Telling a New Story

I sat down to write about how overwhelmed I was with everything that's on my plate. I thought that if I wrote it all out, it would somehow leave that part of my brain where everything spins like a squeaky hamster wheel, and take all the accompanying anxiety with it.

Well, my plans were foiled. When I opened my journal, I saw the end of the last entry I had made only two days prior. It went something like this: "I am loving watching my life unfold with such ease and beauty. Everything is just coming together, with very little effort and so many joyous moments of serendipity."

What has changed in the last two days? I asked myself. The answer? Nothing. Nothing, that is, but my perspective. In a moment of weakness, I had succumbed to the temptation to believe that I should be accomplishing all-the-things, and all-the-things should be perfectly executed. (Thanks, social media).

By choosing to believe that falsehood, however briefly, I threw myself into a downward spiral and ran to my journal to vent. Upon seeing my last entry it dawned on me:

When I am overwhelmed, I am putting myself in a position of powerlessness. I am, in essence, choosing to let my circumstances dictate how I feel about my life. In this case, I was giving my "to-do" list power over my sense of well-being.

That power has now returned to it's rightful owner: me. How? I chose to see my list of all-the-things as opportunities and ideas to pursue from a good-feeling place. It has become a rough guide, not a task master. A reminder of all the beautiful things unfolding in my life, not a dictator that controls my daily experience.

In other words, I began to tell myself a new story. The characters and the plot have not changed. But the tone of the story has undergone a metamorphosis simply by altering my perspective.

From this place, from this stronger stance, I am empowered, and once again in control of my experience, rather than a "victim to my circumstances".

Even in this place of empowerment, I gave into the temptation yet again another two days later. I saw someone who is embodying the true essence of what it means to be wild and free. I felt envious. I wondered if I was doing something wrong, and how I could change it. (Thanks again, social media).

Before I dove head first into that shame-spiral, I realised that I was making a choice to feel something other than wild and free. I was holding up a mirror that did not reflect who I really am. A mirror that told me lies. I was changing my story.

Can I choose to be wild and free in my daily experience? I asked myself. The answer? Yes. It is a myth that my ideal set of circumstances must in be place before I can feel free to be me. But I have to make a choice. And that choice begins with telling myself a new, and better, story.

The Freedom to Choose

More and more these days, I find that I enjoy time to my myself. For myself. By myself. I used to not know if I was introverted or extroverted. I know now, undoubtedly, that I am an introvert. I require this time alone, in silence, without so much as music on, to maintain my mental health.

It's not exactly silent, however. Even at 7:30am on a Saturday. I can hear traffic to my left, a child rambling on about something outside to my right, Jacques' deep-sleep breathing in the loft upstairs, and pigeons. So... many... bloody... pigeons.

But there is no one speaking to me, and no one I am obligated to speak to. Just me, my journal, and a golden milk latte.

This, for me, is freedom. Yet, there is a current of fear that threads its way through this river of freedom. Adjacent to this current is joy, and the two are intrinsically connected by choice.

Allow me to explain. In this moment of solitude, with my to-do list set aside, I am free. I am free to choose to do - or not do - whatever I wish. This freedom of choice can be exhilarating. It can also be paralyzing.

In a society where most of us operate out of obligations and responsibilities, moments of freedom such as this can be terrifying. These responsibilities appear to be choices that are made for us. (Or so we perceive). We've learned to thrive off of fulfilling commitments, accomplishing tasks, and moving purposefully down our to-do lists. There's no shame in this. I personally love ticking the boxes next to my never-ending list of items. There is a certain feeling of pride in knowing you are taking care of things that need to taken care of.

There are repercussions to this way of being, however. When given the option to do whatever we want, and that whatever we choose needn't have any inherent purpose other than the sheer joy of doing it... we panic.

How many times have you heard, "My life is so busy, I don't even know what I would do with free time if I had it." I hear fear in these words. "What do I even like anymore? What do I truly want to do with my time?"

