A few words about family...

As the holidays are upon us, it is always interesting to see how people feel about their families. Who doesn't want to spend time with Crazy Aunt Mary, who wouldn't be caught dead sitting at the kid's table, who decides at the last minute he wants to be vegetarian, and the horrible, white viscous matter that contains green beans and those fried onion things. I have usually worked on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, believing that those with little kids should have first crack at having the holiday off. Besides, I've worked so many holidays that I learned a long time ago that it really isn't the holiday date that matters, it is the time spent with family. I smile at those days when my sister and I, as adults, would fly in during the holiday season and giggle as we crept up the stairs to see if Santa had magically filled our stockings.

During the process of growing older, and the death of my father so many years ago, traditions fell by the wayside. Things weren't the same and the expansion and contraction of the family unit brought along an entire set of different priorities. Divorces, deaths, and new family members being added changed the face of our holiday traditions. Maybe I would have my children come to visit me in Chicago and I enjoyed that tremendously. Perhaps I would fly back to Denver sometime in December for a haphazard celebration, depending on when others could gather at my parent's house. I always liked having the Christmas celebration after Christmas because I could shop the after holiday sales.

So now that my family has experienced a major contraction, this holiday will be different. The absence of my mother will be felt more acutely at this time, but the importance of banding together feels more necessary than ever. Maybe some don't want to be with others, but I think the most meaningful thing that has come through this time is the profound gratitude that my siblings and I have put any discord aside and stepped back into being a family. I don't expect we will ever be the Cleavers, but it is nice to feel the sense of family again in my life.

For me, I have found that centering my life around gratitude has been so helpful. I am through the worst part of my grief and am able to see the lessons I have learned about myself. I am grateful for my sweet little Mama and all she brought to my life. I am grateful for my daughter who is such a great mom and brings a different flavor to the family. My son, with his quiet calm yet wicked sense of humor adds another dimension. My granddaughter...what can I say about this beautiful, tall, smart young woman that will always be my bundle of joy and the love of my life. My siblings, nieces and nephews are the best and continue their journeys in life with their own particular style. When we gather the room is filled with music and singing because that is just what we do. Music is the gift my mother gave to all of us.

I know that my mother smiles down on her family coming together. What we couldn't do for her in her life because of our own selfish stubbornness, we have managed to do in her death, and for that I am on my knees with gratitude. The hope I hold during this time is that perhaps we have moved past our dramas and can come together for the holidays. That would bring my mother tremendous joy as she watches from afar.

So the message for today is I love my body more than viewing my family as one dimensional. I am embracing the differences in my family and moving forward forging new paths and traditions. I have put the drama away and now choose to live in the light of gratitude and joy.

Happy Holidays!
XO,
Karen

A few words about grapes...

I was recently in California and visited several vineyards. It was awesome and I had the good fortune of being given a private tour of a lovely winery. As the tour guide was explaining everything that goes into that amazing glass of wine we tasted at the end of the tour it made me stop and think about all kinds of things...like I'm a work in progress just like the grapes. It takes years to grow the perfect grapes to be able to produce the first harvest of delicious wine. You have to balance the soil with plants that will enhance the grapes, post the trellises north to south or east to west, shade the fruit from the intense sun by letting the leaves grow or trimming them up to ripen more quickly. It is the same thing when you are balancing your life.

Keeping things in balance is sometimes like being in a carnival with plates on sticks or juggling and throwing batons, or learning to stand on someone else's shoulders when you need to. I have worked through my life on things that would develop me emotionally, having the courage to look at my life fearlessly in the eye moving through challenging times as gracefully as possible, planting seeds to create the perfect balance in the soil of my life. As I am moving through this process of discovering the possibilities that lie in my future without my mother in it, I realize that I have been like the grapes. Each seed planted, each sheltered emotion wanting to burst through the ground, each side of me that I have shaded from the light, each darkness that dawns with new light and understanding stands for the million facets that make me, me.

I stand profoundly grateful for the soil, seeds, storms, sunshine, and challenging conditions that have presented themselves to me during my lifetime. I have no doubt I'm moving through the loss of my mother with grace and dignity and profound growth. I'm not sure when I'll be finished, probably never because I think when you stop growing you stop living, but in the meantime I am setting the table, polishing the wine glasses and preparing for the harvest of a lifetime. You have to believe with every fiber of your being that you have created the perfect blend for an amazing life, overflowing with light and love. Sometimes you just have to bet on the grapes being a flavorful combination that is aged well, balanced, luscious, full bodied, bold and elegant with nice legs. Just like me! So the message for today is I love my body more than challenging times. They only serve to make me dig really deep for the richness that lies within me.

Cheers!

XO,
Karen

A few words about Change....

I love when the seasons start to change and the dark comes earlier and stays later. It is a comforting time to know the world is revolving on schedule and life is continuing on. I work long hours and on days that I'm working I find when I come home I'm tired and just want to relax. My day has been full and meditation isn't on my schedule when I get home. I decided a few years ago that I didn't have enough me time on work days so I started getting up earlier. I spend that extra hour catching up on email, enjoying my coffee, and generally starting my day in a relaxed place instead of a flurry to get out of the door. Now, I get up early every day and find that I can have time before the world starts stirring and the noises on the street below begin to fill my ears. It is a time of peace and reflection and I have come to really enjoy it. I love watching the sun start reflecting the new day on the windows of the buildings downtown with a breathtaking pink glow.

