by Jenna | Sep 5, 2012 | Reflections
When times get rough and things go wrong, sometimes I wonder if I’ve misread my intuition or why I wasn’t “warned.”
I don’t have an answer for the warnings, exactly. When my friend was in a bad motorcycle accident years ago, I had a strong sense of anxiety all day before I found out what happened. When I was in a car accident a few years ago, though, I had no hints there was anything wrong that day.
And was there anything wrong? It’s hard for me to answer that too. Does being intuitive mean we are always “saved” from challenging and painful experiences? When I think about it from a soul perspective, I have to say: I doubt it. My personal belief system tells me that we “sign up” for life experiences that as spiritual beings in human form we want to judge as right or wrong, good or bad. Perhaps from a soul perspective, these experiences are purely neutral, and designed for growth.
I’m reminded of Sandra Ingerman’s Shamanic Journeying book, where she asked her higher self in fear, “But what if I end up homeless?” Her higher self’s response? “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”
And perhaps we just don’t always get to know.
Is there such a thing as “right” or “wrong”?
And, what if there is no right or wrong? What if life just is, and our intuition is our guide to a more joyful experience of life — but one that isn’t necessarily always easier? Is life truly a school ground designed for us to learn and grow, whether it’s hard or easy or fun?
It’s impossible to know.
We have experience
We do, however, have experience.
We have the experience of suddenly knowing something, without knowing why we know it.
We see flashes of images or hear sudden phrases, like the day I was driving by the hospital while I was pregnant and thought, “That’s where my son will be born” — EVEN THOUGH I was planning a home birth.
Do we listen?
Which brings me to my point:
When I had that thought, I very quickly thought, “No, that can’t be right. I’m not having my baby there.” And I didn’t stop to explore that intuitive (and ultimately correct) insight to understand it. Similarly, when my friend was in the motorcycle accident, I didn’t take the time to tune in to my anxiety and understand it. It was only after the fact that I understood it.
My truest experience of intuition is that it’s a very quiet knowing thought or glimmer of an idea — a whisper — and easy to overlook if I don’t discipline myself to pay attention. I like to think I’m getting better at this, but I’m continually reminded that there are more opportunities to listen.
by Jenna | Feb 1, 2012 | Reflections
Yesterday was a tough one.
It was a dark, drizzly day after a bad night of sleep, followed by a bit of bad news. And it was on the heels of a wicked cold that had me laid up Wednesday through Sunday. Not a good cocktail for a sensitive soul with work to be done.
Needless to say, I came home after dropping off my son to feeling rather adrift.
I didn’t know what I wanted to work on. None of the many items on my idea list or to do list was the least bit appealing. Even though I had come up with some nifty ideas on the way home in the car, when I sat down at my desk and confronted my computer screen, a strong feeling of despondency — and resistance —came up.
I didn’t want to do anything.
Or did I?
I checked in with my heart.
I checked in with my spirit.
I asked, “Is there anything I DO want to work on?“
The answer came back, “Yes. My script.”
(And this was even after doing my first round of writing first thing in the morning.)
So I did. I got out my latest set of assignments, turned on my timer, and dug in.
An hour later, I felt like myself again. I even went on to have a happy, productive day working with my clients and revamping my website (you can see the evidence on my Shop and Home pages).
By doing my work, by turning to my calling rather than away from it, I found myself.
by Jenna | Dec 21, 2011 | Reflections
I’ve never been good at cherishing the moment or being “in the now.”
I’m an Enneagram Four, so I’m pretty much always wanting more and nothing is ever quite good enough.
From time to time, I find my way out of that obsession and into a much more present place with what’s available to me. Interestingly, writing early has made a huge difference in my ability to be more present and to cherish the moments I have. It’s as if showing up and doing my true work is allowing my brain to quiet down and just be. It’s so nice.
The veil between life and death
The greatest experiences in my life that have brought me the closest in to truly cherishing and experiencing life always involve deeply real things that seem to be closer to the veil between life and death. For instance, when my ex-boyfriend lay in a hospital bed on the verge of death, it was pretty clear to me what mattered and what didn’t. (A city plan? Uh, no.)
Similarly, years ago when our kitty C. J. approached the end of her life and spent two weeks insisting on being carried and held by me continuously, I found myself focusing very intently on my time with her and enjoying it profoundly — the sweet, pure energy of her attachment to me was deeply compelling. She died at home in my arms, and it was a beautiful, deep experience I’ll never forget.
