Over the past two weekends, I’ve gathered with some followers to share a bit more about some of my favorite topics. Here are the replays and some useful resources mentioned in each conversation. You can find future live sessions by following me on my Facebook page.
Self-Compassion & Sensitivity (7.8.17)
Self-Compassion Journal Prompts (we didn’t do all of these Live):
Describe your inner critic. What tone does it use? Does it sound like someone you know or knew in real life? What are it’s most common phrases or statement? What is it afraid of? What circumstances are most likely to incite your inner critic?
Describe your inner kind voice. What tone does it have? What are it’s most common phrases and statements? What circumstances invoke your inner kind voice and calm your inner critic?
Who if anyone serves as a role model to you for speaking to yourself with self-compassion?
Draw a circle. At the center of the circle draw a heart or a flame. On the inside of the circle jot down all the parts of yourself that you welcome, celebrate, accept, show to others and yourself.
On the outside jot down the parts you feel shame about, the parts you have not accepted, the parts you feel are inferior to other people.
What would it take for me to welcome in one of the pieces of me that I’m keeping in the cold into my heart? What would it take for me to accept that this part of me does not impede love? What part of my imperfect humanity could I welcome in just a bit more? What does that as yet unwelcome part of me need to hear me say?
Sensitivity Journal Prompts:
What were you told throughout your life about your sensitivity? Who told you that?
How have you been viewing your temperament? What shift would make it easier to be in your own skin?
What are you sensitive to? (music, noise, people, light, smells, clutter, traffic, roller coasters, temperature, touch, other’s emotions)
What’s an instance where your sensitivity has been an asset? What’s been the gift of your temperament?
Intuitive Eating (7.15.17)
For many many years I’ve been fortunate enough to practice something called Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner. Each Friday morning when we’re in session I pack up my notebook and drive across the Bay Bridge to Alameda where myself and a handful of other women gather around her dining room table and spend two hours in practice.
I wish every woman in every community had a regular Wild Writing group. It feeds such a potent mix of hungers. The hunger for connection, for truth, for hearing your own voice, for laughter, for space and slowing down, for time away from screens, for emotional release, for inspiration and new discovery. For me, it’s often been a powerful support to my mental health. I could go on.
For some time now I’ve felt the call to lead my own group in my own version of this practice and so I am.
I’m calling it Sift: a writing practice for being human.
Let me tell you a little bit about what this practice looks like and who I’m inviting to join me.
First off, this is, right now, just for women in the San Francisco Bay Area. We’ll be meeting in-person at my home.
I have space for 8 women in total and six spots are already taken, so I have space for 2 more.
We’ll meet Wednesdays September 6th – October 11th (side note: the last week we’ll actually meet on a Tuesday, October 10th) from 10 AM to noon. Yes, for now, this is for folks with flexible weekday schedules.
This is a practice. Like yoga or painting, it’s about showing up and being willing meet yourself where you are.
This is not for people who want to be better writers (though you can want that too), it’s not for professional writers (though you can be that too), it’s not really about the writing at all. It’s about what this practice helps us access and about doing it together. You need no prior experience to participate. Just a willingness to show up and be honest.
Personally, I practice to tell the truth, to be human with other humans, to hear my stories, to make sense of myself and the world around me, to make space for my contradictions, to find the words, to reveal, to relax, and to be a little messy.
The practice essentially goes like this:
You’ll arrive. Get a cup of tea. Settle in.
I’ll read a poem and when I’m done I’ll pick a line or two for us to use as our writing prompt.
Then we’ll write, unedited, pen to paper, not stopping for 10 to 20 minutes. We don’t try to sound smart. We don’t try to write well. This practice serves to help us get around our perfectionist and performer.
When the time is up we go around the table (myself included) and read our writing. No feedback is given. We don’t discuss what’s written. We just witness each other. Sometimes there is laughter. Sometimes there are tears. It’s all welcome.
Then we repeat.
If it sounds simple, it is. It’s also profound.
If it sounds exhilarating but also scary. You’re not alone.
The cost to participate for the six weeks during this initial run is $200.
If you want to reserve your spot at the table send me an email expressing your interest and I’ll send you an invoice for your deposit. Again, I have five spaces remaining. You’re also welcome to email me any questions you have.