As the seasons are changing, so is my life. I am beginning to look at it differently. It is a world filled with options and choices and new beginnings. People are coming back into my life while others are leaving. Some have remained constant, as always. New friendships are developing and I feel like I'm coming out of hibernation. I'm in a space of reorganization in my life, reprioritizing, and self reflection. I started seeing a therapist and have been doing some pretty intense purging of stuff cluttering up my head. Lots of digging through junk, deciding what to keep, what to throw away, what to store and look at later. Change is sometimes difficult, but there are still choices and lessons. Embracing change through this time has been challenging, however, with each sunrise, the possibilities of my life are multiplying and acceptance of the changes is becoming less challenging. And for that I'm grateful. My own journey of change will continue just as the changing of the seasons will continue to arrive on schedule. So, today, I'll embrace change. I'll prepare for the change of seasons, look through my closet and pull out the warm clothing. It is a beautiful time of year, and a beautiful time of life.

So, the lesson for today is I love my body more than my resistance to change; surrendering to the possibilities of the life that lies before me.

Have a glorious day,
XO,
Karen

A few words about baggage...

I am finding as I am moving through this reorganization of my life, baggage that I thought was carefully and thoughtfully stowed is popping up again. Kind of like the scene in Poltergeist when bodies start popping up through the ground. At least I think it was Poltergeist...

Anyway, the thought is that as much emotional work as you do, as much as you employ a new set of coping tools, the baggage is never completely gone. You just learn to deal with it. There have been circumstances in my life lately that have sent me unpacking again. Right there with my gorgeous, beautiful luggage. I have drug it out from the storage unit and opened it up to look at the contents. The act of actually doing this is unconscious, and that is what is the most interesting thing. As a healthy, well adjusted adult, I know this is not a great neighborhood to be wandering alone. As a wounded woman who is grieving the loss of her mother, and is incredibly vulnerable right now, it is what I would consider to be impossible not to go right back to that place of childhood wounds that complicate my grief. Interesting.

If you have a child with special needs, aren't those special needs going to be part of his life forever? Won't, when the most stressful situation presents itself at some point in his adult life, those special needs come back to visit? Even though the child who has walked through this, learned new coping skills and by all rights "moved on" wouldn't you expect that under duress it would be natural to revert back to old habits and thought patterns? Would you condemn that grown child for reverting back to an old thought pattern or behavior? I believe that stress produces the best and the worst in people. I also believe that my baggage has come back to visit, but it isn't going to stay. It will leave again, and I will be stronger for the visit.

I also believe that death and the ensuing grief really separates the wheat from the chaff. There are those that will fearlessly stand with you, not judging your actions or declaring your emotions irrational. There are those that send a message via Facebook, or a text message quickly pecked out on the cell phone. Then there are those that completely avoid you for fear you will start crying or something else that makes them uncomfortable. There is no judgment on my part, just an interest that everyone deals with death in their own way. There are those that you thought were friends that you realize just can't handle great big emotion. Those all move into the acquaintance category. And there are those that completely blow you away with how they step up and somehow when the dust clears from another emotional storm, they are still standing right beside you. Unwavering. Wow. And there are the times when you realize you are completely alone. And that is OK, too.

I have learned through this process that I don't take anything personally because each person stands in grief in his own shoes. Each has a level of comfort that belongs only to him. I have also come to the conclusion that even though someone says they would do anything for you, when push comes to shove, they go diving for cover and it is every man for himself. Some things are just too big and vast and incomprehensible for someone else to understand. And that is just the way life is. And I'm completely good with that. You have to stand for yourself first.

My baggage is mine, and it is what makes me, me. In all my perfect or imperfect perfection. It is mine, and the understanding of why, or how it became, or how long until it will be released is mine to determine. So, the message for today is that I love my body more than those that stand in judgment of my behavior, thoughts, or my precious, beautiful baggage that has accompanied me on my life journey. It will go back into storage, a little lighter for the inspection, when I'm ready.

XO,
Karen

A Few Words about Normal...

Recently, I have had this overwhelming urge to bake a pie. I'm not sure why because pie seems like a cool weather thing and the weather in Denver has been utterly spectacular and unseasonably warm. Warm days with a crisp feeling in the air and cool nights, perfect for sleeping under a comforter. I have my windows open and the breeze is blowing through, I can hear the lawn mowers in full power outside, the water in the pool is still shimmering because even though it is the end of September, the management of my condo association has decided to keep it open just a little longer this year. The trees are still green, people are still wearing shorts, and it just seems to be out of sequence. It seems like summer is having a little trouble letting go but, it actually feels a little comforting. I'm grateful for the evenings on the balcony with a sweater, and even more grateful for the clear skies and fabulous sunsets. I know colder weather will come sooner than I desire.

