Under a Cornflower Blue Sky

Hiking at Barr Lake before the leaves came out this spring

These last two years have a been a wild ride. The grief part was not so fun, but the rest I've enjoyed more than a body has a right to. After I let go of the need to control my world (and the idea that I actually could control my world--ha ha), I had a lot more fun.

Talking to a new friend last night at happy hour, I explained my philosophy. Nothing really irks me, or if it does, it's momentary. Sure, sometimes I get down or anxious, but now I can recognize the old pattern (neural, emotional, behavioral, physical, whatever) and that it doesn't serve me anymore. The lesson of, "Notice it, sit with it, laugh about it, and then let it go," has sunk in after much repetition and practice.

"You realize that's an extraordinary claim to make," my friend, Adam, said, referring to my self-proclaimed ability to be content and happy 99% of the time. I looked at him and smiled. That's all I can do these days, smile and laugh. But he believed me. I could tell. There are some people you meet, and you immediately know they are genuine. He's one, and I'm one.

Finally, finally, I'm doing nothing but attracting the right kind of people into my life. These are the folks who speak their truth, have a deep understanding of how lucky they are to have the things they have, and can accept who they are right now while being open to change. Manifestation is a powerful, powerful tool.

And speaking of lucky, I haven't made a gratitude list lately. Here it is, in no particular order:

• Friends and family who love me, support me, and challenge me to be a better person
• My teacher and classmates in the year-long seminary program I am about to complete (see my website at TheDivineInYou.com for more info on my intuitive healing and spiritual facilitation services)
• A beautiful community to live in, and the bike path I can hop on at a moment's notice
• Sunshine, the smell of flowers and freshly mown grass, bird song
• A reliable car
• Healthy food to eat
• My health
• A certain little brown dog who lives with me
• Technology
• Music in its infinite variations
• Really good stout beer
• Consciousness and connection to the larger world

Amen!

More recent adventures that are part of the new, "Let go and have fun" philosophy:

Messing around at the Stock Show in January

Visiting the tiny little house I grew up in this spring

About to dig in to a delicious dessert to celebrate the New Year

Happy Solstice! or What a Year Will Bring

Cut to me staring at my computer screen in utter disbelief, exactly one year ago. It was around midnight on the longest day of the year, and the world as I knew it came to an end. My assumptions about love and trust were called into question. My identity, as it had exactly four years earlier when I lost my job, was blown apart.

Slowly, or some might say quickly, I rebuilt. Boy, was I ready for it, too. It was about time I concentrated on fixing me instead of everyone and everything else. I learned a lot in therapy.

Lesson #1: slow down.

Lesson #2: slow is fast.

Lesson #3: the need to fix others masks the need to look inward.

These lessons were what my friend Emily calls two-by-four moments (you know, because you feel like you got hit in the head with a two-inch-by-four-inch piece of wood, which, if you don't know, is also six feet long--let's just say big). And they just kept coming.

I worked hard. I took a close look at parts of me that I would have preferred to leave in the dark. I learned how to let myself feel and not judge those feelings. I learned how to show loving kindness to myself, because if you don't do it for yourself, it's tough to ask it of those around you. Today, I'm just happy that life can be this good. And simple. I love simple.

A supporting sister and best friend are my rocks, and they call me out on my crap when I'm slipping back into the old ways. New friends that I feel like I've known forever keep popping up. I get a big, dopey grin on my face when I think about my kind, loving, patient, fun, funny boyfriend.

I lost 57 pounds. I wish them well on their journey, because I'm not going to go looking for them. I started cooking again--a piece of the old me that I happily reintegrated. A new career called to me, and I'm doing the difficult but fulfilling training to become the best me I can be in that role.

I have a lot of adventures. A community of folks showed up to teach me how to speak the new language of acceptance and peace. The universe takes care of me. I'm in love with the world.

This is bliss.

Ready for a celebration

Already celebrating with my sister

My boyfriend's dog, Lulu, demonstrating my philosophy of life: it's all good; let's just take 'er easy on the couch

Rites of Passage

Funerals are beautiful ceremonies that help us remember the simplicity and complexity of a person. We have a chance to formally grieve. We think about how that person's time here made a difference.