I found myself in a similar situation again recently. Our lovely kitty Maddie has a tumor and we will be saying good-bye to her soon. Every night she sleeps cuddled up with us, and I feel so sad knowing we’ll have to say goodbye soon. It is also so precious to know, feel, and celebrate our connection so consciously for a time. I’ve found myself just wanting to sit on the couch and hold her all day.
A reminder to be present
These kinds of experiences remind me to be more present — with my family in particular. I’m far from perfect at it, but I find myself focusing on enjoying my time with my son and my husband at a deeper level. All that work can wait for another day.
The power of darkness
Empaths are also considered “hospice workers,” the one who can go into the darkness of life (things like death and divorce) and hold a non-verbal space for transformation and healing. A client recently asked about that — why would we want to go into the darkness?
And I said, “What if there was something beautiful about that darkness?”
Tonight, on the Solstice, the longest night of the year, I’ll be lighting candles with my family, celebrating the wisdom I gain from the darkness.
Happy Solstice and Happy Holidays,
by Jenna | Jun 22, 2011 | Reflections
If you’ve been hanging out with me for a while, you know I’ve been going through a big transition with my work and my life — I’m now focusing as much as possible on my own creative expression; writing a sci-fi screenplay and writing a non-fiction creativity guide.
It has been quite a journey, at times up and down, fraught with confusion, scattered with moments of sparkling clarity.
Massive Creative Breakthroughs
I’ve recently had a huge breakthrough with my own creative work as a result of claiming my creative identity in a much deeper way.
I didn’t quite realize it until Elaine pointed it out to me, but I was “leaving the back doors open” by not fully committing to my creative work coming first. She reminded me that it doesn’t matter so much how I’m earning a living at this point, but that my focus needs to be on my creative work, first, and no wriggling out of it!
After debating with her for a while (both before and after we talked — do you ever have imaginary conversations with your friends?), I realized she was right.
I was trying to straddle the fence, to be both, while really being neither.
No Matter Where You Go, There You Aren’t
A while back I wrote a post called, “No Matter Where You Go, There You Are” about how we simply cannot escape our life purpose and life lesson no matter how we might try.
Tonight it struck me that not having an anchored sense of Who You Are is kind of like Showing Up But Not Really Being There, if you know what I mean.
This Whole Thing About Creative Identity
So now you know why I’ve been yak yak yakking about creative identity — it’s made a huge difference for me.
Ever since I did my pièce de résistance work on this (a combination of NLP work and some shamanic work) things have been moving like gangbusters.
Clear decisions left and right, new ideas, big changes, a sense of EVERYTHING being lined up in one direction, and BEST OF ALL: I wrote 10 pages of my screenplay during my sacred writing time last week.
So yummy.
“I Hope You Don’t Think I’m A Journalist”
As part of all this, Elaine reminded me of a story about Julia Cameron (author of one of my bibles, The Artist’s Way), back from when she had started working at Rolling Stone magazine. Her boss said to her, “I hope you don’t think you’re a writer.”
Her response, “Oh, I am a writer. I hope you don’t think I’m a journalist.”
Pow.
We should all be so clear on who we are!
by Jenna | May 3, 2011 | Reflections
I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to enjoying my life more.
I’m kind of an all work and no play kind of girl. I easily fall into a more “masculine” approach to my life and my business: I’ve inherited a strong delayed gratification mentality. I push myself hard to get to the outcome I want, delaying rewards. I’m better (there’s always more) at not neglecting the self-care the way I used to, but I don’t get around to the really fun, delicious, Life Savoring that I want to be enjoying. At least not until recently.
In part because of my own calling in this direction, I’ve been paying close attention to spending my precious time wisely in work or at play.
Here’s what I’ve been putting my focus on, and I’d love to hear how you’re inspired by this and how you decide to use your precious time:
1. Enjoying what I’m actually doing, no matter how simple or mundane.
As an Enneagram Four, it’s all too easy for me to get all dramatic about doing “special” things (you know, grand sweeping gestures and the like) and to poo-poo the ordinary and the mundane.
But those seemingly “little” moments are what add up to the beauty of life — watching my son run around with other kids on the lawn. Folding laundry while listening to my husband read to our little guy. Snuggling up watching a movie together. You know.
