by Jill MacGregor

I have been practicing being strong with my least strong part.

My weakest part. I map its boundaries, feel out it’s yes and no and then try to push past that a little bit more, a little bit more, like a runner trying to steal second base.

There’s nothing like being on crutches to be reminded of how much people want to help for no reason other than to lighten your load. People make more eye contact and smile. Open more doors. Ask how you are.

We seem to need that visible sign of weakness—it gives us permission to help. Without the visual prompt, it is easy to forget that everyone is practicing to make their weakest part stronger…one way or another. And that your offer of help is welcomed.

I am sitting on my couch in my stretchy clothes finishing my morning coffee. Christmas lights are still twinkling while Kate Bush is singing about her love affair with a snow man for the trillionth time– *spoiler alert*–he melts. The two kittens I adopted weeks ago, Lizzie and Nox, are bookending me, one high and one low, alternatively making biscuits, giving each other baths and snuggling with each other.

I feel very content.

The sky looks full of snow—this I derive from living in the Midwest for decades, a place where figuring out the weather is as serious as laying a bet. But after 15 years in Seattle, I know the house will always win…skies are not used to predict here…they usually change like a mood…of a small child…who may be having a tantrum.

I’ve taken off a few months to heal from a hip replacement and I feel great. I was taken care of, and because of my slightly thorny nature, this seldom is allowed to happen. My family took care of me. My friends took care of me.

Strangers took care of me.

But there’s something about receiving all that care…it put me in such constant proximity with gratitude on a regular basis.

They may have replaced more than my hip.

My incision travels up the side of my right hip for 12 inches. Yes, I measured it. It is my 4th big incision. Four–one for each hip surgery. I always request they take out the last incision before they add a new one. Maybe they’d do that anyway and they are humoring me, allowing me my moment of power as I hand myself over to them oh so powerlessly.

And, now, I find myself quite amazed…I have so much more energy now that pain isn’t casting a dark cloud over everything. I feel a little younger, which is slightly ironic as I find myself bent over a cane.

For now. Just part of the practice.

One of my friends told their daughter about my surgery. Her 6 year old response was wide eyed with discovery. “Jill’s a robot,” she stated slowly as she realized I was probably the only robot she knew.

So now I have a titanium rod where my drilled into, pinned, arthritic like a 90 year old chunk of femur used to live. And a lovely, gliding ceramic hip joint were there once was bone on bone.

We should rename my femur. Femur sounds so * original parts* instead of new and improved. It should be a name that sounds strong because I want to be STRONG. I want it more than having a small ass. I want to do those karate side kicks. I’m ready to run in 3 inch heels. I long to take 2 steps at a time.

Femurnium.

Rodmur.

Titanbone.

But I understand, first, that I will need to be off the cane to accomplish these things.

So I practice.

All of this fresh, newness has me thinking as I enter the New Year. The New Year—it always feels like a freshly painted stage on which to perform. The demarcation point when we can let go of the things that no longer serve us. The moment when we officially give ourselves permission to begin again.

As you start your new year and continue your work of making your weakest part strong, ask yourself these questions.

What are you deciding to accept?

Acceptance can mean so many things: it can represent forgiveness, loving not in spite of but because of and seeing beauty where you once only saw flaws. But the shadow to that can be doing something because you feel you have no choice, staying in a situation because you feel there is none better and giving up and embracing a long love affair with your pain. Remember–its always about your choices and you always have choices.

How are you managing your journey?

The first step of any journey is understanding where you want to go. How do you want to feel on this journey? What kind of people do you want to surround yourself with? How do you want to grow? What practical steps need to be taken to move forward?

Are your problems really problems?

Maybe your problems are simply puzzles. And the best way to conquer any puzzle is to step back from it, alter your perspective and reconsider. You may just be using old, worn out strategies. Its been your *problem* for awhile now, hasn’t it. Perhaps your hitting it with a hammer on a daily basis is not going to provide the solution you need. Try one different approch today. Ask for help when you need it–you are not responsible for recreating the wheel.

Wishing you the best this year as you continue to grow strong.

if you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

I’m learning a big lesson right now, I think. About fighting. I love to fight—fight for what’s right—or better—fight to BE right.

Oh, but there’s more. It feels good to fight to prove you’re strong, fight to prove you can, fight because sometimes easy doesn’t feel as valuable. Fight to tell the world something’s important.