This rite of passage makes us reflect on our own lives as well. What good or great things have we accomplished? Whose lives have we affected, and how? If we had it to do over, what would we change? Could we make those changes starting tomorrow? It's a powerful, emotional, and thoughtful process.

Rarely, though, are there celebrations of a person's accomplishments while the person is still around. My family rocks birthdays, and I'm glad for it. But mostly, none of us gets the chance to tell a room full of people how important that boss or friend or parent is to us.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I attended the retirement party of a good friend's husband this past weekend. There was a huge table full of photos, quotes, letters, and memorabilia that described all of the aspects of Michael: athlete, coach, teacher, principal, son, father, husband, friend, brother, uncle, boss, colleague, and more.

It was as if we were reviewing and appreciating his oeuvre at an art show. We drank, we ate, we talked, we laughed. I met people who are important in my friend's life that I would never have met otherwise. It was fun and rewarding.

Then there were the words of appreciation. At the designated time, we all gathered outside to hear what folks had to say about Michael, his work, and his life. Not knowing Michael well, I wasn't sure what to expect. Obviously the guy was well respected, because there were hundreds of people at this shindig.

A picture emerged of a man with high standards, who didn't take himself seriously and could be located by his laugh, who loved kids and the work he did with them, and who was a fantastic leader. Standing in the sun with beer in hand, I couldn't stop smiling. This was the man my friend had loved for decades. I understood him, and her, and their life, so much better. It was amazing.

My favorite toast was given by a woman who was obviously uncomfortable speaking in front of a group, but she ponied up. She said something like, "I knew you at one of the hardest times in your life, and you proved to be a man of courage and ethics. You were worth putting my career on the line for." Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice wavered a bit, but she kept going. "So I'll give you the Scottish toast: Here's to us. Who's like us? Damn few, and they're all dead." Funny, and poignant.

What really got me was the first thing he said, before all the speechifying commenced. "I want to thank Linda. I couldn't have done any of this without her." Then he talked about how his work wouldn't have been possible without the competent, capable people he'd worked with over the years. This was a man I wanted to know. I was honored to have the opportunity to learn about him at this point in his life rather than at his funeral.

Rites of passage--retirements, commitment ceremonies, graduations, and finally, funerals--should always be a time for admiration, appreciation, and publicly acknowledged gratitude. Let's make them all big lovefests. Watch how it changes the energy of the person, everyone he knows, his community, and the world.

Thankful

The last few months have brought a lot of heartache and pain, and also wonderful gifts, learning, and personal growth. As the season changed to fall, I faced many new firsts in the year of firsts without my partner: my birthday, first rain, first snow, first bitter cold day, and of course, the first Thanksgiving. I wondered how I would feel on the holiday, and of course I welcomed back into my heart three of my friends: sadness, and joy, and gratitude.

If there's anything I've learned in the last five months, it's that nothing is black and white. Nothing happens when and how you think it will, so you might as well just relax, have fun, and go along for the ride. I am grateful for the people who have helped me learn those lessons, even when it hurt.

I am also grateful for:

CorePower Yoga and all of the teachers there, especially Maya, Amy Mc, Linda Lou, and Kate; without knowing it, you helped me get through a crisis and then made me a stronger person

My bike, which has taken me on hundreds of miles of paths this summer and given me an outlet for all of my grief and frustration, and also my joyful energy

My sister Lindsey, who will, when she rides with me, ring her bell in the tunnels and yell "Wheeeeee!" on the way down the hills just for the pure fun of it

Emily, who just gets me and is there for me no matter what; her strength and ability to give are bottomless

Heather, Jennifer, Linda, Pam, Erik, Kate, Dan P, Amy, Dru, Tammy, my mom, and Laurie for everything they did to get me this far along in this process, including laughing, packing, moving, unpacking, eating, hanging up stuff in the new place, listening, and talking

Jean Oliphant of Nostalgic Homes, who happens to be my aunt, for her patience during the sale of my house

My therapist Chris, who holds the mirror up without judgment and expertly guides me along this journey of self-exploration, constant change, and growth

The abundance of healthy food that has kept my body fueled

All of the music that has been my constant companion, from country to hip hop to classical to pop to indie rock; the long tail that makes so much music available to us so instantly has been a boon to me

The gift of meditation that led me to my first sustained meeting with a higher power

The executive director and board and committee members of Smart-Girl, who took up the slack when I couldn't be present

My mentee Consuelo, who is a beautiful spirit with a heart of gold and a smile that blinds me with its brilliance

An old car that's paid off and runs, most of the time, without a hitch

My apartment, which is cozy and inviting and doesn't require maintenance

There is more, but I'm thinking this is pretty darn good list. My friends--sadness, joy, and gratitude--think so, too.