Last weekend, my best friend came from Florida to spend a few days with me. When I called to tell her my mother died, she said she could come then or would wait until later. Whatever I desired. Waiting until later seemed like a good idea, and it was indeed. I rented a cabin and we drove through the most spectacularly beautiful canyons to our destination. Arriving at our little slice of heaven, we unpacked the car then walked down the hill to the river. Water flowing over rocks and boulders is so incredibly soothing. As we sat at the side of the river, we talked about everything that makes best friends best friends. Nothing is out of bounds, no thought ridiculous, and no grief not held by the other. Nothing said is irrational or judged or ridiculous. It is just held between two friends who know each other inside and out. Then we walked back to our cabin, mixed some cocktails and sat on the deck until the stars lit up the mountain sky. It was heaven indeed, and so comforting to relax into a friendship that has weathered so many years.

So as I sit here listening to the lawn mowers, the smell of my apple pie baking is beginning to fill my apartment and I am considering walking to the market to buy the ingredients for meat loaf. Complete with mashed potatoes, and maybe string beans. Something I rarely eat, but it just sounds good. And comforting, and out of the ordinary. I don't feel normal since losing my mother. I've lost my sense of normal, and I'm not ordinary. I am unique in my journey and the journey is just beginning. I'm still finding my footing and the ground on which my feet will eventually land may be completely different than I ever expected. It doesn't matter. Right now, I'm along for the ride. And on this ride they are serving meat loaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. With apple pie for dessert. So the message for today is that I'm not fighting the urge to make everything normal because it isn't. Otherwise, I would be having salmon and asparagus for dinner, a large salad and a glass of crisp chardonnay. My new normal will come to me in its own time. My belief in my ability to transition there is unshakable. I will find my way, and be wiser and richer for the journey. And perhaps a better cook...So the message for today I love my body more than grasping for normal...whatever that is.

XO,
Karen

A few words about feeling broken....

I have recently been feeling broken. Like I am wounded, carrying around the parts that have fallen off of me through my personal loss in a wheelbarrow. This is noteworthy because this equates to baggage to me. It is funny how in life we cling to things that are painful, carrying them around in wheelbarrows, boxcars, huge storage lockers, or tiny little makeup bags because it feels like if we let go we will be lost in a world of the unknown. The baggage justifies the behavior that others might find a wee bit odd. The hauling of these bags or pushing of the wheelbarrows is exhausting but we continue to carry them with us through our lives allowing them to color everything we do and shade each emotion with the caution that is constantly being whispered over our shoulders by said baggage.

I am broken because my mother is no longer in her earthly body. And it is painful. But she is in a beautiful container that sits on my table that I pass several times as I move through my day. It has been a process and I have finally reached the place that I realize that this isn't my mother. It is just a very nice container that I selected that contains a bag of ashes. Everything that I loved about my mother is not in that little bag. I loved her face, her smile, her fingers, and her gnarled up toes that were always in search of comfortable shoes. I loved how when I was happy she celebrated, when I was sad she listened. She would have been amazed that I am still shedding tears for her six weeks later. But I will mend, and she will still be just ashes in a container on my table. I am releasing the desire that I keep her with me. She is with me, but not in the ashes.

So, it is with resignation and love that I surrender once again and complete this journey with my mother. She wanted to be with my father at a military cemetery with her vital statistics etched on the back of the headstone with his vital statistics. A physical marker of her existence on this earth. I will release her ashes to the cemetery because she expected me to do that for her. I thought attending the cremation was my final act of taking care of her and her wishes. I realize now it was only the penultimate act. Releasing her ashes is the final act. Then I'll continue my journey of moving on, a woman who has been altered, but will arise richer, wiser, and deeper. This is a profound experience and I am honored to feel the depths of emotion, that I have evolved to the space in my life where I am cracked so wide open. Being vulnerable isn't that bad after all.

I am letting this pour through me, sometimes like a breeze, sometimes like a tsunami but I am unafraid of feeling it all. The highest highs and the lowest lows. I hold the belief that this experience is expanding me beyond my wildest expectations. To believe that in the past I have held my feelings so close to my chest, afraid I would be judged for not doing it properly seems foreign to me now. The feeling of just letting it all go, complete with peanut butter sandwiches at midnight if I want is emancipating. I know I will pop on the other side, but not until I'm ready. So, the message for today is I love my body more than the roller coaster ride I'm riding right now...

XO

A few words about Grief...

I have received so much support and words of compassion through this time following the death of my mother. This loss is so unexpectedly monumental for me. While I knew it was coming, in fact so intuitive that it would happen very soon, I still, three weeks later feel like I have been taken out at the knees. I was having my nails done yesterday and fell apart. I can only imagine they were saying "the poor lady with fat toes crying" in Vietnamese while they continued to gouge my cuticles. Wow. So completely unexpected.

I am so incredibly fortunate to have a bank of long term leave from which to draw my pay so I am moving through this time completely financed by the very job that I am so afraid of returning to...Fear of having someone "need" me or place demands on my time is terrifying. My sojourns out of my apartment have consisted of going to my brother's house, sorting through my mother's things, and aimless errands to the grocery. The trip to the nail salon was just a test to see if I could get through something without falling apart...failed.

