by Jill MacGregor

I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit.

Finally.

Sort of.

But until that voice speaks, the yammering persists. And amidst all that noise, seeds are planted—well, thoughts get planted—firmly, in my rocky, little pea patch of a brain and sometimes the one thing that thrives is doubt.

Excuse me while I second guess myself.

Psst. Shut it. Busy in here.

This small voice—let’s call it clarity, bright and glaring. My horrible internal friend who would never be mistaken for a yes man, by anyone’s definition.

This small voice, is not always kind but it is so on the money. Its sentences often start, “You know exactly what to do, you big whiner…” and “Seriously?”

This small voice is the first to announce: “Something is not working. Welcome to your crossroads.”

To which I respond, “Aww dang—again? Sumbitch…”

Choosing the Right Story for Yourself

Bringing things together in your life requires patience and persistence and percolation.

I love alliteration.

Developing your personal mythology is not for the faint of heart. Your story gets really interesting at the So, here I am at a crossroads part, especially in retrospect. In the moment, it’s a churny pain in the ass.

Let’s look at what got you here.

Untying Your Knot

For things to change, something usually has to stop or end. Sometimes it’s not your choice; sometimes it’s not any easy choice to make. And at first, you might even miss the thing that you’ve let go off and you may notice that it’s left a little black space where nothing else seems to grow.

Loss can make you hesitant. Loss can also make you fight for the wrong things.

Wrassle. Struggle. Fight. What do you want me to tell you—that it’s not fair? Maybe, but this story is yours for a reason.

You’ve got something to solve.

It may all start with some reoccurring pattern—that’s usually what the struggle is all about. That thing you thought you had already done for the last time but here it is again just in different wrappings.

Truth, the hot stinking truth—it begins to seep into your situation and you welcome it the same way you welcome noxious gas. Why is it that something that is designed to be such a solid, helpful reflection of our internal and external situation can make us hide and deny its existence? Truth is such an influencer even though our ego likes to claim that role for itself.

Cue denial. Perhaps it will only make a short cameo.

But, you’re starting to get it. Because that small voice keeps chirping—it is the smoke detector that has a dying battery. It’s going to keep beeping until you change the battery.

Truth–just try to ignore it. It will stand too close until you feel its breath on your neck—truth is a bullying, forcing function. Truth can be very intimidating—how do you argue with something that’s –well, undeniable?

But you do spend some time arguing it down ‘cause you’re so smart—and you are as effective as a drunk arguing for his car keys. You want it your way. But the truth has no flexible points. It is what it is– clear and firm.

The Desire to be Real

“It’s not what you did. It’s what you do next.”

A friend said this to me while we were philosophizing and it has stuck in my head, echoing around in the wide open spaces of my mind.

It’s not about the damage. It’s about the reconstruction.

Not about the omission but the commission.

Not how it ties you down but how you free yourself.

It’s what you do next.

I have a tendency to rub my face in my mistakes, like a bad dog who should know better, hoping that the sting of shame will be enough of a reminder to keep me from making the same mistake again. It can be hard to pry myself out of the constant replay I force myself to watch.

I bet we all do that to some degree.

Shake it off like a wet dog. Your task is to live in the present.

What are you going to do next?

I bet it’s going to make us pick up our pompoms and shake our asses.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

liminality: a psychological or metaphysical subjective state, conscious or unconscious, of being on the “threshold” of or between two different existential planes

I harbor a deep and growing resentment toward the horoscope in the Sunday paper. It repeatedly tells me *today is a 7*. I cannot get past a 7. Every flipping Sunday—7.

My horoscope score (HS) is a 7.

I just invented Horoscope Score^TM.

Everyone else is having 8’s and 9’s…it makes me think they get tired when they get to September and they say, “Aw, let’s just give the Virgos a 7 again. They won’t notice.”

But we do. We are Virgos. And that in itself is not always easy—nor is it often a 7.