Views of Las Vegas

My sister Lindsey took me to Las Vegas for my birthday, and we had more fun in four days than most people pack into months of everyday living.

Takeaways from the trip:

-There is nothing like the desolate beauty of the desert. Driving with the top down, far from the city, it's quiet and eerie and lovely. There was a full moon for my birthday that bathed the entire desert in whitewash. Stunning.

-Five-star dining is worth every. single. penny. Watching the Bellagio fountains while sitting right on the lake, having the sommelier pair your wine with your courses, sitting surrounded by fresh flowers and original Picasso paintings, eating food that puts you as close to heaven as you can get on this earth.

-Vegas has the highest concentration of the shortest skirts and the highest heels in the entire U.S.

-Aussie men sure can move (highly recommend the Thunder from Down Under show for you ladies when you visit). Whew. That still makes my heart beat fast.

-Cirque de Soleil shows are worth every. single. penny. We saw "O." I doubt any production can rival it. It was a feast for the eyes and ears.

-A day by the pool in your own personal cabana calms the mind and soothes the soul.

-There is no other city in the world where a gigantic chandelier made of tequila bottles seems totally appropriate, and even pretty.


Quotes I'll always remember from the trip:

"We stop at pancakes house."
"They don't call it sin city for nothin'."
"That's a totally different dude!"
"Acapulco lilies make me sneezy."
"I was marked."
"The club can't even handle me right now."
"It gives me a thrill to come out of a place knowing the Mustang is waiting."

Oh, and though it's not really a quote: the blank stare I got from the young, fit-looking guys who work at the hotel when I asked them where I could go to hike. Suffice it to say that Vegas is not really an outdoorsy, exercise-oriented town.

Thanks for the trip and the beautiful memories, Lindsey. SF.

Divorce FAQs: How to Talk to Your Friends Who Are Going Through a Breakup

I've had my fair share of loss: my job, my dog, three grandparents, two uncles, my dad in the process of his divorce from my mother, friends who didn't want to be friends anymore, and my money. Of course I've learned wondrous life lessons from all of it and have grown tremendously as a human being. Loss has made me more appreciative of what I do have, including an extensive support system of family and friends, a lovely home, and relative stability in tough economic times.

Divorce is by far the biggest loss of them all. I've lost my constant companion--the person who was my best friend for 20 years--and my money (again). I will lose the home and garden I lovingly created and tended for ten years. The list goes on.

Even in the midst of my pain and grief, though, I can see the beauty in life and my fellow travelers. And it is in this spirit that I offer a few words of loving advice to those who are watching a friend or family member go through a divorce or breakup. These are the divorce FAQs, and I hope they help you support that special person in your life who is suffering.

1. What should I say to someone going through a divorce? I don't know the right words.

For anyone who is suffering with grief and loss, the most appropriate words are some version of, "This must be so hard for you." Other options along the same vein:

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I can't understand what you're going through, but I know you must be hurting."

"I love you so much. I am here for you."

Really, these few little words mean the whole world to your friend. You don't need to say anything other than that.

2. How can I fix it? I feel like I need to offer solutions.

You can't fix it. No one can. If it was fixable, your friend would have fixed it. The person in pain has likely already thought through all of his or her options and must do what seems right in the moment. Support those choices; try your hardest not to question them. Your questions are probably more about you and your curiosity and your need to fix than about helping the person.

Some examples of questions and statements that may cause pain:

"Did you try going to counseling?"

"Did s/he have an affair?"

"You know, you really need to work to understand your part in this."

"You could keep the house/car/kids/furnishings if you would just..."

"Did you do everything you could to save the marriage?"

"I can't believe you can even talk to him/her."

"Why aren't you getting an attorney?"

Remember: even if you've been divorced, you have no idea what it's like to go through this divorce, so your questions and proclamations may sound more like judgments. And do the answers matter anyway? Will they make you love your friend any more or any less?