My mother's ashes sit on my table in my living room and the thought of giving them to the military cemetery for burial makes me frantic. It was my job to take care of my mother and while I know that job is ended, it is with a sense of irrational protection that I feel I must keep her together in my care. Other family members desire some of her ashes and I am unable to part with even one flake. They will have to wait until I am ready. I still have my dog that was cremated 17 years ago in a hatbox on my nightstand. That is kind of creepy, however during this time of grieving, I am not judging one single feeling or thought and I assume no responsibility for my actions. Additionally I reserve the right to change my mind with the breeze. I have been able to move my mother's ashes around my apartment and they no longer sit where I can easily pat her on the way in or out. I've not yet placed her on the couch to watch Jeopardy, although the thought did occur to me. Again, I am not judging any thought that passes through my consciousness, but even I can realize that one is a little far out. I've moved her to a spot that requires a specific trip to touch the curve of her container and must I raise my voice if I'm leaving the apartment to say goodbye. When I finally move her into a closet, I will know it is time. But the container is beautiful and suits my decorating style...perhaps I could fill the black plastic box in which she was delivered to me with sand and the cemetery will never know the difference as they slip it into the 4x5x8 inch hole they so lovingly dug. As for other family members who desire some of her ashes I was thinking I could just burn something else and place those ashes in those little remembrance urns that cost somewhere in the ridiculous neighborhood of around $300 each, but I'm afraid they will peek under the hood as it were. I have been so adamant in my desire to keep her I think they all believe that they won't be getting the real thing anyway.

My grief partner is moving on...my brother is going back to work today. Not that I am divulging his career, but it might be in your best interest to stay out of the Denver area for the next month or so. Just sayin'. He believes it is time to step back into his life. I do, too, I am just afraid of what my life looks like without my mother in it. What if I have a bad day? Who do I call? Where will I be getting my free advice? I'm sure there is a help line out there for motherless daughters or if not I'll start one. There are so many women my age that have lost their mothers and when I randomly blurt out "my mother just died" to strangers in the elevators who are just minding their own business and when I get on are uttering the obligatory "how are you?", burst into tears when they hear my news and tell me I will never get over losing my mother. One woman who started crying told me her mother had been dead for 15 years and when she got out of the elevator, sobbing, frankly I was pretty freaked out. Really? 15 years? Not that it is all about me, but I was seriously disturbed by the fact that I could be that woman.

So the clock keeps on ticking, everyone is returning to work, picking up their lives and moving on. Yet I still feel like I'm frozen in time. I picked up a piece of fruit in the grocery store for my mother and it was nearly in the basket before I realized she probably wouldn't be needing it. I wonder just how long it takes before I stop reaching instinctively for the phone, or picking up something that reminds me I need to get one for my mother.

Yesterday I was running some errands, doing a little retail therapy. I tried to avoid looking at the department where my mother would always hold something up and ask if I thought it made her look like an old lady, but it was impossible not to glance over and look for her face to let her know I was checking out. Perhaps I am. If only temporarily. I've gone from losing my mother just yesterday, to losing her last week, and now it has been three weeks and it still feels so fresh and raw. Soon, it will be "I lost my mother recently" then before I can turn around twice, I will be the lady in the elevator telling some poor woman that it has been 15 years and she will never get over the loss of her mother. Yikes.

I am immensely happy I had my mother for as long as I did, with not one single portion of unfinished business. I knew where she stood as did she know about me in our lives. But frankly, this part is really painful and right now I just want my mommy to stroke me on the head and tell me everything is going to be alright. Perhaps that part comes later...Today the only message I have for you is that I love my body more than depriving myself of my grief. It is mine and I will let go when I'm ready...

XO,
Karen

A few words about Mourning

I'm grieving the loss of my mother right now and believe me it is a full time job. The emotion hits as a tsunami and I feel like I can't breathe. Then a memory pops up and I'm laughing, then I'm crying, then I'm running. Wow, this is really the ultimate all inclusive ticket in life. Losing someone is so difficult, but for me losing my mother is kind of an out of body experience. I intuitively knew she was going, and I knew she was ready to be free from what her life had become. When I dropped her off from having breakfast the other day and she turned to wave goodbye, I instinctively knew it would be the last time. Oh, I saw her the next day but something was different. She hugged me a little longer when I left. We talked over the next few days and she told me she didn't feel right. I listened and told her I would come over and she said "Oh Honey, just wait and come on Friday", believing this would pass. She never wanted to be any trouble and when she didn't answer her phone on Thursday I knew in my heart she was gone. How do we know those things? I never go see her after a work day, but that day I knew I had to get to her. My little mother. She recently bought her tickets for the concert season this winter. Ready to go on to the next phase of her life's journey, but figuring if she might just be sticking around she would enjoy herself.

As I embark on this part of my life without my mother I am filled with wondering about how it will be to be the older generation. My grandchildren have always had a great grandmother. I was insulated from being the oldest one in the family. Do I know how to do this? She always had the answer or an ear or a piece of loving advice. I am wondering if I know how to do that. My mother had confidence in me and always knew I would handle any situation with grace and dignity. What is it that has me wondering if I am capable of moving through this without her? Personally I think it is just the steamroller of loss that is smashing through me right now. It is just the feeling of being gutted like the fish on tonight's menu. This will pass.