I fight a lot. Not always for the right causes.

What would happen if all the energy I put into fight was put into something else?

So… this lesson. I understand that until I finally learn the lesson(s) I will be a fighting machine—and probably not in a good way.

I’m starting to think that instead of fighting, the real issue may be to find the way to let something be good and positive just the way it is. Not as a pushover. More in a *breathe deep aaaaand release* kind of way.

You may have noticed that I haven’t written for a while…it feels horrible, by the way, as if I am very hungry but am only allowed to eat Pixie Stix. As if I am going to a beautiful art museum only to be met by elaborate displays of chicken bones and bent fork mobiles…banjos in the background… As if I can’t get the last pickle out of the jar…you get it. It’s unsatisfying, to say the least.

I guess I have a story here.

It starts with pain.

Pain is great reminder that something is wrong. And I’ve been getting reminded regularly that something is wrong with a pain that grabs my hip like an angry fist. Digging into me and stopping me in my tracks—like a horrible game of freeze tag I never asked to join. This thing has reacquainted me with finite. And I HATE finite. Finite is a bully who takes away my choice.

Lesson 1: Find the infinite beauty in all things even when they’re a pain in the ass.

So, here it is: my clutch is slipping and I can feel it going.

Several months ago, I started limping–again. And that may seem like nothing to you. But to me it is a big, giant *uh oh*. Decades of my life have been marked with this: limp, cut, hobble, limp, heal, limp…repeat. It’s my hip. Three surgeries since I was 12 and now another one. At this stage it is unexpected, or at least, premature.

Now they recommend a hip replacement.

This is a problem with a solution. What’s the big deal then?

It’s not supposed to happen now. Simple as that. My last surgery occurred so this wouldn’t have to happen for many years.

Lesson 2: Find the opportunity in Plan B and embrace the moment, even though your choice is not the choice.

This was not what I was expecting to hear when I visited the doctor. And once I dried my angry tears and was left just with my anger, I devised a plan. A plan to trick my hip…wouldn’t be the first time I done it.

I’ve developed a strategy throughout my life. If I can’t figure something out, can’t make it do what I want, I have learned that I can hack it.

hack: an inelegant but effective solution to solving a problem

So I began to work my plan to find ways to trick this thing, this troublesome hip.

I decided to mind over matter the hell out of it. I dragged my hip to the gym and made it walk fast on the treadmill—and do lots of leg presses—like a normal hip would. Yea…not so much with this one but it did accentutate that gimp along I was perfecting.

I went to a healer. I am a firm believer in things I cannot explain. I’d visited this healer before and he delivered relief I couldn’t explain. This healer converses with my spirit guides while I lay on a massage table, eavesdropping.

His hands hover over me, never touching my fully clothed body, plucking at the air as if an invisible harp is resting the length of my body.

“So, we’re going to work on growing cartilage and muscle.”

“Dude,” I respond. I mean I know he’s a healer but…dude.

“And it will be uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable would be a step up”, I say.

He continues plucking at the air.

“So, what do my spirit guides think about me?” I interrupt.

He laughs at their silent response. “They say you are doing the best a human can do.”

PS: We didn’t grow any new cartilage or new muscle.

I add new tricks to my plan.

I started doing deep -painful- fascia massage.

And swimming a lot.

And acupuncture.

That all helped. At my 2nd opinion months later with Dr. Terribly Cute I was forced to fess up when he greeted me with “How are you walking on that thing?”. that thing = my wonkus hip

I tried everything I could to affect change. All I did was manage some of the pain.

So…I’m getting the clutch replaced.

Lesson 3: Accepting the fact that you can’t change some situations, no matter how hard you fight, doesn’t make you weak.

Recently I have moments when I think about my current hip being replaced and I feel something surprising. I’ve begun to understand that there is no part of my body that has worked harder, fought again and again to be like it’s mate—even in its weakest, most worn out, drilled into, stitched up moments—only to be replaced with a chunk of ceramic and a titanium rod. How hard will this new inanimate piece fight to be strong and normal?

Lesson 4: See the strength in the damaged part of yourself, emotional and/or physical. Your weakness can be the thing that makes you strong because it urges you to fight harder.

My body knows so little of normal but maybe we can all say that to some degree. Everything’s connected to everything and when my hip is crooked, my back compensates, and my neck and my knee…my crazy Jenga configuration.