If you don’t live in the Bay Area, Laurie, my brilliant teacher, teaches Wild Writing online in small groups and it’s very powerful in that format too.
If you want to wake up, changing the media you consume is a powerful step. The more we surround ourselves with true and sane messages, the easier it is to see clearly and live accordingly. The more we surround ourselves with like-minded, compassionate-hearted, fierce-spirited people, the easier it is to have courage to go against the (delusional) tide and the easier it is to know that we’re not alone.
As I work away on the physical workbook for the next circle of Feast women I’m including a list of people in the body-positive, intuitive eating, and meditation worlds. I focus on these three areas because they are essential to the Feast journey, but I could just as easily share my favorite creatives, coaches, spiritual teachers, authors, and more. Whether you join Feast or not, I thought you might find this list helpful.
As the title of this post suggests, the selection below is incredibly incomplete.
This is simply a top-of-mind gathering of people and organizations whose newsletters, blog writing, social media content, and products I’m glad are in the world. If you believe I’ve left someone awesome off this list, hop over to my Facebook page and leave a comment so I can check them out.
Okay, at last, here are some good folks to know in alphabetical order.
Body Positive Folks & Organizations
Intuitive Eating & Health at Every Size-Friendly Nutritionists
Go forth and subscribe to their newsletters, read their blogs, buy their books, follow them on Facebook, feast on what they’re serving up!
It’s an unexpected contradiction that after a month of making over my home – purging, deep cleaning, organizing, painting, new furniture – that the theme for January would appear to be: messy.
Now messy isn’t my word for the year, I’ll get to that in a minute, but it does feel like the word for right now. In order to find my groove I need to splash a little in the mud. I need to play a little more. Write more shitty first drafts. Dance a bit more awkwardly.
This morning my boyfriend told me he dreamt that I was standing naked in a house and all the walls disappeared and I was just standing there naked. The house was on a busy street and everyone could see me. In his dream I wasn’t concerned, embarrassed, or rushing to cover up. While there won’t be any nude photos to kick of the year, I like the sentiment of this vision: get more naked.
We’re all so practiced at wearing masked. We know how to please people, wow to show them what they want to see and hide what we fear might bring rejection. Your good at it. I’m good at it. I’m also good at taking off the masks. It’s a practice.
And it’s through this practice that I’ve come to know that bearing oneself just a bit more isn’t something we master. New masks are always itching to be put on. It’s just too easy to edit what’s real out of the picture. Yet when we do this–when I do this–what follows is always a longing to be seen, connected, heard, and free.
So in the spirit of taking off the mask and getting messy I’m ready to share my word for the year. It seemed fitting then to make an honest, unpolished, unrehearsed, unscripted, make-up free-in-my-pajamas-while-having-the-flu video.
As of this week I will have taught 21 Well-Fed Woman Retreatshops.
I will have traveled, roughly, 38,445 miles over two years.
When I set out to circle with women, sharing what I know, I never ever thought I would travel so far, meet so many amazing people, or learn so much.
At the end of a journey like this I suppose it custom to check in and see what you learned.
Here are 21 lessons, one for each Retreatshop. Some are good to know for everyone, some are good if you want to travel and/or teach for work, and others are just for me to remember if I ever do it again.
1. The first time is never your best.
Poor Austin, Texas. I delivered a good experience. But there was simply no way to know how to do this until I did it. Austin was my very first stop and thanks to those Texas guinea pigs, I learned a lot. Things only got better – a lot better – from there. The lesson? You have to rip the band-aid at some point. All the preparation in the world can’t prepare you for the real thing.
2. Tears are a sign of impact.
I joke that I judge my success of a Retreatshop based on how many people cry. My track record is pretty impressive. Except for New York City. Those women wouldn’t crack even if we watched Beaches together while cutting onions. Nevertheless, have tissues ready. The truth is, you can’t really judge weather someone is having a positive experience of your event, but if they are crying, chances are you’re having an impact and impact is what I go for every time.
3. We need to hear each others stories.
The personal stories I shared, on most days, took the air right out of the room. Each person listening finding their own common thread in the weaving of my life and then invited out to share the things we too often keep in the back of the closet. It’s the kindred hearts, communicated through stories shared, that have stuck with me more than anything.