3. What can I do to make the person feel better? I need to do something.

The best way to help the person is to tell him/her exactly what you can do to help. Offers of any kind of help ("Just tell me what to do.") seem empty, and the person doesn't really know what to do with them. What's more helpful:

"I have a truck, and I'm willing to help you load it up and take things to charity or storage on the weekends."

"I can sit and keep you company for a couple of hours on Monday or Wednesday nights."

"I'd love to walk/ride bikes/go to Zumba class with you. Could we plan to do that every couple of weeks?"

"I'd like to bring you some healthy food you can heat up and eat for a few meals."

In other words, be specific, and be genuine. You may overwhelmed by your friend's grief and unable to offer help. That's OK, too. See FAQ #1.

If you're willing to help, keep offering. It's hard for people in our society to ask for or accept help, and it may take a few times for the person to feel comfortable taking you up on your offer. One-time offers may be forgotten or not taken seriously, so keep it up.

4. Why is s/he still sad? It's been a while since it happened.

"A while" is a relative term when someone is experiencing grief and loss. Grief is a nonlinear process, meaning it does not follow a certain path. Each person grieves in a different way, and for a different amount of time. And even when the person seems to be "over it," s/he may experience a sense of extreme loss months or years later. This may show up as sadness, or anger, or depression.

Your friend may be really happy one day and despondent the next. Be patient. Be kind. Be loving. This is a really hard thing for your friend to go through, and the process doesn't just end one day. Some words to use to help normalize your friend's feelings:

"Sometimes grief can really take you by surprise."

"I'm so sorry that day/season/experience/anniversary was a trigger for your grief. It's totally understandable."

Your friend needs your love and support right after the breakup and for the weeks and months that follow. S/he will be suffering in unpredictable ways for an unpredictable amount of time, so reach out when you can just to ask how things are going. You're busy with your own life, and your friend understands that, but when you check in by emailing, calling, or sending a card, it means more than you'll ever know.

A Little Trust Goes a Long Way

I have a fairly long-standing relationship with one of my clients--I'll call her Lauren. Lauren sends quite a bit of work my way, and it's work I enjoy. I have to use many different skills to do this work, including sales, relationship building, writing, editing, critical thinking, problem solving, and organization. So it keeps me on my toes. An added bonus from this relationship is that Lauren makes me laugh. She sends me emails at midnight that have witty little comments thrown in, mostly about people she doesn't like all that much.

She's fairly critical of people, and she has high standards. I understand this because I have high expectations, too--a character trait for which I've been both faulted and lauded. The fact that she continues to send me work is the highest compliment. She trusts me to do right by her.

Even so, it took me by surprise when she asked me to write a letter for her mother. Her mom needs help resolving an issue with "an institution," and Lauren is too tired and busy with work to do it right now. "I'll have her send you some bullet points, and you can write the letter. Is that OK?" Are you kidding? You trust me with your own mother's personal business, and you're sending me more work, and you want to know if it's OK? Um, yeah, I'm humbled and grateful, and you just made my day.

Tasty Humble Pie

Many different clients use my writing, editing, and business consulting services. There's one I correspond with solely via email, and she's a "get 'er done" person, just like me. We fire off opinions, questions, answers, and info without regard for niceties or a "How was your weekend?" and everything is just peachy. We get a lot done in a short amount of time, sometimes at midnight.

Another client requires quite a bit of finessing. I spend time choosing words carefully so as not to offend his sensibilities. Another client was a friend and colleague before she was ever a client, and I know that our relationship will survive any storm. It's nice to know that, with her, I can be completely me and never have to worry that I'm being judged harshly.

And there are others--all completely different from one another. The work is different, too, as are the lessons that the work and the clients teach me. I love it all! But there is one client... We don't do a lot of work together, and we haven't known each other all that long. Her belief system, her experiences, and her personality are quite different than mine, yet we are connected at a profoundly deep level. She was the first to call me a "writing coach." Not editor, not ghost writer, not teacher, but writing coach. She likes what I do because I preserve her voice rather than editing it all out to be perfectly correct and precise.

And then, in response to an email I sent with appreciation for the positive words she sends to her followers, she said, "I thank God for you." Now that's something you don't hear every day. I've had people say they pray for me, and believe me, I welcome their prayers. I welcome all positive energy put out into the universal consciousness on my behalf. But to have someone thank God for me? I'm humbled. I'm grateful. I'm in awe of the light and grace that flow from her.