What do I know from sockets that fit smoothly into their joints? My hitch has had a get along for almost 40 years. My body fights to fit together. I grind and pop and not in a way that would make you want to throw dollar bills in my direction.

Lesson 5: Shit. I’m getting old…

I’m afraid I can’t do it any other way than crooked.

I’m afraid my artificial parts won’t fight as hard.

I’m afraid that *normal* will be harder.

I’m afraid I won’t heal.

Lesson 6: You know you’re standing close to the heart of it, close to the answer you need, when you feel Fear thumping you in the back of the head. Think of Fear as that extra cup of coffee—you’re not going to sleep as well but, boy, are you going to be alert to what’s going on—inside and out.

Might be a reason.

If you liked this, you may also want to read these—just because they always make me feel better:

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by Jill MacGregor

Uno mas, por favor.

We’ve all got a list. Some days it’s longer than others. Welcome to Part II of The Stop Doing List. Here’s Part I, if you’d like to get caught up!

Always pay attention when your clutch starts to slip.

Life has a wonderful way of giving you clues. First of all, I would like to tell you—in a seemingly unrelated matter– that I drove a clutch for years. I was quite sure it confirmed my coolness. Picture me: shift into 4th, light a cigarette, change the CD, talk on the phone…so glad no one died in the process.

But I began to notice that it was costly to drive a clutch—for me specifically, for some reason.

Because, as I discovered, for me a clutch only lasts 40,000 miles. Basically, 40,000 to the mile. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that most clutches could last at least 80,000 miles. WHAT? Who are these people with their fancy ankle movements and keen sense of timing—their feel for this piece of machinery…they were basically one with their car.

Oh.

Hey.

I am no longer as cool as I thought. Grind my gears…

So—after numerous clutches, I read the writing on the wall. I now drive an automatic.

But the funny thing was, when I did drive a clutch, I became extremely sensitive to the clutch as it began to slip. I knew that that hesitation meant I had about 5,000 more miles if I never stopped on a hill. I knew this delay meant I was down to my last 100. And I knew when I couldn’t shift out of 2nd that I had about 35 miles before it all went to hell.

Pity I didn’t possess the same sensitivity all those times I would shift from 1st to 2nd whilst the clutch was still functioning.

So consider this. What if everything has a clutch? And there are moments in life when you feel something give. Do you ignore that slip, pretend like nothing happened? Or do you consider it an important warning?

All I’ll say is every single time I’ve ignored the clutch slipping on something in my life I’ve realized—in hindsight—that I was being given important information.

It’s time to stop feeling guilty about not doing more.

We all make these lists, these long, long lists of everything we need to accomplish in the next 20 minutes and that’s not always…realistic. But why is it that we never seem to give ourselves credit for all that we did accomplish? It seems like the hairy eyeball always goes back to the didn’ts instead of the dids.

I doubt you’d be so harsh with someone else.

Recognize that there are always more choices.

There is no such thing as not having a choice. There is such a thing as possibly not having the exact choices you wanted. But, you’ve always got choices.

Obstacles to the choices you want can throw you off. Sometimes, you stop considering all of your possibilities when confronted with a roadblock. You come to that crossroads with a preconceived notion and if the choices present themselves differently, you can lose sight of how broad your possibilities really are.

Becoming anxious about what can feel like a lack of choices can make you become a bit of a drill sergeant, yelling out to the Universe how you want things and when, in your desperate attempt to feel back in control. I was talking to a friend recently who laughed at me as I described this and said I was handcuffing God by being so exacting with what I wanted. That my specificity to the details could actually limit my choices.

Because even though I know what I want, I’m not always correct in what I want. Cue theme song: *Unanswered prayers and other great favors*.

Next time you feel yourself in situation with no choices; look closely as the choice that makes you the most uncomfortable. Pay attention to the resistance you feel around that choice. I know you’d prefer things be smooth and easy but resistance is important in your life.

It’s there to tell you things are about to change. Things want to change. Resistance has a way of pointing to the next step you are meant to take. Yea, I know. It very possibly may not be your first choice. But you will gain so much in the long run.

This is a personal growth moment and you ordered it whether you realized it or not.

Yea.

When you find yourself on the edge of loss, you must dance.

Every sorrow contains a reflection of promised joy.