Liminality showed up in recently my horoscope and caught my eye…it felt so very *not* a 7.

Sidebar: Sometimes I read other horoscopes only to gather evidence against my argument of being a 7. Because, of course, I want to be fully prepped to defend my case in Horoscope Court. Best argument to date: I am definitely not a 7—maybe more of a 9 or, dare I say it, a 10—because I am experiencing liminality.

So, moving from the topic of my horoscope rage…I think there might be something to this liminality–excuse me while I overuse my new word. I do feel like I’m in a bit of a jumping off place (HS 9)-—maybe a launching pad (HS 10)-—or if nothing else, some sort of transition (HS 7).

Transition is such a boring word, boring like buying tires. When you think about it, a step forward involves one foot in the past and one foot in the future. Passing from one to the next—let’s call it what it really is.

Time travel (HS 11).

My next step creates the past just as it creates the future.

Liminality. So much more interesting than transition.

Jill is experiencing liminality. Jill is liminalious. Liminalicious. Even though I’m not sure how to use it in a sentence, I pretty sure it will make you study me and wonder.

And not think I am just having a mid-life crisis.

And, as you study me and wonder, you will notice that things are mid-process, that colors are slipping off me only to be replaced by new ones. You will see all that I have shed lying in a heap at my feet and wonder about the slightly raw and pink newness that has taken its place. You will nod at my desire to stretch my new baby muscles, tight like rubber bands.

You will think words like re-invention and rebirth.

That sounds so much more glamorous than mid-life crisis…

But the Virgo in me wants to distill it down to its truest nugget – and also find something I can use properly in a sentence.

I’m doing gap assessment.

Once you understand where the gaps lie—that tender spot between what is and what will be—you can then lash your bridge together and close said gap.

This will allow me to touch something that I once could only see from a great distance.

That’s got to be at least a 9.

If you liked this, you may want to read:

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by Jill MacGregor

Action expresses priorities.

~ Mohandas K. Gandhi

Drowning and Swimming – both involve water and splashing about but, of course, you’d never confuse the two. You may think that’s a ridiculous statement but reflect a moment. There are choices you make, things you decide to do that make you sink like a stone in life yet you tell yourself that they represent forward motion. You are in the water and there is splashing…but you are going down.

Are you struggling for the fun of it? And as you say “Why would anyone choose to struggle?” three or four people will probably pop into your head.

Are you one of them?

Ask yourself this: What do you think you deserve?

It can be very simple: Are you able to say please and thank you—and really mean it?

But that is other people. You’re fixing to get to that super important life changing thing as soon as you make it through your to-do list.

Sidebar: So that I can avoid all the messages from friends asking why I wrote a blog post about them…this is not about you.

This is about all of us.

Which one of these feels familiar?

The Finger Puppets, Dancing Bears, Key Shaker—

You’re very practiced at finding that clever way of not getting it done completely or correctly each time. You avoid your goal by adding yet another elaborate task to the mix. You’re the man behind the curtain, pulling levers, creating smoke—hoping that no one ever discovers that you are a fraud.

You don’t seem to be comfortable getting what you want. But all the talk you do certainly distracts the crowd. All the puffs of smoke and brightly colored scarves in the air…there’s a lot to look at even though it contains no substance.

You’re afraid. But we all live that moment. Put away all your magic tricks and tall tales and start talking about your fear. Pick one person. You will probably hear this: “Yea, me too.”

Everyone has fears. Gently give yourself permission to be human—the rest of us already have.

You are a doer of great things.

The Gift Blocker—

It’s never going to be right for you, is it? You’re always wishing that it had happened at a different time or a different way—because then it would have been perfect and only then could you have enjoyed it.

Your focus is on the *not* and *if only* portion of every situation.

Maybe there’s a part of you that feels this approach shields your from disappointment–to start all new endeavors with low expectations. But you’re really making a declaration: please take your stinkin’ gift back because I can tell, without opening it, shaking it or holding it up to the light that it is subpar.