So, I am surrendering. I am being gentle with myself. I have reached my maximum capacity. I am exhausted and brittle and haven't slept or eaten in substantial amounts since finding her tucked into her bed last Thursday. Fortunately for me, no one is asking any questions right now. But when they do, I will have the answers. Or I will have an ear, or free advice. I know I will surface and I will be wiser and richer for the experience. The message for today is I am surrendering to this tsunami of emotion. I will stop fighting it and let it wash over me and take me out to the sea of the unknown. Today, I love my body more than the grief which is swallowing me whole.
XO,
Karen

On Letting my Ego Go

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about the life of my ego. Examining how it has served me, and how at this point in my life, my ego plays such a small role. Freud describes the ego as being a function of the mind and not a neurological function, therefore isn't it something that can be released with conscious effort? My ego has been the part that has gotten in the way of feeling deeply, dancing like a maniac, or wearing a bikini believing that others will certainly sit in judgment of the little bulges on my thighs. My ego allows my feelings to be hurt when my logical mind believes that everyone makes choices and while I might not agree with the choices they have made I do agree it is their right to make them. So where are you going with this, you ask...

I realize that at this point in my life I have more years behind me than I do in front of me and I know that to live a joy filled life it has required a shift in my thinking. I have placed what I think of myself before what others think. And it has changed my life completely. My ego kept me sheltered, kept me reined in and prevented me from doing something that I might have enjoyed but others might have perceived as "acting foolish."

I recently met a man that was so tightly wound in his ego that he just couldn't let go of the identity it provided for him. He was so tied up in his career and the "expected" and "socially appropriate" behavior that he was completely missing the boat of letting go and having fun. Certainly not a dance break in his future. Through that meeting, I was profoundly grateful that I am the person I am, that I move well in any circle but I am genuine and transparent in my life and if I feel a little dancing going on in my head, I let it move into my body. Appropriately so, or maybe not, but I live my life in my body and out of my head. I no longer ask a million questions in my head like "is anyone going to see me?" or "what if they do and think I look like an idiot?" Seriously, does it matter? No. I don't think someone is going to think less of me professionally or personally if they witness an act of joy emanating from me. I have been released from the idea that EGO stands for Everything Good Outside according to Dr. Northrup. Things from the outside don't fill me up, I add to the outside by spilling over from the inside. Life is just one big adventure, and whatever I choose to add to my life comes from a true desire for me, not what another will think of me should this be added. Letting go of my ego has been a work in progress, but the rewards have been incredible. So the lesson for today is I love my body more than what my ego dictates...
XO,
Karen

On the Need for Oxygen

I was on a flight a couple of weeks ago watching the safety video and it got to the part where the oxygen masks were falling from the ceiling of the cabin. Even though I have seen the video so many times, it struck me differently and I was immediately aware of why they instruct you to do that. If you don't have the oxygen you need, you will not have the ability to help another because your own source of oxygen will be depleted. I was also immediately aware of how often I have taken care of another's needs without making sure I was taken care of first. I have accepted second place many times in my life, at the expense of my own well being. What I have given to others has sometimes come from a place of resentment, guilt, or obligation because I was running on fumes in my own life. Over the last few years I have come to learn that if I'm not happy, I have no means by which to genuinely and unconditionally give to another. So I decided to see how it would work if I put the importance of my own joy first. Frankly, it works rather well.

It doesn't come from a place of narcissism it comes from a place of realization that keeping myself in a good place makes everything else incredibly easy. It is my job to take care of me. Since I have been doing that, my relationships have improved, I enjoy myself more, I have more fun. I laugh easily and often. I have even had people tell me I am a role model for living a joyful life. Wow, could I have said that 5 years ago? No.

In my profession I am a natural caregiver. I help to manage an illness, speak with family members, have difficult conversations regarding end of life issues. If my own cup is empty, I end my day feeling drained. If I take breaks during my day, like doing a little dance, or playing my air guitar, I rev right back up to a level where I have excess to give. Pleasure is as necessary as water to me.

So the message for today is put on your own mask first. It gives you the vital oxygen you need to propel your own life. Fill your own cup with pleasure first, then you have the fuel to give freely to another. Today, I love my body more than second place.

XO,
Karen

On Living a Topless Life

I was recently in Miami on a girlfriends only weekend. I go a couple of times a year and it never disappoints. It provides me with a connection to sisterhood that I have not experienced in my own family of origin and challenges me to continually expand my life. These incredible friends have become family to me and it is a joy to spend time with each of them. I come home feeling energized and full of contentment, celebrating the absolute joy I have every day waking up just being me.

On the first trip nearly two years ago, my friends and I were approaching the beach and noticed several women were topless. My girlfriend told me she didn't think she would ever be able to bare her breasts and I agreed. We settled into our chairs and were having a little conversation when we noticed a tattoo artist drawing henna tattoos on the breasts of the topless sunbathers. In an instant my friend, who had said not ten minutes earlier that she would never be able to take her top off, had not only removed it but was now discussing the design she wanted painted on her breasts with the artist. Wow. The look on her face was priceless. She was in total bliss at her courage. I was in awe. There was a couple getting married on the beach facing the ocean who might not have anticipated partially clad women with tattooed breasts dancing on the sand in their forever after pictures. In her new found liberation from not only her top, my girlfriend suggested a fertility dance around the bride. It was hysterically funny and while I laughed, I still had my top on, feeling like I was on the outside looking in at all of the fun. Why?