Sometimes the work is not in dragging yourself through periods of sadness and loss—maybe the work is in stretching enough, pushing yourself so that you can glimpse the other side. This is not a place to sit and rest—you will regain nothing here—and you will only erode further if you remain.

Ask for help if you need it. Forgive what you consider to be weakness in yourself.

The hardest thing to do at moments like these, is to find the joy–to make yourself get up and dance. It’s also the most important thing.

You may feel like you’re faking it at first. But trust me, you’ll hear the music soon enough.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

ENOUGH.

I hate it that this word ever needs to be said but it does. And when it’s said it is usually because someone was not reading the room, someone was pushing or greedily grabbing, ignoring the looks and the signals.

Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes it’s me. So much for being perfect…

But enough, already.

I know I’m calling this The Stop Doing List but we could just as easily call this The Start Doing List. Consider these recommendations your next steps right after you’ve said enough, already.

Understand that success requires more than your lucky pants.

Sure, I’ll give you *being in the right place at the right time* when it comes to accomplishing all that you want to in life. But in return, you have to put the following on the table: dogged determination, ongoing skill development and creating connections with the people who will mentor you to your next version.

Because your success will not occur in a vacuum.

Boy, a plan of action makes me feel good. I love to chart a course and Plan A/B/C my way through it mentally. Ever *forget* to put that plan into action? You’ve worked out the details in your head which is such an important first step. But it can be very easy to stay in the safe cocoon of planning—instead of what can sometimes be the trickier stage of cracking that whip and making it happen.

If you’re going to sail around the world, your ship has to leave the dock.

Don’t get pissed at me…I do not make the rules.

When it comes to your success, don’t be a leaf on a river, just drifting where you may, seeing what lands at your feet, crossing your fingers that it will be interesting.

Your life is not meant to be a casual walking tour.

This is about your happiness. This is how you signal to the world who you are and what you’re about. It’s about satisfaction and getting what you want. And although I am a firm believer that the Universe plays a hand in our lives—whether we ask for it or not—it’s also about being an active participant in getting what you want.

Pray to God but row for shore. Fight hard for how you want your life to be. Are you the one person you can always rely on—that one person who will battle to make your success happen?

Boy, I hope so. Nobody’s going to do it for you.

Stick your hand in the woodpile.

Snakes, I was always told by my Granny. Don’t you go putting your hand in the woodpile—it is full of snakes!

Now, you and I both know that snakes need the sun and they are not going to be hiding in a cold woodpile, waiting to strike. But that warning sure kept me from finding out. It made me afraid to investigate further.

Snakes, people!

I grew out of that…quickly—and life got more interesting. How can we not praise naughtiness, the breaking of rules and mild civil disobedience? Sticking your hand in the woodpile is just another way of saying: take risks. Do things in spite of knowing how it’s going to turn out. Don’t always do what you’re told—really, it’s just someone else’s opinion and your opinion carries just as much weight.

Get surprised—better yet, surprise others by your actions. It will only give them food for thought.

Hot dog bun or croissant?

You know those croissants you get at the grocery store? They look like croissants but they taste like hot dog buns—yes, those. We’ve all bought them once because they looked so tasty…until we took a bite.

Please. It’s so disappointing to be wrong like that. To expect one yummy, wonderful experience but to be met with a dry, flavorless one instead.

It’s not that we have a *wolf in sheep’s clothing*issue here. You already kind of know it’s going to taste like a hot dog bun. Consider the facts—it’s wrapped in plastic, for God’s sake. Flakiness is a thing of the past. Your *croissant*is sitting in a case next to a doughnut.

Come on.

But you were optimistic. Maybe THIS time it will be different… You know the only place to get a good croissant is the bakery. Its nothing but hot dog buns at the grocery store.

It is so important that you call things as they truly are, not what you’d like them to be. And this goes for identifying people as well. How many times have your hopes led you down a merry path? It’s good to be optimistic, but sometimes your rose colored glasses get in the way. How many times have you called a person a croissant—you’ve hoped, made excuses on their behalf, coached them—but, they’re just a hot dog bun.

Think of the time you could have saved.

Discern quality when all the markers are there. And they are ALWAYS there.

Make sure you know who and what makes you feel at home in the world.

Call it a security blanket. Call it your soft spot to land. Call it what makes you realize who you really are. These are the people and things that ground you to who you are, they are mirrors that reflect the true you back as a reminder when your own vision gets a little hazy.