4. People are kind.
There are countless people who graciously opened their homes to me, fed me, picked me up from airports and dropped me off, and spent their precious hours helping to bring it all together. Most of these people I had never met before the day I descended on their city. I suppose I knew that people were kind before I did this, but the knowledge feels solid today, like a newly laid floor beneath me.
5. We are all the same.
It’s true. You + Me? Same cloth, cut up.
6. Sometimes the magic just isn’t there.
I didn’t hit it out of the park in all 21 cities. Why? Because sometimes the magic isn’t there. I can feel awesome. Be prepared and loose. Have enthusiastic attendees. Great weather and amazing food. And for whatever reason the vibration never elevated to a hum. Thankfully this was the rare exception, but it’s good to remember.
7. If you invite your mother, don’t sit opposite her.
Love my mom. Seriously. She is the very best. BUT…putting her in a chair opposite me doing my big thing. Not a great idea. I found myself analyzing her face the whole time (Was she liking it? Did she agree with my version of events?) and finally interrupting my talk to say “What is that face?!” only to be told “This is my face.” We all had a good laugh, but lesson learned.
8. Conference room lighting is the worst.
Avoid it at all cost.
9. Support independent caterers where possible.
In most of the cities this year I sought out small, independent caterers for our lunch. Every time they were reliable, enthusiastic about accommodating special dietary needs, prompt, affordable, and delicious. Special shout outs to Soulshine Kitchen in Andover, Mass.
10. Have an ice breaker with heart.
It might seem cheesy to start with an ice breaker, but it also works. When women come to gather for the kind of deep work that I facilitate they come with nerves. They fear the unknown of the day and are aware we’re likely going to dig into some pretty sticky topics. So, I start each Retreatshop asking everyone to share their favorite kind of pie. Immediately everyone goes to a happy place and common bonds start to form over shared favorites and sweet memories. For the record, my favorite is raspberry pie, double all-butter crust, with ice cream. Pie is holy.
11. Newsflash: Not everyone likes pie.
Every city had one person who didn’t like pie. I can’t explain this.
12. If you can have a dog in attendance, do.
Nothing makes vulnerability go down easier than a warm, soft pup curled up on your lap.
13. Invest in a suitcase you love.
The best money I spent, hands down. Thank you REI for making the 22″ Tech Beast. As I said, I traveled nearly 40,000 miles. Today, this suitcase looks good as new. I rarely checked it because it fit in the overhead compartment. I could lift it easily thanks to the many handles. It looks professional and fit everything I needed. So grateful.
While I couldn’t prepare for everything that was to cross my path on this journey, I did my best. I invested in the Transformation Speaking Immersion with Gail Larsen in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Cost a lot more than the suitcase. Also worth every penny.
15. Get credit cards that earn you miles.
Fact: most of my airfare was paid for simply because I had the right credit card.
16. Be selfish.
If I wasn’t out on the road teaching for myself, at least a little bit, I would have burnt out fast. If I had traveled that far and worked that hard out of pure altruism I would be a flat pancake right now. But I’m not. I feel pretty great. I did this to feed myself. I did this because I want to live as a Well-Fed Woman and I was hungry to sit with other women. I was hungry, so I set off to feed myself. Because each Retreatshop fed me (not just the attendees) I had fuel to keep going and arrived at the end so very satiated.
17. In person relationships trump internet relationships every time.
18. Don’t lie to the Canadian Border Police.
If you’re there for work, tell them. Trust me.
Canadians are nice people, unless they are border police and you lie to them.
19. Soul work takes time.
The first year I ran Retreatshops they were three hours in length. This is because a) I didn’t know what would work and b) I didn’t want to coordinate lunch.
The second year they were full day experiences. This worked MUCH better. Soul work takes time.
20. Presence. Curiosity. Love.
This is the invocation I did before each gathering. The three things I called into me. The three friends who supported me every time. They made all the difference.
21. The work I do is amazing.
It feels amazing for me and amazing for the women I work with.
It’s impactful. It’s imperfect. It’s authentic. It’s clear. It’s creative. It’s important. It’s totally unique.
I can say all of this wholeheartedly because unlike the day before I taught in Austin, Texas, today…I know. I’ve tested myself. I’ve seen the impact first hand.
I’ve gone into the arena, as Brene would say.
Here’s to the next 40,000 miles wherever they take me, even if it’s just a lot of trips to my kitchen table to sit, in my pajamas with a cup of tea, and write to you.