you need to write exactly what’s on your mind whenever your heart is ready.