They are your litmus test about doing the right thing with the right people. Your sounding boards, your go-to’s, your ports in a storm.

They are the only voice you hear when you find yourself on the ledge, the first person you think of when there is joy to share, the ones who help carry your worries when they feel too heavy.

What a huge and important job.

The great thing: it’s reciprocal.

You’re theirs, too.

Part II of The Stop Doing List will be out this Friday. I obviously have a long list of things I need to stop/start doing…

If you liked this post, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

Every time I see you falling, I get down on my knees and pray…
I’m waiting for that final moment you say the words that I can’t say.

~New Order

We could all use a kingmaker. That influencer who initiates or completes action to our benefit. The muscle who ensures that things get done for us. Someone who toots the horn on our behalf. Our quarterback, our Godfather, our Fairy Godmother.

Maybe you’re a kingmaker in your own right—ensuring that the light is pointed on the right person and stepping into the shadows while others shine. It’s not that you don’t want the acclaim; you like praise for all you do and achieve. But it does require a certain eye to do what you do, doesn’t it? The ability to see someone else’s promise…tilt your head, squint your eyes and easily connect their dots.

Do you do that?

Maybe the position of kingmaker is filled for each of us—maybe each of us has one—or a number of kingmakers—who slide in and out of our lives, nudging and influencing. Helping us get important things done in our lives, whether we realize the power they’ve possessed or not.

Is your role to clear the path or walk the path? Think about it. Which role do you play? How does that role change as people weave through your life?

Upended by the Fantastic

The help that comes from nowhere.

The moment of clarity in the storm when you see, you understand and begin to trust.

The overwhelming sense of wonder when things work out in ways you didn’t foresee.

Do you ever wonder if the Universe is your kingmaker? It’s so easy to take providential moments for granted. They happen a lot. So often, we misplace their connection in our lives. Our gifts, our bennies, our mulligans.

Do you experience moments of peace out of nowhere? They serve as reminders in your harried world that all is moving as it should, you are exactly where you should be, and a universal machine is operating behind the scenes entirely on your behalf.

Sometimes a feeling blows over you like a warm breeze, quick and sudden. It reminds you that your problems have solutions—all of them—even if the solutions are out of your current line of vision.

That feeling reminds you that you can always be an answer for others — each of us can–by starting with the universal questions–and we all know what those questions are: Why me? Why not me? When? Why am I struggling? Why do I feel alone? Why do I feel lost?

Whatever the question is—submerge yourself in the unknown waters of others and be the kindness and understanding they may need. Be the connection they’ve been searching for—the path that directs them to ideas, other people. Or back to the core of who they are.

Find a way to be that answer for others, you, kingmaker, you.

It may be an interesting point to notice how others are working behind the scenes in your life—clearing your path—just when you need it.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

by Jill MacGregor

This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past.

~Agathon

You are a puzzle, my friend, a fascinating puzzle. You are one surprise after another, just like those crazy Russian nesting dolls.

You’ve been clever and intricate with how you’ve bound up that heart of yours. But as challenging as it looks, the reward might be tenfold if we loosened the ties that bind you. Freed up your heart and all that goes with it.

Let’s talk about what we might do together to get this job done.

Believing Your True Voice

The buzzing gnats of can’t and won’t. They harass, distract and completely derail you. They keep you from sharing yourself with others. One more thing that chains up your heart.

You know what I’m talking about.

I can’t have what I want– the dream, the happiness. I won’t ever be good enough—I won’t ever *your horrible notion here*. That sort of business.

Your sticks and your stones.

Please hear this: can’t and won’t—and all those limiting beliefs—those are choices.

So, what are you going to do today? Listen to the voice that says you can’t or the voice that says you can?

There’s a story that wants to be told—your story. And it’s going to holler and bang on everything until you look, change, act.

Today.

Your decision–it’s all you, baby.

The Art of Forgiveness

Forgiveness takes the power out of a wrong. And all of those things that hold you back, that tell you *you can’t* are usually fueled by some action that requires your forgiveness.

And, boy, that is super fun.

But hanging onto those wrongs like they are your precious pain only further padlocks your heart. Then we don’t get to experience the wonderful, unlocked you—and that unlocked you makes everyone you touch a better version.