I think the thought of going topless on the beach was too radical for me and I knew I would have the feeling of being so completely exposed. Someone would be able to look into my soul just by seeing my breasts. While everyone was having so much fun I was hesitant to join in. I could hide behind my swimsuit keeping all of my secrets, as well as my breasts, covered. And just what did I think I was hiding? Something? Nothing? It was an interesting thought to take out of my head and examine.

Over the last several years learning to love me exactly as I am has had so many twists and unexpected turns. Realizing that I don't really have secrets that are so incredibly shocking or shameful has been liberating. Getting into agreement with my life and the experiences I have had has been priceless. It has enabled me to shoot forward into a life bigger than I would have imagined even five years ago. I can take my top off on the beach because I want to and I like the feeling of freedom it gives me.

Learning to completely step into the light in my life, fearlessly and without shame has been so incredible. Today I stand for the woman that I am, the woman that I have been and the woman I have yet to become. It is a journey and I am so digging the life I live. It is richer, juicier, and more rewarding than I could have dreamed. I no longer live my life on the outside looking in. I live my life from the inside out, joyfully, transparently and confidently. I live my life without tan lines. So the message for today is I love my body more than hiding...

Here's to blowing the top off of your life!
XO,
Karen

On the Juxtaposition of Growing Older and Me...

I was listening to a much younger coworker talking about her upcoming trip to Italy and that she and her group would be staying in hostels, riding buses and taking trains, backpacking and hiking and I was reminded that my parents used to travel and stay in hostels, only they were Elderhostels. Then, the thought came to me, moving into my consciousness as slowly as a gentle breeze on a hot summer day, that I am old enough to be eligible to stay in an Elderhostel. Wow. At first I smiled at the thought, then laughed out loud. The ridiculousness of being fifty five years old is staggering. I don't feel like it, I don't look like it, and I certainly don't buy into the idea that I am on the downhill slide of my life. In fact I bought a pair of skinny jeans in the junior department yesterday. They have really cool rhinestones studs on the back pockets and belt loops and an even bigger rhinestone button on the fly. And I look pretty good in them if I do say so myself. I even bought a cute top to go with them. It is one that my granddaughter would love to have. Last night I was in the audience at the Roller Derby wearing pink glitter false eyelashes, a black miniskirt and hot pink tights. Age inappropriate? I don't think so, and who defines that anyway? My life swings from one side to the other of the over/under middle age measure and sometimes it makes me laugh out loud. The night before that I was enthralled at the symphony listening to a 20 something prodigy with my mouth agape, stunned at her ability to feel the music through her fingertips and on to the strings of her violin. She was astounding, thrilling to watch, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I remember thinking the symphony was for old people, yet there I was, completely enjoying the experience.

I love my ability to embrace both sides of my life in numbers, free of the encumbrances of worrying that someone will be looking at me, or judging me, labeling me, or even worse that I could possibly make a fool of myself. I wonder how my life would have been had I discovered earlier that it really wasn’t all about me. Seriously, people were not watching me all the time, laughing at me as much as I thought they were. As I was watching the emcee at the Roller Derby last night wearing nothing but lime green lace panties, black Doc Martins and a muscle shirt, I was envious of his ability to own his appearance. Who cares if he wore green panties? Maybe his mother, but he didn’t. He pranced, danced and totally owned the look. And I smiled while watching his confidence.

I think there are two camps when it comes to growing older. Those that look at it as an inevitability and make decisions based on “I’m too old for that” verses the other side that embraces growing older as an opportunity to try something they haven’t before, stretch out of a comfort zone, or learn that really age is just a number. Young at heart is a way of life, whether you are 9 or 90. My little old lady mother and her girlfriend wanted ice cream the other day and excitedly pulled out coupons for free cones from McDonald’s. As they approached the counter, they noticed the coupons were for ages 12 and younger. They stepped up to the counter confidently and asked the attendant, who was somewhere in the neighborhood of 16, if the coupon could apply if they were experiencing a second childhood. He consulted his 17 year old supervisor and with all seriousness they were awarded their free ice cream cones. They walked away giggling, licking their prize.

Me? Thinking of myself as older? Can't see how that goes together. I guess feeling young is just in my DNA, and for that I am grateful. So the message for today is I love my body more than thinking I'm too old for anything...

I’m off to skip through the park,
XO,
Karen

On Being my Own Party

I was at an exercise class earlier this week and talk turned to the weather and yet another approaching storm. I swore to the class if there was snow on the ground in the morning, I would wear my bikini under my clothes to work. It was pretty funny when I got up, looked out of the window and saw we had the beginnings of what looked to be another blizzard. So, true to my promise, when I got dressed I put on my bikini first in official protest of the snow, but mostly because it was fun, then put on my black dress and boots and left to start my day with a huge smile on my face. I got to work and told a friend who thought it was hilariously funny, another told me she was so sick of winter she went to VS and bought every pair of sunshine yellow underwear she could find. It was a little mini riot of fun at my own hands. When I got home from work, the snow was so beautiful on my balcony that I took off my shoes and did a little barefoot dance just to see my footprints. It was fun, and it was my idea.