Opportunities are given to you, just like gifts, and you never know how a gift will change the course of your life.

Life is a bag full of surprises and you, you are here to LEARN.

Because let’s face it. If you knew everything, we would have put you in charge a long time ago.

The Spin Cycler—

You make problems for the sake of making problems and love the accompanying struggle like it’s a badge of courage. You spend a lot of time tying tiny little knots in things, then spend more time untying them only to call it *progress*.

Imagine all you could accomplish if you used all that energy in a different way.

Creating churn and froth is not forward motion. Churn has no give back. It’s not a sign of innovation to build something only to tear it down.

Honey, hop on the Love Train, immediately. Your burning need to identify everything that you think is wrong is delaying you from seeing everything that is wonderful.

So, no more pretending, no more avoidance. Quit being a puss about it. Today. Accept the gifts. Embrace the positive. Allow for differences. Be your strongest advocate. And, become a laser beam for all you wish for—even if deep down inside you think you don’t deserve it.

Here are some easy words but also a possible hard truth: you do deserve it.

Get ready.

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by Jill MacGregor

giving the paparazzi the stink eye in my younger years

I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case.

I’ve definitely gotten younger as I’ve gotten older.

But I am rediscovering an old theme—an old ghost—that used to keep me up at night. It’s that first hurdle we all are faced with, I think: What am I supposed to do with my life? Who am I supposed to be? What am I meant to influence? Am I smart enough to recognize the signs that will point me in the right direction?

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped asking myself these questions.

These questions definitely got stirred up recently when I found an artifact in my closet.

I keep thinking about it.

It’s my Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment. I can’t believe I still have it. I remember when I got the results –some 25+ years ago—I thought it was full of shit. Because at 23, I already knew everything.

EVERYTHING, people.

Except what to pursue as a career.

At 23, I was using my double major of French and International Studies to manage a trendy, little bakery. At this point, I think it’s important to remind you that “croissant” is French and I pronounced it better than anyone at the bakery.

Yep. That’s what 6 years of French and living abroad for a semester will get you.

So I baked. And I loved it. I loved researching new recipes. I loved the science of baking and its demand for precision. I found that the toque I wore at work was tremendous camouflage for my increasingly unusual hairstyles/hair colors. No customer knew what was going on under there until I *released the Kraken* at the end of my shift and the long pink curls fell over one eye in direct contrast to the buzz cut on the rest of my head and the –gift with purchase–long purple and blond tail.

My hair was a strange cross between Burt Lancaster in Elmer Gantry and the female singer in the Thompson Twins.

It was the ‘80’s…

But here was the rub. You see, the 2 years after college I’d watched many of my friends put on suits and go to traditional jobs that somehow corresponded with their college major while I put on my apron and baked.

And as time passed, I began to feel the difference in the choice I’d made–to the point that I began having very quiet conversations with myself about doing something that might involve working for the MAN and following a path I proudly fought for no real reason…other than being young.

So, I searched a bit of counsel.

And, as I sat across from the career counselor, my erupting fuchsia curls assaulting her very senses –and at the very college that encouraged the pursuit of my French major even though the reasoning for my choice was “I like French”– I realized she was just a few years older than me.

But she wasn’t wearing Birkenstocks or smelling oddly of chocolate and vanilla or thinking, as I was, that I needed to go to the co-op and get some falafel before that new client stopped by to have me read their Tarot cards.

She was probably thinking how nice she looked in plaid and that her brunette bob was never going to go out of style.

I imagine her thoughts were peppered with ideas about career trajectory and maximizing her potential.

I was a little jealous of her at this moment for her ongoing clarity that led her from one sensible decision to the next. It made me feel a bit…cartoonish.

I approached the test results the same way I would have approached a horoscope: slightly skeptical but still hoping to find some definitive answers for my life.

She said my results showed that I would probably never be a farmer or in the military, as if a single glance wouldn’t have allowed us to come to that conclusion. I rated lower than low when it can to teaching, especially as a foreign language teacher, or any career that ended in -ist or -ian.