Are you starting to see how important this is—to unlock your heart? We will all benefit from your actions.

Sometimes you have to drink the dirty water before you reach forgiveness—and nobody really wants to do that. When I think of forgiveness, I don’t think of a sweet, generous spirit. I think of hurt and anger and pain—all the things that paid for my ticket– so that NOW I have to forgive someone—or myself.

That’s hard–to get that close to the hurt, the horrible slight, the grievous omission or commission.

Forgiveness can start with a conversation; or it can be a quiet process you do all by yourself. But the key is to start. And it’s still equally as effective if the forgiveness process happens inside your head.

Your head usually has extended a buddy pass to your heart, so it gets covered.

Be Fearless

If you cock your head to the side and squint one eye, fear and excitement can look and feel very similar.

I tell myself…

Taking chances. It’s like taking a final gulp of air before you go under…submerging yourself in the murky unknown…or better yet, jumping in, eyes wide open, with an understanding that all will be different after you do.

This is aerobics for unlocking your heart—for pushing it past its current point of flexibility.

So, stand close to the cage where that frightening animal paces. Let it know you’re there. You will notice, with great surprise, that when your shaky hand swings opens the cage door, nothing has devoured you alive.

Beauty.

Do it again.

Your fear has you tied down with a frayed piece of twine and the knot is already loose. It has always been your choice to stay bound to your fear or to free yourself.

Wow, I just realized how similar the words free and fear are.

Just one little letter.

Say It

You may have a tendency to listen more than you talk and that’s a very effective shield. If someone is busy telling you all about themselves, you get to remain the enigma, wrapped in your secret sauce, protected from other’s judgment and your own gaffs.

What would happen if you started telling people how you were feeling? Really started expressing the feelings that don’t always feel comfortable.

I know what you’re thinking:

Words + feelings = stirring shit up

Change some minds—yours included. Give people a version of you they haven’t considered because you were afraid to mention the YOU in the equation.

It will look much more like this:

Your words + Your feelings = giving light to the shadow

Be bigger than the fear that’s stopped you before.

Touch

Now, don’t be a freak about it but the simple act of reaching out and touching someone is a wonderful compliment to all this emotional reaching out you’re currently considering. It goes hand in hand with unlocking your heart.

That touch—it goes along way.

Don’t replace your words with touch but use touch to modify your words. It’s one more way you give, one more way you can shore someone up, one more way to connect.

It’s all about breaking down boundaries and stretching them past where they are currently.

I’m kind of excited to see what’s going to happen, aren’t you?!

If you liked this, you may want to read:

by Jill MacGregor

Truth is so persistent. It fights like an animal in a trap–and it always finds a way to get free.

Truth spends a lot of time informing us OVER AND OVER about what is outmoded or overlooked in our lives. You know that feeling—when you’re standing in your super smart spot and assessing all the things that aren’t working in other people’s lives? It so easy to spot other’s reoccurring patterns that lead to the same disastrous results. But try that one on yourself.

Uh huh. That’s what I thought.

What is Truth trying to tell you these days?

Change

Truth has to be so tricky, so very surreptitious, in showing you that it’s time to change.

A thousand years ago, when God was a boy, I started my career in sales. My Dad had an illustrious career in sales and gave me lots of great advice. One thing he shared was the whole concept of why people say yes. He told me that if someone tells you no, you just didn’t ask the question correctly. Asking the question in different ways will eventually get you to the yes.

So no doesn’t scare me in fact I take it as a bit of a challenge.

Side bar: this has also led to many head banging on brick wall moments.

No means I must perfect my question. Because the yes is in there. It’s my job to draw it out.

Truth is always trying to get you to theyes.

Begin

Truth knows—better than anyone—what it is that you truly desire and usually before you do. Truth begins by leaving subtle hints—maybe something you read sticks in your head and has you thinking—and then moves to less subtle measures—you witness someone embracing that thing you’ve been thinking about and you understand you want that look on your face, too. Or someone says something amazing and you never look at them the same way again.

Truth tells you when it’s time to begin down the path of making something yours by extending Its hand and introducing you to everyone at the party.

It can be that uncomplicated.

Course Correct

Boy, do I get surprised a lot. Amazed a lot. Things happen and the truth spills out—and I’m being forced to reconsider the situation. Change and Truth—the evil power twins—grab hands and before I know it I’m re-evaluating my stance. Change is that ever moving dust devil that’s just kicking it up with every pass. And in its wake, things are very different. Change shows me that people can change—I can change.