2. Prioritizing “real life” activities.
As a creative entrepreneur who operates largely in the virtual world (blogging and writing on my computer, speaking with clients by phone or Skype), I’m making a point to emphasize more real life experiences too, like spending time in the garden with my hands in the rich soil, creating community experiences in our neighborhood like the fabulous progressive dinner we had over the weekend, or simply sitting in the sunshine on my front porch while holding coaching calls.
3. Turning off the virtual world.
I’m also making a point to unplug more from the iTouch, Twitter, Facebook, and my computer. They are seductively engaging, but I find my time swirling away from me into a vortex of web searches and information indulgences.
4. Taking small daily steps to move me towards my big dream rather than looking for single massive actions.
This is a big pitfall for me — I look for giant blocks of time to do one project, but then never QUITE get around to it. I’m learning to take “turtle steps,” as Martha Beck trained coach Jill Winski calls them, consistently. And consistently again.
I received a reminder of this on Twitter via @AdviceToWriters over the weekend from Anthony Trollope (a 19th century novelist):
For me, this includes taking small steps to take care of the business of living, like keeping up with my book keeping and paperwork, as well as the business of living my Life Purpose. That way, I don’t get overwhelmed and feel unable to keep moving ahead with my Big Dream.
5. Choosing a grounded approach.
There’s a lot of conversation around integrating the masculine with the feminine. About being goddesses in our own lives. I agree.
I think it’s also about being grounded in remembering what really matters. For me, that is my inner sense of well-being, my connection with my son, my relationship with my husband, my connections with the communities of people I care about, and fulfilling my big dreams.
Despite what my mind and ego like to say to the contrary about achieving my big dreams, it’s not ONLY about “making it happen” or “getting it done.” I want to ENJOY my life along the way, have FUN while I’m doing it, no matter what my current circumstances are — no matter how much money I have or don’t have, no matter how much sleep I’m getting or not getting, no matter how many clients I have or don’t have, etc., etc., ad nauseum.
by Jenna | Mar 26, 2011 | Reflections
My dad apparently started a topic about me and my old job flipping hot dogs on his Cal Sports website last year and I thought it was funny enough to warrant sharing with you.
It’s true: I used to run a top dog in Montclair (Oakland, California).
It was pretty much the antithesis of the textbook job for a sensitive soul — loud, busy, rushed, etc — but I have to say, I loved it. Plus it was so good for me — it helped me find my voice and learn how to manage a crowd. The job consisted of taking hot dog and soda orders from a busy crowd of customers, yelling at the top of my lungs to coordinate all their requests and money and everything, and trying to keep a jam-packed grill of orders straight in my head. Crazy fun. :)
(N.B. The names listed here are the user names they all use on the sports forums. My dad is GreyBear. I’ve edited the thread a bit for relevance.)
“My daughter – Top Dog Manager”
GreyBea: Years ago – [she] ran the whole store, managed employees, cooked dogs, etc. Could we maybe start a draft movement to get her to run a concession at Cal/Memorial? That’s the one sure way I know to get the kind of dogs we all want to have available there.
(Investors needed.)
(She won’t do it.)
KoreAmBear: I’d be interested in investing. Congrats GB. Someone who can run a food business is someone who can make things happen. [Editor’s note: so true!] So you’re talking about after the remodel? That would be stinkin’ cool.
OneTopOneChickenApple: Will it still be $3 a dog?
Calumnus: I’d love to be involved. Great dogs and the best non-alcoholic beer we can find.
OneTopOneChickenApple: Greybear is The Man. Direct Hotline to Athletic Department and Top Dog and BearInsider boss. Count me in too, although I may only be able to invest in napkin and ketchup packet supplies.
sctawndawg: I wont invest any money but ill buy a few hot dogs every other year when SC goes up north to beat you guys.
GB54: Your daughter must have developed a lot of skills you don’t learn in books. I’ve always wondered how they hire these guys who can remember and have 58 orders going.
FremontBear: If your daughter ran Top Dog, then sight unseen, she’s better than the outfit running Memorial concessions. Ten bucks for a Polish and a drink??? Costco sells that combo for $1.50! I don’t mind Cal sports make good prfits, but at least give me the illusion my $10 is actually not that bad a ripoff. What kinds of numbers are we talking about as investment…?
GB54: Hell, if she was a top dog manager she’d be wasted in Memorial. I’d put her in charge of the Afghanistan war.
FremontBear: And the Federal Reserve too!