Perhaps what we are really asking is: "Who am I?"

Have we gotten so caught up in the perceived necessities of life that we have forgotten who we truly are? How many of us root our identity in our accomplishments? How many of us have the daily dialogue of: "I want to do this, but I should do that instead"?

Therein lies that evil word: should. I've said many times to anxious friends and family when they go on a "should" rant: "Stop should-ing all over yourself!" I am not suggesting that we cease to be responsible adults. I am, however, suggesting that it is time to zoom out and take a look at how we identify ourselves, specifically through the lens of how we choose to spend our time.

We do not have to live a life of obligation. It can be filled with play, with joy, with the freedom to choose. The dishes can wait - go out and chase the blue skies. Delight yourself with the outdoors. Roll around in the grass if it pleases you. Curl up with a book and a cup of tea. Get a baby-sitter and go dancing. Do something that makes you smile.

If there is time enough to make a to-do list and subsequently stress over it, there is time enough to play. Choose to laugh, choose to relax, and enjoy the exhilaration of making that choice. Through this process of choosing joy, we begin to see more clearly the true essence of who we are.

We have enough time. We simply have to choose how we use it.

The Right Question

I thought I had to choose one over the other. Dancing or writing. I can't possibly focus on both, I would tell myself. There's only so much creative energy I can muster, and I must allocate it accordingly depending on mood and opportunity. I thought dancing and writing were separate from each other. I thought I had to choose. Indulge in one, and starve myself of the other. 

Wrong.

Zadie Smith's soul-quenching words (found in Maria Popova's Brain Pickings) opened my eyes to a truth that has been lingering under the surface, just out of reach: I cannot have one without the other. Writing and dancing don't just coexist, they inform one another. They are stronger together, like an embrace from both parents at once. They are the same message told in two languages. 

Writing and dancing - they are both platforms for telling stories.

I've been waiting for the best, most opportune, most inspired moment to write. I wait, and I wait, and I wait some more. Likewise, I wait for energy imbued with confidence and sex appeal to dance. I wait for the belief that I am able to dance well. I am still waiting.

When will the perfect moment of inspiration arrive? I ask myself. When will I be perfectly confident in my own skin?

No, these are not the right questions. I am waiting as if writing and dancing have anything to do with me. As if without me they won't exist. I am not a conjurer of words and movement who's art can only be preceded by the most ideal creative circumstances possible. I am not a super hero with super powers. I am a curator of stories. A curator who will be waiting forever if she doesn't ask the right question. 

There is, after all, only one: What story wants to be told today?

Londolozi

Londolozi: "Protector of all living things." Dare I call it the jewel of South Africa? It was most certainly the crowning jewel of our visit to Jacques' home-country. Londolozi game reserve has many qualities worthy of a blog post, but what I found most striking about the people there was their clarity of vision. Every person we encountered at this enigmatic game reserve knew not just what they wanted, but why they wanted it. In Londolozi, the staff are not working for the usual reasons people seek employment. It's clear, from the first handshake you receive upon arrival, that this is a way of life and a labour of love.

Why do you do what you do? Why do you want what you want? These are questions that constantly plague my mind, so when I meet someone who knows the answer, I listen carefully.

Our game driver, Guy, said, paraphrasing a well-known quote, "When you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life."

I immediately exclaimed, "That's my life goal!"

Then, muttering as I gazed over the landscape in the setting sun, "I want to know what that's like." It was clear that both our game driver, and our tracker, Shadrach, loved their jobs.

The next day, Chris Goodman was talking with us about the vision of Londolozi's founders and staff. (To read/watch more about this, click here.) As he began to speak about preserving the land and protecting the wild life, his tone changed. His hands danced with his words as they spilled out of him. His eyes were clear and focused; locked in on the image within his mind that he was describing. This is what passion looks like, I thought. My heart quickened as he spoke of renewal, allowing, abundance... he was speaking of protecting the earth by letting nature take it's course, using words I've fallen in love with in the recent months leading up to this trip.