I realize that through my life I have expected the job of making me happy belonged to someone else. A husband, a boyfriend, an employer, friends or a family member. It is interesting how my journey of seeking to live my life through fun and pleasure has given me more joy than anyone else could ever give me. See, I am my own party. I wear a bikini under my work clothes because it makes ME happy. I dance barefoot in the snow because it is joy of my own creation. I turn on my iPod and dance in my living room because it moves my energy and makes me feel good.

How many times have I complained because I wasn't having a good time or failed to come through for myself to stand in my own pleasure? Too many to count. I have blamed others for my lack of happiness. And knowing what I have learned about creating my own fun, I sincerely apologize to them for the expectation that they were responsible for me. I am responsible for me, in every respect. And it is liberating, exhilarating, and most of all completely fun. So, today I love my body more than expecting someone else to create my happiness...

I'm off to run errands, flirt with every man, woman and child within my reach and smile my way through this gorgeous day.

With joy in my heart,
XO,
Karen

Distraction and a counterproductive life...

The other day I left the grocery store with a basket full of delicious food, walked to the parking lot, opened the back door and place my groceries on the back seat, then open the front door, got into the car and suddenly felt like something was different. I looked at the particles of dried grass and dirt on the floor mat and wondered where they had come from. Then I looked at the cup holder and there was a can of an energy drink that I don't drink snuggled in the compartment. It all kind of happened in slow motion...I realized that I was in the wrong car. I jumped out and hoped that no one would see me, especially the owner of the car of which I had just taken temporary ownership. I looked around in a stunned daze and noticed another car, identical to the car I own but not assuming it was mine, grabbed another basket, yanked my groceries out of the back seat where they were erroneously stored, and shut the door. I cautiously walked to the next car and hit the button on my key to unlock. Fortunately all of my lights came on, I quickly unloaded my cart for the second time, calmly walked to the basket corral in the parking lot then made a beeline for my car and drove away as if nothing had happened. The first car I had opened was identical to mine, same color, model, year. As I drove away I found the experience hilariously funny, but upon more pondering I wondered how many times I have been distracted lately. Distracted from returning a phone call, remembering a birthday, or taking care of myself. In my job there is no room for error at all. I could potentially harm someone seriously if I was distracted. But in my life outside of my job, there is plenty of room for improvement.

So as I moved through this thought I thought of how many times I was just not paying attention. Not listening completely. Not being completely present for another, or just not showing up for myself at all. I thought how not returning a phone call from a friend, or missing a birthday that I knew was coming up that now has passed made me feel. It doesn't make me feel good. What was distracting me from the moment? By short changing another did I short change myself? I can reframe each memory with the fact that my timing is always perfect and elegant, but is it really?

Completely caring for myself means paying attention, loving each moment, living in the present. OK, I've got my own attention now...So today, the message is, other than remember to always lock your car so some unsuspecting person doesn't load her groceries into the backseat, is that for me, distraction is counterproductive to living a full life because I don't like the feeling it generates when I'm not paying attention. So , today I love my body more than distraction...

XO,
Karen

The Shift from Why to What According to Me....

I recently discovered a great blog that is centered around positive thinking and as I was voraciously devouring every word, it became so clear to me that life consists of a running commentary in our heads. Part of that commentary is acknowledging the "why" and moving on to the "what". By that I mean that I have reached a point in my life that the "why" doesn't matter as much as the "what."

See, when I'm in the "why" mode, "why did this have to happen to me?", it is so easy to remain in a victim role. It kind of falls into the "if only" someone wouldn't have done something, said something or contributed in anyway to the situation I currently find myself in, that allows me to not take responsibility for my own feelings. It also allows a very convenient excuse for not getting myself out of the current situation. It is someone else's fault. I have the luxury, if only momentarily, of getting off completely free from taking the responsibility of accepting my own thoughts. Then I have to weigh the reward...is the reward of giving away my power by not accepting my own responsibility greater than the reward of accepting responsibility and ultimate control of my life and my thoughts? Is taking a stand and changing the thought by moving forward into a possibly unknown outcome exciting or too terrifying to contemplate? Personally I find it exhilarating to think about what will happen to spur me to grow out of my comfort zone. A challenge. Yum.

By moving into the "what" mode, it is the complete ownership of the acceptance that I have made lemonade out of the lemons I have not only created, but the realization that I created the tree that grew the lemons in the first place (with the grateful nod to Davin for that one). If I take responsibility for my thoughts that lead to my actions, I strike a match to the trajectory of my life to ignite the jet fuel to rocket me forward into the best possible situation and the growth that comes along for the ride. I made the bargain with myself and the Universe that I would live the best life possible, and by doing that, I take myself out of the victim role (the "why" mentality) and move fearlessly forward armed with WHAT as my guide. See, the "why" doesn't matter. It is only the actions I take that propel me forward that are worth the contemplation...What is my next delicious pleasure? What will I do today that will change my life in a positive way? What can I bring to the table that is meaningful?