There's a reason I've been in this "transition" period for a while. Oh, I could blame the economy. I could blame the flood of wonderful, qualified applicants I'm in competition with. But really, I think I was meant to learn these lessons. To know that I can connect with such vastly different people on a meaningful level. To know that my work means something in the wide world. To know that I have changed others' lives and they have changed mine. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Happy Thanksgiving!

As I think about what I'm grateful for, I'm surprised by how different my life is this year than last. So much has changed, and I've brought about all of that change because I've had the space to find my values and power again. And I am oh-so-grateful for that space. Here's what else makes my heart light:

The robins having a little party in my garden today

Being part of the DU community

My students and the lessons they teach me

Milo the nephew dog

My sister Lindsey

My partner Gary

My mom

The clients who make me laugh

The lovely house I live in and the garden that surrounds me

Beads and making pretty baubles

Emily, Shannon, Heather, Amy, and Merry, who have been friends through good times and bad

Having my mentee, Consuelo, in my life

The staff and fellow board members at Smart-Girl

Barack Obama

Music! There was a great series of essays about music on This American Life (a show aired on NPR) last weekend, and one of the people on the show said this: "A chord here... A chord there... And your heart splits open." Yeah.


Blessings upon you.

Complicated Schmomplicated

I volunteer for four organizations: the Women's Foundation of Colorado, Smart-Girl, Denver Kids, and the Women'sVision Foundation. I love it. It's a lot of work, but it's the right kind of work. The kind that makes me feel like I make a difference in the world. Like I'm using my skills in a meaningful way. I'm meant to do it. It's a core part of my being.

And the funny thing is, the more I do it, the more of those "Aha!" moments I have--the moments where I see how one concept relates to another, understand how important a new idea is, or see why it was so serendipitous that I introduced those two people to each other. When I explained this to a friend, he said those kinds of realizations seem to make things more complicated for him. And that's when I realized that I live for those moments. To me, "complicated" means interesting, challenging, and stimulating. The more complicated, the better.

My life is rich with complications.

Making Change One Student at a Time

I taught the Financial Management and Fundraising class for the second time at the University of Denver's Graduate School of Social Work this month. It was an "intensive" version of the class. What is normally 33 hours of instruction over 11 weeks was crammed into 24 hours on two Fridays and two Saturdays. Oh, and did I mention that I adopted new textbooks?

After researching new developments in the field, reading the textbooks, redoing my lecture notes and lesson plans in their entirety, and planning the class exercises and handouts, I was ready. I didn't really know what to expect, though, and I was dubious about teaching the course in this format. I wasn't sure how much the students could really absorb in such a short amount of time. They'd have to learn a new language. I'd have to build their skills in reading and interpreting financial statementes, creating budgets, and evaluating development marketing collateral. It was a tall order.

We outdid ourselves. The students were committed, energetic, and smart. I chose the right things to focus on and the right way to teach them. I saw their confidence grow. I got goosebumps at least a dozen times--that's what happens when I'm 100% in the moment and making a connection with the students. I fell in love with teaching all over again. It was amazing.

I'll be grading assignments for the next three weeks, and I can't wait to see how they apply what they learned to the nonprofit organizations they're interested in. I am empowering them to make change, and I am honored to have the opportunity.

My Fan Club

I have a little ritual when I go on an interview. I picture my friends, family, and supporters sitting around me. They don't speak. They just sit quietly and read the newspaper or calmly watch the proceedings. Once in a while, one of them catches my eye and smiles at me or gives an approving nod.

It's my fan club--they're only in my imagination when I'm in an interview, but they're very solid in real life. And boy howdy, am I grateful for them.

For years, some members of the club have proudly and loudly proclaimed that they'd vote for me for president of the United States if I ran. The first time someone said that to me, I was more than a little surprised. Me? The president? That's when I realized I have what they call moxie. Personality. Verve. Spirit. Courage. Know-how. Energy. Initiative. And all of that translates into the ability to inspire, lead, and push the envelope.

I know that I will put my moxie to use in a nonprofit organization again. The universe is, for now, teaching me humility and patience. I thought I had learned those lessons, but I am happy and willing to be a student once more. As long as I have my fan club by my side.