In excitement I told Chris that this was exactly what my passion is regarding health and wellness. Our bodies, like Mother Earth and her creatures, heal themselves when we give them the time, space and nourishment they need. The intuition of nature, like the power of our minds, is our greatest tool for survival. I believe that with the proper environment, we can not only survive, but thrive in abundance.

There are enough resources on this planet. Health and well-being are available to us. The only question is: are we allowing and facilitating our natural tendency to flourish, or are we trying to control, and therefore resist, the abundant life that is our birthright as living things?

The lessons that can be learned from observing the wildlife in Kruger National Park are ubiquitous. Spend more than a few minutes observing any two species, whether it be giraffe and zebra, lion and hyena, impala and oxpecker birds, and it's clear that life exists as it does because of these symbiotic relationships. We need to work together to succeed. Full stop.

There is an immense amount of pride and greed saturating the rat race that modern-day Western society is running. Independence, fame, and status are the jewels of the West. Conversely, in Londolozi, their values are freedom, harmony, dignity, trust, unity - just to name a few. Perhaps this is where that "Londolozi feeling" comes from. They respect those who have come before, appreciate the daily blessings they have (which they share with one another), and they look forward with eagerness to a brighter and more abundant future for the earth and everything living in it.

I'll admit, I am a little envious of such clarity. But who wouldn't want that kind of vision for their lives? Thank you, people and animals of Londolozi, for your inspiration.

Embrace It All

December 30th, 2017 marks 25 years since my father left his physical body to return to the fullness-of-who-he-is. Let that mean what it means to you, or feel free to disagree. Either way, that is not the point of this.

I don't feel sad. I wondered for awhile if I should feel sad. It could be easy to focus on all the things I believe he's "missed", but I don't see it that way. I don't think he's missed a single moment. In fact, I believe that not only has he been present for all of the wonderful (and not-so-wonderful) milestones a daughter wants her father to be a part of, but he has a more complete perspective than any of us still wandering around on the planet, stuck in these physical vessels. Yes, I used the word "stuck". I believe the man we know as Michael Lindemann is in fact more alive and more free than we can begin to imagine. As such, he has been an enormous influence and faithful guide to me all these 25 years.

So, on the eve of 2018 I am writing this post filled with gratitude... for all that my father has been to me over the years, and for how much closer I feel to him now than I ever did while our hands were still able to touch.

My father once wrote, "Right now, this moment, is life. Be a worthy steward of the gift: embrace it all."

I am very happy to say, that is exactly what I am doing. Rather than wasting energy lamenting the past and "what might have been", or sweating over New Years resolutions and "what will be", I am soaking up each beautiful moment as it comes, no matter what it brings with it. For moments are what make up our lives, and the greatest feelings of appreciation cannot be found in what has come before, or what will come later, but only in what is. Right. Now.

Thank you, Daddy, for who you are. You are amazing. I love you.

Diving deep: How it feels to launch a crowdfunding campaign

How does it feel to launch a crowdfunding campaign? In a word: terrifying. One could easily talk oneself out of this. Not only are you asking people for their financial support, but you are asking them to put faith in you and your creation.

In another word: vulnerability. You are exposing yourself and your art. You are revealing that which is sacred to you. You are letting people in – friends, family, and strangers. You are letting them see you.

So there you are, standing naked in front of the masses, forcing yourself to make direct eye-contact with the on-lookers, your trembling hands clenched at your sides, saying with as much confidence as you can muster: “My art is good enough.”

But what you are really saying is: I am good enough.

Enough.

That’s a loaded word, with a heavy meaning. Most of us, for some percentage of our lives, wonder or worry if we are good enough. Or enough in general. Enough for another person, for our job, for our art, for ourselves. Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that we are not enough. Is that really so bad? Will we implode? Will the world stop turning?

Maybe the real question is, then: “Enough” according to whom? Where or what or who has created this perfect, gold-standard that defines this heavily laden word? We all seem to hold ourselves up next to this shining example of everything-ness, yet we don’t even know where it comes from or what it even is.