And Truth leaves its initials in the wet cement so I won’t forget.

Appreciate

There’s nothing like experiencing a loss to make you appreciate what you have. And sometimes that is how the Truth gets you back to square one–when you first laid your eyes on what the Truth needed you to see, when you first understood, you first embraced it. Sometimes you have to go back and remember what it felt like when it was new in your life so that you can be reminded of its importance.

Believe

If a = b and b = c then a = c. So if life is just a hugely expanding and ever repeating version of this transitive property then Belief is the most important part of that equation.

I believe that a = c.

Don’t try to get all math-y on me and introduce logic.

Belief in yourself, belief that your life is working toward a divine plan, belief in things even if they don’t make sense anywhere but in your gut. These become your a and your b and your c.

You tell your truth by how you live—every day. Every action you take, every action you decline tells the world who you are. Every blessed day. Nothing is every wasted.

Your toughest moments, your sweetest victories and all the space in between—they all make up the truth of who you are.

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by Jill MacGregor

If you believe that you can damage, then believe that you can fix.

–Rebbe Nachman

There’s a soft center spot, a place where things have not fully come together, a sort of hazy Bermuda Triangle where change insists you shed something old and pick up something new.

It’s somewhere in between fixed and getting fixed, the land of almost but not quite, the limbo place where you go to heal.

It’s not a place you want to stay for too long because things aren’t fully defined. This is a slushy spot designed for kick off only. A pass through but by no means a shortcut. If you stay there too long you become a bit like a ship lost in the fog—no stars to steer by, no land to point toward—just the haze that envelopes you.

We’ve all visited this spot—it’s a popular destination when you’re experiencing great change in your life or doing some important healing. It’s a place where Change sends you to redefine normal.

Here’s what I know.

You were blind, but now you see

The picture you paint for yourself changes as you move through life. Sometimes it’s a pretty, pretty picture, painted by a carefree spirit and you skip in a little circle when it comes into view. But there are times when you are forging a path from one picture to the next…things can begin to look different as you are in transition. Your new picture can look like it’s painted by an unsure and shaky hand and, as you stare, it may only leave you with questions. Sometimes you don’t know what to do with what you see.

But, this is your picture. For now, anyway.

Stop trying to make the difficult easy

Because there is nothing easy about what you are working toward. It feels hard because it is hard, my friend, and some things are meant to be hard. You’re getting tested. Sit up, pay attention and learn. For now, you’re going to have to walk through the fire. Benefit: the new version of you runs faster and jumps higher.

Some knowledge comes with tears

And that’s the way it’s supposed to work. Sometimes, we must do hard work—work that is so hard we think we may not be able to do it. The reward is hard earned information—usually about ourselves. You are here for a reason—this kind of work isn’t thrust on anyone by accident.

Healing is the hardest thing you will ever do

That’s really all I have to say on that one.

Remember that you are loved

Yes, you are very self sufficient. Good job, you. On the other hand, what you’re working on now can feel very overwhelming in the most unexpected ways and at the cruelest times. Sometimes, the hardest thing to remember is that you are not alone and that people love you—somehow that seems to be harder than remembering that you are strong. Ask for help when you need it. There is a line forming of all those who want to lessen your load—even if it’s just for a moment.

The beautiful risk

This is just a place you’re walking through—not a place you have to remain, even if it may feel like you are forever stuck in the quicksand. Keep moving forward, even if it’s hard—especially if it’s hard. What you’ve gone through will always stay with you, but not in a way that makes you feel haunted. It was the edge you thought you teetered on, only to later realize, you always had a net.

And so many arms reaching to catch you if you fell.

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By Jill MacGregor

Things don’t always go right. You’re not the only one this happens to. I hate the way it feels—the gaff I make, the thing I wish I’d said instead, the action I meant to take but didn’t.

I’m going to say it—it’s ok. And this—fix it next opportunity. And maybe even this—people love you anyway—they are full of that automatic forgiveness that doesn’t even require exact change.

You lucky bastard, you.

Change of focus. Hope it works for you.

Talk to me about the thing that makes it change, that makes everyone change, that takes the harsh and softens its edges.