So the lesson for today is that I don't have to know the why anymore...I only need to know the what. Today I love my body more than why...
XO
Karen

A few words about vanity...

I made a comment the other day about our new uniforms at work and how I was unhappy with the color but it did bring out the blue in my eyes. With a wink and a smile I was told "you're so vain." While I was a little surprised and wondered about the intention of the comment and how it was completely uncalled for, it did give me pause to think about the difference between self confidence and being vain. It also reminded me that my father used to do that to me to "knock me down to size" when he thought I was too full of myself. My self confidence withered as a child when it would have been appropriate to have been nurtured. I can remember a time in the not way distant past that this would have had the same effect on me and I would have withered at the words of another.
It has been a process to unwind the old tapes that have played in my head and live fully in the new ones that are singing there now. When I think about the word vain, it has mostly negative connotations. Narcissistic, self centered, self absorbed, snooty. Merriam-Webster defines it as having or showing undue or excessive pride in one's appearance or actions. I have blue eyes. Fact. The blue color of the uniform makes my eyes appear more blue. Fact. Is stating a fact about myself a demonstration of conceit? I don't think so. I believe women especially are taught not to brag, not to celebrate achievements openly, not to look in the mirror and appreciate, within earshot of others how absolutely fabulous the reflection appears. I recently ordered a red dress online and when it arrived I tried it on and looked at myself in the mirror. I was stunned at how great it fit, how incredible I looked in it and how the color was absolutely perfect. It hugged my curves like a Ferrari on a test track. Fact.
This is all part of the journey of learning and loving myself fully, appreciating every inch of myself from head to toe, celebrating and owning the way I look, behave, respond, and feel about myself in all situations. Letting myself be affected by the judgment of another is so old news. Is being self confident in my appearance only appropriate if I keep it to myself? I don't think so. I love to share my pride with my friends, just as I love to hear the pride they have in themselves. I think there is a mighty difference between pride and self confidence and vanity. The difference is in the attitude. Taking on the judgment by others is an old garment that doesn't fit me anymore. Even if it is done with a wink and a smile. A dig is a dig, regardless of how it is packaged. Today, I am gratefully reminded how easy it is to hand my power over to another and I am deliciously reminded that I love my body more than allowing others to label me...I'm going to go try on that dress again...
Have a fabulous, stunning day,
XO,
Karen

Loving my body with a Pleasure Infusion

I was asked a question by a friend today...Why is it so easy to see the beauty all around and so difficult to see the beauty in ourselves? My take on the whole thing is that we are so bombarded by negativity, and we take the easy road of tolerance just bobbing along in the river of our lives. It is easy to bob along, wanting a better life but not willing to stretch to get it. Playing the hand we are dealt, wondering like the old song "Is that all there is?" Changing myself will take too much time, I don't think I can do that, or the world famous, totally stuck in the muck statement "that's just the way I am." Well, does the way you are work for you? Do you truly desire better, or are you completely satisfied being the same, believing your life will be better when the kids are grown, when you lose 20 pounds, or when you have a boyfriend? Maybe your life will be better when you have a new house, a better wardrobe, more money or a better job. Yes, more money would make things better. Really? I disagree. I believe you have every thing you need right now because the life you have is the life of your own creation. Yup, you created your pleasure, your pain, your joy, or your sorrows. The trick is what you do with them. Do you celebrate you? I do. I dance. I sing, I write. I go to work and I do the best I can for 12 hours. I have the desire to choose the best for me. I care for myself like I would care for a child. I admire my body in the mirror. I love myself up from the tips of each strand of my blonde hair to the red polish on my toenails. Especially when I'm not feeling good about myself. Then it becomes required that I spend extra time with me doing pleasure homework. I light candles. I take deliciously scented bubble baths. I put on my favorite music. I take a nap. I surround myself with positive energy. I don't watch sensationalist news, or read the paper or watch CSI or Law and Order anymore. I am busy stuffing myself with pleasure and I don't have the capacity to tolerate the negativity right now. I don't believe I have missed anything that I should have known that would have changed my life. A pleasure centered life, that centers around my own pleasure, is the life I am choosing right now. It is a conscious decision, a conscious choice to live a life of self love just as it would be a choice to live a life of apathy or indifference. Some days it is more work than others, but I know that during those times when I am feeling out of balance, it becomes critical that I journal gratitude, that I look at myself in the mirror and blow myself a kiss. A cup that is overflowing with pleasure and happiness is finally able to spill over to others because I'm not working on vapors of happiness that I used to have, remembrances of a body I used to have, or a lover that has moved on. I choose to find the beauty in just being me, exactly as I am, occupying this space today on the planet. Even down to the blue spider veins in my legs--they are the roadmap of my 55 years on this planet and they are beautiful. It is my full time job to find the beauty in myself...and I love my job....Today, I love my body more than the life I thought I desired, because I realize the life I desire is the life I am living. Blowing you a kiss, Gorgeous. God, you look so hot in that dress...Really. So hot...
XO,
Karen