I scored very highly with the Artistic themes, though, especially with art and writing. There was a high score in Adventure, however that is translated. The job that popped highest on my results was advertising executive.

That would so be working for the man.

I shifted nervously in my Birks and rolled my eyes.

I also scored highly with the Enterprising themes especially in the Sales related field.

I was horrified. Selling? That is so what the MAN would want me to do. Sell a thing to make money. It sounded horrible.

These results seemed to fly in the face of the life I was currently leading. Because, people, at this point, I was volunteering at the co-op to get my 15% off of my organic kefir. I took my own jars…And lets all remember this was 25+ years ago which officially made me…a granola.

Alright. Get the picture? I was a pink haired, Birkenstock wearing granola who ran a bakery and read Tarot cards professionally on the side. My friends and I discussed our auras and the use of cranial sacral massage to rid us of baggage from our past lives.

When I left I felt quite certain that the test only had the ability to discern my dislikes and absolutely lacked the power to tell me what I should do with my life.

I discarded the (NOT)Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment that day.

So imagine my surprise when I found these test results—which are such an ancient artifact that they are printed on paper.

Because when I short list my career and interests now…well, I ended up pursuing everything that damn test said I would.

When I eventually left the bakery several months after taking that test, full of fear and the absolute knowledge that I was doing the right thing, I started a 20+ year career in advertising sales, working at TV stations around the country. Much to the horror of my woo-woo friends…

I’m an artist and have been showing my paintings for the last 5 years.

And I’m a writer.

Show off-y test.

It makes me feel a bit like a word problem—that somehow I can be solved mathematically. And I’m sure you can understand how frustrating that is to the girl with the pink hair and too many piercings– that she can be so easily deciphered. After all the work she had put into being unsolvable.

I couldn’t help but notice how things have changed—and how they have stayed the same–when I ran into this girl I used to be. We both live by our intuition but I notice, now, how much more informs my intuition than when I was younger—fortunately.

And, we both love the smell of the unbeaten path and slightly uncharted forward motion. It has always led somewhere interesting.

If you like this, you may want to read:

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.

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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.

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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

We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are.

~Talmud

There are points in your life when you want things to be different and you feel like you don’t get much say in the matter.

The all consuming desire for that which eludes you…how can you get everything you’re burning for?

Sometimes when you want something, you begin your negations with the Universe—letting it know how you’d like it and when—just so there’s no confusion.

I want:

My list may need some work…

I was having dinner a couple of months ago with a girlfriend I hadn’t seen for years. Caroline is just one of those wonderful people I had an instant connection with and it has lived a long and happy life regardless of how infrequently we see each other.

We were catching up and I concluded my paragraph with, “So, I’ve experienced some disappointments.”

She looked at me, wine glass in hand, and snort laughed at me.

Snort laughed, people!

But.

Oh.

Hey.

And then I got it. I looked at her with a big smile, repeating very seriously, “I have experienced some disappointments.” I batted my eyelashes and tossed my hair for effect.

My turn to snort laugh.

We both laughed—and snorted. Because it was funny what I said. There was a giant chunk of great wonderful perfect events/people glued on the front end of my catching her up on me, but for some reason I allowed my disappointments to be the summary for all the wonderful that had gone on prior.

And since she was standing on her side of the fence looking at my very green grass, she could not help but laugh at me.

And because I was on my side of the fence looking at her lush and lovely green grass; I was positive that she knew what she was talking about.

Alright, snorting about.

Why was I focusing on the things that didn’t go the way I wanted?

Side bar:

In retrospect, the things that I thought were disappointments turned out to be big blessings. I’m so relieved they did not go out the way I had originally hoped. I would have been forced to trade my happiness for struggle, if they had. This would not be the first time (nor last, I imagine) that I have been shown that I didn’t know everything.