Talk to me about the courage you speak into existence every day—I am always amazed at how nothing can destroy it. You kick your fear like a can down a soft tar alley. You’re full of the kind of fight that makes me feel strong.

Talk to me about hope and show me the look in your eyes when you’ve understood that things can be better. Talk to me about redemption and recovery and forgiveness because I would like to see more than just a glimpse of those things as they round the corner out of my view—remind me, whisper their stories in my ear when I can’t sleep.

Talk to me about how you fight for others when they’ve lost the ability to fight for themselves. Because every time you need a defender, I’ll want to be that for you.

Talk to me about how you want to make it right and correct the wrongs. You know that you’re not a loosely scripted character that wanders all over the page—you’re an instrument of great power created for purpose and meaning.

Talk to me about the unexpected, the side swipe, the t-bone, the unanticipated that leaves no mark but changes everything. I want to know more about the flash of blue that creates a line in time from what it once was to what it has become.

Talk to me about the words and how to use them to make a difference so that when I hear them, they peal like a bell reminding us that things have changed. I want what I say to be the difference.

Friday is Erase the Hate Day. Be a reminder of tolerance in the world—every day.

by Jill MacGregor

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

Very often, there is a moment, a physical place in time where things change. A shift takes place and it may feel subtle at the time but the results can be significant. It’s probably safe to say that this change has been tracking you for awhile and you sensed *something* but you chose to ignore it. You heard the twigs snap in the distance, you saw the birds suddenly fly away startled, but you chalked it up to a coincidence, your imagination, nothing.

Sometimes it’s a change within you. Sometimes it’s a change in things around you. Many times, it’s both.

Guess what? The wind is blowing. The air is crackling with electricity. Your hair is standing on end. And you are seconds away from getting hit with a lightning bolt of realization—like it or not.

The moment you understand just how far you’ll go

And this can mean so many things: how far you’ll go to make things right, to prove your point, to fight for what you believe in. There’s an unwavering place in you that is made up of strength and hope and your truest words and once that kicks in, do stand back. Your commitment begins to inform your fears about what must occur and at that moment, there is no turning back. You know and the question doesn’t get asked again.

When it becomes clear who’s got your back

Trust is an orchid. Delicate and beautiful, it doesn’t grow just anywhere and it requires a specific type of care for it to thrive.

There’s so much power in knowing who to trust. It’s an important discovery when you learn whose hand will be reaching for yours when times get rough.

The moment you understand that there’s something missing

Like the eternal search in your emotional junk drawer, this moment is a dull thud—you thought you had it, you thought you knew what it felt like but you can’t find it anywhere—not even a trace. Because it’s just not there. Maybe you’ve been filling in the blanks on its behalf for years, combining element A and element B in an attempt to create what was missing.

This moment is usually accompanied with a hard swallow and a faraway look. Be brave—whether you realize it or not, you’ve just begun to make room for that thing or person that you will need.

The moment you stop being afraid

This usually occurs right after you are fed up with all that has been holding you back, holding you down, holding your head under. Your frustration suddenly becomes larger than your fear and, in a moment of exasperation (mixed with courage), you discover you’ve done something incredibly important.

You’ve just stepped away from the sinkhole.

The result is very important: you finally understand that you can do anything. You are bigger than your fear.

When you see who might serve you up for supper

You thought you could trust them and suddenly—POW—this thing, this omission, this commission—and you understand that you’re really not as safe with this person as you once thought. They don’t have your best interests at heart—they’re considering their own entertainment, their own way to profit, their next puppet. What’s happened is far more than an error in judgment.

It’s a hollow moment to discover you’ve been wrong but it’s more important to learn who is and isn’t reliable in your life.

The moment you understand you deserve all of the love

Yes, YOU. All of it, not just some. You’ve spent a lot of time protecting yourself and there have been too many times when you pushed people away, just to see if they’d come back. You created impediments for no reason, picked unnecessary fights—in other words, you spent a lot of time creating an elaborate emotional obstacle course that people had to cross just to reach you.

Eventually, the care and upkeep on your obstacle course even begins to exhaust you and someone slips through. They reach you, rather catch you unaware and before you have a moment to resume battle plan, you notice this feels rather nice, thank you. And purely as a social experiment, you decide to see what it would feel like if you perhaps took down the barbed wire and let others in closer.

And that was the beginning of the end for you. More only led to more.

So continue to rock that one…

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