How very silly.

What I do know (we’re diving deeper now, hang in there!), is that the subject of “enough” is the Ego’s terrain. It is the Ego that weighs and measures and compares. It is the Ego that accuses us and makes us feel less-than; makes us feel unworthy. Unworthy of love, belonging, and true connection. It is also the Ego that swells with pride upon receiving accolades, or cowers in shame when discredited. Why do we trust such a wayward, fickle thing?

The Soul, on the other hand, finds this whole subject matter entirely irrelevant. Our Soul (feel free to replace this word with something that fits into your personal worldview) knows that we are already enough. In fact, the Soul doesn’t even know that word. To question your worth and worthiness is something the Soul never does, because it knows you are already complete. There’s no benchmark to meet, value to obtain, or feat to accomplish that will change that. 

The goal of the Soul is to create and co-create as much as possible, and to do so with the utmost joy. Engaging with other souls in all of their enough-ness, with all they have to offer as they are, is co-creation at its best. This is, in my opinion, what it means to live joyfully.*

It is with this attitude that I pressed “Launch” on my Kickstarter campaign, knowing that this is but one phase in this exquisite experience of co-creation.

So, friends, let us create! Not to achieve anything (though that may be a natural by-product), but simply for the sheer JOY of it, knowing that no matter what: we are enough!

*Disclaimer: I write these words as fact, because it happens to be what I believe to be true. I recognize, however, that at the end of the day it is just one opinion among many. Opinions are like… well, you know the saying. ;)

#forthejoyofliving #cocreationatitsbest #elizabethgilbert #bigmagic #brenebrown #daringgreatly

The Story Behind the Story - Final Part

"Why haven't I accomplished this yet? Or this? Or that??" we ask ourselves regarding our personal goals, whether they be short-term or life-long. We beat upon our own backs, bemoaning our circumstances, shaking our fists at the gods, and looking around desperately for someone or something to blame. Anything. Lost in this shame spiral (that looks an awful lot like a cosmic black hole), we perpetuate this cycle of goal-struggle-blame, goal-struggle-blame. By inspecting the trees we've planted with a microscope, we miss the fact that there's an entire forest that we, ourselves, propagated, nurtured, & brought into being.

Another way of saying this is, we often don't know how far we've come until we pause for a moment in our self-flagellation to take a step back and consider where we were 10 years ago. Five years ago. Goodness, even one year ago. While I don't condone dwelling on the past (since it can often be a slippery slope into the Land of "If Only"; a stinking swamp full of self-induced guilt trips and potholes of regret), it is helpful to occasionally zoom out long enough to see that progress is, in fact, being made.

So if progress is being made through the struggle, almost in spite of ourselves, how much more progress could be made, and made joyfully, if we didn't struggle? What if we just... play?

Yes, that's right. Play. Enjoy. Take risks - for fun. Follow your curiosity. I mean, if you're going to progress either way, you may as well enjoy the process.

Two years ago, I had an un-edited draft of a manuscript. Just one. I had no website, no illustrator, no book designer, no idea what Mail Chimp was, and was blissfully ignorant on what it takes to self-publish a book. I now have a all of these things, a final draft of a manuscript (plus a few more in the works), and a smidgen less ignorance in the realm of self-publishing.

To my dismay, I admittedly struggled to obtain these things. It hasn't been all toil and hardship by any means, but has been far too much sweat and tears (thankfully no blood) for my liking.

I am happy to say that from this day forth, I am changing the game by making it exactly that: a game.

Thanks to heaps of inspiration from a number of sources, but most recently Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic, I have seen the light. Creativity is not about the outcome, and never will be. It's not about making a living, it's not about fame and fortune. Those things may never come to pass. They might... but they might not. Creativity is all about enjoyment, play and wonder. All of it. Making creativity outcome-dependent only invites suffering and scares your creativity away.

In short, if you're not enjoying it (whatever it is), then do something else.