You may be making a mental list of your current discord: relationships that are in flux, career at a crossroads, creative process that should produce more, stalled projects, short sheeted on prosperity. You’ve got your yardstick and as you measure every inch of your life, you notice that things are not where they’re supposed to be.

So say you.

Are you feeling dissatisfied?

You may feel like you’d never before had so many important things that are undecided…which may or may not be true, but the feeling is overwhelming. So many things fighting to change, working to change. And regardless of how you push, twist, shove, pound or cram your round pegs they are not going into those square holes.

Damn.

Unclench your fists for a moment. Relax your shoulders—they are far too close to your ears. Take a deep breath. Think of 3 wonderful things in your life—those people that love you, that cool thing you did, all of those answers you had at the right moment.

You could easily come up with more than three, right? You, lucky bastard, you.

Put aside the memories of foot stamping, fist shaking, teeth gritting moments—focusing on that is not going to help you. There is nothing naïve about lining up your site with all of the positive in your life and breathing that in for a change. It doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the problems. It just means you’re filling your tank so that you can make it to the other side.

Picture this:

You’re sitting in a large theatre alone and waiting with breathless anticipation for the curtain to draw back and the performance to begin. Feel the nervous excitement of something big about to begin. Know that you are far more than an observer as you sit and wait for the show to start. All those people who are waiting for their cues backstage–you’ve brought them all together. You put the players in position. This show is finally staged, blocked, choreographed and ready for the world.

Very soon a performance will begin that will take your breath away in ways you couldn’t image.

SRO, baby.

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by Jill MacGregor

I have a theory: Feeling like you’re going to lose is the same thing as losing.

You may disagree. Obviously one happens in your head and one happens in actuality. But you live in a subliminal world full of subtext. We say things like, “It just didn’t feel right so I opted out.” You look for connections with others based on if they *get you*. Many times you decide to do something just because you feel like it.

Your gut is actively involved in your decision making. Everyone’s is.

All those things that quietly take place inside of you everyday—good and bad–you put them out there without realizing it. And then they quietly take place inside of others. They influence.

Osmosis. Semi-permeable membranes. It’s getting in there somehow.

Start taking your thoughts more seriously.

Feeling like you’re going to lose prepares you in the same way as if you’ve already lost. It mentally KEEPS you in that same space of having lost—a place of couldn’t and tried but failed and I’ll never win.

Many times, it keeps you from even starting something new. You’ve already sampled loss—albeit in your head– and it was horrible.

That feeling has quite a half life, doesn’t it?

It takes the same amount of energy to imagine yourself succeeding as it does to imagine yourself losing.

Are you making failing part of your planning?

It’s time you acknowledged those spectacular balls of yours—we all got ‘em. And now, just put ‘em to the wall and bypass the opportunity to even consider failure.

You don’t need to go there, to the place in your mind where things never seem to work out. There’s nothing important to the success of your venture or relationship that needs to try on failure in order for you to proceed.

This is your unnecessary step. Unnecessary and very detrimental. It is the muddy hole that you can never pull yourself out of once you jump down into it.

I get it. Sometimes you like to play out scenarios and come up with plans of action. It makes you feel prepared. You like to discover the escape hatches. You want to know where all the exits are.

Maybe you’re looking for a loophole to your success. Maybe you think you don’t deserve it.

Just feeling like you’re going to lose adds the horrible charred flavor of defeat to the whole scenario and completely changes your outlook. And you know, once that blech gets in your mouth, it’s so hard to taste anything else.

And, let’s face it, sometimes a lack of confidence can make it easy to come up with all the ways things aren’t going to work out.

Next time you contemplate failure—which requires the same amount of energy as contemplating success—please pause for a moment. Say this to yourself:

I have specTACular balls.

You also have nerves of steel and are phenomenal at shooting from the hip. People are expecting the best from you—you should join that club.

So, no more of this *what if I lose* business.

What’s it going to feel like when you get everything you want?

Why don’t you mainline that for a while…

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